#DOES THIS ANSWER YOUR QUESTION?? probably not

[wikiangela]

"I'm going to ask Tommy to marry me." Buck says out of the blue one random evening, sitting in Eddie's living room, spread out in the armchair, sipping a beer, eyes on the TV, where Eddie and Christopher are playing a video game. His tone is even and firm, not even a hint of hesitation, it's not a huge revelation, or even a decision he's made just now. He's been thinking about it for weeks, maybe months. He doesn't know why he says it now, it just slips out - maybe he just needed to talk to his best friend about it.

"Really?" he hears a hint of surprise in Eddie's voice, but when he looks at his best friend, he's still focused on trying to beat his son at the game. He's smiling, sparing a glance at Buck. "That's great, Buck."

"Yeah?" he breathes out, feeling even more settled now. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but still felt kind of like he did when he came out to Eddie. Like he just wanted his best friend to approve, to support him - and he had no doubt he would.

"Of course," Eddie answers easily. "You guys are perfect together, and you love each other, and if you're sure you want to spend the rest of your life with Tommy, yeah, go for it. I'm happy for you," he adds, finally looking at Buck, a soft, genuine smile on his face. Christopher uses this moment to win the game, and Eddie groans at his triumphant yell. "Aw, not fair, Buck distracted me." Both Buck and Chis laugh, while Eddie pouts for a moment, before a smile breaks through anyway.

"Well, I won." Chris shrugs with a grin. "And I think it'd be so cool if you and Tommy get married," he adds, moving his attention to Buck.

"Yeah?" Buck repeats, his smile even wider now. Having two of his favorite people not only really love his partner - Buck's pretty sure Tommy's the first one to spend so much time with all of them together, and it feeling so right - but also approve of Buck wanting to tie him into their family forever.

"Duh, Tommy's the coolest." Chris rolls his eyes. "Better lock him down while you can," he jokes, and Buck gasps in surprise. He's such a teenager.

"Wow, rude. He's not going anywhere." he shakes his head with a laugh. That much he's sure of, for the first time in his life he's not scared of getting left, of his partner getting bored or fed up. He knows Tommy's gonna be right at his side no matter what.

"Not if you put a ring on it." Eddie joins his son's teasing. Laughing, Buck reaches over to the table to pick up a chip from a bowl and throw it at Eddie, who dodges it as it lands somewhere on the couch. "Hey!"

"But seriously, you don't think it's too soon?" Buck asks after a moment, a little bit of nerves seeping into his tone. He's more than sure about wanting to marry Tommy. He's just a little scared that he's gonna freak him out. They have talked about this, about their future, what they want out of this relationship, out of life, but they never really discussed any timelines, and Buck might be a little in his head about this. Hence why he needed to talk to someone about it, probably.

"Buck, you've been together for over a year. Some people get married after less." Eddie raises an eyebrow. "When you know, you know." He shrugs, and Buck releases a breath. Because he does know. He has known for a long time now.

"So you think he'll say yes?" Buck asks, but he knows the answer before Eddie has a chance to roll his eyes with fond exasperation. Tommy loves him. He loves Tommy so much his heart wants to burst out of his chest and live in Tommy's. Tommy is his forever, he's sure of it, and he knows that when he asks, and it's going to be very soon, he'll get a positive answer.

"He'll say yes." Eddie says with a small shake of his head and a wide smile. "Now, two important questions from me: who's gonna be your best man, and do you need help planning and picking out a ring?"

[lyrefromthesea]

Male pillars x Reader - sitting on their lap

author's note: I'm strictly against any kind of sexual interactions with minors. That's why I will either exclude Muichiro from such fics of or portray a wholesome interaction instead.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Muichiro x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: suggestive words and actions

Tengen:

"excuse me? I'm married!" he dramatically exclaimed, looking down at you. the man was already trying to refrain from smiling, watching you turn your head towards him.

"i'm sure Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma will forgive me." you answered, showing him your hand. he smirked at the all too familiar ring. he was glad he had married you.

"just playin', i could never disappoint the flamboyant person i married!" he laughed, clearly proud of himself. when you cocked your eyebrow at him, he let out a dramatic gasp, pulling you closer.

"are you trying to say i'm not the most perfect husband you could imagine?" he asked, displaying a huge amount of shock. you knew he was just making fun, especially when he pressed your back against his chest, bringing his lips to your ear.

"you were saying entirely different things yesterday." he said, watching you shudder at his words. you slapped his knee, scolding him for saying such things outside.

"come on, you know you love it!"

Obanai:

he freezes, his brain nearly malfunctioning. it's not like you've never sat on his lap before, but you usually gave him a warning first - asked for his approval.

"[name]? what's-" he asked, surprised when your arms wrapped around his neck, barely giving Kaburamaru time to slither away. words got stuck in his throat, feeling your lips against his mask - right above his own.

"nothing. i was just feeling affectionate." you answered, shifting to wrap your arms around his torso. he looked down at you, letting out a quiet yelp when your hips moved a bit too much on his lap.

"oh..?" you looked at him, a smile slowly forming on your lips. a blush made his way towards his cheeks, luckily covered by his mask. at least he felt lucky, you would've liked to see him blush.

"it looks like you're feeling affectionate too, Obanai." you chuckled, purposely drawing light circles with your hips. of course you had noticed the growing bulge in his pants, his hands now holding yours.

"don't tease me, [name].."

Rengoku:

"little flame! how was your day?" he enthusiastically asked, his arms wrapping around your torso. he pulled you closer, placing his chin on your shoulder.

"it was okay, i missed you." you answered, leaning against his chest. he smiled at you, enjoying the way your bodies were pressed together so gently.

"we can't have that, little flame! how about we go eat later?" he asked, holding you a bit closer. you chuckled at his words, he really loved taking you to new places - especially restaurants.

"i'd like that. let's go eat something later."

Sanemi:

"and what the hell are you doing?" Sanemi asked, feeling you make yourself comfortable on his lap.

he had cleaned his sword moments prior, hearing the door open - it was you. you moved towards him without warning, getting between him and his sword.

"getting your attention." you answered, moving even closer. don't think he didn't notice the way you purposely squished your chest against his own.

"yeah? didn't I give ya enough attention, sweetheart?" he teased, watching you pout in response. you had been alone for far too long, you finally wanted to spend time with him.

"you've been working on your sword for two hours now.." you complained. he placed it down, knowing that you were right. he just felt like the proper care could safe his ass one day, though a shiny sword probably wasn't that important.

"fine, ya win. this was getting uncomfortable anyways." he answered, almost making you question what he meant until he pressed his hips against yours more. oh, now you could feel it too.

"does that mean you want my attention as well-" you asked playfully, getting cut off by his lips pressing against yours before you could finished talking.

Giyuu:

"is everything alright?" his voice broke the silence, you've been sitting on his lap for almost 5 minutes now, not saying a single word. he was confused, not sure if you were fine or needed help.

"Giyuu, attention?" you asked, feeling him relax under you. he had been tense, thinking you could've been hurt somewhere. your words instantly calmed him down, his lips pressing against yours gently.

he didn't expect you to turn his soft kiss into something more passionate. his hands slowly came to hold your hips, tongues swishing against each other.

you broke the kiss, panting against his lips. he pressed his forehead against yours, pulling you a bit closer, only to have your hips start grinding slightly.

"l- love.. t- that's not.." he muttered, his cheeks visibly growing more red. hands squeezing your hips more, trying to create more friction. he could only moan when you finally started grinding against him properly.

"i.. i need to go on a mission later.." he panted against your lips, but he didn't object when you kissed him again, your hand wandering to his belt.

Muichiro:

"Muichiro! i finally caught up to you.." you heaved, letting yourself fall onto his lap. you had been running for nearly twenty minutes now, watching the boy leave his estate without food. being the good friend you were, you ran after him.

"[name]? what are you doing here..?" he asked, letting you lean against him. your cheeks were flushed from running. it would've been different if you also were a hashira, but you still had much to learn.

"you.. you forget your food, Mui.." you panted, reaching into your pocket. he looked rather surprised when he saw the small box of food he usually brought with him.

"thank you..! i've completely forgotten." he laughed, eventually coaxing a smile out of you. you gave him the box, seeing his eyes lit up at the promise of food.

he wanted to dive right in before he had a quiet growl come from your stomach, making your cheeks flush. "do you want some?" he asked, watching you shake your head.

"i brought my own!" you countered, grabbing into your back once more. silence filled the room when you noticed you had only brought his food.

his arm wrapped around your torso, forcing you to stay on his lap a while longer. "let's share." he said, offering you some of his food. you knew he wouldn't let you go until you have had a healthy portion.

Gyomei:

"welcome back." the giant said, feeling you plop onto his lap, nuzzling against his chest. you let out a tired hum, feeling a large hand soothingly rub over your arm.

"is there something wrong? you're more quiet than usual." he asked, gently bringing your head closer with his hand - allowing you to be closer to him. you could hear the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

your day had been stressful, but he somehow always managed to calm you down. his warmth. his voice. his actions. they put your mind at ease.

"i know it's ridiculous, but i've felt really stressed out lately. i just want a break.." you muttered, closing your eyes. you were trying to focus on his heartbeat and ignore everything else around you.

"it's not ridiculous, you deserve a break. perhaps a visit to the hot spring would help calm you down?" he offered, feeling you nod against his chest. you felt warm hands rub over your thighs, his head now closer to yours.

"and i could pamper you a bit more after that.." he muttered against your ear, your eyes opening again. the warmth pooling in your gut could probably rival the hot spring's temperature

[greycaelum]

Hi Grey! How was ur week? Question for Yakuza Satoru: he got tattoos, but what kind and where? This series fits Gojo-Zenin rivalry so well. Can totally see Naoya being crazy jealous of Satoru, to the point of dying…

So late reply, forgive this tardy woman! Just finished 2 sems in uni and now I still have to do summer but it's manageable so here I am again Quite rusty if I must say, writer's block at its finest...

Thank you for your interest in Coasts and Altitudes, fingers crossed on the next update! With lots of hugs from Grey~

[Pic link] CTTO

"Did it hurt...?" Your eyes flickered as you stared at the elaborate irezumi painting on his broad back, it covered a few old scars, scabs of rose pink peaking a bit on the spaces between the vivid inks, obscuring but not totally hiding the gashes from your sight.

"Mnnn?" Your husband looked back as he searched for a shirt in the closet. he's only wearing cotton shorts and a towel over his shoulder, walking topless around your home since the staff were out for the weekend except for some of his subordinates guarding the perimeter of the house. You've been married for already a month, but still, it's hard to remain focused every time he goes around naked.

"The irezumi... did it hurt?" You bit the insides of your mouth when he faced you with his inked pecs and hard 8-packs distracting your sight. He remained unbeknownst or probably playing clueless as he walked towards you and asked you to dry his hair.

"Not really, I got used to the pain." He shrugged as you kneeled on the bedside behind him and ruffled his hair with the towel. For a man depicted as rough and the violent shady business he deals with daily, Satoru has a penchant of asking you to do domestic and mundane stuff for him.

Your hands stopped drying his hair as you slowly traced the ink much to his amusement.

"What's wrong, princess?" He purrs.

You couldn't answer as you stared at the dragon holding the close lotus form. This oriental dragon represents strength combined with wisdom and usually is benevolent, a protector against those who might usurp control... yet somehow, countless flowers scattered around the dragon, you couldn't quite understand it... not to mention Satoru's chest is still not inked.

"What does your irezumi mean? I can't understand it..." You've seen many irezumi from your father's men, all of them are unique but you've never seen anything compare to Satoru's.

Satoru looked back at you, mirth swirling in his bright eyes, but seeing you can't meet his gaze with how fixated you are in his back he face front to let you stare at his irezumi for now. He opened his mouth, thinking of how to start.

"I wanted to have a Karashishi beast instead of the Ryu, but the person I wanted to protect left... and I need to guard my family's so I chose the dragon..."

You couldn't speak... you already know what he means.

"This peony..." You looked at the lonesome peony on his top left shoulder. "It suits you, wealth and prosperity with your devil-may-care attitude." You swallowed the awkward reply on the tip of your tongue and tried to hide your hesitant tone.

"I couldn't think of anything more to remember you so I chose the Sakura, thinking I needed to remind myself I was just a fleeting moment of your childhood. I would just stay here, protecting my family or else I would've come running after you like a lap dog... I would've begged you to spare attention to me, I don't have a good sense of self control when it's about you."

A fleeting moment of childhood, huh? Your fingers traced the cherry blossoms littered over the dragon. And whose fault was it for pushing you away years ago saying he can only see you as a younger sister? You scoffed and curled your nails on the biggest cherry blossom making him groan.

Satoru turns around and pushes you down the bed, the mattress cushioning you as he plants his arms on the sides of your head. Climbing on top of you as he pushes away the stray hair framing your eyes.

"I've always known even 15 years ago you would cover me with scars... Now that you're finally tied to me I can get that karashishi and perhaps some momiji to add it..."

"Where are you going to put it?"

He chuckled and raised a brow as he took your hand and placed it on his chest.

"On where you'll always be."

Footnotes:

Karashishi "Lion Dog": The local Shinto religion of Japan, which pre-dates Buddhism, also has a lion protector, with a red head, who drives away evil spirits and brings health and wealth. No matter the origin though, the Fu Lion is fundamentally protective, strong, and courageous.

Ryu "Dragon": Oriental dragons are equally at home in the air or in the water. Usually embodying wisdom, strength and manipulating the forces of the universe for the benefit of people. Dragon can also clutch in one of his claws an object that is variously shown as a ball, a pearl, or a jewel, also known as “the closed-lotus form” essentially the essence of the universe, to control the winds, rains, fire and even the planets. This item is essentially seen in various Buddhist designs including temples and grave markers. It represents the spiritual essence of the universe, by which the dragon controls and protects it from those who might usurp those powers.

Sakura "Cherry Blossom": For Japanese imagery, the beautiful period of its flowering and then the all too soon fading and subsequent scattering of petals on the wind, symbolize life itself.  The fragility of the cherry blossom is the fragility of human existence.  they represent mortality, love, magnificent beauty, and sudden death.  It is regarded by all as a good omen.

Botan "Peony":  It is regarded as a symbol of wealth, good fortune, and prosperity.  In addition, though,  it also suggests a sort of gambling, daring, and even a masculine devil-may-care attitude, quite unlike its character in the west.

Momiji "Maple Leaves": In Japan, it’s also the symbol of lovers. A single leaf or a multitude of leaves are also potent symbols of regeneration and resurrection as they cycle through the seasons.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

the longest damn late night phone call from heaven EVER

aka, Emily has a slightly gruesome favor to ask, Charlie's determined to be good and helpful friend, and Vaggie was only half-right about people not recognizing her without her exorcist mask

Charlie: “…not exactly what I expected, when dad said heaven wanted another chat.”

Emily: “I know, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to bother you at home-”

Charlie: “It’s fine. Kinda late for a video call but, hold on.” (slips into hallway) (quietly shuts bedroom door) “It’s important right?”

Emily: “It’s… it’s important to me.”

Charlie: “Well that counts! What’s up? Uh, aside from literally you, anyway.”

Emily: “Before that, is your girlfriend- is Vaggie okay?”

Charlie: “She’s.”

Charlie: “……”

Charlie: “…fine.”

Emily: “There were a lot of bandages.”

Charlie: “Oh. Those.”

Emily: “I wasn’t trying to look, but when you were going past of bed, I just. I’ve never seen one of us like-”

Charlie: “Um I don’t think she’d really like the ‘one of us’ part. Just a heads up.”

Emily: “I’ll remember. Will they heal? Lute’s arm already has, and she said angelic steel is what- what killed that first Exorcist-”

Charlie: “Some of them- Some of them will heal, Vaggie says.”

Emily: “And the others?”

Charlie: “They’ll… probably be like her eye, I guess. The bleeding will stop.”

Emily: “Her eye-?”

Charlie: “Did you know Lute gouged it out with a sword? Right before leaving her in hell?”

Emily: “She- No! Why would she-”

Charlie: “So you didn’t know what Vaggie was when you saw her. You didn’t know what Lute and Adam did to her-”

Emily: “Charlie I SWEAR I had no idea. The Exorcists- other than Lute they keep those masks on almost all time, even up here! I could have walked past Vaggie a hundred times without knowing it!”

Charlie: “….that’s what she said too.”

Emily: “Vaggie?”

Charlie: “Mm.”

Emily: “Why ask me then? She told you and you trust her… right?”

Charlie: “It’s, complicated. And not the point.”

Emily: “Are you two okay-”

Charlie: “Not the point. What can I help heaven with tonight? I’d, kinda like to get back to bed before she wakes up.”

Emily: “Sorry, of course, I just don’t want you two to have more trouble…” (sighs) “…but I guess I’m not the right person to help am I. Not with, all this.”

Charlie: “I don’t blame you for what Lute and Adam did. Or for Sera letting them do it.”

Emily: “It still makes being friends hard, doesn’t it?”

Charlie: “…a little.”

Emily: “I’m-”

Charlie: “But! I’m not gonna let them stop us from doing it.” (determined) “Screw heaven- I wouldn’t have answered the phone if it’d been anyone other than you calling from up there anyway! Well, you or Sir Pentious.”

Emily: “I’m so, SO glad he made it here. ”

Charlie: “Me too.” (smiles) “You need help with something? Tell me. If I can do anything about it, I will.”  

Emily: “Oh it’s nothing like that, it’s just… a question.”

Charlie: “Okay?”

Emily: “….”

Charlie: “….”

Emily: “…I’m a little scared to ask.”

Charlie: “That’s okay! I know the feeling! If it helps, I promise I won’t get angry or annoyed just over you asking something!”

Emily: “Thanks. That’s. Not really what I’m scared of.”

Charlie: “Well what parts the scary part?”

Emily: “The answer.”

Charlie: “...huh.”

Emily: “I’m not sure I want to hear it, honestly.”

Charlie: “But you called in the middle of the night so you could ask?”

Emily: “Yes.”

Charlie: “So you DO want to know.”

Emily: “It feels more like I have to know.”

Charlie: “Okay…. uhh. What… kind of question is it?”

Emily: “The battle. The, dead Exorcists.”

Charlie: “Oh fuck. Shoot- Is it about the bodies? Because I’m REALLY sorry again about letting the cannibals uh, eat them. I’d kinda. I’d promised them- the cannibals I mean- and, um. They lost a lot of friends too so-”

Emily: “No that’s fine. It’s, it doesn’t matter much once they’re dead does it. S-someone should get to be happy about the fresh. Um. Meat.”

Charlie: “Ssssstillll, I wish I could’ve sent them back-”

Emily: “Did you see-?”

Charlie: “-whoops sorry, go ahead.”

Emily: “….”

Charlie: “….”

Emily: “….”

Charlie: “Ah-hem. Go ahead?”

Emily: “…”

Charlie: “Aaaaany time now…”

Emily: “…”

Charlie: “….Look, Emily-”

Emily: “I know I’m sorry I-”

Charlie: “No no! I really wish I had all night for this. Really! I wanna be the friend who sits up until four in morning talking- and any other time I would be!”

Emily: “I know.”

Charlie: “Only I also really, really don’t want Vaggie waking up alone tonight. Not after we, after I- I can’t do that to her right now, okay?”

Emily: “…yes. Okay.”

Charlie: “How about this- you call back in the morning, we settle in and-”

Emily: “Did you see an Exorcist that didn’t fit in?”

Charlie: “-uhhh, what?”

Emily: “An Exorcist.”

Charlie: “I mean, yes? There were dozens! Pretty hard to keep count when you’re fighting for you-”

Emily: “But was there one that didn’t fit in?”

Charlie: “Fit in what where- oh ugh Angel Dust get OUT of my head-”

Emily: “With the others. The other Exorcists. Was there one in the fight that, didn’t quite look right? Caught your eye for some reason?”

Charlie: “Don’t they all kinda look the same?”

Emily: “Yes. Mostly.”

Charlie: “Bloodstained uniform, horned mask, weird crossed out eye and stitched mouth aesthetic thing, scary black and white wings-”

Emily: “Did the cannibals eat the wings?”

Charlie: “The w-”

Emily: “The wings of the dead Exorcists. Did they eat-”

Charlie: “Emily- those are feathers. The cannibals ate the meaty parts sure, but-”

Emily: “So you could still check. If. If any of the Exorcists who died. If they had strange wings.”

Charlie: “I guess, I-”

Emily: “Charlie. I need you to check.”

Charlie: “What-”

Emily: “I just need to know-”

Charlie: “But-”

Emily: “-please-”

Charlie: “Hey it’s okay, I’ll check! I’ll check first thing tomorrow!”

Emily: “Promise?”

Charlie: “Of course! It’ll be easy, don’t worry! Vaggie saved the wings from all of them. I’m not sure what for- some kind of funeral I think- or target practice- funerary target practice? Is that an angel thing…?”

Emily: “We don’t….really have those in Heaven. Funerals.”

Charlie: “Oh. Right.”

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “Must be nice.”

Emily: “I’m sorry.”

Charlie: “No- that came out wrong. Forget it! So the wing thing is just a Vaggie thing or something. Anyway. Checking the wings. Nooooo problem. CAN do.”

Emily: “Thank you. And. And you’ll just tell me about it? Not anyone else in heaven?”

Charlie: “Sure! Is it a secret?”

Emily: “No.”

Charlie: “Buuuut you don’t want Sera finding out.”

Emily: “I’ll tell her later. When I’m… Once I’ve…”

Emily: “…”

Charlie: “Oh Emily hey- it’s okay! Shh, it’s okay!!”

Emily: “I don’t know if it is.” (voice breaking) “Sera won’t let me near the Exorcists and Lute won’t answer any questions about them- I don’t know who else to ask or if I really want to know, but I can’t sleep, and if she didn’t die down there then I NEED to find her somehow and ask her HOW she could’ve been doing this! Murdering people, killing souls-”

Charlie: “Whoa wait, ask who? What am I even checking the Exorcist wings for?”

Charlie: “… Who…who are you looking for?”

Emily: “I don’t know her name. We never met.”

Charlie: “You seem to really care about her, for someone you’ve never met.”

Emily: “Because she was DIFFERENT! She-”

Emily: (looks away)

Emily: “…she’s part of why I never questioned the Exorcists. She. I thought she was proof that underneath masks, they meant well. That they were strict and distant but also protectors, and they cared, and…”

Charlie: “…and now you know what she was doing the whole time.”

Emily: “She CAN’T have been. You shouldn’t be able to be so kind and gentle and still-”

Charlie: “People can be a lot of different things, to different people.”

Emily: “How?”

Charlie: “That’s just… what makes people, people, I think. We can all do things we never thought we’d do.”

Emily: “Exorcists kill children don’t they. Child sinners- they don’t spare them, do they?”

Charlie: “They don’t really DO the whole ‘sparing’ thing. Not in the Pride Ring. Only my dad’s family is safe from exterminations- or was safe. Kids… if they don’t have anyone, or if their families can’t keep them safe, then…” (shudders) “…yeah. I’ve. I found the bodies a few times.”

Emily: “How… how can they-”

Charlie: “I don’t know.” (tired) (slumping back against the door) “They just do.”

Emily: “She can’t have done that! That’s the ONE thing I know about her- she LOVED children. Falling in line and being a good Exorcist didn’t matter as soon as a child needed her!”

Charlie: “Well- well maybe she wasn’t one of the ones who… hurt kids. Maybe she didn’t do that.”

Emily: “But she must have seen it happening. Known it happened. And she didn’t stop it.”

Charlie: (wince) “T- tell me about her? The parts you saw up in heaven, her being nice to those kids- that happened too! What was she like?”

Emily: “…watchful.”

Charlie: “A guardian angel huh?” (smiles weakly) “I think I know the type.”

Emily: “She should’ve been that. She shouldn’t have-” (sighs) “…Exorcists keep to themselves, up in heaven.”

Charlie: (grits teeth) “If they’re mostly all like Lute then that’s probably the only way to keep heaven a nice place.”

Emily: “Lute isn’t… well I guess I don’t really know her either. I always thought she was just paranoid, busy being overprepared, scared for heaven and channeling it into anger…. maybe she is that? Maybe she just-”

Charlie: “She tried stabbing out Vaggie’s other eye.”

Emily: “….”

Emily: “A lot of things make sense now, knowing what she and Adam were doing.”

Charlie: “Like keeping the Exorcists separate?”

Emily: “That, and the identical uniforms, the masks… the constant, BRUTAL training and practice.”

Charlie: “Building trust in a warzone….”

Emily: “What?”

Charlie: “Nothing- How did any of them get near a kid, if that’s what it’s like?”

Emily: “They didn’t. It was an accident.”

Charlie: “Now THAT’S depressing.”

Emily: “I guess so..”

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “So. What happened?”

Emily: “Oh… some children were testing their wings. Just out having fun, you know. A few flew out of sight- their friends tried looking for them, but there are parts of heaven not everyone can always reach.”

Charlie: “There is? Why-”

Emily: “Heaven’s supposed to be a peaceful, happy place. An eternity of rest and recovery- It’s supposed to be safe. To be safe, Sera always said the Exorcists needed to be ready to defend it, and they needed space to not always be happy or peaceful.”

Charlie: “They always seemed pretty happy about not being peaceful, not gonna lie.”

Emily: “They get really into training with each other- but do you mean, even during the exterminations-?”

Charlie: “ESPECIALLY then.”

Emily: (frustrated) “I wish things would stop making so much sense!”

Charlie: “Same.”

Emily: “It was right there all along, and I didn’t see it!”

Charlie: “I mean, they really didn’t want you to.”

Emily: “And how many people are dead because of that?”

Charlie: “It’s not your fault… And it’s not all bad.” (weak chuckle) “Vaggie likes it better down here. The one upside to finding out old secrets is how it can make things better- she makes much more sense now too.”

Emily: “In good ways?”

Charlie: “In… in kinda silly, kinda sad ways.”  

Emily: “Silly is good.”

Charlie: “Yeah…”

Emily: “Sorry. I won’t pry. I’m just listening- passively- if you want.”

Charlie: "It’s nothing super personal or secret, just that, I get why she likes high places and open spaces when she needs thinking time. Not like the view’s amazingly great down here, so I always wondered… All those times finding her on roof tops or the hotel’s crow’s nest."

Charlie: "I asked if staring at heaven's light was a moth demon thing once and she just shrugged, but the angel thing makes so much more sense and she's terrible at lying if I'd just ASKED-”

Emily: "Now you're sounding like me."

Charlie: "URGH right- good things, good things are- when she's up there, I know now she's either cursing heaven or hating herself."

Emily: "... is there a better good thing? Because that's..."

Charlie: "Now I can HELP her. With that."

Emily: "That's a good thing, yes."

Charlie: "She doesn't have to walk around all the time being scared of me finding out and getting angry or hurt, I DID find out and I WAS angry and and hurt, and it was fine."

Emily: "Well..."

Charlie: "Okay fine, not fine but BETTR. It IS better."

Emily: "..."

Emily: “...your hotel has a crow’s nest? That must be perfect for her.”

Charlie: “What? Oh, yes. She loves it...”

Charlie: "Shit even her HAIR makes so much sense now."

Emily: “She’s grown hers out- I’ve never thought about an Exorcist with long hair- it’s very pretty.”

Charlie: “Pretty, fun to play with, but she leaves it loose even when all the swooshing annoys her. It gets in the way of her trying to stab people."

Emily: "I bet we could find a metaphor in that."

Charlie: "I guess it’s kinda like wings though? The weight and having something cover her back like that.”

Emily: “Wings are… not just that. Wings are pretty different.”

Charlie: “Long hair was probably still better than nothing though. I wonder if she’ll cut it now? Or just keep it in the ponytail?”

Emily: “What do you mean?”

Charlie: "Well, short hair is easier to take care of, right? Plus she seemed to really like having it out of her face during the battle, even after getting her wings back-”

Emily: “No, wait- Getting them back? She’s an angel, doesn’t she have- hasn’t she always had….”

Charlie: “No she… They didn’t mention that either, did they.”

Emily: “What did they do.”

Charlie: “One guess. And one guess who ‘they’ were.”

Emily: “Lute. Adam leaves- he left almost everything that actually needed doing to her.”

Charlie: “Well this time the thing that needed doing-”

Emily: “They took her wings.”

Charlie: "It was more of a ripping action? Tearing?? Wrenching- No, ripping sounds right- Ripped them off and left them on the ground next to her. Vaggie had to stuff them in a dumpster before any sinners saw them and mobbed her.”

Emily: “….”

Charlie: “M-maybe I shouldn’t have said that part.”

Emily: “It’s fine. Important to know.”

Charlie: “But Vaggie only just told ME about it, and now I’m blubbering it out to you- fuck. Forget I said it? Please?”

Emily: “You should talk about it with someone who isn’t her, Charlie.”

Charlie: “Not like this though! Not with-”

Emily: “An angel. Someone from heaven.”

Charlie: “-not with someone she isn’t even friends with yet.”

Emily: “Thanks for the ‘yet’ part. I hope you’re right about it.”

Charlie: “I will be. But um. Until then…?”

Emily: “All I know is she didn’t have wings and now she does again. No specifics.”

Charlie: “Thank you.”

Charlie: (clears throat) “You, uh. You were telling me about YOUR Exorcist.”

Emily: “Right. Her and children. The ones who wandered off-”

Charlie: “-onto the one place in heaven that isn’t sunshine and rainbows and fluffy clouds of happiness, right right.”

Emily: “It was a bit of shoreline Exorcists use for live battle training.”

Charlie: “Yay fun?”

Emily: “Where they, they practice tearing each other apart with their bare hands-”

Charlie: “Oh!”

Emily: “-weapons aren’t used for it, don’t worry! None of the children were in any real danger!”

Charlie: “But they SAW it!?”

Emily: “From a distance… not, not close enough to get splattered by blood….”

Charlie: “Oh wow that’s SO reassuring!”

Emily: “Except for one of them.”

Charlie: “How the HECK didn’t anyone notice there were kids around before starting that stuff!? Didn’t they CHECK-”

Emily: “The Exorcists are very used to being left alone.”

Charlie: “STILL!”

Emily: “I know. I was so angry at first- I didn’t show it, the other children were already hiding under my wings after I’d gathered them up. They didn’t need me getting mad too.”

Charlie: “Didn’t wanna to scare them?”

Emily: “Watching the Exorcists was scary enough.”

Charlie: “I’m trying SO real hard to imagine a happy ending for this.”

Emily: “It’s there, don’t worry. See, one of the children had wandered further than the rest, and was just standing there, frozen. Staring up at.. all that.”

Charlie: “That doesn’t sound happy.”

Emily: “It was so frustrating! I couldn’t get to them without bringing the others even closer too! Some of them could barely move they were so frightened- I tried calling up at the Exorcists, asking them to stop, but they either didn’t hear me or ignored me-”

Charlie: “FUCK that’s just-”

Emily: “But then-”

Charlie: “….”

Emily: “One of them left formation.”

Charlie: (smiling) “Yeah?”

Emily: “She came swooping down, all soaked in blood- not hers, I don’t think. She didn’t look hurt. She landed right in front of the child."

Charlie: “Oh covered in BLOOD that must’ve been, er, something.”

Emily: “It wasn’t great. Poor thing was so scared under her shadow I thought they’d cry.”

Charlie: “Wouldn’t blame them.”

Emily: “Me neither. Those masks… but’s it’s funny, you know, how much a small thing can change everything else.”

Charlie: “She wasn’t as scary as her mask, was she?”

Emily: “No. She was, awkward. I saw her do a little wave and kneel down- later they said she’d talked with them, asked if they were hurt and where their home was.”

Charlie: “Normal stuff.”

Emily: “Strange for an Exorcist. Then she- she offered to take them home. She was still all spattered with-”

Charlie: “Blood. Ew.”

Emily: “I didn’t know what was going on when it happened, I just saw the Exorcist stand up and march right into the sea, right into the waves! She come out clean enough but also. Well. Also sopping wet and a bit um, a bit less scary looking."

Charlie: "Heheh."

Emily: "A lot less scary looking. A little pitiful looking?”

Charlie: “Like Husk after the champagne bottle incident!”

Emily: “Like who?”

Charlie: “Oh our bartender. Long story- but I’ve seen sad and bedraggled wings before. I’d LOVE to see them on an Exorcist!”

Emily: “It was pretty funny. And she didn’t seem to mind the child laughing at her either. If anything I think she made more of a show of shaking herself dry and fluffing up afterwards, once she heard them giggling over it.”

Charlie: “Aww~! She didn’t wanna scare them either!”

Emily: “She was silly. I’d never seen an Exorcist being silly before. The other ones watching didn’t seem to like it. They’d finally stopped fighting and looked like they were muttering to each other… Lute, Adam, even Sera, they're really strict about not having Heaven's army mixing with the rest of Heaven...”

Charlie: “But she- the silly exorcist- she didn’t care.”

Emily: “If she did, it didn’t stop her.”

Charlie: “Did she take the kid home herself then? Once she wasn’t covered in. Uhh. Blood.”

Emily: “She did. The other children were so jealous!”

Charlie: “Jealous??”

Emily: “After she helped wipe off the, the blood spatters on them, she scooped them up and just rocketed into the sky.”

Charlie: “Ohmygosh that's so FUN! Angel piggyback rides are the best!”

Emily: “It looked like it. Exorcists train and practice, and their wings are strong- I knew that but I still don’t think I’ve ever seen someone move like that in the air. Like she was dancing.”

Charlie: “Vaggie says fighting and dancing have a lot in common.”

Emily: “She does?”

Charlie: “Mm-hmm. And if SHE’S any example, then I bet plenty of the Exorcists would be GREAT dancers too! If they bothered not killing people long enough to find out, that is.”

Emily: “If. Right."

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “….Vaggie stopped. She was, she used to- and it took time but, she stopped.”

Emily: “And Lute cut out her eye for it.”

Charlie: “I don’t think she regrets losing it. Or- it was worth it to her? She.. sometimes it’s almost like she feels like she deserved it.” 

Emily: “I hope not. It shouldn’t have happened, it didn’t help anyone.”

Charlie: “No. It really didn’t.”

Emily: “They probably used her as an example of why no one else should do that.”

Charlie: “…well… maybe your Exorcist will still think it’s worth it?”

Emily: “Maybe. If she’s not dead.”

Charlie: “R-right.” 

Emily: “And she’s really not mine. I don’t even know her.”

Charlie: “You know enough to care.”

Emily: “To care about someone who might not even deserve it? How does that help anyone-”

Charlie: “EVERYONE deserves to be cared about.”

Emily: “Even-”

Charlie: “Everyone. At least to the point of caring if they’re dead or not.”

Emily: “… you’d make a great angel, Charlie.”

Charlie: “HA! I’m not sure that’s a compliment anymore but uh. Thanks?”

Emily: “I meant it more that, if Sera and Lute and Adam had been more like you, then none of this would have happened. Or if you’d been up here, you would’ve stopped them.”

Charlie: “Ehhh… I kinda think if you couldn’t manage it, I wouldn’t have either..? Definitely NOT alone and not without-”

Emily: “You started the hotel! You had to go against so many people to do that-”

Charlie: “-okay yes but we only JUST got that going. And I only could do THAT because I had…”

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “It’s easier, with someone who believes in you.”

Emily: “Like a partner?”

Charlie: “Yeah.”

Emily: “A girlfriend.”

Charlie: “….yeah.”

Emily: “And it’s late. I’ll let you get back to her.”

Charlie: “It’s probably okay. She was tired and, she’s a pretty heavy sleeper once she actually falls asleep. You can usually tell when she really conks out because the snoring-”

Charlie: “-oh fuck oh no no no not again DON’T TELL HER I SAID THAT EITHER!”

Emily: “I won’t.” (giggling) “Although I might’ve heard it earlier.”

Charlie: “Fuck. Shit! FUCK!”

Emily: “But I swear on all six of my wings I won’t breathe a word. I also don’t know what happened to you guys- other than a huge traumatic revelation followed by an actual battle for your lives-”

Charlie: “That was a thing, yes.”

Emily: “-but I really hope you two are okay.”

Charlie: “Oh we will be! Weirdly enough, we’re better off now than we were before, even!”

Emily: “Lots of new things you can finally talk about?”

Charlie: “SO many.”

Emily: “Heh. Good. I’m glad something turned out okay from all this.”

Charlie: “And I really hope at least ONE more thing can turn out okay. For you, specifically.”

Emily: “We’ll… we’ll see I guess.”

Charlie: “First thing in the morning. I promise.”

Emily: (breath in) “Okay….” (breathe out) “Thank you.”

Charlie: “Any time. Or, no problem. Or- not that I WANT you to need help identifying bodies again anytime soon, I just meant…”

Emily: (laughs) “I know, Charlie. It’s okay. And it’s also really late. Good night.”

Charlie: “Good n- oh hey wait, Emily!!”

Emily: “-yes?”

Charlie: “What AM I looking for exactly? With the wings.”

Emily: “Oh- You know how Exorcist always those two stripes on theirs? The black bands on their feathers, the undersides.”

Charlie: “Yyyyep, yep. Now that you mention it…”

Emily: “She only had one.”

Charlie: "......"

Charlie: “…one… wing stripe?”

Emily: “It’s how I noticed her at first.”

Charlie: “That’s, that’s rare among Exorcists, huh?”

Emily: “She was the only one with wings like that, I think. Every few years I’d catch sight of her following behind Lute and Adam with a few others, trailing them through the actually populated places in Heaven for once, in full Exorcist gear.”

Charlie: “Well if she, if they were masked, maybe it wasn’t always the same person-”

Emily: “It was. She was easy enough to spot even without the wings, once I knew what to look for.”

Charlie: “Which was…?”

Emily: “She was the only one who’d wave back at the children who waved at her.”

Charlie: “…”

Charlie: “…oh.”

Emily: “Sorry. This is, a pretty depressing thing to go back to sleep after, isn’t it? Try to have some good dreams okay?”

Charlie: “I- I will. I’ll try. Um, you too?”

Emily: “I’ll give my best shot, if I can sleep. Thank you again, Charlie. Night.”

Charlie: “Good night..”

-call ends-

Charlie: “……..”

Muffled voice: “….charlie?”

Charlie: “SHIT!” (bangs head on door) (slips back into bedroom) “I’m here, I’m right here- no no no don’t sit up-!”

Vaggie: “What’s wrong?”

Charlie: “Nothing! Just a phone call. Please lay back down?”

Vaggie: “Something happened. Everyone okay?”

Charlie: “Everyone’s fine- Emily calling for a small favor that’s all- Vaggie c’mon, we just got it so your ribs weren’t getting pressed on…”

Vaggie: “Emily.” (alarmed) “Did Lute try something? Did Sera-?”

Charlie: “NO. Nothing happened to anyone! Now, SIT!”

Vaggie: (sits)

Vaggie: “Something’s wrong.”

Charlie: “Well my girlfriend happens to be one half broken bones and other half tenderized meat and won’t stay still, so THAT’S not exactly great!”

Vaggie: “…..”

Charlie: “…….”

Charlie: (sits too) “…Emily wants help checking the dead Exorcists. She might’ve known one of them.”

Vaggie: “Shit.”

Charlie: “Yeah..”

Vaggie: “But, knew one? How would she know any of us?”

Charlie: “Well…”

Vaggie: “She’s a seraph. The only Exorcist who goes near the higher ups is Lute.”  

Charlie: “Right but, just because you never met her doesn’t mean…”

Charlie: (sighs)

Charlie: “It was a LONG talk. Tell you tomorrow?”

Vaggie: "I guess... If you promise to be my pillow and lay down for a while instead of just pacing some more, then yeah, I can wait.”

Charlie: “Okay not fair- I was taking a call!”

Vaggie: “Your hoofbeats were tip tapping through my dreams long before then, babe.”

Charlie: “Motherfucker.”

Vaggie: (chuckling) “Sleep, sweetie.” (drags them down)

Charlie: “Hey don’t act like that wasn’t MY line a moment ago!”

Vaggie: “A moment ago all I knew was something was wrong and you were sad. Now I know just the usual shit is wrong, and you’re dead tired.”

Charlie: “Guess you’re not wrong there…”

Charlie: “….Vaggie?”

Vaggie: “Hmm?”

Charlie: "Do you.. like Emily?"

Vaggie: "Like her? The one not asshole angel up in heaven? She got all fired up with you about the shit unfairness of hell and stuff. What's not to like."

Charlie: "That's not the same as you actually liking her though."

Vaggie: "Hun, we've barely met. It's not like I went on the heaven tour with her."

Charlie: "Buuut.. maybe you'd like to get to know her?"

Vaggie: "Do you want me to get to know her."

Charlie: ".... I just wish there was some part of heaven that... wasn't bad for you."

Vaggie: "Hey, it was heaven. Murder soldier cult thing aside, if we're just talking personal comfort or whatever, it wasn't the worst thing in creation."

Charlie: "Wow what a stunning review! Other than the psychological trauma, it was great!"

Vaggie: "It wasn't that bad. Just you know. Comparatively."

Charlie: "Comparatively?"

Vaggie: "To this. Being here like this, with you."

Charlie: "Hmph."

Charlie: "...."

Vaggie: "..."

Charlie: "... you asleep?"

Vaggie: "Almost. But it feels like you have another question before you're ready for sleep."

Charlie: "You don't have to answer this one."

Vaggie: "Me not answering is kinda what fucked us over before."

Charlie: "It's different now. We can wait until you're ready."

Vaggie: "I'm ready. Ask."

Charlie: "....okay."

Charlie: "Um..."

Charlie: “Was. The sinners you killed-”

Vaggie: “Murdered.”

Charlie: “Murdered, okay. Okay. Were they. Were any of them… kids?”

Vaggie: “….”

Vaggie: “Once.”

Vaggie: “Almost.”

Charlie: “…almost… so, that was the time you stopped.”

Vaggie: “Yes.”

Charlie: “Okay. Because it was a kid?”

Vaggie: “I don’t know.”

Charlie: “What d-”

Vaggie: “I don’t know what I mean. It doesn’t. I don’t think it matters. Charlie- not killing one time isn’t the same as… never having killed.”

Charlie: “I know- I mean, I get that-”

Vaggie: “It doesn’t fix anything, or make anything better.”

Charlie: “It doesn't have to! We’re working on that part together. With the hotel.”

Vaggie: “It's not your thing to have to make up for.”

Charlie: “My home, my people, my friends and my girlfriend. Mine mine mine. And you feel better now you’ve stopped, don’t you?”

Vaggie: “Feeling like a less crappy person also isn’t the same as feeling better.”

Charlie: “It’s not?”

Vaggie: “Thinking you’re a good person, a hero even, is a pretty great feeling. Finding out you’re murderer sucks.”

Charlie: “You ARE a good-!”

Vaggie: “Charlie. Please?”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “What about when I hug you?”

Vaggie: “… hard not to feel lucky as hell, then.”

Charlie: “Good” (hugs) "Me too."

Vaggie: “Kinda hard to hug back while I’m lying half on top of you… Would a wing snuggle be alright?”

Charlie: “It won’t hurt your ribs??”

Vaggie: “No. I could use a stretch, honestly.”

Charlie: “Then gimme the floofies!”

Vaggie: “Yeah?”

Charlie: “GIMME GIMME~”

Vaggie: "Floofies at your service." (wings go floof) (snuggles one over charlie) “I’m glad they came back.. different.”

Charlie: “With the gray?”

Vaggie: “Mm. Thoughts?”

Charlie: “GRAY-t! They go WAY better with your hair now!”

Vaggie: (chuckling) “Nice. Girlfriend approved."

Charlie: "And it's lucky we ARE girlfriends, or else your pretty wings would have girls FLOCKING to you!"

Vaggie: "Right." (SNORTS) "Night, Charlie.”

Charlie: “If you’re wishing me goodnight to try stoping the wing puns, please know there’s more where that came from! I am in no way winging it here.”

Vaggie: “I figured.”

Charlie: "I really do love your wings, Vaggie."

Vaggie: "Really helps they don't look like they used to."

Charlie: "Hmm. Is the anything other than the color different?"

Vaggie: "... Isn't that enough?"

Charlie: "I don't mean it like that! It's just, well, they only have one stripe on them, and the other exorcists-"

Vaggie: "They were like that before. Sorry."

Charlie: "Vaggie I don't NEED them to look different. I'm just, curious!"

Vaggie: "Uh-huh."

Charlie: "Really! Did any of the other exorcists have-?"

Vaggie: "No."

Charlie: "None of them? Ever?"

Vaggie: "Not since I took up vanguard duty. Or since. Looks like Lute got rid of the position after I- after getting rid of me. Now they just all stream down into hell all at once. No one scouts ahead." (mutters) "Messy."

Charlie: "Huh."

Vaggie: "So I guess my wings didn't change that much really."

Charlie: "If they'd stayed exactly the same I would have loved them."

Vaggie: "Not sure I'd want you to."

Charlie: "Too bad. They're part of you. They're part of the most amazing woman I've ever met.... If you like them better now though, that's good. Maybe you. Maybe you'll feel like having them out more?"

Vaggie: "We'll see."

Charlie: "BUT I want eternal dibs on the wing hugs."

Vaggie: "What? You staking a claim?"

Charlie: "Yes absolutely. My wing hugs, okay?" (hugs tighter) "Mine."

Vaggie: "Okay." (chuckling) (relaxing) "They're all yours, babe." (snuggling in) “Love you...”

Charlie: “Love you too, Vaggie.”

Charlie: (smooches gf's forehead) “Goodnight…”

Vaggie: (already asleep)

Charlie: “…..”

Charlie: (traces the one stripe on Vaggie’s wing)

Charlie: "...you probably could have been happy up there... if they'd let you."

Charlie: (wipes face)

Charlie: “… fuck heaven.”  

Vaggie: (SNORES)

Charlie: (grins) (still teary-eyed) “Exactly.”

[ninyard]

i am in my renee and andrew besties 4eva era rn (when am i not honestly..) and was wondering if u have any headcanons u’d like to share about them? <3 i love ur brain dude!!

Here’s something:

After thanksgiving, when Andrew has returned from Easthaven, he invites Renee for a sparring session. Renee agrees, and everyone tells her to be careful, that he’s different, that he’s unmedicated and scary and if she thinks she’s in danger she needs to yell for help. She thanks them for their concern with a tight smile and tries to hold back an unfortunately bitter eye roll when her back turns to them. Her and Andrew find their way to wherever it is they usually spar - an empty room? A parking lot?

But when they get there, Andrew doesn’t start. He usually does, with some annoying move that almost always trips her up, but this time he stands in front of her with this blank and bored look in her eyes.

Are you okay? She thinks, but she knows she can’t say it out loud.

The thing about Renee and Andrew, in my opinion, why they work, is they each can recognise themselves in each other. Renee can read Andrew better than he probably thinks that she can, and she gathered a lot about his past purely from insinuations and little comments made here and there. I don’t think she knew who Drake was, but when she heard what happened, and she heard foster father, and she heard Luther’s name mentioned, she knows exactly what the history is there. Andrew doesn’t open up to her like he does to Bee or Neil, but he does share with her the scrapings off the top of his story. When she shared her past with him, she saw the look in his eyes, the shadow that passed over his gaze, and knew what had happened to him. She knew what his questioning meant, the curiosity he held over the things she'd been through. The pieces fit together perfectly, in her opinion, the pieces that told her exactly why Andrew trusted her so much once she'd told him.

“Good or bad?” Renee asks him. She’s talking about Easthaven, his time there, but he doesn’t quite catch on. He rolls his wrist in a circular motion to gesture for her to continue. “The hospital.”

“Bad,” he says. “They weren’t very good at their jobs.”

Renee feels her heart in her throat at his monotonous and unemotional delivery. She also sees that look in his eyes again, this time unsheltered and unprotected by the cloud of medicated mania that usually covered it up.

“Power trip or opportunity?” She asks.

She knows all too well how it feels to be poorly treated by medical staff or authorities as someone who frequently ran into both in her youth. Andrew seems to understand her question, and runs his finger over the lightly raised outline of a knife beneath his arm bands.

"Both and neither." Andrew says. His eyes are tired, and for just a moment Renee finds herself almost... startled? For just a moment, it feels as if she is looking into the eyes of a stranger, stood in front of him, with no smile on his face and no wild look in his eyes. Renee realises that she's never seen Andrew like this before.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asks, as she’s prepping herself or tying up her hair. She notices how he hesitates.

Andrew doesn’t say anything, but still he doesn’t pursue the start of a fight. He doesn’t step forward to start the session, so Renee doesn’t start either.

“I get it, if you wanted to,” Renee offers, and Andrew looks at her, and his face says I’m not sure that you do. “I know you’ll talk to Betsy. I’m just offering an ear if you need to get anything off your chest.”

“Are you against killing medical professionals?” He says as he shakes himself out to take position. Renee smiles as she matches him.

“I’m against killing anybody these days,” she laughs. “But no, not if they deserved it. Keep that one between us.”

They fight for a while, but Andrew runs out of energy slightly quicker than usual. Renee wishes she could see something in him, some answer, some feeling now that his feelings were finally his own again, but each time she catches his eyes she is only met with this vast emotionless void. Renee naively hopes that with each step he takes, each fist he throws, that maybe he will finally be angry. Looking at him, knowing what he'd been through, imagining what had happened in Easthaven, she wishes he would scream and curse the world for the way it had treated him. It was a thought born from the old Renee, that much was clear. A thought founded in spite and revenge, born from fiery resentment and anger. Renee thinks Andrew deserves to kill each and every person who has felt entitled to him and his body. She would tuck her cross necklace beneath her blouse and go to confession afterwards, but she also knows she'd be right there with him.

[osakanone]

"How realistic are mecha, really?": They aren't, but not for the reason you're thinking of or the one adjacent to it. Trust me.

Crossposted from reddit, since people seemed to like it. Like in the thread, I am very happy to answer questions about any esoteric weirdness.

Hold my beer. Again

They're not becoming a possibility. Yes. I know. This sucks. But stick around. Its not for the reasons you think. Well it is, but it also isn't. You'll see.

The robot needs the technology more than the technology needs a robot.

the technologies which the robot needs will improve and alter the doctrine of every other platform

This creates a doctrinal lock-in where the potential functional space for them to exist is unmet -- that they are so far ahead, that nothing new can emerge that isn't just other platforms becoming more generalized (eg, a post-stall recovery aircraft, or a helicopter with high impact landing-gear and a rigid rotor/jet engine design to act as a surface-fighter -- a tank which walks or manoeuvres like a robot is just flat out of the question: Tanks are made to be simple-as-fuck boxes which tank hits, and shoot and acquire asap and rumours of their deaths as a doctrinal weapon are exaggerated by recent events where obsolete weapons which aren't maintained properly who's crews aren't adequately trained were fighting very clever civilians with drones)

What you consider "realistic" (5th/6th) is just as if not more unrealistic than other gens purely because of their smaller size and very bizarre relationship with the environment -- they're just both too big, and too small to make sense, sitting in a size niche which is just very weird

If such a vehicle does exist, its going to be defined by its functions rather than a humanoid appearance

we know this because specialized platforms tend to beat specialized platforms historically until specialized platforms mature and become generalized

thus, the closest you're probably going to get is some weird variation of DARPA's Ground X Vehicle Project meeting with Gravity Industry' style mobility in limited cases, hybridized with smaller robots and wingsuits, which mix manoeuvring operation styles, with some rocker-boogie mechanism elements for terrain handling: It won't be humanoid, whatever it is.

This is assuming you can magically solve the square-cube law of volume-mass which is partially negatable with certain custom topologies exceeding graphene but actually manufacturing them would be miserable work probably not even be something you can make without microgravity

Energy flat out isn't solvable with what we know about right now. Nothing with that energy density can exist that isn't going to simultaneously make for an incredible fragile, dangerous and problematic source of power given the forces involved. Cooling is also a horrifyingly unsolvable problem on this scale, as is radiation management: You can't just dump molten tungsten in emergency cooling mode - you'll not only proceed to alert everybody who has even the vaguest IRST capacity to your position, but you'll also probably set fire to the environment and cook off your own ammunition. *

Motors aren't well suited to the tasks of such bodies (its like trying to make a slingshot out of dental floss), and we don't have an effective way to turn electricity into a form of motion which corresponds with the shock absorbing and motion control qualities which are actually desirable yet

Even if we did, the actual means of ensuring it doesn't fragment every time it moves don't exist. Every time an A10C fires its main gun, the fuel lines micro-fracture and have to be replaced after it lands. Metal, when you subject it to high physical forces ends up feeling and behaving closer to how you would think of glass. You'd need a material capable of repairing itself too, atop the quasicrystalline property which again, just isn't doable, let alone simultaneously.

So in terms of our mindset going into this?

Its... Probably not happening barring a very, VERY extreme change to how we understand physics to function, or some really kick ass (and actually entirely possible) changes in how engineering achieves outcomes (which could happen if the greatest threat to the mecha didn't exist)

Combat is moving towards information dominance. 

That's drone swarms, and role modularized long range travel, and the idea of fighter beyond-visual-range combat extending out to infared search and track systems which are networked to one another, which we're already seeing in singleton weapons and their mounting strategies even on the personal scale, which DARPA is currently investigating which everybody wants to mate with the gravity industries gear for boarding ops so the most likely avenue is to scale up from people, rather than scale down from vehicles as the development pathway -- but there's probably going to be multiple pathways with competing niches once the technology becomes cheap enough.

Costing

Ultimately its down to "how much money do I have to spend to defeat something more expensive than myself?" -- because our current structure of war is defined by cost, and by making the other guys surrender by using economic, and military violence (private, and publicly funded) instead of convincing them that we (NATO members, etc) have good opinions purely because of the natural benefits of "doing as we say" (which we see with basically any conflict in the last 70 years, which are usually feigned as ideological but pretty much always about disrupting market competition, dominating markets, or controlling a pressure position in another country to achieve those two things).

This isn't because they're particularly excellent weapons, but because they're cheap relative to the strength they offer, and how we define cheap is very different to how we defined cheap 100 years ago -- both in good, and terrible ways (such is the way of history).

Mecha are kinda the ultimate boondoggle. They are very very expensive, and just don't make sense.

They're cool as hell, yes.

But they don't make sense.

DISCLAIMER: If you're prone to depression, are dealing with a lot right now, or don't want your day ruining, you should stop reading NOW. What comes next is a psychosocial hazard and could be very bad for your mental health. LAST CHANCE . . .

The "real" reasons

If conflict some how became a meritocracy of leading by excellence rather than intimidation, and about human outcomes instead of cost outcomes, then things could change, but we don't live in that world.

Remember, violence exists to end human conflict (not to be confused with military conflict, which violence is the primary instrument of): Human conflict is when two parties oppose one another and communicate about what their goals and intentions are. Violence happens when communication stops. Communication stops, because parties cannot come to terms, or because nobody wants to be reasonable because the inherent request is unreasonable to the interests of the other party.

I'd love to say physics is the greatest threat, or maybe our concept of conflict but its not: * Its economics.

The concept of private-equity (not to be confused with venture-capital investment) is kiiiind of the dominant economic system on the face of the planet which dictates the interest of every nuclear power's actions against every non-nuclear power) is functionally dissolved, and investment models as we know them magically become better regulated OR a better economic system comes along which totally undermines private equity.

Its an economic finger-trap where most of the money that would be reinvested into people and technologies to push the world forward ends up getting swallowed up.

It also has private armies) and simulates the economy and political events in order to control them for maximum profitability. Yeah.)

We already live in Armored Core, folks.

And that economic system knows that if it gave free agents like ravens any kind of military power, it would functionally undermine itself, which is why it will never happen.

Private equity benefits from not having technology change, because its primary goal is wealth extraction. It leads to the collapse of every business you've ever seen go under, its why products undergo enshittification, which is coming for everything.

Its why the housing crisis happened, why the banking collapse happened, and its why there's an incentive to continue industrializing diseases like insulin instead of curing them.

tl;dr:

The one thing AC gets super wrong is you can either have the depressing relatable low-saturation late-stage hyper-capitalist dystopia where life is cheap on planet earth and everything terrible about South Korea times a thousand covers the whole world, and you need to have your own organs brought from you and leased back to you to lock you in to a lifetime of debt the same way everything else works...

OR

you can have the robot;

You can't have both.

e: I'd pick the robot any day

--

Apologies for any inaccuracies, I haven't edited this and I threw the original together in the space of around 40 minutes. Questions very welcome: I enjoy giving long detailed and substantiated answers.

If you enjoyed this, please consider reading my other work on the theoretical design factors of mecha, their control systems, and my fictional writing in mechposting.

[14fucks]

18+ lesbian smut

warning: uh butchfemme dynamics, gender neutral!butch, reader!femme

2.2k words :)

butch that picks you up from work, after dropping you off in the morning, after making you breakfast and waking you up with a hand tracing your back instead of an alarm clock

butch that greets you at their car with a grin and the passenger door open, sunglasses and a suit on like your personal valet

butch that traces patterns on your thigh while they drive, listening to you talk about your day at work and asking questions or humming agreements

butch that, when you pull into the driveway, makes you wait to get out so they can open the door for you, guiding you into the house with a hand on your back, whispering in your ear "i got the whole evening planned out for you"

butch that opens the front door to a clean house, a table set for the two of you, and the whole place lit up softly with (luckily fake) candles, "I didn't want to leave the house with everything lit, it was either that or leave you in the car for ten minutes while i went around lighting everything," they explain, "Go shower, I've got dinner"

butch that turns the oven off, taking everything out to let sit for a moment, that walks up the stairs with a box of a new silky pajama set. placing it on the bed they pull towels out of the dryer and knock on the bathroom door.

butch that cracks the door after a soft response, "there's something for you on the bed, i think you'll look real good in it. dinner's done, too, i made your favorite"

butch that turns to leave before you ask, "what's all this for?" with your head poking out behind the shower curtain

butch that shrugs and answers simply "'cause i like you or something. get dry and dressed, i don't want anything to get cold"

butch that closes the door and heads back to the kitchen, leaving you to dry off with the warm towels, and you exit the bathroom to see the pajama set on the bed. it's beautiful, a pale tone of your favorite color with thin lacy straps that match the lining of the shorts. a robe of the same, but darker, color and a similar lining is in the box too. you put all of it on, and it fits perfectly. loose enough to move in and light enough to feel the chill of air conditioning. the robe helps, but you miss the warmth of the shower. putting your slippers on you head to the kitchen to eat.

butch that pulls your chair out for you, that plates your favorite dinner and sets it in front of you before sitting down themselves. you talk more over food. about work again, this time about the oddjobs your butch does as someone generally good with their hands and tools. you talked about life in general, things going in with your friends, your family, celebrities and tv shows, with time passing freely. forks scrape against plates and as dinner finishes, and as more wine gets poured, you both end up a little tipsier than either of you anticipated.

butch that extends their hand across the table to yours, resting it on top before grabbing it to hold and massage lightly, "so good so far?" they ask almost hesitantly. "so far?" you question, what more was to come? what more could they possibly have planned? "so far you're doing more than good, you're doing everything perfectly. i'm almost convinced you've been replaced"

butch that smiles to themselves, leaning back in their chair and rolling their eyes, "i just like checking in, that's all." releasing your hand they stand up and clear the table. "i can clean," you offer but they swipe their hand and shake their head, "you absolutely won’t. i’m taking care of you tonight.”

butch that, as you just noticed, must have taken their tie and jacket off to cook and eat. you blame it on the wine for not noticing sooner but what you really notice (also, probably, due to the wine) is how hot your butch is. they look tailored, well groomed and clean– a difference from their usual cargo pants and t-shirts.

butch that is a little disheveled from cooking. hair a little messy, sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone. you lean forward in your chair a little, crossing your legs and resting your chin on your hand, "you're really handsome you know that?"

butch that looks down to grin to themselves, lightly blushing at the compliment and their wife flirting with them even after being married.

butch that walks towards you with their arm extended, that helps you up off of your chair and into the living room, “wanna get freaky?” you laugh, “you’re also really fucking annoying.”

butch that picks you up, carrying you with your legs hooked over their arms and face buried into their neck. they sit on the couch with your hips resting over theirs, and you finally feel some well needed friction with the help of the strap they were packing under their dress pants and boxers.

butch that moves their hands to your hips, rubbing thumbs along your underwear line from under your shorts and leaning into your shoulder to kiss up to your neck.

butch that nips, sucks, and licks up to your jaw, that moves to your lips and kisses you a lot softer than you thought they would in this moment. kissing back, you rest your arms around their shoulders and push your hips into theirs. “i think i have a crush on you again,” they say, “i think you do too,” you shoot back. 

butch that groans and hooks their fingers under your shorts and panties, gently tugging them down. you stand briefly to take them off, immediately moving back into your butch's arms.

butch that quickly moves to kiss you again, this time rougher than before. they hook an arm under your leg to move you closer to them and their still covered strap, exposing your now naked pussy to their clothed hips and thighs.

butch that mumbles a "ride my thigh" as they kiss you, nudging a knee and high between your own legs. you adjust so your straddling their leg, and go to unbutton their shirt. "you're too covered, i need to feel you."

butch that groans at this and pushes your wet pussy on their thigh. their hands guide your hips along their leg, wetness spreading along their pants, getting slicker for you to grind on.

butch that bites their lip at a moan you let out, "thats it baby, just like that, get yourself off for me."

butch that slowly starts bouncing their leg, that moves a hand from your hip, under your soft tank top to your breast and nipple, tweaking and massaging, their head resting on your shoulder, "fuckin missed my pretty girl, haven't been able to treat you in forever."

butch that, with that one sentence, has reminded you how busy you've been at work. the late nights, the extra days and overtime, it's really made you miss your butch and all the things you do for each other. you missed being home with them, and being able to spend time with one another, you pull their bare shoulders into your arms.

butch that interrupts your thoughts when they latch onto your other nipple with their mouth, licking and sucking more with each soft moan you let out. the slick grinding and the wetness of their mouth on your nipple make you shudder and whimper a quick release onto their leg. you grip them harder, nails biting into the skin.

butch that moves their hand from your boob to your pussy, gently rubbing your clit and giving your nipple one last hard suck they rest their head on your shoulder again, "atta fuckin girl, you like getting off on me dont you sweet thing?" you nod, all melty like a chocolate bar left out in the sun. you adjust to straddle their hips again.

butch that, finally, removes your tops and holds your chest close to them. your obvious nakedness makes you curl into them more, and arch your back into them once again. their hands move down your shoulders, to your back, and over your ass, kneading.

butch that whispers for you to go to the bedroom, lightly tapping your cheek, assuring you that they'll follow.

butch that watches you stand, a soft smirk on their face and a highly embarrassing wet spot on their pants from just moments ago. "go," they say, "i love watching you leave a room."

butch that erupts into giggles at your rolling eyes, that stands once you turn to leave and follows you into the bedroom

butch that closes the door and slips off their shirt and pants, leaving them still in their boxers. you sit on the bed watching them get undressed, admiring the butch you married and sighing.

butch that stands in front of you, hand cupping your chin, "has anyone ever told you you look really good naked?" you giggle at them, "i'm serious, you look good enough to eat." you lay back, and smirk a little, "come eat me then."

butch that returns a grin, and kneels down, lifting your ankles over their shoulders and bringing your pussy to their lips.

butch that licks up your pussy, sucking on your clit and lapping you up hungrily, your pussy still wet and aching for more contact.

butch that makes you feel like you're riding a high better than most californian strains of weed you grind against their face, their hands tracing up your body to fondle your tits again.

butch that makes you gasp and shudder with their tongue pulsing in and out of you. they moan into your pussy and their nose catches your clit, making you jolt.

butch that removes a hand from your tit and starts to fuck their fingers into you, getting a harder, faster momentum into your pussy, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking harder.

butch that moves and raises your hips up, pressing their face into you harder, fingering you harder, sucking your clit harder.

butch that laps at your pussy like a madman, your back arching and hips shuttering against your butches tongue and fingers, the stimulation feeling overwhelming but so good at the same time, your arms shake and your hands ball up.

butch that groans with you into your orgasm, the stimulus from your breast being fondled and their hand against your pussy overwhelming you

butch that removes themselves from your clit and stops their fingers, now lightly circling your clit again to help you come down a bit.

butch that lets out a small laugh at you, disheveled and panting a little bit, "want more?" they ask, panting as well after shoving their face in your cunt. "from you? always"

butch that quickly flips you over and pushes your shoulders into the bed, that pulls your hips up, and smacks your ass.

butch that strips themselves of their boxers, finally, revealing their strap. looking over your shoulder you see--and feel--

butch that places a hand on your lower back, inching in while you sigh and relax into them.

butch that looms over you, clawing into your back working up to a rougher pace, hips rutting against your ass with rhythmic slaps echoing in the room, moans stuttering

butch that pulls whines out of you with every thrust, hand moving to rub your clit and bite your shoulder.

butch that grunts at the pressure from their strap against their pussy, feeling almost dizzy at the movement

butch that slaps your ass and leans back, pulling your hair with them.

butch that drags you up against their back, panting, kissing your neck, dragging a hand down to your achy clit again. you find yourself humping the air, breathing rapidly, hands shaking, your stomach tightening.

butch that pulls another harder orgasm through you, cooing 'good girls' and 'there ya gos' as you collapse into their arms

butch that helps you lie down on the bed again, kissing your forehead and massaging your hips, your thighs, your tits.

butch that pulls themselves around you, the two of you lying awkwardly with the blanket folded over you like an omelet, too tired to do anything that exerts much energy.

butch that whispers how much they missed you, cuddling into your neck and wrapping their arms around your still naked body.

butch that takes care of you when you need it the most

[4unnyr0se]

Hi love your writing!! I havent touched HQ in 3 years but Im starting to love old characters I use to fall in love with like Asahi, Oikawa, Bokuto etc,,, so as my first req, could you pls write fem! Reader x Bokuto fluff in HS?

Like Bokuto trying to court the reader. How would that go? And how did he finally ask us out?

Feel free to ignore this if you dont like the idea! Ty for ur time 🤍❤️🤍

❥ young love at fukurodani | kotaro bokuto

warnings: none that i can think of. this is pure fluff

MDNI | No 18+ content, I just don't want minors interacting with my blog

word count -> 1.6k

okay so aaaa this didn't rlly follow the ask bc all he does is ask reader to tutor him and then cute stuff happens but i can make a hc of it probably tonight or tomorrow?? also i wrote this when i was having tummy issues so im very sorry if its horrible. i love u!

got a request? my asks are open!

Bokuto wasn’t one to get embarrassed that easily. Sure, he did embarrassing things but didn’t know they were embarrassing. They were part of his boyish charm, which people loved about him…right? Of course, they did. He was Kotaro Bokuto. He was Fukurodani’s ace, and the people loved him for it. So why, if he was so confident, did he get awkward and embarrassed around you, his pretty classmate?

Saying you were gorgeous was an understatement. He couldn’t find the right words to describe you to his friends, mainly Akaashi. “She’s just like, y’know? And I’m like, oh damn! She’s cute as fuck!” Boktuo would make various gestures with his hands as he and Akaashi sat on the steps leading to the gym, sipping cola from the vending machine. “What do I do, Akaashi? She’s so pretty, and I’m pretty too! The only problem is that everyone else in our year thinks so, too…do I even have a shot?”

Akaashi would offer him a pitiful smile, rubbing his back in assurance. “Well, isn’t she one of the smartest in our year?”

“Yeah, smart and pretty. She’s so fucking perfect, I wish you could see her.” he pouted.

“Well, the answer is simple,” Akaashi said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Ask her for help with homework; god knows you need it.”

“Hey! I got a 41 on my chemistry test!” Bokuto yelled at Akaashi as the setter entered the gym. But he did have a point, like always. Bokuto decided then and there that he would ask you to tutor him tomorrow, no matter how anxious he was. Anxiety was for suckers anyway.

“Hey, wait up!” Bokuto ran after you as you exited your classroom, papers flying out of his messy bookbag that was riddled with stains from only God knows what. “I gotta ask you a question!”

You stopped walking and turned your heel, raising an eyebrow as the Fukurodani captain barreled towards you. “Hey, what’s up, Bokuto? How’s volleyball going? Are we headed to nationals?” you asked, placing a hand on your hip. God, even the way you held yourself was perfect. Were you an actual goddess, or was Bokuto just lovestruck?

Bokuto finally caught up to you, leaning against the hallway walls in an attempt to appear suave and put-together. His messy uniform didn’t help his cause, but he forgot to look neat today. And every day after that. “Uh, I was wondering if you understood what we were assigned in English yesterday? I don’t understand any of it to save my skin, hah,” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes. “Did you get what our teacher was saying?”

“Yeah, it was really simple. Just basic grammar and syntax structures. Was it complicated for you?” you tilted your head to the side.

“I don’t really get it. Wanna tutor me at my house today? I can get you snacks!” he offered you a crooked smile, leaning forward so his golden eyes peered into yours. “C’mon, please? The coach will kick my ass if I don’t get my grades up, and I have a game next week! Pretty please?” he folded his hands in prayer, his bottom lip in a childish pout.

You smiled and nodded, grabbing him off the wall. Bokuto blushed at the sudden contact, noticing how neat you kept your fingernails compared to his own. Yours were neatly polished to perfection while he bit his nails almost constantly, and being a wing spiker didn’t come with having good-looking nails. 

“Where’s your house? Is it walking distance?” you let go of his hand, much to Bokuto’s dismay. 

“Yeah, it’s about five minutes from here. Wanna stop at a convenience store on the way? I’m really hungry.” he rubbed his stomach as you two walked out the nearest exit, your messenger bag dangling over your shoulder. 

“Only if you’re paying,” you joked, rubbing his shoulder. Bokuto could have sworn his heart stopped right then and there. Were you actually flirting with him, or were you just really touchy? Either way, it was a win in his book. 

“Sure, I don’t mind. Anything for a pretty girl like yo-” Bokuto stopped his sentence, smacking his hand over his mouth. “I-I mean, why wouldn’t I mind? I’m a captain, after all. It’s my job to provide for my teammates!”

“But I’m not on any sports teams. I’m not your teammate.” you deadpanned, 

“You know what I mean!” Bokuto whined, wiping his forehead of the sweat that was slowly starting to gather. “Damn, it’s a hot one today. Why won’t they let the guys wear shorts? Do they want us to die of heat stroke or something?”

“I honestly have no idea,” you sighed, walking under the shade of the convenience store roof. “Wait a minute,” you instructed, placing your messenger bag on the hot pavement. You shrugged off your school blazer and wrapped it around your waist tightly in an attempt to cool you off. You also rolled up the sleeves of your white blouse, loosening your collar. “Sorry, I’m just really warm. At least we get to wear skirts, right?” you offered him a lopsided smile.

Bokuto’s heart pounded in his chest. “Uh, yeah, you girls are so lucky. Wearing skirts must feel awesome.”

“It’s awesome until you catch someone trying to look it up,” you mumbled in annoyance, hoisting your bag over your shoulders. 

“What the actual fuck? Who was it? I’ll murder them! I'll text Konoha too; he’ll definitely want in on it,” Bokuto clenched his fists together, walking into the store with you. “I’m sorry that happened to you, honestly.

You shrugged your shoulder and rummaged through the ice cream pin, choosing a passionfruit-flavored ice bar. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I barely know you, anyways.”

“That doesn’t mean that I can’t protect you from jerks like that guy,” Bokuto angrily shoved his hands in his pockets, tapping his foot on the tile. He fished about 400 yen out of his pocket and handed it to the cashier, ushering you out of the shop as quickly as possible. 

“What was that for?” you asked, unwrapping the popsicle. 

“I didn’t like how he looked at you, that’s all.” Bokuto huffed. He made grabby motions for your bookbag, which you handed to him with a confused look on your features. “Let me carry that, please. You’re too pretty to carry heavy stuff around like that all day.”

You paused your walk and stared at Bokuto, blushing softly. “You think I’m pretty?” 

Bokuto slowly nodded and gave you a crooked smile, blushing in turn. “Yeah, I really do. I was afraid to tell you before, but now I’m all fired up. I wanna protect you from creeps, y’know?”

You popped the ice treat out of your mouth and stepped forward, smiling softly. “We barely know each other, and you want to keep me safe? We haven’t even hung out once.”

“We’re heading to my house right now, aren’t we?” Bokuto shrugged, his blush not fading. 

You chuckled and took another step forward, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. “Yeah, I guess we are,” you whispered, your lips dangerously close to his own. “You know, I always thought you were kind of cute. In the athletic kind of way, I suppose.”

Bokuto dropped the bags he held onto the hot concrete beneath you, praying they wouldn’t roll down the hill you were standing on. You two were in a remote location, and the tension was thick. “You think I’m cute?” he tilted his head to the side, his eyelids dropping halfway. 

“Mhm,” you purred, your popsicle dripping from the intense heat. “Super cute.”

“Fuck,” Bokuto’s hands hovered above your waist, unsure of what you wanted him to do. “Uh, is it okay if I kiss you? Please, cutie?” he quietly pleaded, your lips basically touching at this point. 

You smiled and nodded, holding your melting popsicle behind your back. “Mhm, it’s okay.”

Bokuto smiled as his lips interlocked with yours for a minute, savoring the sweet passionfruit flavor that coated them. His hands squeezed your waist childishly, never wanting this moment between the two of you to end. This kiss was exactly how he dreamed it would be, soft and perfect. Just like you.

You pulled away after a bit and giggled, your popsicle having since fallen onto the heated pavement. Your sticky hands cupped his face, the pads of your thumbs running over his defined cheekbones. “You’re a good kisser,” you pecked his forehead bravely. “Like, a really good kisser.”

“Same to you, cutie,” his hands left your waist, choosing to instead secure your wrists. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that. So. Fucking. Long.”

 A chuckle escaped your lips as your hands fell to your waist again, intertwining your fingers with Bokuto’s. You had never notified it before, but he was much bigger than you. It made you feel safe and secure. Protected. “We should probably get to your house to study, shouldn’t we?” 

“Aw, I was having so much fun kissing you on the sidewalk!” Bokuto pretended to whine, kicking a loose pebble that was in his way. He easily picked up the bags with his spare hand and tossed them over his broad shoulder. 

“Tell you what,” you squeezed his hand. “For every question you get right, I’ll give you a kiss. Does that sound like a fair deal?”

“Hell yeah, it does!” Bokuto kissed you on the cheek in excitement. He practically skipped to his house with you in tow, excited for what the rest of the day would have in store.

[padyprongs]

To remember

Azriel x reader | Angst

Warnings: death, grieve, murder

When Feyre asks Azriel about a certain ring around his finger, the whole room turns quiet. But none of his family members expect him to reply to the question.

Coming home to my family gathered in the living room of the River House was always going to be my favorite thing.

The last week hadn't been a particular easy one, but I had managed to live through it, like I always would.

Cassian passed me a glass of wine, telling me that I needed it. I knew he meant it as a joke, but his sympathetic smile told me enough.

We didn't really speak about it anymore, since it had been decades. None of us did. But the weight of the ring around my finger of my left hand weighed more than usual this week.

I felt Feyre's eyes on me. When I looked at her she smiled, but I soon noticed that her eyes weren't on my face. No, they were on my hand. My left hand.

She was probably just looking at my scars. Most people did. It did bother me a bit, but with my family it was different.

"Azriel, can I ask you something?" Feyre asked. The entire room turned quiet, everyone's attention on me and Feyre.

"Of course." I answered, even though I was not sure I wanted to answer it.

"I keep noticing the ring on your left hand. You seem to play with it a lot. What does it stand for?"

If the room could've turned even more quiet than before, it would.

Feyre looked around in confusion. "Oh sorry, I-..." Rhys put a hand on her arm.

"Feyre, I don't think-"

"No, it's okay." I cut him off. Rhys looked at me.

You don't have to talk about it. He spoke into my mind.

I gave him a tight mouthed smile. I would rather tell her the story myself. She deserves to know about her.

I knew that I wasn't the only one having a hard time with telling this story. Mor had lost her best friend. Cassian and Rhys had lost their best friend. Even Amren had lost a friend that day, if she could even have friends.

And I lost a mate that day.

Feyre looked at me with curiosity, waiting for me to start talking.

"It belongs-.. belonged to my mate." I told her, my eyes on the beautiful ring.

It was gold with a blue stone inside of it. The color of my siphons, like she had requested.

"I'm sorry." Feyre said quietly.

I gave her a sad smile. "I had it altered so it would fit around my finger. I have my own matching one in my room."

Feyre hesitated before speaking. "When did she... pass away?"

"Around 50 years ago." I answered. "51 years to be exact. Just a few weeks before Rhys went Under the Mountain."

"How long were you two together for?" she asked.

I twisted the ring around my finger, smiling to myself. "For a long time. Close to a century." I thought I might go crazy at some point after losing her while having been together for such a long time. But I didn't eventually.

The first few years were super hard. Even harder since I had lost my mate and brother within the span of a few weeks. I remember Cassian and Mor being helpless all the time, not knowing how to help me from going mad.

I blocked everyone out. I didn't talk or sleep for months.

Eventually I got the courage to go into our old room in the Town House, where we would stay most of the time. I found her ring there. The ring she had purposely left there the day she was killed. She had left it there for me along with a note, telling me that she knew she was going to die. That she wanted me to live a happy life.

Something changed after that day. I immediately took the ring to a jeweler who made it fit my finger so I was able to carry a piece of her with me at all time.

I was able to talk again. To sleep, even though the nightmares haunted me.

"What was she like?" Feyre questioned softly.

I had to keep myself from smiling again. "She was the best. She was kind, smart, hardworking, and always selfless." I told her, adding a sad smile at the end.

The rest of my family smiled at the memory of her.

"The selfless part was one of her best qualities, but also the one that..." I hesitated before speaking. But I wanted to tell Feyre. "That got her killed."

Everyone around the room stiffened, but I decided to continue. Maybe it was time I would say something about it. To tell her story.

"She volunteered to go on a mission for us. To check out the next plans of Hybern. Of Amarantha. She knew that there was going to be a possibility of dying from the moment she volunteered, but decided it was best to not tell us." I started. "She knew that if I knew about it, if Rhys knew about it, we would offer to go ourselfs. But still she decided to go. When the bond closed off I got so worried. At one point I stopped feeling her."

"We got a message from the Hewn City the next day that there had been a body found on their doorsteps. We immediately went to look." I swallowed hard. "I will never forget what I saw." I decided to spare Feyre the details.

I had to blink back the tears at remembering the memories of all those yours ago.

"I'm sorry that happened to you Azriel." Feyre spoke softly.

I sniffed. "Not only to me. She was important to all of us. To many people in this court." I said. "She would've loved you." I smiled at Feyre.

Feyre's face lit up at my words.

Rhys raised his glass. "To our beloved friend." Everyone raised their glasses.

The rest of the night was spent talking about her. Everyone shared their favorite stories about her.

It was late when I finally retreated to my room again. My mind kept wandering to her. I kept twisting the ring around my finger until the weight of sleep took over.

I could've sworn I saw a star shine extra brightly into my room.

[yournightmary]

Roommate!Ellie HCs | part II

content warning:: fem!reader, modern!AU, pretty sure that’s it

AN:: Hope you all enjoy this:) xx

part I here!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who loves going to the store with you. Whether you’re going to get the groceries or just doing a quick run for a snack- she’s tagging along.

also- definitely walks behind you like a kid, pointing at everything on the shelves and asking you if she can get that. Or just puts the most random and weird things in your cart.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who feels weird whenever someone touches her hair but still asks you to cut it for her. For the love of god, she can’t cut the back even if she wants to. If she does it herself she’ll end up with shitty layers, not in the cool grungy girl way.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who will get hyperfixated on one specific food and she will eat only that for two months straight. Then she’ll get sick of it and won’t be able to even look at it :(

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who always helps you pick an outfit just so she can shamelessly stare at you. Also offers you to help with your hair, just so she can touch it and be close to you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who made you sit through a 9 hour youtube video about FNAF lore and later questioned you about it. Would pretend to be mad when you answered wrong.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who shares all her subscriptions with you. You two share a netflix account, you have spotify duo maybe even the apple one family thingy if you have an iphone. You always send her half the costs but she somehow always manages to give it back. Most of the times just buys you a gift with it.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who has the humor of a 12 year old boy. She knows all of the brainrot jokes and doesn’t get how you can’t understand them or don’t find them funny.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who tried to take you out on a date multiple times but it always ends up a flop. Whether you stumble upon some mutual friends and hang out together or just don’t do anything date-like, you never seem to pick up on her hints. You do. She’s just oblivious.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who made most of the art in your apartment herself. There’s definitely at least one portrait of you, proudly displayed in the living room.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who is the scary-bug killer in your duo. Big spider in the shower? Weird, flying, buzzing bug in your bedroom? Give her a minute tops and you’ll be safe again.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who literally cried when she got back from work before christmas, seeing the whole apartment decorated. Then she got excited like a kid when she noticed there were gifts under the mass cane plant, your budget too small to get an actual christmas tree so you just used the beloved house plant you already had.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who finally confessed her feelings on valentine’s day, when you both didn’t have a date so you just watched shitty rom-coms together. Was literally shaking on the couch and almost backed out twice.

your relationship didn’t really change once you became a couple, Ellie just got a lot more touchier. She denies it but her love language is physical touch. She’s a softie at heart.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who leaves notes all around the apartment so you can find them while she’s at work. It’s mostly awful dad jokes, she probably gets them from Joel.

[melminli]

drabble w/ modern bf coryo

"Let's get married."

Your boyfriend looked up kinda skeptical from his cell phone and didn't know what exactly to answer to your out of the blue question. Kind of weird since Coriolanus was usually so quick-witted, but well, it was already 11 pm, and he was probably tired. His reaction time was not at its best. "What makes you think that now? Is this another one of your trends that I don't know about?" He asked, taking a very critical approach. That question felt like a trap to him, and he definitely didn't want to step into it.

You just crossed your arms. "So you don't want to marry me?" You accused him and found it a little funny to see how stressed the usually calm Coriolanus Snow was.

He sighed. "...that's not what I said. Don't put words in my mouth." He said, somewhat exhausted, and tried to collect himself. "I just want to know where the idea came from. You never seemed interested in that sort of thing."

Your actual plan wasn't to turn everything he said around, but it was kind of fun. "Wow, so you don't think I'm serious about our relationship?" You threw into the room with a disappointed look on your face. "We've been together for 5 years Coryo, doesn't that mean anything to you?"

The accused moved his hands around nervously, searching for the right words for a few seconds. "Of course it does! I was just - I mean - I thought that - " he bubbled nervously until he realized what kind of situation he was in. This wasn't one of those conversations. Coriolanus rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Wait, what is this? What are you doing?" He asked, confused when he saw a grin spread across your face. "...you're fucking with me, aren't you?"

You playfully punched him on the shoulder. "I am. I wanted to see how you'd react." You finally admitted. "But why were you so careful? You don't have to be afraid of spending a lifetime with me, you know?" You pouted a little, whereupon he pulled you into a hug.

"I'm not afraid of it." He comforted you. "But the way you said it sounded like a threat, so don't hold it against me."

[shaunashoochiebae]

thinking about art as ur hunger games mentor.. (is this too niche)

it was unexpected, obviously, your name being called at the reaping. “it could be anyone,” your mother told you, trying to soothe your nerves. and of course that anyone had to be you.

you let out a sound of discomfort as you walked out of the rows and rows of girls, your grey dress suddenly feeling too tight on you and laces of your boots coming undone, you climbed up the stairs onto the makeshift stage where miss effie trinket stood, her extravagant outfit, covered in rhinestones and feathers, shining under the hot sun.

you couldn’t really process anything else that happened up until effie escorted you and the poor boy chosen from your district into the justice building.

being from district five, you had little survival skills. sure, you knew what to look out for if there was an electrical fire, but that was about it. you hoped and prayed that you had a good mentor and well…

art donaldson was popular to say the least. strutting around the town square without a care in the world as if he wasn’t a victor.

he worked in the power plant alongside your father. which was odd, you thought. he’s a victor, he lives in the victor village, he shouldn’t need to work. and you’re right. he doesn’t. he does it out of “the kindness of his heart.”

you didn’t believe that. you’ve peeked in the windows and seen him, bent over on rails talking to some poor girl like she’s not really there.

you caught her outside the plant one day just as she was about to go in, “how often does art come in?” you asked her and she replied sighing, “maybe twice a week? he talks to a few girls and then dips. barely works.”

and just your luck. he was assigned to be your mentor. yay. you and the other tribute got a minute or two alone with close family before being introduced to your mentors.

he knocked on the door to the small room near the entrance of the building. he poked his head into the room and saw you sitting on a velvet couch looking awfully glum. he entered the room and walked over to you. he wore

“hi, i’m Art. i was assigned to be your mentor,” he told you, looking down at you with a slight smile on his face. you looked up at him and nodded, the sun shining in through one of the windows and lighting up his almost golden hair. “i wasn’t told a lot about you, d’you wanna tell me about yourself?”

so, you told him your name, when your birthday was, which he did the calculations to and it turns out you’re 18, what you can do and what you can’t. also what would probably be helpful to you in the arena.

he quietly jotted most things that you said, frankly they were all summarised, on a piece of paper he had in his pocket. you assumed it was for girl’s addresses.

“well, it’s nice to meet you. i can tell we’re gonna get along,” he said, slipping the paper into his pocket again. he turned and was about to leave the room when you called out to him, “wait! you should.. probably tell me about yourself, too, you know.”

he chuckled to himself and plopped down on the couch, next to you. “where to begin?” he breathed out, “my name’s Art Donaldson. i’m 27 years old, i was the victor of the 59th hunger games at 16 years old.”

“wow. must’ve gotten lucky, then,” you theorised to which he nodded. “i was popular with the capitol. thanks to my ravishing good lucks and charming personality,” he jested with a laugh.

“but, seriously. how did you win?” he sighed at the question, upset with the answer he had to give you. “i used my ‘ravishing good looks and charming personality’ to win over the capitol. i was sent things in the arena that helped me to keep going. i,” he let out another sigh, “i wasn’t very skilful. i almost waited out the entire game, hiding up somewhere. our district isn’t poor, per se, but it’s poor, victor-wise, skill-wise.”

you nodded, having acknowledged the amount of tributes from your district coming home was very little.

he cleared his throat and tried to calm your nerves as he could see the look on your face was not one of excitement, “but, hey. i’ll try to help you as best i can in that arena. i’ll train you good, i promise.”

ugh i hate this. let me know if i should continue or nah okay ty bye

[nekropsii]

asking you this since you’re the only person who understands mituna in the entire fandom in my perception of the hs fandom

is it okay to headcanon mituna as autistic? sorry if you get this type of ask a lot/have already answered this type of ask

Instead of answering this question, I will give some food for thought: Mituna has a TBI. He has Brain Damage. This is a core element of his character. Probably the biggest one. In fact, it's so important to him that it's an injury that has remained with him in death. His TBI is a huge, huge part of what makes him... Well, him. It's why he's interesting.

So... Why is a need felt to also declare him as Autistic? Assuming this is a projection thing, since it tends to be most of the time - if you relate to him for his already canonical Neurodivergency, which is Brain Damage, why does one need to give him Autism as well?

Oftentimes when people headcanon him as Autistic, they tend to minimize or even outright erase his TBI. Oftentimes, people say he's Autistic as the reason he's canon Neurodivergent representation... Even though he's shown no real signs of it, but instead is fully written as a character with a Frontal Lobe Injury, and is constantly stated to have Brain Damage.

TBIs and other Neurodivergencies are often seen as less palatable than Autism. On Tumblr especially, it's far more "acceptable" to be Autistic or ADHD or headcanon a character as such than it is to have Brain Damage or literally any other Neurodivergency or acknowledge that a character is written with those. Autism and ADHD are seen as cute and relatable - even though they're very complex and at times devastating disabilities that do have the potential to seriously fuck up your livelihood, much like Depression and Anxiety, and I'm saying this as someone who has and struggles with all 4 - and are often used to erase the presence of other Neurodivergencies. Hell, it's to the point where people use "Neurodivergency" as a synonym for ADHD and Autism.

Again, I'm not going to answer this question for you. I think there's a way someone could potentially make the narrative of Mituna having Autism prior to the TBI compelling - the TBI has essentially stripped him of his ability to mask, after all, so one could make it be a situation where some of these symptoms are ones he already had, but is only just now really getting shit for because he's no longer able to hide it, and part of that tragedy is knowing that had he never been good at masking, his "friends" would have never accepted him. You could get some interesting questions about that. Was the repression worth it? Would it have been better if he'd just been himself the whole time? I think it's extremely valuable to ask yourself why you see any character as any specific minority - necessary, even - and how that affects not only the character's writing in its original text, but also your relationship with said character. Consider optics. Consider the way in which this character is meant to function in the source material. What purpose do they serve, and what is the driving force behind this character? Is Occam's Razor applicable? Are there other explanations as to why they are the way they are? Perhaps ones that are more succinct, and cover more ground?

Yesterday, I watched a film that has provoked a response in Tumblr that I think is applicable. I Saw The TV Glow. It's a film about a Trans Girl who never finds the strength to accept herself or come out. It's an incredibly gut-wrenching watch. It made me cry several times, and there are parts that made me feel a deep pain in my chest. I sat through 95% of the film with a pit in my stomach. I had to lay on the floor in the dark for a while after I finished. There's a scene where the main character is asked whether she likes girls or boys. She says she thinks she likes TV shows, and elaborates by saying that every time she tries to think about that kind of thing, it feels like someone's cutting her open and shoveling out her insides until there's nothing left. Not that there was anything in there to start with, of course - she says she knows there isn't, but she's too scared to look for herself and see.

That scene was about how Gender Dysphoria can completely disrupt your sexuality and repulse you from the thought of that level of connection with others, because it is, in essence, a deep disturbance with the nature of who you are as a person. Many people who are Asexual, or Aromantic, or both, related to that scene because it, on the surface, depicts discomfort with romance and sexuality. What they failed to understand by chalking it up to its own sexuality, is the fact that that scene wasn't depicting a Sex-Repulsed Asexual, or a Romance-Repulsed Aromantic, it was depicting a Trans Girl who is at such deep odds with herself and her identity that she cannot grapple with the concept of loving or being loved.

What, functionally, is the purpose of slapping an extraneous label onto a character that is meant to depict a certain thing? What is the purpose of assigning the label of "Autistic" to a character meant to depict the tragedy of a loss of support after gaining a disability, or "Aromantic" or "Asexual" to a character meant to depict a deep internal struggle with unresolved Gender Dysphoria?

Ask yourself these questions, and carry on from there. See where your mind takes you.

[youcouldmakealife]

Gérard/Sven/Yvette; up to snuff

As we approach the final two weeks publication, here's the last of the extras! For the prompt: I would love early relationship Sven/Yvette/Gerard, angst or fluff or first times or hurt/comfort.

(It's early relationship! But maybe not the OT3 one)

“I have a question for you,” Sven says.

“If it’s about that shirt, the answer is no,” Gérard says.

Sven looks down. “It’s a no?” he says.

“I feel like I’m looking at one of those books of optical illusions,” Gérard says.

“I liked those books,” Sven says.

Gérard did too. He doesn’t even mind the shirt, dizzying as it is, though Sven would get fined if the team saw it, and he clearly knows that, since this is the first time Gérard has seen it.

“It’s visual stimulation,” Sven insists. Gérard has to wonder, sometimes, where he comes from. Ottawa, by way of Sweden, but Gérard knows a lot of Ottawans, and a few Swedes too. They also find Sven inexplicable.

“Don’t you think Yvette gets enough of that in a classroom?” Gérard asks. He can’t think of anything more visually stimulating than an elementary school classroom. It’s almost like that’s the point.

“You have a point,” Sven says. “I’ll change.”

“No patterns!” Gérard says.

“You’re no fun!” Sven says.

Gérard’s fun. At least, he remembers being fun. Lately, perhaps, not so much. Perhaps he’d be more fun if Sven wasn’t constantly asking him for advice before his dates with Yvette.

He’s trying not to be weird about it. It’s hard, though, when Sven’s asking how to look sharp for a woman he only met because Gérard met her first. That is, when he isn’t asking where to take her, what to do, how to act, like he’s forgotten everything in the face of meeting her.

Gérard would think Sven had never dated before, but he was coming to the bitter end of a two year relationship when they met, and he’s dated a few women since, though nothing was serious enough for Gérard to meet them, let alone the rest of the team.

Yvette has met the team, of course. Day one, but Sven’s invited her to every event open to significant others since. She’s only come to one, to Sven’s disappointment — unsurprisingly, the schedule of a hockey player clashes with the schedule of a teacher — but if Gérard needed a sign that Sven was serious about her — he didn’t — that would have made it very obvious. The team’s important to him. More important than anything. Though perhaps not lately.

Sven was hesitant to ask him for advice at first, considering the situation, but Gérard told him it was fine, and he can’t be mad at Sven for taking him at his word. And it should be fine. He wants it to be fine. He’s sure it will be, eventually, and he’s waiting for that.

And who else could Sven ask for advice, really?

His parents? They’re somehow even weirder than Sven is — everything about him was explained the day Gérard met him. Or, nothing was explained, he’s still inexplicable, but at least he figured out where it came from.

Friends? Sven doesn’t have them, outside the team.

So then, the only alternative is their teammates. Yvette seems almost as smitten as Sven, which is saying something, since Gérard wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already surreptitiously measuring her ring finger whenever they hold hands. But even with that latitude, if Sven follows their boneheaded advice he’ll almost certainly end up single again. Every one of their teammates in a relationship got to that point despite everything about them. Gérard is saying that with affection — mostly — but even so.

“How’s this?” Sven asks, emerging from his bedroom, then striking a pose as Gérard surveys him.

“You look good,” Gérard say.

He does. The shirt’s a solid colour, thankfully. Sven was unable to resist pairing it with a patterned tie, but they work together. His hair’s sticking up a little, probably from the quick change, but it’s endearing. Gérard thinks Yvette would find it endearing too, but then, he doesn’t really know that, does he?

“You need to fix your hair, though,” he says, and Sven runs his fingers through it, messing it up worse until Gérard takes over, finger combing it into submission. His hair’s soft and thin, almost downy, like a child’s. Gérard tries not to linger.

“I’m nervous,” Sven admits. Gérard’s well aware of that, though there isn’t really anything to be nervous about at this point. It’s not like it’s a first date, or meeting the parents — if it wasn’t already clear they were serious, the fact she’s already met Sven’s and Sven’s already met hers, well, Gérard thinks that makes it very clear.

Sven’s parents adored her, and Gérard’s not surprised. Sven’s unsure how her parents felt about him, and Gérard’s not really surprised by that either. He bets they liked him, though. It’s hard not to be a little overwhelmed when the full force of his attention aimed at you, but it’s hard not to be bowled over by it either.

“You have nothing to be nervous about,” Gérard says.

“I know,” Sven says, cracking a small, nervous smile.

How could Yvette be anything but endeared? Gérard never had a chance, but she didn’t have one either.

“Thank you,” Sven says. “For, you know.”

“Saving Yvette’s eyesight?” Gérard asks.

“Yes,” Sven says. “Thank you for that.”

“Any time,” Gérard says, and wishes he was strong enough not to mean it.

[soleminisanction]

Issue 6 of "The Saga of the Super Sons" answers an important question: where the fuck has Dick been in this scenario?

Answer, apparently: At college.

Which is... where Bruce Junior is supposed to be. Bruce Junior, whose mother Bruce almost certainly met years after he took Dick in as a ward. Bruce Junior, who appears to be younger than Dick, but not by that much.

If you came at a Silver or Bronze Age writer with today's modern "but why is this character still 17" bullshit, I think they'd laugh directly in your face.

By the by, Dick is here because Bruce has been murdered.

I guess some things never change.

This does present an amusing comparison with the more modern takes on the subject like Prodigal/Knightfall, Gotham Knights (the game) and Battle for the Cowl, because here the boys treat Batman like something they expect to be left to one of them in Bruce's legal, actual will, like the one read out loud by his lawyer, implying the lawyer would be in on the whole secret identity thing.

When that obviously doesn't happen they come to an agreement to both... team up? But also compete? To find out who murdered Bruce, and whoever does the actual uncovering wins the cowl. This, for... reasons involves seal hunting in the Arctic and, ah... northern Native people. Which means a lot of use of a certain slur that all Natives in that biome used to (and still do) get lumped under, which I shall endeavor to write around but just know, there's a lot of it. Like, a lot. A loooooot.

Less awkwardly, check out what Dick Dillin apparently thought a killer whale looked like:

Hell, look at those mildly demonic black seals. I know this was pre-Internet dude but you could've gone to your local library. Or picked up a Seaworld ad.

Another thing that apparently never changes: Super-Sons comics insisting that only blood relatives count as "real" children.

To be fair, I wasn't actually expecting to see Dick referred to as Bruce's son at all in this. And Bruce Jr. is the only one who says this, and he's pretty consistently portrayed as the more immature and bratty one in this equation, so it doesn't really feel like the story is "agreeing" with him, it's just an interesting parallel.

Of course, because this is the 70s, they don't have any consideration for things like tactical costume changes or the realities of being mostly normal guys in the Arctic. So, though the boys arrive wearing sensible parkas, once they change into their superhero costumes Dick is just, snow shoeing through the tundra and water skiing behind a seal in his short sleeves and bare legs.

You'll probably be grateful to hear that the white industrial seal hunter is in fact the bad guy of this story -- this is actually one of the more cohesive stories in the saga so far in that regard. Simon Link was exploiting the land by killing too many seals, and then massacred part of the native village when they fought back trying to stop him, so this man Malook wanted to kill him. But, unable to find him and unable to get the white authorities to listen to him, he instead traveled to America to target his business partner, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Junior is appalled by the accusations but, interestingly, Dick is willing to hear the guy out. When Link's crime is exposed (with the help of the Supers Senior and Junior, natch), he tries to escape across the ice.... disguised as a seal... aaaaand...

Huh. Okay then. Justice is served, I guess.

Oh also Bruce Senior's still alive.

I mean... good on you for realizing the need to make amends for funding exploitative colonialism, Brucie-boy, but did you have to do it in a way that put your son through the exact same trauma you went through? Complete with the murder mystery dinner theater death scene?

Not to mention your poor wife, do you know how much shit you two have put her through in the last however long it's been?? Junior faked his death complete with a full funeral in the first issue of the saga and now you're doing the same thing! If you actually did marry Talia she'll gut you both the next time she sees you and probably Dick too just because she's never liked him.

Anyway, for a parting shot, check out the image they used to advertise this story on the cover, it's one of the funniest things I've ever seen. Beware the Ominous Pixie Boot!

[cerosin-bis]

Hello Cerosin :]

I have several questions, if I may.

1. How are you?

2. Has Nikto always been bad at taking care of himself or is that a result of the torture?

3. how does Krueger handle rejection, if he's interested in someone?

4. In your fic "Anger Management" (btw I love both your arts and writings!) Nikto hugged Krueger tight, before Krueger fucked him. It says "it's conflicting for Nikto" what does that mean? Would Nikto like to have a normal relationship with someone? Like, does he want/need a certain tenderness but knows Krueger probably isn't able to show it?

Thank you for your time and all your great works for this ship! It literally wouldn't exist without you and I mean it in a good way!

Have a good one and be safe :]c

Hi hello! 1. I'm doing mostly fine! Thank you for asking 🥺 I hope you're well, anon!

2. I think Nikto never really practiced "self-care" due to both his education (or lack thereof...) and his personality. However it's noticeably worse since his torture and the development of his mental illnesses/conditions because he now barely even thinks of basic human needs.

3. Good question. I think he'd be very frustrated because it's RARE, but be able to move on very quickly. Orrrr he would try extra hard (which ultimately does succeed but at very high costs with dire consequences. this would have happened with Nikto, but didn't need to because these two were doused in gasoline to begin with imo.)

4th answer regarding Nikto, Krueger and intimacy under the cut bc this got long.

(And thank you so much. I don't want to be presumptous as to say I ~invented~ the ship because there were like 3 fics when I posted Remanence already, but feeling like I was able to set its foundations in art and then consistently over the past years is unbelievable when I see where it is today.)

4. Thank you so much for letting me know you like both my art and my fics!! I feel like I never say it enough, I'm incredibly grateful people are reading all the shit I put out, let alone let me know they liked it. 😭

So, in my headcanon, Nikto craves intimacy in very very short and specific "windows", but he has a conflicted relationship with it as a concept.

Krueger can display tenderness/intimacy without a second thought if he knows it's needed by the context (and this is one), but his affectivity is abnormally... dulled? if I may say. Krueger's emotions are genuine... but extremely dampened. So it suits Nikto, because it's "as if" there were no feelings (there are. but it's beyond gestures, it's whatever they have. the codependency and violent devotion, the wordless communication... Tenderness is a rare occurrence in this whole frame - an occurrence that Nikto likes, but would rather not acknowledge, if this makes any sense.

In my headcanon, again, Nikto wouldn't be able to have a normal relationship with anyone. Normalcy repels and scares him, and even if it wasn't the case... Without extensive therapy, which he will likely never want to get, he has too many issues regarding emotions, attachment, jealousy and violence. (I want to stress this again, this is just my specific and personal hc of the character)