#and then when the theming is generally about trauma she ignores it

[snifferz]

no genuinely i fucking quit writing novels bc my english teacher always gave me a grade under everyone else bc the plotline was too complex or it was too much

my writing was decent AT LEAST like i poured my heart out into that shit and it was usually a form of allegory for something that i went through

shoutout to miss ayub /s

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Whether in the solitude of his room or surrounded by family, all Azriel can think about is you. He would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst, Mourning, mention of suicide

Word Count: 3652

Notes: I don't even know where this came from. I was listening to sweet music by hozier and thought "what if I gave Azriel more trauma". The idea popped into my head and it basically wrote itself. I can't believe I have to say this but with this fandom I'm not risking it: this wasn't written to hate on Elain (or any other character) or incite anyone else to do so. Keep your stupid fights off my post, please and thank you. Hope you enjoy!

Part 2

Another family dinner at the river house meant another night of watching everyone around him happy and in love. Azriel didn't think of himself as egotistical, would never think the love his brothers are experiencing is undeserved either, but it reminds him of a time where he was the only one in the Inner Circle with a partner, of when his brothers were the ones confessing to him how jealous they were of how he had found someone that loved him so much, of a time he never thought would have an end. It reminds him of you.

He looks himself in the mirror as he buttons up the navy shirt, trying to ignore the vacant room behind him. If you were here with him you would have been making jokes about his insistence on keeping the blue theme going in his clothes even though he swears he doesn't think too much about what to wear or his appearance in general.

On a good day, you'd be helping him with the small buttons right now, with shadows swirling around your legs and looking up at him the way you knew would take his breath away every time. On an even better day, he'd have your back pressed against his chest, his fingers inside your familiar heat, the other hand wrapped around your throat so you could watch him play with your body, panting his name and clawing at his arm, pleading with him to keep going, to let you touch him. He'd be late for an entirely different reason, not for getting held up talking to his spies, and then getting lost in his memories.

Sensing his thoughts, his meddling shadows move to his desk, filtering into the drawer they knew held a small velvet box. The dark wisps carefully picked it up and set it on top of the dark wood. Leaving it there and moving back to their original places around the darkened room, letting him decide for himself if he wanted to open it or not.

It had been a while since the last time he touched it, busy as he was these days. There were times he would sit and look at it every day, sometimes without even daring to open it and look inside. But there were also times where even the sight of the navy velvet would suddenly suffocate him with the reminder of your sweet scent, one he would never be able to smell again. It would make him hide the box at the back of his drawer, the back of his mind.

Over the last few years, his reactions to it had gotten milder, an unwilling acceptance of the fact that he would never see you again allowed him to reminisce on the happy memories you had together, even the sad ones, every little fight you had seemed so inconsequential now, he'd give anything to be able to have any moment with you back, to hear you say his name one more time.

He walks to the desk, only hesitating for a beat before grabbing and opening the box. His heart throbs as he stares at the ring sitting inside, thumbing at the empty space left behind by it on his finger instinctively. He had never liked rings, didn't like anything that brought attention to his hands or rubbed against the rough skin but the moment you slid the silver ring into his finger it felt right, he had never wanted to take it off. Azriel would wear a ring on each finger if it showed the world he was yours.

He wore the ring for an entire decade after you died, even after all hope that you could still be alive had left him, he couldn't bring himself to let go of it, to let go of you. His mother had been the one to tell him he needed to stop wearing it, that holding onto it, onto the past would only bring him more heartache. He could still hear her begging him with tears in her eyes, not bearing to see her son in such a state, but he had only actually taken it off when Rhys was taken by Amarantha.

He had thrown the ring into the Sidra that night. He's not sure if it had been anger, frustration or simply hopelessness that drove him to it in that moment. He was tired of not being able to protect anyone, tired of losing his people, the people he never thought he would even find when he was just a boy sitting in a dark humid cell. It must have been that boy's pain, still inside him, that drove him to act like that. If it hadn't been for his shadows immediately flying after it he would have lost it, wouldn't have this reminder of a happy time sitting in front of him right now, it had helped him ground himself more than once during the years following that night. His shadows had saved him from himself once again.

He closes the box gently, rubbing at the smooth texture of the velvet, trying not to let himself get lost in your memory and the bitterness that followed at the injustice of it all. Your marriage had only lasted a little over a decade, he's had to live with your ghost for much longer than that now. Still, he knows he won't forget that time no matter how many more years he lives, and, even if it's another five centuries, he knows he'll still wish he had had the chance to spend them all with you.

Some of the pain has dulled, most days at least, but the guilt still eats at him. He should have known something was going to happen, should have reached you sooner, should have told someone to go with you, should have gone himself, should have been the one to die in your place. The millions of possibilities will likely invade his brain until his last breath, after which he'll finally be able to see you again. That was another thought that had consumed him far too often in the beginning. If it wasn't for his mother, his brothers and Mor, if it weren't for the pain it would cause them, he would have taken Truth Teller to his neck just for the chance to see you one more time.

Azriel? His wings go rigid and he tightens his hold on the box at the sudden intrusion. He tries to push his thoughts as far back into his mind as he can before lowering his mental shields, almost letting out a sigh of relief at finding them in place, hoping his brother couldn't get a glimpse of his thoughts. He hands the box to his shadows so they can safely place it back inside his drawer. Are you still coming, brother?

Yes. He moves back to the mirror and finishes buttoning his shirt while trying to keep his tone as nonchalant as possible. However, the hesitation on the other side tells him Rhys sensed exactly what was holding him up in his room, he knows him better than anyone after all.

Hurry then. We're all waiting for you. Azriel closes his walls as soon as he feels his brother's absence in his mind. He knows they miss you too. They had welcomed you with open arms and considered you part of the family after their marriage. Everyone in the Inner Circle took a big hit when you went missing. He will never forget Cassian's face when he arrived to see Azriel kneeling down in a pool of your blood, with no body to be found. His brother wore his heart on his sleeve and it had shattered that night. There were countless sleepless nights for everyone following that moment.

They all threw themselves at finding you in any way they could. There was enough blood on the floor to tell them you had died but none of them wanted to believe it. Azriel talked to every single one of his spies multiple times, ordering them to track every movement in their respective areas. Rhys sent letters to every ally he had and then joined Cassian and Mor in searching every corner of Prythian personally. Even Amren, ever the logical emotionless one, searched for you with every means she could, contacting friends the spymaster didn't even know existed. But, one by one, they all had to accept the truth, Azriel ending up being the most hesitant to.

He had long since killed the attackers, putting them through as much pain as possible for as long as he could keep them alive, making them regret ever touching you. But that didn't help with the gaping hole in his chest, nothing helped. They didn't know how to find your body either. Rhys looked through every corner of their minds and only found them leaving you behind, bleeding on the cold ground.

Rhys refused to show him the memory, no matter how much he begged him to let him see you one more time. Now he knows his brother was just trying to protect him, not wanting that to be Azriel's last memory of you, with the amount of blood left behind he knew you couldn't have been in good shape, but at the time he lashed out at his brother like he had never done before, probably would have killed him in blind rage if it hadn't been for Cassian trying to hold him back and if Rhys wasn't Rhys. Thinking back he should have thanked him instead, for holding onto such a painful memory and keeping it to himself so no one else had to suffer from it.

Even if he couldn't see you again, he still wishes that he had your body to bury at least. Azriel doesn't know how the Mother could be so cruel as to not only let you die so soon, so painfully without at least letting him find your body so he could put you to rest next to your parents' graves. It would also give him a place to talk to you, to feel as close to you as possible.

The pain almost came back in full when Rhysand first told him about Feyre. Jealousy had reared its ugly head at the fondness in his brother's gaze, the slight tint to his cheeks at just saying her name. He was happy for Rhys, especially after everything he'd been through, but that happiness couldn't hold a candle to the pain he felt. He remembers the night he confided in his brothers about the lovely female he had met, how she had told him she loved him, it had been much like that one.

To make matters worse, the first thing he remembered when Rhys told him about his mate was a stupid bet the two of you had made - you had been adamant that Cassian, as sweet as he is, would be the next to get married, Azriel had voted for Rhys, one of his many conquests were bound to work out one day. He won and yet he didn't feel victorious at all. He couldn't even tell you of your loss, see how pouty you get when it happens, ever the sore loser. Didn't even remember the prize but there was no way for you to give it to him now either way. What hurt the most was that he couldn't even tell you his brother had found his mate. These were the best news in over a century and he just wanted to share them with you, wanted to share everything with you.

He takes another look at the mirror with a small sigh, straightening his wings and making sure his face doesn't give anything away before calling to his shadows. He feels them wrap around him slowly, giving him some comfort before taking him directly to the river house.

“Almost thought you weren't coming.” He was still half covered in shadows when he heard Cassian's voice. Everyone was standing around talking to each other, waiting on him. The guilt was tugging at his heart strings again. Why would he ever feel like he needed more than a family that loved him? Who was he to think this wasn't enough for him? It was something he could only dream of when he was younger.

“He's here now. That's all that matters,” the smile Feyre gave him was warmer than usual and her hand lingered on his shoulder for a second too long. Azriel looks over to Rhys, finding him already looking at him, studying his face. He had told his mate of whatever he sensed in his mind then. He hoped neither of them brought it up at least, now or later. What good would admit he misses his dead wife do? No one can bring you back to him.

“Finally. I'm starving.” Cassian clapped his shoulder as he passed by him on the way to the already set table, sitting down immediately. Everyone followed in his footsteps, greeting Azriel and finding their seats. Seems he really had kept them waiting.

Conversation picked back up naturally and he let himself fall into the usual rhythm of these dinners, letting his body relax around his family, forgetting about his old life for the moment. He walked over to the already set table and took his seat next to Elain, as it usually was these days. The seating arrangements had moved around a bit over the last years to accommodate not only the new additions to their little circle but also the relationships in them. He used to always sit next to Cassian but now had given the seat up to his beautiful mate. It left him next to Elain most times since they were the only single fae at the table.

Elain gave him a soft smile as he sat down and he nodded at her with a smile of his own. They had been getting closer ever since she was turned to fae and started living in Velaris. Her quiet nature quickly drew him to her, feeling at ease almost immediately with the middle Archeron sister. But he had to have been blind not to see the way she looked at him, not to notice the enamored smile she gave him.

Sometimes he let himself wonder if things could work between them. She had a mate but it was clearer with each passing day that she didn't feel anything for the male tied to her. It was also obvious how well Azriel and Elain got along, fitting into each other's lives almost seamlessly. He didn't love her but couldn't say seeing himself fall for the lovely female was such a far-fetched idea. She was a beautiful and kind fae, loving her would probably be as easy as breathing.

When everyone had been made aware of the mating bonds, he had even considered if the Mother had made a mistake. His two brothers had ended up with two of the sisters after all. Now he can see he was just desperate for a bond like theirs. In truth, he wouldn't even know what he would have done if Elain had truly been his mate. Would he finally put you behind him? Would he have thrown the ring away again, for good this time? He knows he couldn't bring himself to even with the power of a mating bond. You were etched deep into his skin just like the bargain marks inked into his shoulders.

As the dinner moved on and they made their way to the sofas in the sitting room, his family was already more than lively. Mor had busted out one of Rhysand's old wine bottles, setting the mood for the rest of the night. Azriel had completely relaxed by then, letting himself enjoy their company, his shadows retreating almost completely around the room. Finally having some reprieve from the particularly insistent thoughts that were plaguing his mind today.

Cassian was telling a story he had heard a thousand times now but he still laughed along with everyone else. Listening to Cass tell the story so many times wouldn't make the fact that he had flown straight into a river any less funny. Azriel even remembered the following part, the one Cass doesn't include in the story which was after they pulled him out and he had gotten sick for a week, making him miss practice and lose every spar with him and Rhys for the next months.

Even old stories had a new life with new people around, it was the first time the sisters heard this one, judging by the slight tint to Nesta's cheeks as she laughed at her mate and how hard Feyre was clutching at Rhys' arm to ground herself. Even Elain was laughing hard enough that her body was shaking. Her laugh was soft and melodic, a lovely sound really, but it suddenly opened a familiar pit in his stomach. It reminded him of you. She wasn't quite as loud and her eyes didn't immediately water like yours but the way she raised her hand to her face was similar. And just like that the illusion of happiness he had created shattered.

She was nothing like you but he still found you in every thing she did, in everything anyone did. He couldn't go to half of the city's bakeries and shops without thinking of you and every moment you spent there. He had even changed rooms in every one of Rhysand's houses, not bearing to sleep in the same bed you had held him in. Everyone in the Inner Circle had learned to avoid certain topics, certain stories in fear they would remind him of you. Even your name was rarely mentioned unless he did so first or strictly necessary. Every thought of getting over you was nothing more than wishful thinking. It was like his entire soul was begging him to go to you, but you weren't anywhere in this world.

This had to be one of the worst parts of his routine lately, having to take extra care to school his features when spending time with his brothers and their mates. If his face showed any sign of how much he missed you, how much he wished he could hug you to him just like they can do with them, they would immediately look at him with pain in their eyes, pain for what he lost and will never get back.

It had taken too long to get used to how differently they treated him after what happened. He had to start a fight to get them to stop treating him like he could break at any second when it was the truth. They knew it as well as he did, but they also knew that they had to let Azriel mourn in his own way, that there was nothing they could do besides stay by his side.

You weren't mates - maybe the pain he feels would never compare to what his brothers would go through if their mates ever met the same fate as you - but that had never mattered to him. His soul sang for you the same way he sang for his shadows, you were written into his very being just like they were. And, most importantly, there wasn't a single fiber in his body that wanted to live without you.

Even a mate could never erase you from his memory, even if you had been alive. He doubts if a mating bond had snapped between you two at the time, you would have gotten any deeper into him than you already were. He can't imagine loving you, wanting you more than he already did was possible.

He felt his shadows move to him, almost sending them away thinking they were coming to comfort him again, hiding him from the world as usual. Their urgency gave them away, and by the way Rhysand's body tensed across from him he also had noticed something amiss.

“What happened?” The High Lord's voice cut through the atmosphere immediately, everyone looked to him for an explanation and got ready for any possibility. His entire body stood still when his shadows told him they felt someone winnowing into the townhouse.

“Someone's in the townhouse,” he stood up as he spoke, sending some of his shadows out to find out as much as they could and the rest around Velaris to check if there were any other disturbances.

“Who could get past the wards?” He felt a shield around them, Rhys had likely set it up around his house. Cassian's siphons were flickering red as they all prepared for what could come next. Velaris was more than well protected, especially after the attacks before the war, but the High Lord's homes were nearly impossible to get into uninvited, Azriel himself had helped make sure of it.

“I don't know,” he held onto Truth Teller as he waited for his shadows or his High Lord and Lady to find something. His shadows were being strangely lax about the whole situation, maybe this was someone who knew of a way to go around his gift, keep them distracted.

It took longer than usual to receive a response from them, making him and everyone around him more concerned by the second. By now everyone was donning a sword or weapon of some sort, only waiting on more information before splitting up to keep Velaris safe and find the intruders.

When his shadows finally appeared they wasted no time rushing to his ear, at last sensing his urgency in the matter. Their answer was one nothing could have prepared him for, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

His shadows came back carrying a once familiar tune. They came back singing your name.

[tumblingxelian]

Near Uniquely RWBY - Main Characters

I was chatting with my sibling the other day and we were joking about the fact in 90% of the media I consume I generally don't like the main characters.

Not in the sense I necessarily hate them, but I generally don't find them to be the most interesting, engaging or enjoyable person on screen or page. Instead I tend to gravitate towards secondary or minor characters and even minor antagonists before any of the big names.

Some of this is rooted in my often rooting for what tends to feel more like a real underdog or characters that feel like they got dealt a bad hand by the author unfairly. But its also that in a lot of media the main characters tend to immediately, slowly or quickly go into personality lockdown.

Becoming less a personality and more the embodiment of expected tropes and themes, or they lose their unique edge or circumstances because the plot demands one benefits or personality changes be heaped on them to keep the tone and story going.

Some examples of this would include say:

Ichigo from Bleach, with him and his supporting cast being very unique and super interesting during the initial arc. But as Soul Society came in, he became a much more standard Shounen determinator a the expense of his personality and his supporting casts were largely watered down & left behind.

Or how in Naruto or Dragon Ball the whole underdog/hard worker aspect of the characters felt undercut by legacy power ups and an endless wellspring of natural talent, alien biology, ETC.

I know these are just two examples, but they cover the general gist of what I mean.

So, what makes RWBY different?

Well, off the cuff, is simply that the four main characters are women.

I've often felt simply putting anyone other than a cis-het guy into the main character slot of say, a battle Shounen, or Isekai stands a good chance of making it more interesting by default. Even if the author does nothing with it the audience reaction would be different because the MC would be an exception to the norms.

In that vein, while one can call RWBY some sort of Shounen or adventure fantasy or magical girl show the main four are unique in how they manifest on screen at the very start. From how they participate in action, to how said action is structured and framed and the kind of adventures and topics they tackle.

But being unique alone is not enough, that would simply make it more interesting than the bog standard but what elevates RWBY is the execution and exploration of such elements and its characters.

Going into every aspect would be difficult, but in light of what I said above would be how each of the main four are initially presented as familiar archetypes, only to subvert or deconstruct them.

Ruby is a peppy goth who just wants to be normal but has inborn powers from her mysteriously vanished mother and serves as a beacon of optimism to others.

Except Ruby's version of normal still involved fighting death monsters with a sniper rifle scythe and she is actually one of the more ruthless characters. Her peppy persona obscures that she can have a pretty vicious temper when pushed and has displayed strong bloodknight tendencies.

Her unrelenting optimism and desire to fix the world is a complex mix of true beliefs, coping mechanism for trauma and her grappling with positions forced on her against her will. Her inborn power is potentially useful but also not that much of a game breaker outside specific contexts & said power sure as hell didn't save her mom.

Weiss Schnee is the Tsundere heiress of a powerful family, with a haughty attitude that hides her loneliness.

Except the "Tsundere" is more of a defense mechanism born of coming from an abusive home where every member of her family manifested a different trauma response. Freeze (Mother), flight (Sister), Fight (Weiss) Fawn (Brother).

Despite her upbringing & some projected trauma, she's far from ignorant as to the worst excesses of her nation early on, and her journey was more about overcoming the impacts her abuser had on her and finding a family in her team that let her be safe enough to let down her walls. Also despite being "The ice queen" she's actually one of the characters least inclined towards more ruthless actions and is extremely empathic.

Blake Belladonna is a mysterious and silent rougish woman, something of a shrinking violet even, but she carries with her a wounded heart thanks to her old flame, the edgy Adam Taurus.

Or more accurately, Blake is the daughter of activists and politicians who represent the worlds main discriminated against minority. She spent her youth on the road as a protestor and where even her father could be nearly killed by a lynch mob. She was targeted & groomed by a man who claimed to want to fight the same injustice she did but who was only interested in using the movement to grow his own power.

Her initial aloof-ness was a trauma response to having spent years under his thumb and overcoming him and the idea she had to 'save' him was one of the main corner stone so her character. Also, despite the "Revolutionary fighter" backstory she like Weiss is much less inclined towards ruthlessness than her team in large part because her past experience with it.

Yang Xiao Long, introduced as the fun loving big sister of Ruby & boisterous bruiser of the team who loves to party & flirt.

Except no, Yang was parentified as a child and forced to raise her own sister as their family unit fell apart. Her "Party girl" persona was outright framed as judging a book by its cover in her own trailer and something she put on or took off as she needed.

She became disabled over the course of the series run as well as entered a Sapphic romance with her partner Blake. Unlike the stereotype of characters with her design, Yang is actually an excellent student, fighter and engineer/mechanic. Plus much like her sister she tends to be of the more ruthless and pragmatic persuasion despite being from the "Normal" background.

Character Conclusion

So, all the characters break out of their initial archetypes, which already makes them more interesting. What's more, these sorts of characters just being oput together and made the main characters rather than circling a dude is in of itself unique.

But there are other aspects of the writing which endear me to how it handles the main characters and what keeps them interesting.

Anger & Violence

See, while in various media women do express anger at times it is still often far less so than men. What's more, often women's anger tends to be presented in... Less flattering lights.

With the anger obscuring fragility while in a man it conveys strength. Or implying a sort of hysteria rather than an appropriate or controlled response. Or worst of all being demonized in general unless its rooted in or coming from traditionally feminine places.

The same tends to be true when it comes to violence with a lot of media either trying to find some way to make women in battle less... Brutal than their male counterparts. (More more like fanservice) Along with rarely letting women fight men, unless they are a special exception to the norm.

RWBY does not do this.

The main characters, hell, all the women in the series express a multitude of different forms of anger and violence. They battle men, they battle each other, they battle monsters all with no distinction nor fanservice shot in sight.

What's more though is that said anger and violence are not presented as, for lack of better words, wrong. The writers don't draw overt attention to this fact, they don't hang a big sign up saying "Girls can fight & shout too" or the like.

They just present these women with a range of emotions, motives and actions that are treated according to what fits the theme of the show rather than hewing closer to gendered lines.

This isn't to say anger & violence are lionized, but more that the experience and usage of them is not demonized or undermined because of the characters gender.

I suppose what I am saying is that CRWBY by and large lack double standards when it comes to exploring these things that I see so often in other media. The women in the main cast, among the villains, both sides respective allies and beyond can be flawed, or angry or do both good and terrible things.

But the writers are always treating everyone's pain as equally valid regardless of gender or situation. Which means that the situations that cause anger exist within a tone of respect that forms the depiction and framing of anger itself.

Which is just something I really enjoy.

Thanks for reading!

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done , Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : this one is pretty PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing in this chapter is warning worthy, but the story in general is going to turn pretty smutty from chapter 3 onwards and there will be strong language throughout. I’m not going to list all the different ways things get smutty unless I think it’s something that could be considered triggering. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~4.5k

A/N : this started life as an original piece that I couldn’t finish, so I decided to make a few little changes and turn it into a fanfic. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a tumblr, so sorry if I fuck this up. The story as a whole is going to veer recklessly between cute fluff and some much darker things with themes of obsession, will-they-won’t-they, and running from past trauma. Both Billy and reader are messy AF.

CHAPTER ONE

You checked your phone for what had to be the hundredth time. A measly two minutes had passed but the August heat made it feel longer. You found yourself thinking about how you were going to kill your roommate for making you chauffeur her around in the height of summer, trying to ignore the way the sticky New York heat made your tank top cling to your body beneath your unzipped hoodie.

You’d given up on waiting in the car after the first ten minutes - the AC in the old VW was busted, making it even less comfortable than sitting on the hood of the car under the glaring sun. Still, the parking lot was nicer than some of the places you’d found yourself waiting for your roommate over the years. That was the thing with Tammy; everyone around her lived on her schedule, did what she wanted to do. And you were no exception.

Actually, this whole thing was your idea. A friend, albeit in a very loose sense of the word, had told you that ANVIL were hiring office staff, and you’d passed the message along to Tammy who’d - well, she’d turned her nose up at it at first, she’d even laughed at you. But Tammy needed a job and ANVIL had a reputation for paying well.

So, you agreed to drive her to the interview and even agreed to wait.

Every now and then someone would appear - honestly, it looked like a steady stream of models leaving the building, the sorts that Tammy fit well with - but, for the most part, it was just you, mindlessly scrolling Instagram, trying not to think.

Until you saw him.

He came out the door and just stopped. It looked like he was breathing a sigh of relief at being out of there, and you couldn’t help but smirk a little at that. Poor guy.

Despite the weather he was dressed in a suit, dark hair slicked back, tall and slender. You suddenly felt out of place, like you shouldn’t be there, like you shouldn’t keep watching him, but the longer it went without him noticing you, the harder it was to try and tear away your eyes. He answered his phone as you watched, even without being able to hear a word, you knew he wasn’t happy. When he turned you got your first glimpse of his face and -

Fuck. 

Your eyes dropped back to your phone, knowing that he’d seen you watching him. Fingers swiped across the screen, jumping from Instagram to emails to Facebook, looking for anything to reply to. Your eyes stayed fixed on the phone even as you heard the shuffle of boots on gravel moving towards you, trying to act like you hadn’t been staring at him even as his shadow fell over you.

“Do you make a habit of hanging out in parking lots or are you here to interview?” His voice didn’t sound quite the way you’d imagined - though you weren’t really sure why you’d been imagining his voice to begin with. There was an edge to it, something that sent a shiver up your spine.

“I’m waiting for someone,” you answered, squinting as you looked up and the light seemed to halo around him.

“Friend?” he asked.

“Roommate,” you answered awkwardly before shaking your head, “but, yeah, she’s my friend too.”

You weren’t expecting him to laugh at that, for him to smile the sort of smile that probably had women all across the five boroughs ready to drop their panties. (And that was another thought you weren’t sure you should be having.)

He didn’t move, for a few moments he just looked at you as if he was taking measure, and all you could think about was how there was a bead of sweat rolling down your back. You probably looked completely gross while he was standing there in what looked like a professionally tailored suit that probably cost more than you could make in a year, with not a hair out of place despite the oppressive heat. 

“Does she make you wait around for her a lot?” He asked as if it was the strangest thing he’d ever heard, like he’d never allow anyone to put him in your position.

“She doesn’t drive,” you shrug, “anyway, this is nicer than most of the places she drags me to.”

“Yeah?” he prompted with little more than a raise of his eyebrow.

“Tammy’s an actress - at least, she wants to be. So I end up waiting around while she auditions.”

The look he gave you was surprisingly sympathetic. “Actresses can be hard work.” You didn’t think to ask how he knew that.

“Yeah, I’m just glad she gets to keep her clothes on for this interview,” the words slipped out and you instantly grimaced but if he noticed that, he didn’t let it show. “Not like - I mean, she’s not doing porn or anything. Not that there’s anything wrong with women wanting to -”

You could see him fighting back a laugh the more flustered you got.

“I mean, it’s not the nudity that’s a problem - you should read some of the scripts, they’re just so bad.” You finally managed. “It’s like ‘oh no the serial killer caught me with his knife and now my tits are out’.”

Silence fell again and you watched him glance away, daring to hope that he was done with you. He’d walk away and forget all about you, and you’d spend the rest of the day replaying this moment in your mind, cringing at how ridiculous you are.

“I was going to grab a coffee, your friend is probably going to be another hour or so, so if you want you could always join me?” 

You quickly started coming up with reasons why you couldn’t, why you shouldn’t. But, it was just coffee, it wasn’t like he was asking you to leave the country with him. And, besides, you weren’t sure you could stand the heat much longer.

“There’s a place nearby that does amazing iced coffee,” like he was reading your mind. And that sold it.

“Yeah, sure, that sounds great,” you decided, sliding off the hood of the car in a less than graceful manner.

Once you were standing you could really appreciate the height difference between the two of you; you almost had to tilt your head to look at him. You pushed the thought away, taking a moment to check that your car was locked up, following after him when he started to leave the way.

As you walked, it dawned on you that you still didn’t know his name, so you clumsily introduced yourself.

“Billy,” he responded with a smile, realising that he’d made the same mistake you had, “come on, it’s just across the street.”

You both fell into silence as you left the parking lot, but it wasn’t long before it got to be too much for you in an awkward, uncomfortable sort of way. It struck you that he didn’t look uncomfortable though, in fact you were already pretty certain that he wasn’t the kind of man to get uncomfortable easily. 

“So, do you work at Anvil?” You asked him, wanting to fill the silence but also wanting to know a little bit more about him. You weren’t sure what he found so funny about the question but the smirk he shot you left you feeling like you were missing something obvious and he found your ignorance amusing. You started to fiddle with your sleeves, gaze dropping from his.

“Yeah, I work at Anvil.” And then silence fell again.

When you looked up again you were outside a little coffee shop that was so small and non-descript that you’d completely missed it when you drove by it earlier. He held the door open for you and let you slip inside before following, watching as you breathed a sigh of relief as the cool air from the AC hit. When you moved towards the counter, you realised he was only a step behind, towering over you almost possessively.

The girl behind the counter smiled at him first before bothering to spare you a glance.

“What would you like?” He asked. You quickly realised that he was intending to pay and that just unsettled you further.

“I can get mine,” you were quick to tell him. You didn’t need him paying for you and you’d never been the sort to accept drinks from men you didn’t know, not even coffee. So, you ordered your drink, your favourite iced coffee with syrup, before he ordered his, an americano with an extra shot of espresso. But before you could pay, he reached over and tapped his phone on the reader, flashing you what you could only describe as a darkly mischievous smile.

“You didn’t have to -” you started to tell him.

“I know, but I wanted to,” Billy shrugged, “besides, I owe you for keeping me company.”

The girl behind the counter shot you the sort of look that made you think that she would have been more than happy to keep Billy company herself and that she saw your presence there as an annoyance. You guess that was probably the effect he had on a lot of women.

“Here you go, Billy, just how you like it,” she smiled as put your drinks on the counter, leaning and fluttering her eyelashes at him, completely ignoring you. Billy gave her a muttered thanks and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing as you reached for your drink. 

As you turned, Billy placed a hand on your back, leading you towards a table by the window, far enough from the counter that it felt a little more private. You sat on the edge of your seat, eyes nervously wandering towards the door for a second and, when you looked back, you found him watching you. There was a confidence about him that was getting harder and harder to ignore, he was clearly a man who knew what he wanted and exactly how to get it - so, what did he want from you?

Company? Or maybe you were being used to make the barista jealous? No, that didn’t feel right, he’d barely even looked at her, anything between them was obviously one-sided. Maybe you were there to keep her at bay so he could drink his coffee in peace? Though from looking at him you knew he had to be used to women fawning over him, with those dark eyes that looked right through you and the shirt that fit so perfectly you could make out the muscles beneath as he shrugged off his jacket. 

“What?” 

Shit. You realised that you’d been staring at him and your cheeks started to warm. He didn’t look bothered, in fact he was still smiling at you, amused, almost as if he wanted you to look.

“Sorry,” you apologised, dropping your eyes to the table, quickly thinking of a way to move the conversation along, “so how long have you worked for Anvil?”

“Too long,” he answered and, again, there was that little laugh, that little smirk telling you that you were missing something. Billy obviously didn’t want to talk about himself though. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Bike messenger, mostly...” you shrugged awkwardly knowing how guys like him looked down on people like you. You weren’t ashamed of what you did; it paid the rent, put food on the table, you just hated having to defend it to someone like him who probably made money in his sleep. He surprised you by not reacting - there was no look of superiority, no pity, just a nod of his head.

“Mostly?”

“What?”

“You said mostly,” 

“Oh, right, yeah. I do some work as a photographer. Just freelance and a couple of exhibitions,” you shrugged again, “it’s actually how I found out that Anvil were hiring.”

“Really?” It was hard not to notice how intently he was looking at you, like he was hanging on your every word. You started fiddling with your sleeve again.

“Yeah, sometimes I do work for The Bulletin if someone is out sick, and my friend Karen knew Tammy was looking for a job, so -”

“Karen? Frank’s girl?” 

“Yeah,” you’d never met him but Karen had been talking about him a lot since they got together, “we were talking and I guess I let slip that we might have to move to a smaller apartment if Tammy can’t find a job…” 

“High rent?”

You nodded. “Higher than either of us can really afford, but Tammy’s parents pay half and we split the rest.”

“Her parents still pay for her?”

“They’re loaded and I guess they didn’t want her having to live anywhere that might be ‘dangerous’,” you offered, but you knew how it sounded. You and Tammy were both in your thirties , it was strange that they still went out of their way to provide for her, but you didn’t fault them for wanting to look after their child, something that your own parents had never seemed inclined to do. The thought sent you down a rabbit hole and had you falling silent, wondering how he’d look at you if he knew the truth about you.

You took a drink, letting your eyes drift to the window and the street beyond. His eyes stayed firmly on you and you could almost feel him watching you. It made you tense and shift uncomfortably.

“What kind of photography are you into?” 

“Mostly candids, but since I moved to New York, I’ve been really getting into urban stuff and I’ve been playing around with architecture shots.” Billy listened, looking interested in everything you had to say in a way that had you smiling again.

“And you put on exhibitions?”

“Little shows sometimes, yeah.”

“I’d love to see one sometime.” He kept smiling at you, all his focus completely on you, and you found that you didn’t entirely mind it. It was nice talking to someone who seemed to care about what you were actually saying. “Did you study photography in college or -”

“No, I never got to go to college.” It wasn’t until you’d said it that you realised how much it gave away; that college wasn’t your choice, that you’d been stopped from going.

“I never went to college either,” Billy offered, as if he sensed your sudden discomfort. You nodded, eyes dropping to your fingers, tugging at your sleeve again. “Do I make you nervous?” He asked suddenly, pulling your attention back towards him. He was still smiling, still looking at you in a way that made you feel like he was taking you apart in his mind, piece by piece.

“What? No - that’s not -” you stumbled over your words, embarrassed that he’d caught on so easily. You took a second before letting out a sigh. “It’s not you, I just don’t do this a lot.”

“Which part?”

“The whole going for coffee with a random guy I’ve never met before.”

“Is that because guys don’t ask or because you don’t normally say yes?” He asked but didn’t give you time to respond. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I already know the answer.”

An eyebrow raised, unimpressed by the assumption; the situation might have been making you nervous but you weren’t going to take shit from a stranger. “Oh yeah, and how’s that?”

“You’re too attractive for men to ignore.” Billy shrugged and your eyes rolled. Yikes, what a fucking line.

“Maybe I’ve got a boyfriend,” you retorted, “or a girlfriend.”

Billy laughed. “You know that wouldn’t stop most guys, right?”

“Would it have stopped you?” You were pretty sure you knew the answer to that.

“I dunno, do you have a boyfriend?” He asked. “Or a girlfriend?”

“Do you?”

“Have a boyfriend?”

“Or a girlfriend.”

“Would you be here having coffee with me if I did?” He asked, turning the tables so effortlessly that it made it seem like flirting was an olympic sport and he was a gold medallist.

“Would you have asked me if you did?” You answered back, trying to fight back a smirk of your own at how ridiculous this was becoming.

“Do you always answer innocent questions with more questions?” It was obvious he was enjoying whatever this was, his dark eyes practically shining with excitement as he watched you from the other side of the table.

“You call that an innocent question?” You retorted, letting out a snort of laughter.

Billy let out another laugh, holding up his hands and signalling surrender.

“Maybe you should come work for Anvil, I bet you’re a pro at interrogations.” And that really made you laugh, and the sight of it had his gaze fixing more intently on you and his smile widening. 

“I don’t think I have the necessary qualifications to work somewhere like that,” you shrug, “besides, I like my job.”

“Really?” Usually his question would have pissed you off, but there was something in the way he asked that made it seem like he was genuinely curious to hear your reasons rather than it being some kind of judgement.

“Yeah, I get to see the whole city, there’s no office politics to deal with, and I get to listen to music all day,” you found yourself shrugging again, and his eyes were still fixed on you, like he was fascinated. So, it felt like your turn to ask; “what?”

“Nothing,” he sat back and lifted his mug, taking a long drink, “I think it’s great that you like your job, there’s a lot to be said for enjoying your work.”

“Do you? Enjoy what you do, I mean. With Anvil?” Whatever that was.

“Some days more than others,” he smiled at you.

“And today?” You asked stupidly, before considering the implications and how it might sound.

“Today’s definitely getting better.”

Your eyes dropped to your drink again, teeth running over your bottom lip. He wasn’t talking about you, he couldn’t be talking about you, but some part of you wished he was. But you wouldn’t have known even if he was, you’d never been good with those sorts of things, flirting and separating a little bit of fun from something more. Billy was an enigma to you in the same way that most people were, but there was something about him that made you almost want to break all of your rules, just to see what might happen.

“What do you do for Anvil?”

“These days I mostly deal with the bureaucracy,” and the look on his face told you just what he thought of that.

“So you don’t - I don’t know, go on missions, all Seal Team 6, kicking down doors?”

Billy let slip a laugh that was equal parts amused and offended.

“Seal Team 6?”

“What?” You laughed, awkwardly.

“You know a lot of Anvil are ex-Marine Corps, right? I’m an ex-Marine.”

“Is there a difference?” You knew there was though, honestly, you couldn’t remember exactly what it was, and the look on his face was priceless enough that you didn’t regret asking.

“Okay, wow, you’re really going to make me explain it to you?” You nodded in response. “Okay, it’s -“

Before he could start on whatever lecture he was about to give, your phone started to ring, loudly - loud enough to make you almost jump out of your skin. (You must have knocked the volume while you’d been frantically trying to look like you hadn’t been spying on him earlier.)

“Fuck, it’s Tammy,” you tell him before answering.

Moments later, you’d wish that you hadn’t. She was at the car waiting for her ride home and you were nowhere to be found, which was apparently so inconsiderate of you. You finished the call with a sigh and looked at Billy. 

“Guess her interview didn’t go well,” you took one final drink before pushing back your chair and getting to your feet. “I’ve got to go, if I leave her standing around out there I’ll never hear the end of it, it’s been -“ you stopped as he got to his feet.

“I’ll walk you back.”

“No, that’s fine, really, you don’t have to.”

“I insist.” His tone making it clear that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m sorry, she’s just -“

“You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

When you started towards the door, he was right behind you, again staying close to you. Outside the oppressive heat hit you again and it pissed you off; you’d been having a nice time and Tammy just had to ruin it. Now it was over and you’d never see him again. 

Billy didn’t say anything, even as you picked up the pace. You wanted to get this all over and done with, you wanted to drive Tammy back to the apartment and - you didn’t know. All you knew was that you didn’t want to be around her, you didn't want to have to deal with her bullshit, and you didn’t want to think about the man walking a step behind you. 

You didn’t see him frown at you, you didn’t dare look back because it just felt childish. You’d met him forty minutes ago, he’d probably forget you by the end of the day. 

You rounded the corner, about to cross the street when you felt his fingers around your wrist. All it took was one gentle pull and you were turning back towards him, stumbling into his arms. It felt like a moment pulled from some romcom; you spilled forward into his arms, your hands against his chest. And then you looked up, finding those impossibly dark eyes staring down at you.

Billy looked at you like he was trying to decide something, fingers still wrapped around your wrist. The, less than a second later, he was kissing you, pulling your body against his. And you let him. Later you’d tell yourself that it was shock but, in that moment, you wanted him to kiss you for no other reason than he was nice; you’d had fun getting coffee with him. It took you a moment to return to your senses, to use the hands on his chest to gently push him away.

“Billy —”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I’ve been thinking about doing that for the last thirty minutes.” He grinned. “Go to dinner with me.” You couldn’t tell if he meant it as a question or a command, but it definitely sounded more like the latter. Maybe he was just that used to women doing what he wanted them to do.

“I think you’re supposed to ask that before kissing someone,” was all you could think to say with a nervous laugh.

“Well, now I’ve asked…” And a second later, his lips were on yours again, tongue running against the seam of your lips, desperately wanting to deepen the kiss, and you let him. For a few sweet moments, you gave yourself over to him - to a random stranger you’d known for all of forty minutes.

Finally, you pushed him again, taking a step back, out of his arms and back to reality.

“I can’t,” is what you told him once you’d managed to find your voice again.

“Can’t or won’t?” He dared to try and take a step closer, forcing you to take another step back.

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

“Why?” Honestly not sure you even wanted an answer from him.

“So I can figure out how to change your mind.” He explained, like he thought it would really be that simple

“You can’t.” But that just made him laugh.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got no idea what I’m capable of.” And there was something dangerous in that; you didn’t know what he was capable of. “And I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

“I told you; I don’t do this.”

“This can be whatever you want it to be. I’m very adaptable.” He reached for you again, fingers brushing your cheek before you managed to pull away.

He looked ready to say something else, like he had some line on the tip of his tongue that he was sure would convince you, his lips even parted ready, but nothing came out. You weren’t sure why until a moment later.

“Oh my god, there you are! Do you know how long I’ve been standing around waiting for you?”

Tammy. You didn’t know whether to be glad of the interruption or pissed at the tone she was taking with you.

“Sorry,” Billy stepped around you, towards Tammy, “I distracted her.”

“That’s -“ and then the impossible happened. Tammy actually fell silent. You decided that it must just be the effect that Billy tended to have on women.

“I’m Billy,” he offered out his hand and Tammy was quick to take it, no doubt falling for his charms already. And Billy, well, obviously he’d managed to get over whatever momentary insanity he’d been suffering from when he kissed you and had moved onto the next victim.

Only that wasn’t exactly what happened.

“Oh, I know who you are, Mr Russo. I’m Tammy.”

“Wait… what?” If anyone heard you, neither bothered to respond. How did Tammy know who he was?

“I hear you’ve just been interviewing to come work for me,”

For him. Not with him.

Your stomach dropped, remembering something Karen had said about a Russo, about how Frank called him a pretty boy and Karen thought he was a bit of a womaniser. He kept talking to Tammy but you barely caught a word, too stuck on everything that had happened and how you’d let it. 

“Come on, Tammy,” finally, you snapped out of it and started to walk, “if you want a ride home we need to go now.” 

You didn’t even wait for an answer, you just let her say her goodbyes to Billy.

“Let me know when you’re free to go for that dinner,” Billy called after you, You chose not to answer, some part of you hoping that Tammy wasn’t going to follow because you knew what would come next.

Fumbling for your keys, you had them in hand before you got back to your car, not daring to look behind you. What had just happened? Your lips still tingled from his kiss, you could still taste him, could still feel his hand on your hip. And some part of you was inexplicably still annoyed that the moment was over.

Tammy followed behind you, calling after, barely making it into the passenger seat before you started the car.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed and you steeled yourself for the oncoming argument, “you are the best friend ever.” 

There was no sarcasm, no anger - she was actually smiling at you. What the hell did she think you’d done?

“What?” Throwing the car into reverse and trying to ignore the fact that Billy was there, watching you as he made his way back towards the office building, his office building. There was something unknowable in his dark gaze as it followed you and, again, you found yourself thinking about how you had no idea what he was capable of.

“Flirting with Billy-fucking-Russo to get me a job at Anvil.”

CHAPTER TWO

-

END NOTES : if you made it this far, thanks for sticking around. Like I said, this is something that started out as an original piece and I was struggling to find the energy to finish it. I’ll be trying to release a new chapter at least once a week, though the second part will probably be up in a few days time because the first two chapters are really just to help set things up, and I know that’s not what people are interested in. I already have the first five chapters pretty much written, they just need some editing before going in the queue and, in total, I have around 20 chapters planned. I’ll be working on this through NaNoWriMo too, so how much I get done might change the posting schedule a little.

Likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated, though this fic will be posted regardless of engagement because I just need to get this story out of my head once and for all.

Anyway thanks for stopping by, I hope you have a wonderful day wherever you are!

[veronicaphoenix]

zutto — chapter one | wc: 4.9k | series masterpost

chapter summary: lia refuses to stay in the hospital one more day and convinces noah to go back to los angeles.

tags and trigger warnings: best friends to lovers, mentions of an overdose, brief descriptions of it, ptsd, angst/comfort, vomiting, mentions of nightmares, breakdowns.

general trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

“No,” Noah said.

            “But—”

            “I said no.”

            His reply was stern, hard. If Lia didn’t know him like the back of her hand, she would have been terrified by the way his features hardened as he repeated the word, resisting her plea to leave the hospital just a day after waking up. His gaze on her was severe, his eyes —usually warm and inviting— were cold and piercing as they bore into hers, as if trying to drill the seriousness of the situation into her. His jaw was clenched tightly, and a muscle ticked in his temple.

            His October eyes were filled with all the fear and pain of the past few days, and more than that: they also the carried the dread of what might come, of the dangers Lia could face if she left the hospital that day.

            Lia, who was the reason for all his fears.

            Lia, who was aware of it all.

            It didn’t matter if he ever forgave her: she would never forgive herself.

            Swallowing hard, Lia pressed her hands to the mattress to straighten herself a bit more, ignoring the crack of her back bones, if only to give Noah the same sense of seriousness she felt about leaving that place.

            “I just want to go home, Noah,” she murmured, her eyes pleading. “I need to go home.”

            She waited for his reaction, but Noah remained still. He stood in the middle of the room, still, lips pursed, hands nearly clenched at his sides. The only sign of his agitation was his increasingly rapid breathing.

            “Staying here will only make me sicker,” she continued. “I want to go home. Please.” At her pleading word, her voice diminished to a whisper, allowing the sounds of professionals and other patients outside the room to seep in, reminding her and Noah that they were not in a bubble where it was just the two of them.

            Not yet.  

            Tears welled up in her eyes again. She wasn’t lying—she felt sick, sicker than the day before. Two diseases resided within her, and she could distinguish them with painful clarity. One was the result of her overdose, leaving her weak, perpetually sleepy, struggling to retain information, and nauseous at the mere thought of food. The other was born from the hospital’s sterile smell, the constant reminder of why she was there, amplified by the pitying glances from doctors and nurses whenever they came in to check her vitals.

            She didn’t want to be there anymore. She wanted to go home and recover in the safety of her apartment’s walls. She needed to leave before she truly got worse.

            Noah was waging his own internal battle; battling against the powerful hold she had on him. He wasn’t sure he could ever deny her anything, especially not when she was so vulnerable, so in need of his care. He just wanted her to get better, and he would do anything to make that happen, even if it meant going against all reason and logic.

            He dropped his head, letting out a heavy, defeated sight. He wanted to hit something, in all honesty. He hated how easily she disarmed him, how effortlessly she did so.   

            He had watched her sleep most of the night, still trying to comprehend how she hadn’t complained about much despite her condition. It was as if she had accepted all the suffering she was enduring, as though she deserved it. Certainly, she was in pain. Dr. Dayal had mentioned that her body was slowly recovering but reminded them of many issues that still needed healing. She hadn’t mentioned feeling weak or having a headache. Nothing. Not until she told Noah she wanted to leave the hospital. He couldn’t decide whether to admire her strength, even after hitting rock bottom hours earlier, or to feel devastated at how he knew she was punishing herself internally.

            “Noah—”

            “All right,” he cut her off, rubbing his forehead. “I’ll ask Jolly to book the earliest flights and grab our things from the hotel,” he then redirected his gaze back to her. “But I’m going to ask the doctor to run another round of tests before they discharge you, and you’re going to let them, understood?”

            Lia nodded, knowing that if she fought him on this, it would only take Dr. dayal’s insistence on her staying a few more days to change Noah’s mind.

            Once it was settled, Noah slumped back into the armchair where he had spent his last three days. He was exhausted. Lia would have reached out to touch his hair if the space between the bed and his seat hadn’t been so vast. It wasn’t just her that needed to go home—he needed it just as much.

            The tour had just finished, and he was stuck in a hospital room in another state, far from home. He hadn’t had the time to rest or sleep. He hadn’t even showered since they’d been there. So, when Lia suggested he use the ensuite bathroom and wash up, Noah diligently complied, aware that he indeed needed a shower, and he might feel a bit better afterward. After all, Lia was awake, and she was okay; awake. She was back with him, and this time, he wouldn’t let her stray any farther than the steps that separated the bed and the shower.

Despite Noah’s futile efforts to stay in Illinois for a few more days to ensure Lia’s recovery, stubborn as she was even in her condition, they left the hospital and found themselves at the airport not even twenty-four hours after her discharge and merely two hours after she had met the boys.

            Th moment the Nicks and Jolly entered the hospital room, Noah had been forced to leave, overwhelmed by the emotional weight of the scenario unfolding.

            Jolly held Lia against his chest as she cried, clutching his jacket and repeating the same words over and over: “Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Jolly cradled her, and so did Nicholas after. When Noah stepped outside, a heavy feeling crushing his chest, he found Folio pacing around, biting his nails. He was still scared, still consumed by nightmares, haunted by the sigh of Lia lying on the hotel room floor, white foam at her mouth.

            Noah and Nick acknowledged each other silently. Noah gestured towards the room with a nod, and nick, gathering his courage, entered.  

            Lia raised her head from Nicholas’ shoulder, and immediately let go of one Nick to crash into the arms of the other one, though it wasn’t clear who was holding whom. Lia and Nick cried together. From outside, Noah could hear their sobs, Nick’s voice telling her that she had no right to put them through this, to hurt them like this, while Lia apologized again and again, sobbing harder than the day Noah had brought her home from Mitch’s apartment.

            But as angry and hurt as Nick was, he didn’t let go, and held onto her because she had always been one of his dearest friends, the closest thing he had ever had to a sister.

            As the hours passed, the consequences of her actions sank deeper into Lia’s consciousness. She had not only plunged herself into darkness but had also dragged every person who loved her along. Even though she was safe for now, she knew you couldn’t just offer yourself to Death and then pull your hand away, expecting to play the game by your own rules.

            Once alone with Noah in the room again, Lia steadied herself by leaning against the bed, her gaze lost on the white tiles of the floor. She was still wearing the hospital gown and plain black underwear underneath. Her head was spinning slightly, and she wasn’t sure if she could handle the airport hustle and the trip back home. She only knew she didn’t want to spend another minute in the hospital, surrounded by reminders of mortality. It didn’t matter that Noah was looking at her with eyes that begged her to reason, to stay for a couple more days and let the professionals ensure she was truly okay.  

            Lia simply didn’t want to be there.          

            “Do you need to lie down again?” Noah’s arm was already extended toward her as he saw her lose balance. Lia’s eyes met his, and she shook her head.

            “I just need to get home,” she whispered.

            Noah’s shoulders dropped as a sigh escaped his lips. After a few seconds, he took two steps toward her, ready to stand in front of her, to move the hair away from her face and to hold her.

            They held each other’s gaze for a while, Lia’s hands clutching the same bedsheets that had covered her weak body the previous days. Why did it suddenly feel hard to swallow with Noah standing in front of her, looking at her like that?

            He was looking at her like a boy whose heart had been broken, like a boy who blamed himself for every bad thing that had happened—for every bad thing that had happened to her.

            She felt a rush of tears returning.

            If she didn’t make it home soon, she would just crash in his arms and be unable to pull herself together.  

            Before his hand could touch her face, Lia pleaded: “Please, let’s go home.”

            The tremble in her voice, the brokenness, could have brought Noah to his knees.

            He nodded fervently, and a moment later, Lia was in his arms, her hands clutching his t-shirt while his found their way through her tangled hair, pressing her head against his shoulder. His other arm wrapped around her middle, determined to keep her from ever straying far from him again.

The hours of waiting at the airport were worse than Lia had anticipated. Part of her knew she should have listened to Noah, that she shouldn’t have argued when he insisted on making sure she was ready for the hustle and bustle of travel less than three days after an overdose. But another part of her –the one that felt most lost and hurt— longed for the safety of her small apartment, the comfort of her bed, and the sense of isolation provided by her four walls. There, she could cry and scream without anyone noticing, without anyone appearing at the door with a medical report and administering another dose of who-knows-what to calm her down.

            She missed her bed, her plants, her books, the view from her balcony, and the breeze that slipped through and rustled the curtains whenever she left the door open and a slight gust of wind swept in to caress her cheeks. Lia had blocked out the traumatic images and memories of the last few days by projecting images of her apartment and the happy moments she had lived there.

            As she watched Noah lean over the counter of the airport’s only Starbucks to order drinks for everyone, she recalled one of the last times Noah had been at her apartment. They had spent a couple of hours on the couch, each with their MacBook on their lap, working on a song that now remained safely stored on Noah’s hard drive. That day, they had eaten together. They’d prepared a vegan lasagna after shopping for ingredients and following a random recipe they found online. After eating, they cleaned up together, and Noah walked around the apartment for a while with a kitchen towel draped over his shoulder, commenting on how full he felt. Lia had bitten her lip from her spot still in the kitchen, imagining how wonderful it would be to see him like that every day—so relaxed and happy, so... at home. The only problem was that that wasn’t his home; it was hers, and entertaining that idea was simply dangerous. Their time of sharing a home had passed.

            Yet, in a few hours, she would have her best friend back in her home, in her kitchen, in her living room.

            She had almost lost herself in that hotel room where she would never set foot in again, but the worst part had been nearly losing Noah. She had come close to losing a chance with him. The chance of a life by his side.

            Lia almost smiled despite the pain still gnawing at her insides and the weakness enveloping her, but as soon as Noah turned around, her attempt at a smile faded. The dark circles under Noah’s almond-shaped eyes had deepened in the last few hours, and his entire body reflected his exhaustion: his dejected expression, greasy hair, slumped shoulders, and the way he seemed to drag his feet as he moved.

            “Chamomile,” he said when he returned to the row of chairs where Lia waited, along with the two Nicks and the pile of backpacks they carried with them.

            With a small, gentle smile, Lia thanked him and took the hot drink from his hand. Dr. Dayal had recommended she avoid coffee and strong beverages for the next few days. Despite the doctor’s reluctance to discharge her, he had no choice but to let her leave.

            “Be careful. It’s hot,” Noah warned.

            As soon as his hands were free, Lia noticed how Noah put his sunglasses back on as he took a seat across from her, sinking into the uncomfortable chair.

            During the taxi ride from the hospital to the airport, he had been silent, only speaking to give directions to the driver and responding to questions with monosyllables or short phrases that didn’t invite further conversation.

            Jolly had taken care of collecting both Lia’s and Noah’s belongings from the hotel, though he waited for the cleaning service to go through Lia’s room first. Having grown up with a group of friends where alcohol, tobacco, and even drugs were never lacking, he never thought he would find himself in a situation like this, where one of the people closest to him would experience something so harrowing. He was not prepared to relive the image of Lia in Noah’s arms, unconscious, convulsing, losing herself and everyone who loved her.

            The only comfort Jolly found in the whole situation was that the nightmare wasn’t just haunting him; it was haunting everyone.

            With a long inhalation, Lia brought the Starbucks cup to her lips, holding it with both hands because she knew her strenght wasn’t back yet, and the last thing she needed at that moment was to spill a hot drink on herself. She took a small sip and savored the sensation of the liquid sliding down her throat. Around her, the bustle of the airport continued. Nicholas was talking to Matt on the phone, informing him that they would soon board and be home in a few hours. Nick had his headphones on and was trying to pretend nothing had happened while humming a song and bouncing his leg to its rhythm. Lia took a second sip, her eyes peering over the cup at Noah. He had changed clothes but was still wearing a loose hoodie and his white sneakers. With his sunglasses on, Lia couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed, if he was looking at something specific, or if he was looking straight at her.

            At that moment, a wave of nausea hit her again. Despite having eaten nothing more than a plain yogurt since leaving the hospital, she knew she was about to vomit.

            Her eyes widened in alarm as she bent down, struggling to place the chamomille tea on the floor, the only surface available. She barely registered Jolly calling her name or Noah’s figure urgently following her as she bolted to the nearest restroom.

            Stumbling into the bathroom, she collided with a woman’s shoulder. Lia wasn’t concerned with the words she might get from her, though a few seconds later, she heard the woman’s raised voice declaring that men were not allowed in that restroom.

            By the time Lia was kneeling by the airport toilet, holding her hair away from her face with one hand and gripping the seat with the other, Noah was beside her. He gently took her hair from her hand and held it back for her.

            He soothed her with soft words while she retched, oblivious to the open door and the young girls looking on with a face contorted by yuck. Noah would have told them to fuck off if it weren’t because his utter attention was on Lia.

            When her retching subsided, giving way to her heavy breathing and watery eyes, Noah tucked another loose strand of hair back behind her ear with gentle fingers and waited for Lia to straighten up.

            She did so right after flushing the toilet. Noah tore some paper from the roll and handed it to her. Her barely audible thank you got lost amid the sound of the water flushing, taking away the bile that had come out of her and the little chamomile tea she had drank. Such a waste, she thought.

            “It’s okay,” she heard Noah say beside her.

            Confusion stirred within her as he suddenly grasped her wrist, and she realized he was trying to get her black hairband out. She allowed him to proceed, and a minute later, he had deftly tied her messy hair into a bun.

            With a supportive hand on her waist, he helped her stand. Lia braced herself against the fragile wall separating the other cubicle. She spent a moment regaining her breath and composure. She wanted to lean on Noah, to let him carry her out of there and onto the plane, but the tranquility she craved wouldn’t come so easily, at least not until she was finally home.

            Turning her head toward him, her eyes still watery from the ordeal of vomiting, she asked if he could retrieve her toothbrush and toothpaste from her backpack. She didn’t need to specify where it was; he knew she kept her toiletries in a denim bag adorned with Lilo & Stitch, a souvenir from a trip to Disneyland a few years back.

            Sending a furious look to the girls still staring, he made sure Lia could stand on her own before leaving.

            A minute later, the girls were gone and Lia was alone in the bathroom. Noah returned with her toiletry bag and a bottle of water. He watched Lia as she tried to regain a sense of normalcy. After spending a few quiet minutes looking at her reflection in the mirror, Noah said: “Just a few more hours and we’ll be home.”

            She tried to send a smile his way, but all she could do was keep staring at the pain etched all over his face.

Once settled in her window seat, with Noah still standing in the aisle as he set their backpacks in the overhead compartment, her eyes landed on the buildings in the distance. No matter the buzzing sound of the plane’s engine and the chatter of the people on board, she felt distant from everyone and everything. Her eyes grew heavy, threatening to close in a matter of minutes. She knew she could never look back at this city the same way again. Her past, chasing her until the present, had put a stain to this place. She wondered if she would ever be able to come back with the boys, if Noah would ever want to perform here again, or if the memory of what had happened would forever taint the city.  

            As the skyline shrank into a thin line below, Lia felt herself drifting away, her eyelids heavy, her stomach still unsettled. Her mind was wandering to places. Her throat was dry, and she knew she should drink some water before sleep took over, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. As she sank deeper into her seat, her eyes fell to her lap. She watched her own hand move toward the seat next to her, where Noah was now sitting. His arm rested on the armrest, his hand hanging off the edge.

            Her fingertips touched his palm first, and then, slowly, her fingers intertwined with his.

            Noah’s heart skipped a beat as he watched Lia’s hand —small compared to his— wrap around his. She felt warm, and he wondered if she had a fever. He was about to ask, but when he peered away from their intertwined fingers to her, he realized she wasn’t looking at him.

            Within moments, her head gently leaned onto his shoulder. A long exhale escaped him. His chest sank, lips parted, and shoulders dropped. With his thumb, he tenderly caressed the back of Lia’s hand, noticing the subtle change in her breathing. It was calmer now. She had fallen asleep.  

            The knot in his throat wasn’t receding, though. It might not persist for days, lingering until he could replace the memory of Lia unconscious in his arms with something brighter. He wasn’t sure what awaited them upon landing in Los Angeles. The doctor had warned of tough days ahead, possibly worsening during Lia’s withdrawal process. Noah wasn’t looking forward to anymore worsening. He’d had enough. Yet, he was willing to weather any storm if it meant bringing her back, or even a stronger, better version of Lia.  

            Allowing himself to envision a moment of calm and joy with Lia once they reached her apartment, he pressed his lips to her hair.

            It wasn’t a kiss. It was just a touch, the gentle, soft pressure of his lips against her hair, and the relief that always washed over him when he touched her; the reassurance that she was there beside him, and that she was okay. Or at least, that she would be.

Most of her plants had died.

            During her absence, Lia’s flowers had wilted. Maybe because they’d been neglected in the weeks she was away, or perhaps because they had sensed Lia drifting away, and the same sadness that now filled Noah had also filled Lia’s plants. They didn’t want to live without her, just as Noah couldn’t bear to live without his best friend, without the girl he loved. The only difference was that no one could save them now. Noah had appeared on time to save his Lia, but Lia was too late to save her plants.

            Tears burst forth the moment Noah and Lia stepped into her living room, her only bag dropping to the floor.

            In an instant, Noah was holding her, cradling her head against his chest as he shushed her, desperate to comfort her despite the circumstances.

            But it didn’t matter that they were finally home, that they were finally alone, away from the noise, away from the people, away from the triggers. There was no way they could stay away from the pain. They carried it within.

            Noah had thought it a good idea to get an Uber from the airport to her apartment. Matt had come to pick them all up, but Noah considered that driving home and having to get Lia through the inevitable hassle of reaching the house and dealing with well-meaning men hovering around wouldn’t aid her condition. So, Noah arranged the ride, finally bringing Lia back to her flat.

            Her crying, however, wasn’t solely for her dead plants and the fallen, dried leaves strewn about. Her tears also fell for the empty alcohol bottles and pill blisters littering the space, remnants of the past days, of her life, of every internal wound bleeding, of the person she once was—the same person that had taken Noah to the edge.

            “Hey,” Noah whispered, reaching for her face. She buried her face in his hoodie, muffling her sobs. “Hey,” he urged, tilting her chin to meet his eyes. “We’re home. We’re finally home.” Her lip trembled. She looked so small and vulnerable. She wanted to say something, but her voice failed her. Noah continued, “we’re home and we’re going to be okay, all right?”

            She wanted to believe him so desperately, but she didn’t trust herself, and she didn’t want to break his heart anymore. She wanted to take care of it, to take care of himself. But she needed to heal first, and she didn’t know how long that would take.  

            “Why don’t you go take a shower?” Noah suggested, his thumb brushing down her temple. “I’ll clean this up, and when you’re out, I’ll have a movie ready. We can order takeout and spend the rest of the day on the sofa. Sounds good?” He tried to smile, really tried. But his words didn’t seem to have any effect on Lia, so he couldn’t bring himself to cheer up, either.

            Nonetheless, after a moment or two, Lia nodded and let go of the tight grip she’d had on him.

            As she disappeared down the hallway, Noah turned around to face the mess. He wasn’t sure he would be able to deal with it on his own, but he had no other choice.

            He moved their suitcases to Lia’s room while the shower ran in the apartment’s only bathroom. Shedding his hoodie, Noah efficiently gathered all the glass bottles, empty cans, and plastic blisters. He planned to handle the recycling tomorrow, for now stowing everything discreetly in bags where Lia wouldn’t see.

            In just fifteen minutes, he completed the task—sweeping the floor and collecting scattered dry leaves. Apart from this, Lia’s apartment remained exactly as he remembered: not minimalist, but tidy and organized. It was a space he had always adored.

            Memories flooded back of the day they had visited this same apartment together. Lia had brimmed with excitement about having her own place. Despite Noah’s sadness at the fact that his best friend wouldn’t live with him anymore, he had shared in her joy. Lia was blossoming into the independent, strong woman she was meant to be, and Noah cherished every moment.

            Succumbing to a wave of sorrow, Noah sank onto the sofa, elbows on knees, hands covering his mouth. His eyes scanned the room, eventually resting on a frame hanging in the hallway. It contained a drawing they had created as children, during one of those endless summer days spent together in his grandparents’ house. In the picture, Lia had depicted Noah with long stick legs and a wide grin, while Noah had drawn Lia as a diminutive figure with a flower crown on her head. It seemed they had both unknowingly known the tall man he would become, and the thought stirred a yearning within him, making him wonder about all the small details that had escaped them while they grew up, every single thing that Grandma knew about them and that they had laughed off.  He would make sure to ask her once he was in Japan. He wanted answers. He needed them.

            For now, he would remain in Lia’s apartment, enveloping himself in the familiar embrace of her walls and taking comfort in artifacts that not only chronicled her life, but the one they had built together; the life they had built together as kids and then as young adults; a life they’d been building since they were mere six and seven-year-olds, two kids oblivious to the obstacles ahead,  of every moment of ecstasy and misery, of love and pain.  

            The sound of running water ceased. Noah’s eyes were fixated on the hallway leading to Lia’s room. There was a churned mix of frustration, temptation, and longing inside of him. He wanted to get up and rush to her, drag her out of the shower, press her against a wall, and kiss her until the fervor might somehow mend the wounds within her.

            But he couldn’t.

            Minutes stretched agonizingly, the bouncing of his right left joining the ticking of the clock on the wall.

            When Lia appeared a while later, she halted in her tracks upon seeing Noah on the sofa, looking as if he was going to be sick, eyes rimmed red, watery, and a pulse throbbing visibly on his neck.  

            She swallowed hard.

            “Noah?” She asked softly, tentatively.  

            His eyes had been fixated on her since she stepped into the living room, the sweet scent of vanilla trailing in her wake. She wore cotton shorts and a plain t-shirt, her damp hair cascading over her chest. She looked thinner than he remembered, and perhaps it was that realization which struck him hard, pushing him to the brink as he began to shake his head.

            “Don’t ever do this to me again,” he said, voice quivering, barely audible, cracking, breaking. “I beg you. Don’t this to me again, Lia. Ever again. Please. Please, I beg you.”

            And just like that, the tears and sobs surged fort, uncontrollably.

            The intensity that his own words overwhelmed him. He buried his face in his hands, unable to contain the anguish, every cry and sob echoing through him as his chest heaved.  

            Only nine feet away, Lia turned pale, frozen momentarily, processing the image of Noah breaking down in front of her like never before. Then, she hurried to him. She knelt between his legs, her hands prying his from his face as tears streamed down her own cheeks, as she asked for forgiveness, for mercy. She pressed her face against his lap, clutching his torso tightly as Noah leaned into her, holding her close in any way he could. Their cries mingled together, filling the apartment with their shared pain, the only sound that mattered in that moment.

— prev. chapter | chapter two

I cannot express my gratitude at each of you that has been patient with me and with lia and noah's story. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that you didn't cry too much (I did every single time I reread it to revise). We're back to regular updates, be it every week or every couple of weeks, but I promise to deliver the rest of this story during the coming months x

[the-afterparty-au]

[✨*ABOUT✨]

The Afterparty AU is briefly summarized as taking place in a party within the void, lasting forever after a genocide route that was never undone. After many months of nothing but wind, our first fallen human realized the world was not going to be reverted by the player, and they stayed true to their word of Erasure. Chara however, simply getting bored decides to play a game framed as a experiment & brings back all the monsters you failed to befriend in a Genocide route back for a encore. Allowing everyone to reside in the void, a space between files & between deltarune and UNDERTALE. The amount of monsters that are happy about this is uncertain, but all of them are certainly questioning literally everything that brought them here.  (Lightly Inspired by these fanworks so, Thanks to @garbagechocolate, @djsmell & @jazze-bee for accidentally inspiring me to make a whole AU)

By; Modphys (They/them) (Main Blog & Art Blog: @kates-cave & @ryzies-ralley)  Modtaton (He/they) (Main Blog + Art Blog: @spiltmilk34 & @spoiledcheese34 | Instagram ) Papymod (She/they) (Main Blog + Art Blog: @theartistthatcantraw & @fail3dexp3rim3nt) Also thanking this for the text boxes haha

[*TAGS]

#ModAlphys🍍 #ModMTT🦝 #ModPapy💀 - Content from specific Mods

#OutOfVoid - General out of character posts/Asks/Announcements Etc.

#PostsFortheVoid Reblogs of any Fanart or random posts I/we might reblog

#PostsOfTheVoid Extra Content asks lore etc. not relevant to the actual plot Or announcements

#TheAfterPartyAU In universe & Main Story posts

#AskAfterparty is any asks in character

#ModsQ&A, Any Asks directly for the mods + #ModsArt is any Art Directly from the mods (not counting story)

[📋*RULES 📋]

[*Current AU Status: Active]

- No SERIOUS NSFW media. Swearing and certain (Chara Frisk & Flowey are all children) jokes are allowed but actual sexually explicit content & HARD GORE is prohibited. Plus the mods are minors 

- Harassment towards me, Or anyone of Any group, will not be tolerated

- Repeat asks will probably be ignored, sorry.

- Please Be patient, This blog does not have a schedule & updates come out when they’re ready (aim for at least 2 weeks) 

- No Magic!Anon please, While this story is a bit aimless it’s still there, plus Keep Roleplaying limited maybe. Makes my life easier.

- Technically not a hard rule but If you’re asking & have an ask blog I recommend you add your @, Love seeing other AU/Blog’s Out there in the wild!! Doesn't matter the fandom either :D 

- Probably will close the ask box if it gets too full, might cap it at 20 0r 25.

* Have funnnnn. =)

[*⚠️ *WARNINGS ⚠️]

This AU is estimated to be 15+  

While I don't plan to include shipping, it might sneak its way in here, who knows.

Swearing in Asks Is allowed plus the mod swears. (Steer clear of slurs, even if you can reclaim them.)

Scarring, Blood, Death, themes of unreality trauma & gore is around, Everyone was brought back from the dead. Additional CW for mentions Genocide considering this au is after one. 

potential mentions (& possible depictions) of suicide & Self harm, Fratricide, Mind Control (Possible Manipulation), & Divorce.

While this aims to be (kind of) joke au, General CW for potential disturbing content is out there. 

Feel Free the DM With any warnings I missed & should include

[*ACT - ASK] - ASK BOX STATUS [OPEN]

*Chara - 💔 *Frisk - ♥️ *Flowey 🌻 *Toriel - 🔥 *Papyrus - 💀 *Mad Mewsy - 💢 *The Undying - 🦈 *Muffet - 🕷️ *Mettaton NEO -  👾 *Sans - 🦴 *Asgore - 🔱

 DNI LIST

Homophobes, Terfs, LGBTQIA+Phobic, Racists, Xenophobes, Pro shippers, Anti-Anti's, Misogynists', Cancel Culture & Cringe Culture, NSFW/18+Blogs, Abelists, Zoophiles, Anti Semitism, Hate speech, MAPS/Pedos, Discourse Blogs, Y’know the basic DNI criteria stuff  (Just don't be a dick man this feels dumb to make.)

[*LINKS – 📎]

Beginning - N/A

Arcs  - N/A

Character Sheets - N/A

Most Recent - N/A 

[aloeverified]

boruto rewrite where the show actually still focuses on the original characters from naruto, but we're seeing them face their struggles that come with being adults in the society they live in and after going through what they did. their children are also in the show and we're given their perspective on the events compared to their parents'.

the overall plot revolves around naruto trying to change the shinobi system. he knows first hand how terrible the repercussions are when children are forced to be soldiers, and now that he's the hokage, he finally has the power to change it.

the only problem is, not everyone agrees with him. many believe by changing the age that shinobi begin their training, they won't be as strong later on and the village will become weaker over the years. not only that, but some people just don't understand why naruto feels this way. they were shinobi all their life and they turned out just fine — why fix what isn't broken?

it causes conflict within the cast and allows us to delve into each character more, showing why they feel the way they do and how their experiences have built up to the person they are.

besides that, other characters get their own storylines as well that connect with the theme of recovering from trauma.

gaara realizes that he's only ever lived for his village — as a soldier, a weapon, the kazekage. he works himself to the bone for his village while ignoring his basic needs, still having not realized he's a human just like everyone else. when he gets shinki, he realizes what it's like to prioritize something; what it's like to nurture and love.

sakura works at a hospital for young shinobi, doubling as both a healer and a therapist of sorts. she listens to the children tell their stories and gives them a shoulder to try on. she saw what being alone did to her teammates and she doesn't want any other child to go through what they did.

during her time at the hospital, she slowly begins to see pieces of herself within her patients. her trauma, which she's always pushed away and ignored, starts to come out. she's forced to face these memories she's always tried to bury deep. she struggles with understanding it as well as feeling validated compared to what naruto and sasuke had to go through.

she also struggles with her marriage to sasuke as she starts to unpack all the terrible things he's done to her. she's knows why he did them and she can justify his actions as much as she wants, but it doesn't change the fact he traumatized and tried to kill her at one point.

hinata's would focus on the hyuga. she's an outsider to them without any power. when she was stripped of her title and allowed to marry naruto, she thought it was a dream come true. she was so confident that hanabi would change the clan, that the branch system would be destroyed and neji wouldn't have died in vain.

only, without hinata, hanabi began to crack under the pressure of the elders and her father until she became just like them. the seal system is still in place, the branch families are still treated as servants.

it's a lot about generational trauma. how no matter how much hinata tried to change things for hanabi, she was always destined to fall into the same path as her father. only by recognizing this and making the changes her family refused to do in the past, are they able to change things.

i think there could also be something about how once, a long time ago, hiashi had wanted to change the hyūga. he wanted to dispel the main/side branch family system so his brother could be free. but overtime, he became complacent — very similar to hanabi.

as for the kids, i would show the differences between them based on how their parents feel about them being raised as soldiers.

for example, shikatema would have no problem with the shinobi system (at first) and their child would be entered into the academy and ready to become a ninja.

boruto, however, was raised by parents who want to change the system and hate the senseless violence, therefore he was not enrolled. this causes him to have some resentments for his parents as he's in the minority of children who aren't attending the ninja academy. he's viewed as a weak and soft-hearted by his companions and he hates it. maybe he goes against his parents and attends the academy in secret somehow.

there's a lot you can do with each character, honestly. i won't go further into it unless asked, but here's my main thoughts. i have a lot of idea with how to conclude the arcs as well, but i'm not sure how people would feel about it.

gaara stepping down as kazekage and leaving suna, sakura divorcing sasuke as she realized she never truly loved him romantically, hinata becoming the hyūga head/disbanding the hyūga, etc. many ideas.

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

Someone You Can Build a Nest In was, in fact, pretty good, but it went in a different direction than I was hoping for and I'm not sure how to feel about it.

The story follows Shesheshen, a solitary shapeshifting monster who hunts the travelers and merchants that pass through her territory, along with the occasional monster hunters who come to slay her. She is rather lonely, and reminisces fondly and lovingly about her mother, who was slain when she was young, and her father, whose body she grew inside and who she ate her way out of when she was ready to be born. On her hunts, she keeps an eye out for someone who might make for a similarly loving parent to plant her own eggs in. After a close encounter with some hunters while in a roughly human shape, Shesheshen is nurses back to health by a kind woman who has mistaken her for human, and promptly falls head over heels. Before she can get around to explaining her true nature and enquire about how her newly beloved would feel about being a parent, they are both drawn into a new and concerted effort to hunt down the local monster - Sheshen herself. Hijinks, of course, ensue.

The thing that immediately captured me when I started reading was how well the narration captured Shesheshen's fundamental inhumanity while still making her layered, complex, and intelligent. Her visceral emotional reactions are shaped by her biological nature as a predator, and these emotions lead to distinctly inhuman values and morals - Shesheshen places no intrinsic value on human lives and feels no compunctions whatsoever about eating sentient people. Her love and lust are consumptive in nature, and she romanticizes this. The fact that she cannot have her cake and eat it too is something she has difficulty dealing with. But she's also capable of a great deal of sympathy and empathy for specific humans, and the love she has for the father she ate causes her to care a great deal about consent - she doesn't want to consume out of love someone who doesn't want to be consumed.

In addition to her psychology, Shesheshen's physiology is also excellently inhuman and conveyed in great visceral detail, and the way her body functions is very interesting. My favorite parts of the book are the introduction and the denouement, because these are the areas where her psychology and physiology receive the most undivided attention. They aren't ignored throughout the rest of the book by any means, but they take a backseat to the plot, which is why I feel a bit conflicted about the book as a whole. I was really enjoying the in-depth character study of the introduction, and would've really liked to have the whole book be in that vein.

The plot, to be clear is not bad - it's honestly quite good, and it delves heavily into themes of generational and familial trauma, self-sacrifice, the normalization and romanticization of profound harm, and the difficulty of growth and self-actualization, all while being fairly entertaining and well-executed as a story. I think its themes were a bit heavy-handed in places, and I think some of its exploration was hobbled and flattened by the book's queernorm setting, but I won't relitigate that old argument here. It was suitably gripping and solidly entertaining.

I think the central relationship was solid and compelling, though again, I would've liked it more if the whole book had been focused on a deep exploration of their characters and dynamics. There's a lot of rich ground to the basic premise of "monster falls in love with human, wants to express that love in a way that is actively dangerous/horrifying to the human, doesn't know how to talk about it", and the story layers additional complexities onto that dynamic that are very compelling, but for as much of that interesting ground that the book explored, it left plenty more untouched. One detail that I did find both novel and enjoyable is that both the love interest Homily and Shesheshen herself are all but explicitly sex-averse asexuals by human standards, which is something I have not encountered in a lot of media. The exploration of that experience is not particularly deep because, again, queernorm, but it is present and it was compelling.

This was a really unique and compelling read, though, and I expect it to be one that stays with me. Given my own interest in body horror and inhumanity (shameless plug for Memoirs of a Flesh Eater in the notes), I wouldn't be surprised to see some influences from this book in my own writing going forward.

On the whole, I definitely enjoyed this book and would definitely recommend it, but not without a few warnings. Body horror is a constant element in this book; Shesheshen's shapeshifting is purposely off-putting, and she eats people. This is described in substantial detail. Also, there is a lot of parental and familial abuse depicted, much more than you would expect from the basic premise, so go in prepared. On the other hand, though, if you're looking for a true gothic horror tragic toxic doomed romance or a heavy character study that really plumbs the depths of an inhuman psyche, you will probably be frustrated by how close it comes to being that without actually being that.

[mjanelupinblack]

starving creatures | chapter two 🖤

pairing: xu minghao x reader // jun x reader (mainly lol)

description: starving creatures have arrived at your homeland in forks. little do you know, they not only intend to drain the blood out of you... they'll also to break your heart in two.

genres: slowburn (please bare with me), fluff, angst, vampire!au

warnings: blood drinking, lot of blood related themes, repressed emotions, family issues, miscommunication, kinda toxic friendship with cheol? blood and smut will be mixed. emotionally and physically starved vampires oops. did i mentioned blood?

minors dni!!!

Check out the fic’s playlist 🖤

CHAPTER 2

Not even two days were necessary for your neighbors to become a sensation at the school hallways. Rumors are quick travelers, as you told Joshua before. But you forgot to warn him about how easily they tend to blend with the truth. Especially when they linger around people with such an enigmatic aura, like Jun and Minghao. How maddening it is to know that they have so many adventurous stories to tell, but neither of them dares to share a word about them! How unfair to admire their beauty from afar, since they won’t come close enough for one to scrutinize their eyes. Locals get upset with strangers who refuse to comply with their requests...

That’s when fantasy starts to play its game.

Who are they? Orphans of neglectful parents. Why did they leave California? A girl accused Jun of leaving her pregnant but he’s actually not the father and she ruined his reputation and his life. Some people even say their parents kill themselves, but there’s no way of knowing the truth. So, what are they doing in Forks? Protecting each other. Trying to heal from generational trauma. Finding refuge. Surviving. And it is a heart-rending story. Minghao would do anything to protect his younger brother and the only reason why you’d find them separated from each other would be because of school… where Jun sits next to you.

And who are you? Of course, Cheol's friend, but they've never seen you around that much. That is probably because you used to miss the majority of your classes and now you don't because Jun is here, so you must be a gold digger. A freshman asserts he heard you and Cheol get into a fight because of Jun the other day. Another one is saying that your aunt is sick. But one of your classmates bets that, actually, she's a witch. So maybe you are one too. Who lives in the middle of the woods in plain XXI century anyway?

You never liked the attention. You neither want it, nor need it. It’s impractical in a town like Forks. So, during history class, you decide to confront your seatmate about it.

“I would like to know how you handle all this stuff, because it’s driving me crazy.” You say, assuming he will know exactly what you’re talking about. Most of the time, he does.

“Ignore them,” he advises. “They will find someone else.”

“You ignored them, they found me, how do you fix that?” you say. “They say I’m a witch.”

He chuckles. His usually petrified gesture gives up and breaks into a wide smile. You start laughing too, given the ridiculousness of the situation. Rumors are so dumb.

“Mr. Wen,” Professor Moon calls. “As you are so distended in my class, I’ll assume you know by heart all of the themes we’re talking about in this lesson. Please, enlighten us with your knowledge. Let’s go back to World War I. Maybe you can tell us why it was initiated.”

“That’s a tricky question, professor,” Jun answers, still cheerful. “But if you want a concrete answer, I’d go with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary.”

“Place and date?”

“Sarajevo. 1914.”

“You said a concrete answer. Let’s go with the wider one.”

“I’ll have to ask you to be more specific about it. What do you want me to talk about? The alliance system? Economic factors? Nationalism? I can go on all day.”

Well, well, well… If someone had told you Jun would’ve been so thrilled about playing trivia with Professor Moon, you wouldn’t believe them.

“That’s enough, kid.”

After that, he comes back to your conversation.

“You could be a witch, you know?”

“Sorry?”

Before he can say anything, Jun stops himself.

“Nothing,” he answers. “It’s a compliment.”

•••

Minghao avoids discussing the details about the night he got turned. As for most of his kind, it’s a sensitive topic; no one wants to remember the moment they lost their right to die.

He hardly discusses the topic with Jun. Primarly because his brother was the sole reason he ventured into this sick lifestyle.

After a century of consumption, it would be easy to believe that Minghao would have grown accustomed to replacing his bitter coffee with morning packs of blood, but that isn’t the truth. The heavy liquid turns his stomach the same as the first time he tasted it. However, after all these years, the feeling comes hand in hand with the pleasure of satiety and the twisted desire for it not to come from an animal, but from a palpitating neck.

An unthinkable notion that no one dares to speak out loud, leaving Minghao feeling horrible about it.

Joshua tries to reassure him. He says that, in terms of nutrients and structure, pig blood is the most similar to human blood. They’ll have to endure it for a couple of months, at least until Vernon gains the trust of the hospital staff and it becomes easier to sneak out some bags of human blood.

Minghao envies Josh’s lack of interest in human nourishment. Many times he tried to free himself from his appetite, but his instincts won every battle, obliging him to succumb to hospital blood. His instincts are stronger and also wiser than he is. Nevertheless, he tries to suppress them every chance he gets. He does so by exercising, or perhaps painting. He no longer dances because he found movement is a catalyst that, sooner or later, will make his needs erupt like a volcano. So he replaced it with painting, meditation and pottery.

Given the circumstances, his knowledge as a nurse is only a remote memory.

“Hi.”

He’s grown accustomed to suffocating his desires to the point where he completely forgot how to experience them. You, on the other hand, aren’t quite as skilled at concealing your emotions.

“You’re Minghao, right?”

Minghao answers without ceasing his task. With his upper body unclothed, you find him outside his house, leaning over his pottery wheel, his clay-stained arms embracing the wet piece as if it were a long-awaited lover. A wave of heat quickly flushes your cheeks. Your neighbor stares at you, likely curious about the reason for your interruption. He’s used to being interrupted while working. Encountering a nearly naked man in the middle of the forest isn't something you can claim to be accustomed to, on the other hand.

“Sorry for interrupting. Have you seen a white cat?” You ask, with a jar of sardines in your hand.

“Cotton ball-like fluffy, with a black spot on his left eye…”

“Sorry, I’m afraid not,” Minghao answers. “What’s his name?”

“Cat,” You say, a bit embarrassed of your thirteen years old self. “Just cat.”

“I’ll let you know if I find Cat then.”

“Great! I’ll keep looking. Thanks.”

As much as you’d love to continue chatting with Minghao about anything —truly anything— else, your lack of creativity doesn’t stop at your difficulty to name your pet. He continues working on the edges of his raw ceramic vase; fingers sticky from the wet paste he tries to stick the handles with. You don’t have the heart —nor the ideas— to interrupt him once again. And that’s when your seatmate comes to save the day.

“You’re not going anywhere, y/n,” Jun says, appearing next to you like a magician mesmerizing everyone with the trick of teleportation. “I mean… not alone. Especially with a storm coming. Where are your manners, brother?”

“Shouldn’t you be studying or something?”

“Get your ass off that wheel and help us look for the pet. One cup less isn’t gonna hurt anyone.”

“It’s a vase.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less.”

You thought he’d be harder to convince, but as soon as Jun orders it, his brother stops the wheel and puts on the t-shirt he was sitting on. Minghao's resistance to the cold weather impresses you. His muscles don’t even flinch at the freezing breeze coming from the north.

“A penny for your thoughts?” your neighbor teases.

“You’re so annoying.”

•••

It was a huge mistake not to get rid of that mirror the moment they got it.

There was no use for it in the middle of the living room. But there was also no reason to keep it in the basement, as Vernon had insisted. It usually wasn’t pleasant to get into a discussion with his friend. So, as he attended his interview to get a job at the town’s hospital, Joshua found himself following his orders and carrying the furniture down the stairs and to the basement.

The material it was made of felt unbelievably heavy, even for a human-fed vampire. Like Sisyphus, Joshua repeated the same routine until he reached the cellar; going down two steps, stopping abruptly, and trying to catch his breath before continuing.

When he finally reaches the ground, he understands the reason behind Seungkwan’s little present. And he’s grateful that Vernon is not there to see it.

In front of him, he finds his own image. First young, like he hadn’t seen it in more than a hundred years, and then gradually rotting until his skin starts to detach from his cheeks. So that’s the infamous Life Mirror. There are very few in the world, and Joshua never thought he’d get to see himself in one. The more you mesmerize yourself at your young image, the more crudely it’s going to show you the reality of your soul. Joshua used to believe it was just a myth from the vampire folklore. But he should’ve known better. Myths tend to be history for the immortals.

“Son of a bitch.”

That's the last straw. Joshua doesn't care about Vernon's instructions when the Boo Family's welcome was, in fact, a declaration of war—a war they're not ready to fight, nor would they be even if they wanted to. Years of weakened minds and bodies are not so easy to recover, not even with a gallon of fresh blood.

He needs to destroy that mirror before his friend comes home. But his knuckles aren’t strong enough to do it, and the hammer is near Minghao’s workspace, who’s most definitely going to be curious about the reason behind his urgency. As a temporary measure, he decides to throw an old blanket over the structure.

He needs air.

Outside, the ground shakes with the wind. Minghao is no longer at his station, yet the piece he was working on lies unfinished over the wheel. Rain will catch it any second, converting it into a liquid vestige of what could’ve been a beautiful plant vase. That’s an odd behavior from him. Where could he possibly be?

His question is quickly answered by laughter emanating from behind the lodge. Joshua follows his senses until he finds Jun and you jumping like crazy to reach one of the thickest branches of a tree.

“Stop! You’re scaring him.” You tell Jun, who insists on being the one to bring the cat back to the ground.

“Scared? No! He rubbed his head on my wrist.” Jun complains. He sounds very determined.

“Jun, Y/n is right. It’ll be better to bring a ladder. He doesn’t know you.”

“I got…I got him!”

“Wait! He’s gonna…”

Blood. Lots of it pouring from your hand. Maybe trimming your cat’s nails would’ve been a wise decision to make before throwing yourself in the territory of four very thirsty vampires. Your scent is strong, like cold pennies resting on the palm of your sweaty hands, but it is also sweet. Pig’s blood could never be that sweet. The thought of it makes Jun’s fangs start showing without him being able to notice. Minghao notices and quickly grabs your wrist. He turns you around to face him, leaving a trace of dry clay over the spot your blood flowed.

Clay and blood, intertwined.

Your heart races. Minghao's touch is both frightening and tender. He worked hard on his self-control just to be able to handle these types of situations. If you saw Jun in that state, it would be over for them.

“Are you okay?”

But now that he thinks about it, your blood smells like candy taken out of its wrapper. And it running so fast due to your nervousness releases a scent he never sensed before. One that has him dying to let go of his virtues and succumb to sin.

And Joshua notices.

“T/n! Come here, let me see.”

He rips you out of Minghao’s clutcht to check at your wound and you head inside together.

“Guys, grab the cat and come inside before it rains. T/n, does it hurt too much?”

In another scenario, you might have noticed he was trying to distract you. But right now, the spot where Minghao's hand was grabbing still feels hot and throbbing when Joshua touches your hand. It’s hard to concentrate. He gestures for you to sit on the sofa, and you comply. Not even two seconds later, he returns with a first aid kit. You can't help but contrast Minghao's firm grasp with the compassionate way Joshua is holding you while disinfecting your cut.

“You must think I’m a terrible mother,” you say, watching Joshua shake his head as he kneels in front of you to examine your hand more closely. “He’s not usually like this. I don’t know why he got so scared.”

Animals rely on their intuition. They detect danger and protect the people who love them and take good care of them. Joshua knows you’re not a terrible mother. It was Jun’s hand your cat was trying to sever.

“Don’t punish yourself,” he says. “He’s lucky to have you. It was Jun who drove him crazy.”

“He was so nice though, trying to help me,” you hiss at the strong liquid Joshua pours over your skin. “Do you think Hao is okay? His eyes went all weird when he looked at the scratch.”

“What do you mean, weird?”

“I don’t know, dark? I think it disgusted him.”

Thank goodness you think that, among all the things Minghao’s look could have made you think.

“Oh… Yes. Hao can’t stand blood. There’s no wonder he refuses to become a doctor.”

“He doesn’t need to. He’s so talented in ceramics.”

“He is. He will appreciate it if you tell him. Do you see all of the pots and vessels in the house? They’re all his work. Minghao is an artist, he’s always been.”

He truly is. The fact that the piece he was working on has already lost its shape due to the rain makes you feel sad and guilty about interrupting him. You're amazed at how your neighbor achieved most of the patterns and textures. They highlight the house, once yours, with the sparkle you thought it would never regain after your uncle’s death. It’s fascinating to realize that Minghao’s mind is so vibrant with colors.

“You don’t stay behind,” you say to Joshua, as he bandages your now disinfected hand. “Suddenly it doesn’t even hurt.”

“You are too kind,” he answers, smiling shyly while he stands on his feet. “I appreciate the compliment. But I hope I never have to display my skills on you again.”

“Sorry. I’ll pay you next time.”

It’s heartwarming to make him laugh. Before making the comment, you had a hunch that Joshua would crack a smile if you told him something along those lines. His smile is not only kind, but also genuine. It makes you wonder how many of the ones you were given before might have been only half as sincere.

“God, no, t/n,” he answers. “Please just take care of yourself.”

After a few minutes of watching the storm shake the trees, a soaking wet Jun opens the door for his brother, who enters with your cat purring in his arms. You wonder if your eyes are deceiving you. Cat is an animal of strong character and delicate temper. Yet, he sleeps like a baby in your neighbor's embrace, as if he has been charmed into tranquility.

“He liked Hao best,” Jun explains, with his hands on his waist. “I don’t care. I’m not a cat person anyways… Now, who’s making dinner?”

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Heyyyyyy let’s play a game. I write and you tell me how many taylor’s songs possible references you find ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ (there’ll be many lol)

Taglist: @90s-belladonna @milopenne @angel-ishere @cheiyoma @hipsdofangirl

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masterlist | next chapter (soon)

[teeth-cable]

Two things that truly fascinate me about the show from what I heard, is the lack of dark gut wrecking moments and how light hearted it is.

Maybe it’s just me but I expected Hazbin would be darker than what we got. Beside EP 4 and a few scattered scenes, the show’s overall tone is a light hearted one which is so surprising to me.

I thought the show would be similar to Moral Orel where both do have light hearted moments but they aren’t scared to overshadow them with their darker scenes.

I’m just confused why the show isn’t as dark as it could have be when it had two different premises that allowed the chance to explore dark themes.

A hotel meant to rehabilitate sinners.

In order to rehabilitate, the sinners needs to unpack their traumas and address their current issues. This could have led to discussions centering around generational trauma, systemic abuse and neglect, corporate punishment, and how bad people are typically created than born bad.

Sinners developed terrible traits on Earth and living in Hell has only worsen those traits

Discussions about the flaws with therapy and privilege people hurting traumatized people than helping them due to their ignorance.

Sinners reflecting over their past life.

Sinners developing depression and suicide ideations due to living in a world re-enforcing bad habits and having to watch the friends they made die due to the extermination.

Charlie realizing not everyone wants to improve and would rather stay bad than try.

A chance to show healing isn’t linear and shows the ugly sides of it.

Hell going to war with Heaven after Charlie discovers Heaven is corrupted.

This could have been use as a discussion talking how the privilege created a system meant suppressing others to benefit them

Address the issues within Christianity and it’s community.

Vicky suffering from trauma due to experiencing Heaven’s corruption when she was an angel.

Discussions relating to the evilness of carceral systems.

Here are a few ideas I could think of on the spot but Hazbin could have been a dark show but it isn’t for some reason.

I can’t wonder but why, because Helluva Boss had dark moments in Season 1 so what stopped the writers?

[ailendolin]

More (general) thoughts after watching Jurassic World Chaos Theory:

I love that trauma is one of the main themes of it. Those kids have been through a lot and instead of it getting swept under the rug, we see Kenji having a panic attack, Yaz going to therapy (and finding a way to help other people like her deal with dinosaur-related trauma), Sammy sort of ignoring what happened and trying to carry on as usual, Darius becoming reclusive up to the point where Kenji talks more to his mom than he does and Ben going down the conspiracy theory hole. They all responded differently to what happened and we see the aftermath of that - which includes all of them growing apart as they try come to terms with what happened to them - and it was so well done

one thing that irked me about Ben and Darius road trip was how Darius got annoyed at Ben for not keeping quiet while he was trying to sleep. For all we know Ben has been driving for hours, maybe even days at that point - first to Darius's place, then to Sammy's - so I think he can be excused for giving off so much nervous energy. Also Darius, maybe offer to drive next time instead of getting annoyed at your friend who just saved your life

speaking if these two - I know many people ship them and while I personally am a Ben/Kenji shipper, I can't be the only one who thought the whole Darius/Kenji/Brooklynn triangle is the perfect set up for Darius and Kenji realising they can be happy together without Brooklynn, right?

on that not, let me talk about Benji real quick. Those two didn't have many scenes together but boy am I here for them co-parenting Bumpy's egg and Kenji comforting Ben and helping him after he got hurt

Yaz casually bringing up Ben's pterosaur-related trauma was interesting. It implies they've reached a point where they can all joke about it but I'm not so sure that's the case. Ben's trauma has always been played down a little and I wonder if he might not just be very good at hiding it from his friends. Also, after getting traumatised by air (flying/falling), he can now add trauma by water (drowning) to the growing list. So what's next? Earth (getting buried alive)?

I'm still not a fan of the Jurassic World Allosaurus design. Big Al my beloved I miss you and your beautiful looks.

Also speaking of things I'm not a fan of in the franchise: where the hell are all these dinosaurs coming from? There are whole herds roaming across the US, hundreds of dinosaurs being sold world-wide, creepy people training raptors to perfection, species that weren't on InGen or Masrani's lists cropping up left and right - and I'm supposed to believe all that happened in a few years? This is not JWCT's fault (mainly Dominion's) but omg I hate how it just makes no sense. Especially considering how relatively easy it should have been to neutralise the large dinosaurs after they escaped Lockwood Manor. It's the small ones like the Compsognathus that are the true problem in this scenario. But no, somehow dinosaurs have overrun the US and we can't get them under control. Sure.

Brooklynn faking her death is going to cause so much pain when the truth comes out and given how great the show has handled trauma, grief and betrayal so far, I'm so here for it

speaking of faking deaths - there's a possibility Kenji's dad is not dead, right? That this was staged as well? Because if he turns out to be alive too, then Kenji's in for a very rough ride

Creepy raptor lady is a very cool villain. I love how ruthless and emotionless she seems the whole time until we get a crack in the facade when her Atrociraptors get hurt. Makes her way more interesting than if she'd just been, for lack of a better word, a robot

My Ben-specific post about the first season is here.

[boywifesammy]

im sure everyone’s seen the argument by non-wincest shippers that canon weirdcest moments can be explained off as particularly close brothers. i’ve seen wincesties respond by straight up denying it, but honestly, i see where they’re coming from. they do TECHNICALLY have a point, yet still, it fundamentally doesnt sit well with me.

if you isolate all of these little incidents they could be perceived as purely brotherly. its got me thinking about what exactly makes wincest so appealing, and why i as a wincest shipper immediately have an exasperated reaction to people insisting that sam&dean are purely platonic.

i also see this argument frequently bundled with the stance that “weirdcest isn’t a justification for shipping wincest” (which is a whole other can of worms altogether— the puritan culture of ship culture rn), but you gotta take a step back and just ask yourself… why am i so intent on seeing these characters as platonic?

the prevailing argument ive seen is that siblings CAN be terribly close without being incestuous. this is totally fair. i’m not saying that if you are particularly close with your siblings in a sam & dean type manner that you are incestuous. obviously relationships between family is vastly complex & changes with the culture you grew up in.

the only problem here is that people try to go so far to explain sam&dean’s relationship as to not paint it as romantic. if they weren’t related, it’d be insane to think they weren’t romantic. they are consistently and repeatedly put in situations and exchange dialogue that’s used to convey romantic tone in western media. my point here being— the writers know that they are doing. and they are doing it INTENTIONALLY.

yes, certain cultures find extensive physical touch and kisses between siblings platonically acceptable. yes, you can be very close to your siblings without wanting to fuck them. but that is such a reach given what you are being presented with. you are missing the fundamental thematic point of supernatural: family horror!!

by so steadfastly arguing that sam&dean cannot be read as romantic you are purposefully ignoring the the text. you are glossing over the repeating themes of generational trauma and incest that are touched on time and time again, with john’s father abandoning him, mary’s parents being hunters, the struggle she went through to get out of the life but how family trauma & the past permeates itself into your being. you are ignoring the benders, the ghost pregnant with her fathers child, and the time azazel KISSED MARY in HER FATHERS BODY.

supernatural pushes incestuous themes SO HARD. it purposefully plays with & explores the double-sided blade that is family. it touches on a REALLY TABOO subject without being overwhelming or heavy handed. of course its going to attract people who enjoy these themes. OF COURSE we’re going to look at the two homoerotic brother leads and see something between them! it’s intentionally placed in the script! its a valid reading of the text!

this is why i get frustrated when people say that wincest shippers are twisting canon for the sake of shipping, because we’re not. when people say this they are taking a piece of media that is intriguing in how it handles a socially unacknowledged part of the human experience and forcing their viewing of it on others. they are saying that you aren’t allowed to enjoy those themes because it is inherently wrong or shameful to EXPLORE THE TOPIC. i dunno. that sounds pretty authoritarian to me.

it’s totally fine to be grossed out by incest or avoid wincest because it makes you uncomfortable. what ISNT okay is to say its an exaggerated reaction to canon, because it really isnt. in fact, its a pretty normal & sane conclusion to come to after seeing those two. the fact that they aren’t explicitly incestuous might even enhance this idea. it touches on the unspoken secretive nature of family trauma and the complicated, messy reality of crossing boundaries with blood without being cliche or overdramatic.

im going to incite occam’s razor here: yes, they could just be brothers. yes, you can explain it all away as particularly close siblings. yes, you can argue that it isnt explicitly canon. but really, why would you do all that when the show incessantly implies that they’re more? and more importantly, why are you so quick to say that a topic cannot be explored because it’s complicated? is that really the sentiment that we as a society want to hold regarding media?

[aspoonofsugar]

Akane + Kana = Blue (Shadow) + Red (Light)

Here come 2 great girls and 2 great characters! Akane Kurokawa and Kana Arima are Aqua's 2 love interests, but more than that they are key for the story and themes of Oshi No Ko.

SHADOW AND LIGHT

Akane and Kana are linked to 2 opposite ideas:

Akane is a person who accepts others' shadows

Kana is a person who gives others hope and light

Akane is the most perceptive character in the manga. She is incredibly sensitive to the people around her and able to guess their secrets from little details. For example, she infers Ai's personal life by looking at some records. Not only that, but people feel they can trust Akane and share with her intimate information. This is true for both Aqua and Ruby:

Both siblings tell Akane a part of their previous selves' story. Akane doesn't ask for it, but listens to them. She is so accepting, she is even ready to compromise her morality for others:

She looks straight at people's darkness and doesn't flinch. She welcomes the shadow.

Kana is strongly associated with light:

The acting who makes her famous as a child is her ability to shine on the stage. Not only that, but she chooses white as her idol color and sings about becoming a full moon. She brings light into the night and helps others shine. So, she fittingly becomes a beacon of hope for both twins:

Aqua is drawn to Kana's cheerful and strong personality and wants to see more of it. Ruby wants to help Kana, even when she is going through her DarkRuby phase. For a moment, her friendship with Kana brings back Ruby's inner light.

So, Akane is so empathic she accepts people's flaws, while Kana is so cheerful she brings joy to people. Still, their juxtaposition doesn't stop at what they represent for others.

BLUE AND RED

Akane and Kana have opposite color schemes. Akane is blue and Kana is red. Blue and red are complementary colors and they are generally associated with different ideas:

blue is mind, shyness and introversion

red is heart, impulsiveness and extroversion

These personality traits fit Akane and Kana and their acting methods:

Akane studies alone and immers herself into the script. She looks inside:

Her acting is understanding the characters.

Kana reacts to the people around her and matches their performance. She looks outside:

Her acting is interpersonal relationships.

Akane is introspective and focuses on the characters (blue). Kana instead is reactive and focuses on the actors (red). That said, the 2 actresses' color juxtaposition hides an additional meaning:

Ai is purple, which is the combination of blue and red. Similarly, Akane and Kana (just like the twins) are 2 sides of Ai. Still, who is Ai?

I have never been loved by anyone Nor have I loved anyone else

Ai is a person who has never loved nor has ever been loved.

TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED

To love and to be loved are the 2 sides of Ai (love). Akane and Kana too explore these 2 concepts.

Akane is surrounded by people who love her. Her parents genuinelly want her to be happy and they support her career and relationships. The same goes for her manager. Still, when Akane gets cyber-bullied, she struggles to call for help. Not only that, but later on she states she is not sure she loves Aqua:

In short, Akane has trouble understanding relationships and approaches them in the most complicated way possible. She admires Kana and wants for her to shine again. Instead of conveying her feelings properly, though, she starts a rivalry. She wishes to help Aqua and to build a relationship with him. Still, she both lies and silently accepts Aqua's lies.

Kana is instead very upfront with her feelings, but she ignores people's darkest sides, which makes her easy to manipulate. After all, Kana often gives in to others' requests, even if it is not what she wants. This tendency stems from trauma:

As a small child, Kana is abandoned by the adults around her because she stops being an asset. Both her mother and manager ditch her and nobody gives her work anymore. As a result, Kana becomes a push-over in the hope of being accepted.

So, both Akane and Kana have self-issues which prevent them from developing healthy relationships. Akane doesn't know how to love, while Kana fears to be unloved. These 2 complexes make so that Ai gets sometimes reborn in the 2 girls:

Akane is actress Ai, the genius performer, who lies to both others and herself

Kana is idol Ai, the girl, who shines brightly in her genuine search for love

Akane and Kana's similarity with Ai is why Aqua feels drawn to both in different ways. He projects his mother on his 2 love interests. However, Akane and Kana are not Ai, but their own people. So, their arcs break this dychotomy between them and show that they are 2 girls growing up. Not only that, but they are deep down very alike.

AKANE = BLUE + RED

Akane is associated with blue (blue hair and eyes), but her name means red. Why is there this contradiction? A possible answer is that Akane is strongly disconnected from herself. Or to better say, Akane has no idea of who she is. This is precisely why she struggles so much throughout her introductory arc.

True Love is a reality show, where the participants have to play themselves and flirt with others. For example, Yuki uses her true feelings as an inspiration for her performance. However, Akane can't do the same because she is confused by romance and lacks a personality of her own. This is why she is a genius actress. She forgets herself and becomes someone else. It is Akane's modus operandi and she eventually uses it also in True Love. And who does she become?

She plays Aqua's ideal girl. Not only that, but she keeps on this role throughout time, as she becomes more involved in Aqua's revenge plot:

Akane knows Aqua is not in love with her. Still, she decides it is fine to be used, as long as she is aware of it. Later on, she realizes Aqua has feelings for Kana, but accepts them in exchange of his honesty. Akane believes that with time her bond with Aqua will become the real thing. However, she is wrong, as a lie stays a lie:

In the end, neither Aqua nor Akane are honest with each other. Aqua violates Akane's privacy and Akane keeps silent about Aqua's father. She decides to solve things by herself, just like she did with the cyber-bullying. Akane is full of people who love her, but she refuses to depend on them. She tries to deal with everything alone and puts her life in danger:

She is very much like Aqua in this, which is why the moment they come clear they break-up. Akane and Aqua genuinely care for each other. However, they can't have a proper relationship because they choose to lie and to self-sacrifice.

Akane gives up her whole sense of self to properly play the part of Ai. Still, she isn't Ai and her break-up with Aqua is the perfect chance to realize it. Right now, she is determined to save Aqua by herself. She still believes she can be Aqua's perfect girl, one way or another. However, she is wrong. She can't and shouldn't save Aqua alone. She should open up to others and ask for help. In this way, she can finally break character and show her genuine self. She can embrace her inner red.

KANA = LIGHT + SHADOW

Kana is linked to light, but she is currently stuck in shadows both in her career and in her personal relationships. This is made clear since her introductory arc.

Sweet Today is a low budget production whose real goal isn't to tell a good story, but rather to advertise models. Kana is chosen because of her good personality and fame. She sees this as an opportunity and a sign of appreciation. However, the producer's words reveal she is being taken advantage of. Nobody cares about her second chance in the enterteinment world, but they only use her because she is convenient. Not only that, but Kana is forced to match the other cast members' level of acting. The result is that she hides her real self.

Luckily, Aqua is there for Kana and eventually she is able to shine a little:

This is a recurring dynamic between Kana and Aqua. Kana tries to hide her real talent for the sake of harmony on the stage. However, Aqua takes care of things, so that Kana can shine:

In short, Aqua is a healing presence in Kana's life. She feels invisible and unwanted to the point she is ready to do anything for some care and appreciation. However, Aqua gives her selfless support:

Still, Kana herself is unaware of Aqua's shadows:

She has known him for a long time, but knows nothing of his revenge plan, his past as Gorou and his manipulative streak. It is telling that when Aqua masks as Piyo Kana is unable to see through the mask. She can't because she doesn't know who the real Aqua is.

Here it comes a contradiction in Kana's arc. Among all the characters, she is the one mostly linked to truth:

She is so honest she makes her feelings for Aqua clear five minutes after meeting him. She even ends up confessing her crush on a stranger out of loyalty towards Aqua and her own emotions. Not to mention that it is to protect her that Aqua reveals the truth about Ai. And yet, she is kept in the dark of others' machinations. She is oblivious to her friends' struggles and seems not to notice their strange behaviours.

So, her arc should really be about overcoming this flaw. If Kana wants to shine, she needs to experience shadows. If she wants to have healthy bonds with others, she needs to discover and accept their darkness. She is slowly going through this process.

As a child, she shines, but is self-centered. When she grows up, she painfully realizes she has to value others more and becomes much more selfless. However, at the beginning of the series, she is being consumed by this approach and is helped by others to re-discover her selfish self a little bit more. She realizes she is beautiful when she steals everyone's attention and that her brutal honesty can help people grow.

Right now, she needs to reconcile her caring personality with her personal need to shine. Her trust in people with the knowledge even her loved ones can make mistakes. In short, she must find a way to shine, while helping others to shine too:

She doesn't have to sacrifice herself to be accepted, but at the same time Kana herself is at her happiest when all the actors play together to the utmost of their abilities. She must be the sun who selflessly makes others shine.

AKANE AND KANA'S ENDINGS

So, what will be the conclusion of Akane and Kana's stories? So far, it is too soon to say, but some hypothesis can be made.

First thing first, let's address the elephant in the room. I think Akane, Kana and Aqua's love triangle will resolve in Kana's favor. Imo the story has been very clear about it.

Aqua's reaction to Akane and Kana is opposite:

He involves himself with Akane to pursue his revenge and he is drawn to her because she resembles Ai

He stays away from Kana because of his revenge and his fear Kana is gonna end up targeted like Ai

In short, Aqua projects on both girls with different results. He projects on Akane his wishes and on Kana his fears. So, it makes sense that by the end he lets go of Ai's ideal (he says goodbye to Akane) and overcomes his fears (he acts on his feelings for Kana).

Of course, recently, there has been a shift in this dynamic. Aqua has in fact broken his bond with Akane to protect her, while he has started a manipulative relationship with Kana. Still, this inversion is due to the story entering its climax. It is in fact necessary to challenge all the characters.

Structurally, Akane and Kana do not have the same focus. Akane's storyline serves Aqua and Kana beautifully. She supports their arcs, while developing herself. Kana instead is the tritragonist of the manga. A lot of focus is given to her feelings and career each arc. Moreover, these plotlines have nothing to do with the main conflict, which means Kana is basically having her own story. Still, obviously Kana's story and the main plot are meant to become one in the climax. So, she is meant to have a big role in Aqua's arc.

Finally, a conclusion where Aqua and Kana are together fits both girls' individual arcs.

Akane should stop imitating others and discover who she is. For her to succeed she should go back to what she originally desired:

Akane's true desire is a genuine connection. She starts acting not because she thinks it is cool, but because she wants to become friends with Kana. However, Akane's strategy to grow closer to others is to change herself and become an ideal:

She wants to win Kana's friendship by becoming like her. And yet, this backfires as Kana is already struggling with people discarding her to favor other children. Surely, a girl who imitates her is not the kind of friend Kana wants by that point. Interestingly, Akane is mature enough to figure this out and doesn't really resent Kana for it. To the contrary, she deep down wants Kana to go back to shine, but her attempts to inspire Kana do not work. So, what can Akane do to grow close to Kana and help her shine?

Maybe Akane simply has to tell Kana the truth about Aqua. She could let go of her stubborness and open up to another person. After all, the only way to forge bonds is to show who you are and hope the other will accept you.

Such a resolution on Akane's part would help Kana. Kana's problem is that she ignores everyone's shadows. She can't hope to help her loved ones if she has no idea of who they are. Kana's test will be to accept Aqua's darkest part and to keep on loving him.

She will 100% succeed. Kana is great at pursuing what she loves, even when it's not perfect. She is the character who has been a part of the enterteinment world the longest. She has been broken and let down many times. However, she still loves acting and the people she meets in her job. She may not be a genius anymore, but she is a strong, dependable and flexible actress. She likes the enterteinment world despite its flaws and will keep on loving the twins and Akane.

This is why Kana is the brightest star:

She has more passion and attachment to life than everyone else.

[rei-ismyname]

The X-Men vs X-Men Beef feels inorganic

From The Ashes has begun in earnest, and we're being told that the Uncanny X-Men have irreconcilable problems with Cyclops' X-Men. However, we're not really being shown that. Spoilers for all From The Ashes books released so far.

We've had 3 issues of X-Men and 2 of Uncanny X-Men so far, plus answers promised for why Wolverine doesn't want to be one in the first issue of his solo (the reason is trauma, it turns out but he's still wearing his uniform ten pages in. Not especially satisfying.) From The Ashes (henceforth FTA) has had a scattershot approach to plotting so far, but one unifying theme has been that mutants in general are a scattered diaspora as well as interpersonal issues that I'm just not seeing.

Here's Gail at the end of Uncanny X-Men #1.

Let's break this down a bit. 'Recovering from grief' absolutely makes sense. They lost Krakoa only months ago and different people deal with that in different ways. Except Rogue seems pretty happy tbh, aside from select moments when the Big Picture is being discussed. The rest of the time she's talking loudly about sex and generally seems in high spirits.

'Rogue and Cyclops has replaced the relationship between Xavier and Magneto.' For one, that relationship has been a close one for years at this point. Secondly, I'm not buying that at all because it's not on the page.

They seem to be on great terms here, working together for mutual goals. Zero animosity. Friends, family, obviously. Why wouldn't they be? This is issue 1.

This is issue 2, like 6 hours later in universe. The Jubilee comment confirms they're sharing information, and Scott's team are very publicly being X-Men. The reader doesn't have perfect information here, but obviously these kids have said something that spurs Rogue into action immediately, fuck Scott/Hank/everyone else's plans.

Here's the moment just before the call. 'Last guy I want to talk to.' What the hell is that about? It's very at odds with either phone call, which were friendly and collaborative. As you'd think they'd be, you know having been family for decades now.

'Are there even going to be X-Men anymore?' You know there are, you're working with them. 'We almost had Xavier's 'dream'. No, you didn't. You had a nation, and it was great. It was the opposite of The Dream, because the Dream is solving bigotry. You should all know this by now. Also, aren't you all super mad at Chuck for his war crimes? I know Wolverine tried to kill him a few months ago - is he over that?

They discuss heading up to join Cyclops, in the former sentinel factory given as part of a settlement for six months of torture and being readied for a Kangaroo court and execution - you were all there for that. 'Imagine a community run by Scott Summers... I ain't going back there, it ain't the X-Men...'

Dude, you've been living with him, Jean and their family for the past 4 years in a polycule. Why are you talking like you're Schism era Wolverine? Your beef is ancient history, you're family. He definitely wasn't 'everywhere you turn' when you were banging his wife. Y'all are about to go break into a government sanctioned prison to retrieve your war criminal mentor that one of you tried to kill very recently - so I'm not seeing a difference in methodology or ideology. In fact you're doing that and he's compromising his team's plans around you!

Here's Scott's side of that conversation. Looks like she hung up on him for some reason, but this dude is being polite and trying to collaborate with his peers. When he gets hung up on and ignored he changes his plans, with the primary concern being everyone's safety. There's nothing in any of these issues indicating otherwise, aside from Logan shooting down anything to do with Scott and Gail Simone kinda saying so in editorial.

So why is this conflict happening? Logan has been running naked with wolves since Krakoa (despite being in ten different books) so there's been no opportunity for an incident. Everyone else is talking like they're friends. Sure, there's the grief and trauma, but everyone is making 'back to work' choices. I'm definitely not seeing an ideological divide, just being told that in editorial.

Even Kitty Pryde is telling everyone to fuck off, except we know she's in Exceptional X-Men on a team. Little hard to believe she'd turn away from all her family, except Emma Frost. Their relationship was in a good place on Krakoa, but why a team with her and refuse to even see anyone else?

It's really not that hard to give characters goals and beliefs, and ideas on the best way to achieve them. At the moment it just feels like they're apart because writers/editorial want them to be, while giving us the kind of disagreements teenagers would get over quickly. I'm not feeling it as a good start to FTA, and the implication that 'we're the X-Men now' implies Scott's team isn't. We've been here before, idiot plots leading to needless divides amongst a people in severe crisis. I have to ask - is that really the best Marvel can do?

I really want to like or even love this reboot, but nostalgia and forced conflict is the definition of old hat. There's so many ways to use nostalgia in fresh ways, but this isnt it. Worse, I'm being told otherwise. I know you don't hire Tom Brevoort as editor to take risks, so I'm really hoping this is just a slow start with everyone finding their feet.

I've definitely noticed that Magneto has been sitting in a chair doing nothing for 3 issues too. I want to know how his ideological awakening is going to be paid off, and I'm wary it's just going to be ignored. I'll be coming back to this topic when there's actually something to talk about, and perhaps foolishly being cautiously optimistic.

Maybe this kind of stuff isn't for everyone, but at least make it make sense, yo. How are you finding it? What are you loving? What are you looking forward to? I'd love to hear.

[ahoppingmagician]

Nope

Alright, Viv just stop this train wreck, pull the plug, change your name and move to a mountain in the middle of nowhere. his woman is fully grown and I won't coddle her like the rest of the world.

Warnings: SA and Racism(If you aren't in the right head space please don't read these sections or this post)

SEXUAL ASSAULT

Alright, let's start with sexual assault. It shouldn't be treated like a joke or erotic because it's not. What else can I say to get it through people's skulls that SA isn't funny or sexy? If you truly need a post to understand why it's not acceptable, you are dangerous or too young to watch this show. This 30-something-year-old knows it's serious, but chooses when it should be taken seriously depending on her twink of the day. (You don't pick or choose when a topic is serious Viv, but go off)

Also, she needs to give things warnings, like I did for this post, for people to be

Happy

Healthy

Safe

Is it more hassle for you? Not at all. Will it be mentally damaging for the viewers? Yes, because you didn't warn them like a responsible creator about something they might have lived or have similar experiences with being shown on screen.

Goofy Rant

Now I'll brighten the mood by being a hateful bitch.

What is this plot? seriously how did we start with a hotel and then get to a threat of war between heaven and hell in like six episodes. That alone is two seasons, never mind every character's trauma, and other people that want the hotel cast dead, oh yeah and backstories for most of our cast...im six episodes.

VIV SLOW THE FUCK DOWN

If you have to cram every major plotline into your story then you failed. What she should of done is trim the fat off this burnt peice of bacon. Get rid of the Vees because they are pointless to the other plots or maybe the angel demon war because why would this show need it, or all the unfunny jokes.

Characters are shit adjacent but is that a surprise to literal any...wait her rabid fans. If your a fan of this series for god knows why then good for you...unless your a FAN fan. I have many words to say to them but that's for another day.

Edit: (Didn't even fucking know I posted this today, so sorry, onto racism)

RACISM

Now I am as Caucasian as can be so maybe I shouldn't speak on this, POC let me know if I can or if I should just shut up and let you do it.

I don't know much about voodoo/voodou, but I do know that it is a practiced religion, not a vibe VIV. You can't add a different religion to this show because it's a CHRISTIAN show, it explores the faults of God's judgement, heaven, and hell. Also, voodoo/voodou shouldn't be used as "evil" magic because we aren't in the 1900s to early 2000s anymore VIV. Also, you know it's a heavily if not completely black religion.

Alastor, Husk, Velvette, Emily, and Sera(Millie from HB aswell) don't look black. Now maybe I'm an asshole for this or even racist but where is the textured hair, like box braids, dreadlocks, afros, afro puffs, or just curlier hair in general. Why aren't you exploring the trauma that Alastor definitely went through because he was a biracial man in the early 1900s which could easily explain (not excuse) his behaviour, you could have a nurture versus nature theme.

Nifty feels...weird to me. First of all an Asian woman in the 50s who seems to have been raised or travelled to the USA, again racist trauma and all that being completely ignored. She feels like a stereotype, between the constant cleaning, obsessive behaviour, and her erratic behaviour. It feels like the crazy Asian woman stereotype.

Alright, that's it for right now, Have a wonderful day or night and wear whatever because it's all about your comfort because the world if making my own sanity crumble.

[mental-about-you-too]

Crowley + bluffing (+ memory)

Source

A lot of people have written about the indications in S2 that Crowley was once a Very Powerful Angel (specifically, an Archangel). And yeah, some hints are pretty blatant (eg "Thrones, Dominions, or higher"), and there are some sound analyses out there--so it's very possible that he was.

But I don't think that's necessarily the case.

I think that, when it comes to his power (or his bargaining position more generally), there's always a decent chance that Crowley is--at least partially--bluffing.

Source

25 Lazarii

As @halemerry pointed out in this meta about colors, purple is not only the color of massive angelic power--it's also Crowley red + Aziraphale blue (this was a revelation to me).

Source

I think it's made pretty clear that the remarkable power of the 25-Lazarii miracle isn't (in itself) evidence that Crowley was once among "the mightiest of Archangels"--it means that together, Aziraphale and Crowley are as powerful as the mightiest of Archangels.

Source

So when Crowley claims he might have done the "miracle of enormous power":

Source

and Shax doesn't question him, I don't think it necessarily means he's Very Powerful. Maybe he is. Maybe she knows it. But I don't think she does, and I don't think we do either.

Who knows? He could be bluffing.

"I meet a lot of people."

I think something similar could be going on when it comes to Crowley's memory. Yes, memory is a theme in S2, and mention of Crowley's memory (or rather, lack thereof) is a recurring point, so it probably means something. (And the line "looking at where the furniture isn't" does sound like he might be familiar with Jim's experience of amnesia.)

But in the cases of Furfur and Saraqael: sure, maybe he doesn't remember them--or maybe he's just calling them forgettable to be annoying and obstructive.

Source

He doesn't feel like playing along with either of them. He doesn't want to encourage some sort of connection. He's not their friend. Sure--maybe he dismisses Saraqael with "I meet a lot of people" to cover up an actual lapse.

Source

Or maybe he's just being a bit of a bastard (affectionate) and trying to get on their nerves.

In other words: maybe he's bluffing.

And so maybe Crowley was an Archangel. Maybe his memory was erased, and he had to work at recovering it piecemeal. Or maybe he was somebody of respectable power but middling influence (eg a Throne or Seraph, as per this informative meta on angelic rank). Maybe he lost some memory due to trauma, and he puts on a flippant front to hide pain from those who might take it as weakness. Or maybe he remembers everything, and he just enjoys sticking it to power at every opportunity by being infuriating.

Personally, I like to think of Crowley and Aziraphale as institutionally insignificant beings who happen to have enough audacity and imagination (and capacity for Caring About Things) to make themselves everyone's problem.

I don't know, maybe I just like the way book!Crowley and Aziraphale seem to be in similarly-middling positions in their respective organizations, yet still decide to team up and try to avert the apocalypse. Maybe I'm hung up on the underdog narrative, and ignoring evidence. (And/)or, maybe the whole bluffing thing is all very obvious--after all: he's a demon. He lies.

Edit: After writing this, I found this meta by @avelera about the Doylist argument for Crowley being a high-ranking angel, and it's...honestly pretty convincing (I have Pratchettist preferences about Our Heroes' status, it seems). But who knows? Maybe Gaiman will subvert the pattern. Maybe he's bluffing too.