#it’s why the social dynamics seem so empty and broken

[lordofdestructionm]

Reading Mordecai Heller as a repressed gay man

The tragic attraction

This is a full post based on my response to a great analysis by @sedgewick-gayble

Let me start by saying that if you read Mordecai as being totally asexual/aromantic and any affection he has for other characters to be entirely platonic that is entirely valid and I respect that

However as this response by Tracy makes clear on the topic of fans reading Mordecai as gay there is an intentional ambiguity about it. Being 28 at the time of the main story his "lifestyle is certainly asexual" up to this point, yet "being ace and being gay are not mutually exclusive things" and people sometimes "don't know themselves or understand their own motivations all that well"

This leaves the possibility open that Mordecai is actively repressing his natural desires and feelings

Mordecai's early life didn't exactly provide much time or opportunity for "self discovery", even by the usual standards of the less than tolerant and understanding world of the early 20th century

Being born into an impoverished family and having his father die very early in his life leaving him and his Mother and two younger sisters in dire straits, Mordecai had to get to work and assume adult responsibilities pretty damn early.

As Tracy says "selling newspapers wasn't going to cut it" and so using his natural talent with numbers Mordecai starts bookkeeping for the mob. Is it any wonder someone with that background would develop such a serious and rigidly buttoned up demeanour?

Since being forced to abandon his mother and two sisters at the start of the 1920s and flee New York, being picked up by Atlas's due to his habit of collecting useful strays, Mordecai had very few people he was close to in St Louis. With his generally anti-social personality and not only lack of interest but discomfort with any sort of flirting or romantic entanglements, that would be unlikely to change

Side note: Probaby coincidence but

There are only two people who seem to make it onto that exclusive list of people that "count" for Mordecai, who he cares about and are able to bring things to the surface he would normally keep hidden

Atlas to Mordecai is not just an employer, he is the man who saved his life, the man who moulded a desperate fearful shabby young stray into the sharp professional he is today, who took him under his wing and made him his protege. Filling the empty space his father left in his life. His grief and desperate hunt for those responsible for his death are his big motivation (the strain of which is slowly tearing him apart)

That connection is undertsandable

Much more surprising on the surface is the bond with the partner Atlas teamed him up with soon after his arrival, Viktor Vasko.

The assumption at the start would have been that while their skill sets might compliment each other in the field there would have been no warmth in their dynamic.

Certainly not on Mordecai's part as Viktor appears to be a sum total of many things Mordecai hates. Viktor is unshaven, relatively casual in his attire, speaks a broken English, and hates people chattering or “noise, noise, noise” as he calls it. Clashing hard with his obsession with good grooming, high quality tailoring, correct grammar etc. Indeed Mordecai doesn't hesitate to nag/criticize Viktor for these things

Yet at the same time Mordecai has far better chemistry with Viktor than with anyone else, able to banter and bicker with him in a way you rarely if ever see with others

Its why when he gets tailored clothes for the first time Viktor is the first person he wants to show off too. Its why the one time he is intoxicated Viktor (and his large physique) are his chosen topic of converation. Its why at Christmas/Hanuhhah he gives him the gift of a tie while claiming its just because of the big guys poor fashion sense and that its "embarassing to be seen with him" (even that justification makes him sound like a nagging girlfriend)

A smaller detail is that during their iconic chess playing in the side content, set during their days staking out the remote town of Defiance, Viktor is shown very casually winning the game much to Mordecai's visible distress

This is hilarious but could also be taken as a metaphor for Viktor (possibly without even realizing it) breaking through his defensive emotional barriers

Something Mordecai doesn't know how to handle or respond to

The animated short only adds fuel to the fire

During their dispute over strategy Mordecai moves his face so close to Viktors that he almost knocks his cap off his head. His eyes at one point even dart down towards his mouth

Sharp eyed Vikdecai fans have also noted that Mordecai seems on some level to want the two of them to match

The tie being the same colour could simpy be Mordecai giving Viktor one of his own ties because its a joke gift and he just grabbed it on a whim to tease Viktor about his poor fashion choices

But think about the matching suits at the New Years party for 1926

I mean, seriously, not only is it the exact same style of suit in the same blue-grey colour distinct from everyone else, but they are standing in the perfect spots to be symmetrical to each other. Something that we all know means a lot to this compulsive man

Mordecai must have known there was going to be a big group photo ahead of time and then carefully planned this

Got matching suits made to his and Viktors measurements

Then most impressively convinced/nagged Viktor into cooperating (he may have taken off the tie and rolled up the sleeves but hey him playing along at all is quite a compromise from Viktor "I hate dressing up" Vasko)

Mordecai is intent on making Viktor retire and get out of danger, and avoid a situation where he gets sent to kill him by Marigold because he knows he could NOT do it, and his cover and investigation into Atlas's death would be over

He is horrified that Viktor is still working at Lackadaisy (though he again has to hide how much he cares) and that he has gotten not only hurt again but hurt by Mordecai again (albeit this time indirectly by stealing the guns)

Can this be read as simply platonic comradere? Absolutely

But there is something so *intense* in the fact he was willing to resort to kneecapping him. Its an extreme and desperate act that could only result from intense emotions, seemingly out of character for someone who tries very hard to appear logical and controlled.

While Vikdecai is a very fun ship when imagining them as an actual bickering married couple, I have often said that a tragic one-sided on Mordecai's part version of Vikdecai is the one that fits closest and surprisingly well into the canon.

His nagging and complaining about Viktor in that context take on a Tsundere aspect, both to protect himself from being found out and maybe even try and convince himself the uncomfortable alien feelings aren't there. He not only doesn't want others looking too hard at his feeling he doesn't want to examine them himself all that much

There is a heartbreaking but appealing angst to the idea of this extremely repressed man having such feelings for the first time in his life for his straight best friend and NOT knowing how to handle that. Having to perform the balancing act of being around him so much as his partner but being painfully aware that he can't let anyone catch on, especially not Viktor himself, as it would likely destroy his bond with the only person in town other than Atlas he is close to.

Though tragically he did that anyway later via the kneecapping, which while about trying to keep Viktor safe, he may now looking back try and tell himself its actually somehow "better" for Viktor to hate him for that

Because the big guy now wrongly thinks the feeling is mutual and that Mordecai never really cared about him, which may be better than (what Mordecai assumes would be) disgust at his partners doomed more than platonic feelings

Because he sees those feelings and his situation as a sad perfectly structured joke life has played on him

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #79

It's very late here, so today's letter will likely be shorter than normal. But even though I'm very tired, I still wanted to make sure you knew that someone out here is thinking good things about you and wishing for nice things upon you.

My mind is still fairly empty today. I feel pretty tired for a variety of reasons. Some of it is the simple fact that we are going through the second part of your story, and I'm VERY worried about how things might turn out for you; I really don't want to see you get hurt, but at the same time, if you don't stop making choices that harm others, you will need to be stopped. And that's unfortunate, because I would much rather see you turn yourself around and try to become strong in the real way, instead of parroting the definition of it that was taught to you by people who didn't care about you.

The bulk of my reasons for being tired, though, is other stuff going on in my world that I can do absolutely nothing about. And a small amount of it is still me trying to recover from our long trip, and some of it is the recent changes in the social dynamics of my immediate circle. Maybe I'll try not to worry about it. Maybe instead I'll show you the most recent cups of tea I made, since… y'know… I can't actually pour any for you, much to my immense dismay.

…To give you the pictures of the tea at its most beautiful and interesting is the best I can do. And the fact that it is the best I can do is… sad, really. I'm sorry.

I had intended to go to the grocery today to get the supplies to make stuffed cabbage casserole; I was sent a beautiful-looking recipe by an awesome human being from the internet, and I wanted to give it a try. But my energy was very low today. Br offered to be a body double, and she visited, and it was wonderful. We talked a lot about various things, but I still didn't have the energy to go out before going to see R, and for various reasons, I think neither did she. I'm glad we decided to spend time at home though; it was peaceful.

Br went with J and I to go see R today though, and it was a good time. We stopped somewhere to pick up a couple of snacks, and we did some catching up with R. R is an astounding baker; I wish that you could try the things that he creates. He made bonbons for us, and peanut-butter-banana bars with chocolate chips and walnuts, and they were absolutely wonderful. And we also went out to a Thai place for food. I can't help but wonder if your world has some equivalent of Thai food somewhere. I'll show you what we got:

Have you ever had crab rangoon? Pork belly? Rice pudding? Pad Thai? Did you like them? I wonder what you think. I wonder what you think about a lot of things, actually…

There's so much I wish I could show to you. There's so much I wish I could give to you. So many things I wish you could do and see and try. I wish that you could see the world through my eyes for just a moment… just for a moment. And then maybe you'd see that although the world is broken and has a lot of pain and a lot of problems, it's still not so bad. It's really not so bad. Not everyone is mean like the people you met. And even though a lot of things might seem really weird right now, it's never hopeless. There are good things everywhere, if only you have the courage and strength to look around hard enough.

It's for this reason that I hope you'll try to become strong in the real way. Please try. Please try so that you can come back home to us. We miss you.

I'm exhausted, so I'm going to stop writing here, because if I don't, I'm going to ramble even more than I have already.

Hey, Sephiroth? Don't forget that there are people who love you out here. People who don't care about your status, fame, or whatever else, but rather… people who will make you a new locket if you lose your old one. People who will make you pumpkin soup if you're sad about missing out. People who will make you things like garlic bread and pasta. People who will make you little trinkets like music boxes and trees made of gems and songs made only of human voices. People who will write you letters just to try to show you that you're cared for. I can't be the only one out here who is like me… if only because you are a little bit like me, and you exist, even if it's only in an abstract way.

…Is any of what I can do enough though, I wonder? Enough to reach you? Enough to move you? If you don't turn around… will it be because I didn't try hard enough…?

…Maybe these questions are ridiculous. Maybe I really am just tired. There's so much that I don't know… and sometimes that scares me.

I can't wish you were here in good conscience, because things where I am are looking pretty bleak sometimes. But I can instead wish that you could be somewhere safe, wholesome, and happy.

I'll write again. Though I'm not sure what about.

Your friend, Lumine

[cinnamoncountess]

Omg i am so happy i found someone who dissected all the Angel/Krester scenes like i did! Ok i need to vent about THE SCENE. The way Krester moved his face away when Angel went to caress him during it, and also his non reaction to Angel initially attempting to give him pleasure but instead reversing roles and robotically doing it, was very deliberate i feel, but why? He seemed to just be going through the motions. Hard to get a read of what he was thinking at the time.

Hey there! :) It's always nice to stumble across a person with a similar mindset on certain topics (Krester/Ángel included, because their dynamic is absolutely intriguing, just as many other connections between individuals of this show). The 1899 fandom already feels like an extended family, at this point.

Anyway, you are always welcome to vent about this scene. ;)

Well, there are some theories as to why Krester might've reacted the way he did. At this point we can only speculate in directions, based on given clues. We can't be certain if their memories and traumas are real or not, obviously.

Assuming they are real, I find they depicted Krester's reaction to what was happening very comprehensible and organic. He is a deeply traumatised, torn human being. He can never truly be himself, because previously this has lead to massive pain, physical and mental distress for him and the majority of his family included. He loves his family and desperately craves for reciprocated affection as well. When Ada questions him about his "calling" in life, Krester snaps rudely at her. This could mean he doesn't seem to have a goal in life, knowing he is "marked" and therefore looked at as a "cripple" or outcast by many, rarely receiving earnest fondness from anyone outside his family (even Iben calls him "idiot" a couple of times, though he did a brave act in trying to find help and save his sister). He craves for his mother's affection, therefore follows her religiously fanatic believes almost blindly. Even though these are aims that, obviously, would further suppress his true nature. He seems like a deeply troubled, almost pathetic "lost boy", likely the incident with this particular rich boy, originating from a higher social class (ringing true through Tove's analogous statement "Rich people don't give anything for free, they always expect something in return"), overthrew him negatively and possibly shaped him in a way to encounter such individuals in a wary, anxious and cautious way, because they might be trauma triggers.

With Ángel the same imbalanced power structure confronts Krester and even though, deep down he probably wants this he has to recollect that he can't have this, because it might lead to another traumatic event and is a constant reminder of past pain.

Ángel ignoring physical boundaries, even though he does so cautiously, might overstrain Krester's inner trouble, therefore his first reaction is passive shock. Him then quickly turning the tables by taking the active part and refusing Ángel to carress him / his scaring during the act, might be an attempt to cope by finally being "in control" of a situation, whilst also dissociating with the reality of this act. out of shame. He's profoundly shaped by religious bigotry after all, so this is a great sin in his book that he, against better knowledge and lessons learned, gave into.

Also, not to forget that he couldn't understand a single word of what Ángel muttered towards him. How could he have been certain Ángel didn't just want some quick "robotic" sex as return service for the cigarette case? Krester might've looked for something more deeper, meaningful, but gave in anyway, because he was desperate to find his baby sister. A broken, distressed and empty person is an easy target for pleasurable offers like this, to receive some diversion.

[dweebalina]

my [gay] brother has a [straight] friend that he says is always getting his heart broken (which i think is kind of funny and cute) and the friend talks to my brother about it but my brother gives him the typical “stop bitching” talk and I feel so bad that my brother (seems to be) the only person he has to talk about these kinds of things. he’s constantly getting hurt because he cares! like that sensitivity is what we all wish for when dating straight men lol and all he has in his corner is my brother telling him to suck it up

this friend is from/ lives in France so their friendship is mostly through FaceTime and text and other social medias (they met face to face in 2018 when my brother went to Paris). My brother talks about me a lot so eventually I started to talk to him on FaceTime and we have each others numbers and text occasionally

my brother said he’s a sensitive person and i want to tell him that being sensitive is special but we’re not on that level of friendship for me to be giving advice or getting emotional with him

my brother is so emotionally stunted and afraid of intimacy he would never understand how his friend feels. my brother is a funny guy and quite the comedian but i think he hides behind comedy to avoid being real with people. i’m sure he has some real/ personal conversations with his friends but 90% of his conversations i overhear is just calling somebody big/something about double chins like he literally neverrr says anything nice or normal to his friends and i hate it lol it gets old real fast. and he has this dynamic with a majority of his friends whether they’re childhood friends, friends he’s met in adulthood,friends from New York, friends he’s met here in Georgia, friends from overseas (including the one im talking about it this post). as a matter of fact the thing that prompted this post was he was on FaceTime with this friend and said “look at you all snuggled up in bed ALONE” and the friend said something back to my brother and my brother said “and your bed is still empty”. like if this man told you about being sad or lonely or getting his feelings hurt by a woman why are you immediately making jokes about it? it’s one thing using humor to cope (with your own issues) but he doesn’t even give a chance for a situation to die down before he’s making jokes about it

side note the friend is so cute and very funny and has a gorgeous smile yes i have a small crush on him but i develop crushes very easily so

[gatheringbones]

I read a podcast transcript about commodified sff/the kind of rot in fandomgenic media you sometimes talk about. These authors call it ‘squeecore’ — you might enjoy it https://kittysneezes.com/squeecore-transcript/

[“And there’s almost a weird, like, YA-ish, young-adult fiction tone to it, even when it’s supposed to be “for adults”. Someone on our Discord, Kurt(?), pointed this out – characters feel weirdly young: they always think and act and feel like they’re in their late teens or early twenties; they’re kind of inexperienced, naive, still very full of wonder, and you get the sense they haven’t really lived a life before the story began?

JR: You could probably attribute a lot of that to, of course, to the YA thing that blew up in the last twenty years since Harry Potter; but there’s also a lot of influence from films, and a lot of influence from mainstream commercial narratives – the MCU, the She-Ras [sic], and the “save the cat”-style 3-act-structure screenplays that have really become the blueprint for a lot of storytelling.

RSB: Right, they almost feel like… maybe bad RPG protagonists; those silent protagonists that were very popular in the 90s who don’t really have personalities? Because you’re the player character, you put yourself in there. And I’ve been trying to figure out why, because for me, characters who are a little older, who have lived their life, maybe they have a haunted past and terrible secrets and regrets, and there’s something driving them toward this need to redeem themselves, but it never really tells you what it is, like – I love that shit. That shit’s – that’s the good shit.

JR [crosstalk]: Yeah, I think so –

RSB: Characters who have seen too much, and are kind of haunted, but you don’t know what it is? Like, aww, hell yeah, that’s right… [laughs]

JR: Yeah, and the older I get, the more I gravitate toward older protagonists as well; because I have nothing to learn from a teenager, right? Or a 57-year-old HR manager who writes like a teenager, and to teenagers.

RSB: Yeah, and it’s such a strange thing; I’m wondering if it’s because we have this need to eliminate or fill negative space. We need to explain everyone’s motivations; we can’t just let a character be the way they are; we have to have some kind of detailed flashback to The Traumatic Experience that made them this way. And that takes up a lot of space, so in order to evade– avoid having to do that, we just have these kind of flat, like, “JRPG from the ‘90s” protagonists that feel –

JR [crosstalk]: Yeah, like –

RSB: “Oh, they’re on the cusp of their life’s journey, and they haven’t lived.”]

…

[“JR: But I think that’s broadly – it’s sort of a tendency in the writers themselves, because as less people start out with the ability to make a living income with writing, it sort of becomes a hobby; but at the same time, the people with all the free time are the sort of white-collar professionals who have the the ability and the money to network, and to have the leisure time to write, and to pay attention to the submission grinder, and do all of these things that maybe a working-class person doesn’t have time to do, especially now.

RSB: Right. Someone working multiple jobs, and working blue-collar jobs where you don’t have downtime at work. In most white-collar jobs, you can usually squeeze out an hour a day to write. You can usually, if you work really efficiently, you can squeeze out a little bit of time to write. If you’re waiting tables, you really can’t do that; you rest your feet for two seconds, and your boss barks at you: “if you’ve got time to lean, you’ve got time to clean.” That’s it.

JR: Yeah, and of course, there’s a lot of wonderful working-class writers, but they’re not really being published because they’re out of the zone, they’re out of the clique.

RSB: Connections unfortunately do play a huge role in what gets published. You see pretty frequently in SFF magazines… Whenever I see a story that looks kind of mediocre, and I’m like “how did that get published?”, I look down and I always find out that, according to the writer’s bio, the writer is an alumna of one of the same workshops that the editors are an alumna of. It’s like, “oh. Okay, you’re in the same club.”

JR [crosstalk]: Yes, it’s very much social networking.

RSB: And it’s this club giving each other – publishing each other’s works, and giving each other awards. This is what it is. And the club costs five thousand dollars.

JR: Yup.

RSB: So, if you don’t have that, you can’t get in. And… maybe you can sneak in, if you’re – fucking – an amazing writer, but it’s definitely an uphill battle for you in a way that it isn’t for other people. And chances are you might have a different sensibility than other people will have. There’s very much a certain type of, I don’t know, socializing that’s acceptable, where it’s like that very WASPy, passive-aggressive condescension is okay; but being direct and straightforward in a way that a sort-of working-class person might be, that a person from a non-WASPy culture might be, gets you branded as “unsafe” and “abusive”. “]

cackling

[flareish]

Anxiety

kuroo x reader

summary: you hide your anxiety from basically everyone including your boyfriend, until he finds out for himself

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: Emetophobia Warning! description of nausea/vomit, anxiety, bit of angst but ends in fluff

word count: 2.0k

a/n: I tried to make this as close to my anxiety since I hadn’t known anyone with my kind of anxiety(symptom wise) until I was seventeen, which was a good ways into when I realized I had anxiety. So here is some nausea anxiety representation!

masterlist

You tap your fingers in a mindless rhythm. Alternating the fingers and repeating them back and forth, trying to make it a game, a challenge. You did this over and over again to distract yourself from that all too familiar sinking feeling. That feeling like your stomach has managed to twist and knot itself a million times. Each bump of the bus made acid crawl up your throat. You crunched a mint in your mouth hoping the peppermint would soothe some of the nausea. It didn’t, but the thought was there. You just will yourself not to throw up on the bus, anything but that. The thought in itself makes you even more nervous, and in turn even sicker.

You don’t even know why you are anxious. Today is Kuroo’s big game, but it isn’t yours. You’ve been to a hundred of his games before but never before did you feel like this. Normally you get cute little butterflies, not an angry swarm of bees. The worst part is, there is Kuroo sat next to you happy as can be, completely oblivious. He keeps trying to drag you into conversations but you fear if you open your mouth for too long, all that will come up is vomit. So you keep your mouth firmly closed only smiling tightly or shaking your head at his prompts.

It's not exactly his fault though. He doesn’t actually know you have anxiety. It’s not something you really like to talk about. You are all for promoting the acceptance of mental health but you just find every time you tell someone the dynamic changes. Either they flat out don’t believe you since you “don’t seem like the type with anxiety”. Well duh, I don’t have social anxiety, I have situational anxiety. Like here in this situation. That or they suddenly treat me like I am incapable of handling myself. That whenever a slightly stressful event comes up, I am going to melt into a puddle of pure anxiety. Sorry but I’ve made it this far, I may have to throw up a few times on the way but I am still making it. 

So you just haven’t told Kuroo. You're just nervous that it will change the dynamic. You also don’t want to steal his spotlight. Today is supposed to be all about him. It's his big game. To suddenly speak up and tell him that his game is giving you anxiety would be selfish. So like you always have, you put a brave face on and face it head-on.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kuroo asks you, now facing you, “You look a little pale.”

“Hmm?,” You also turn to look at him, “Oh I am just a bit tired that’s all. I will be fine in an hour or so.” You hope at least. He nods relieved it's not something worse. 

You finally pull into the stadium and everyone is pushing their way off the bus. Luckily Kuroo is right by you to make sure you don't get accidentally pushed down the bus stairs and trampled. The team makes it’s to the bulletin board where they are given their matchups. Nekoma is paired with a pretty hard team. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you dry heave. You knew at the point you were going to throw up and within the next few minutes. 

“Hey I think I left something in the bus I’ll be right back.” You say to Kuroo before dashing off. He goes to reply but you are already gone. 

You make it around the back of the building before you throw up. At this point you’re kinda out of it, your mind is occupied on emptying your already empty stomach. Then you feel someone pull your hair back and gently rub your back. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s Kuroo. When you finish he hands you his water bottle.  You waterfall it and rinse your mouth out of that acidic taste. 

“What’s going on are you okay?” Kuroo asks full of concern. You hesitate for a moment, thinking of telling the truth. Then you remember this is supposed to be his day. 

“Sorry I must have caught a stomach bug.” He doesn’t completely buy it so you quickly add to it.

“I didn't feel great on the bus but I just thought it was because I was tired.” You feel bad lying, “I also don’t want to distract you before your game.” At that Kuroo quickly pulls you into a hug, “Your not a distraction, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Your cheek is pressed against his chest and your hands grip the front of his shirt. 

“We should probably head back.” You mumble.

“Yeah.” He leans down to kiss you but you duck away. He looks incredibly offended and hurt at this.

“Dude I just threw up I don’t know if you want to do that.” 

“…Point.”

The two of you head back inside to the team, you feeling much better after throwing up. Before you know it, the competition has begun and Nekoma has won. You run down and celebrate with the team and it’s a happy day.

On the bus ride home Kuroo has a strange energy about him. Not like he’s mad more just like he’s just realized something. You nudge him and smile hoping to break him out of his little funk. He immediately smiles back and goes back to celebrating with the team. His reaction was almost like putting a mask on. You watch him for a moment before slipping into a conversation of your own.

When you make it back to school you go your separate ways. Him going to shower, and you to get home before it gets too late. A big hug before pushing away. You still refusing to kiss him after throwing up earlier in the day. 

You are laying on your bed, exhausted. Anxiety really takes a toll on your energy. Your thoughts are broken when your phone chimes with a text.  Leaning over to grab your phone off your bedside table you see it is from Kuroo. 

“Can you come over? I want to talk.”

No cute pet names. No slowly easing into it. Actually using proper grammar. Nothing in that message was a good sign. Just “I want to talk” was enough to make the acid begin to crawl again. You knew it had to be about today. Especially after you saw him zoning out on the bus. It had to be your anxiety episode. You knew he wouldn’t be happy you lied but going to this extent. Like he just found out you have anxiety and this is what he hits you with? The world’s most nerve-wracking text message. The only worse place than this would be “we need to talk”. That’s when you have really screwed up. So maybe you’ve only minorly screwed up since he said want not need. Does that mean you have the choice to say no? That was kind of tempting but you knew you would be tossing and turning all night thinking about what might be wrong. 

“Okay.” You reply to the text. Short and sweet. Putting on some shoes and grabbing a hoodie, you quietly slip out of your house. Kuroo’s house wasn’t too far but it was far enough. Enough to continue to stir in your intrusive and unstoppable thoughts. You eventually make it to his house and head in going straight for his room. Before you reach the door you hesitate and gather yourself. Preparing for whatever was about to come. 

When you go in you find Kuroo sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the bed. He jerkily looks up and you and gives you a tight smile. None of this is giving good signs. Something is very heavy on his mind. You sit down across from him, your back against the wall your feet almost touching. 

“So what was it you wanting to talk about.” You break the silence. He doesn’t respond for a moment. Just as you are about to try again he speaks up.

“Do you still love me?” Your face drops into confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I love you anymore?” You ask, suddenly realizing this wasn’t the conversation you were prepping yourself for. 

“You’ve been distant lately. You don’t tell me things like when you don’t feel good. I thought about it when I got home and I was wondering if you weren’t actually sick but just making the excuse because you got caught.” He’s very serious at the moment and his words hold a cold edge. 

“What do you mean get caught?” You match his tone. You weren’t planning on fighting but something about how he said it just set something off in you.

“You didn’t want to be there. Ever since this morning you were quiet and reserved. Even after the game, you wouldn’t even kiss me-”

“Yeah, cause I threw up! And how could I be faking it when I literally threw up.” You snap.

“You’ve been like this before though! Like last year’s big tournament you would barely talk to me.”

“That’s not true!” Although it kind of was just not the reason he thought.

“Oh yeah? What about at training camp you wouldn’t talk to me then either, you didn’t even eat with us you just sat on your own.” He threw back.

“Yeah, cause I have anxiety!” The words left your mouth before you knew it. Kuroo looked taken back.

“What?” His brow furrows, “Since when?” He’s not sure what to believe. You’re not surprised since you have worked very hard to hide it from everyone, accidentally sabotaging your own relationship without even knowing it. 

“Since forever. I just never told anyone.” You quietly say, ducking your head down.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You didn’t even need to look up to see the hurt on his face, it was apparent in his voice. You start playing with your finger, tapping them in rhythms.

“I wanted to,” You mumble, “But whenever I do stuff changes and I didn’t want anything to change.” He shifts forward and you think he’s going to leave. Instead, he grabs your hands, stopping the pattern you had going. You look up.

“Did you think I would judge you?” He was staring straight into you, willing the truth to come out.

“Whenever I tell people they either don’t believe me and brush it off or treat me like I’m incapable of handling any amount of stress. I’ve never seen anyone react any differently so I was scared you would fall into one of those reactions and I didn’t know how I could handle that. I didn’t want my anxiety to be the thing to tear us apart. But I guess it still was.” By the end of your speech, your gaze has returned back to the floor, unable to hold eye contact for that long with him staring at you so strongly. You hear him sigh then you are pulled forward and into his arms. 

“I want to be your pillar of support. I want to be that third reaction that is one of acceptance, one that doesn’t drive you crazy.” He strokes your hair soothingly, his words making you tear up, “When you are ready I want you to tell me everything. From when you first noticed it, to where it is now, to how you deal with it, everything.” By now you are fully crying, absolutely collapsed into his chest. “I love you so much.” It gets muffled in his shirt but he hears it.

“I know, and I love you.”

It would take some time for Kuroo to get used to this change but slowly but surely he will be different from the rest and he will support you no matter what. Although he also respects your strength and knows you can handle your anxiety on your own, he is always there when you need it. He becomes the third unexpected and unheard-of reaction; acceptance.

[yourheartonfire]

Oh here's a fun prompt! A person who has a super power to move super quick (mentally and physically though if surprised could zoom half a mile before blinking wondering what that was about) and the cook (waiter or fast food employee) at a local restaurant who starts to like them but also wonders 'how the heck do they eat so much??' (Could be a super hero, a stop motion animator or some person just really cramming for college finals at top speed but the dynamic seems fun!)

Thank you for the prompt- it was fun!

"So are you an athlete or what?" asked the waitress as she slid a fifth plate onto the counter in front of the hero.

The hero froze, fork halfway to her mouth. Typically there were more people in here, even at 2 in the morning. There weren't that many all-night diners in the city and this place was walking distance to the nightclubs. But it was Tuesday night and all the club kids must've gone somewhere else for their bottomless pancake specials. Other than the TV crackling late night reruns in the corner, the hero had the waitress's undivided attention.

"Uh..." the hero said, glancing down at the sweats pulled on over her costume. "...yes?"

"I knew it!" The waitress banged down her coffee pot in triumph, leaned back towards the kitchen window. "YOU HEAR THAT, EDGAR? I TOLD YOU THAT GIRL IS CARB LOADING!" The waitress leaned in with a knowing smile. "We figured it was that or something glandular."

"GEEZ, MARIE, YOU DON'T JUST ACTUALLY SAY THAT TO PEOPLE!" came a muffled yell from the kitchen.

"DON'T BE SO PRIM, SHE'S FINE," Marie hollered back, before glancing over the hero and narrowing her eyes. "Something wrong with the pancakes?"

The hero hastily shoved the forgotten bite into her mouth. Marie beamed. "So whadaya do, hon? Swimming, right?" the waitress went on without pause. "You're always all bundled up, and you got those wide shoulders and long arms like that weird fish guy with all the gold medals. Not that you look like a fish, hon. It looks gorgeous on you."

"MARIE WHAT IN THE BABY JESUS'S NAME IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"WELL EXCUSE ME FOR TRYIN' TO BOND," Marie screamed back. "SHE'S BEEN COMING IN HERE FOR WEEKS AFTER HER SWIMMING PRACTICES, ALL ALONE LIKE SHE HASN'T GOT A FRIEND IN THE WORLD, AND I'M SUPPOSED TO IGNORE A LOYAL CUSTOMER?"

"Distance running, actually," the hero said softly, and immediately wondered why the hell she'd felt compelled to share that.

"HA!" yelled Edgar. Marie stuck out her tongue towards the kitchen window and grabbed the orange juice from the counter fridge.

"That woulda been my second guess," she said breezily, topping off the hero's glass. "I knew it had to be some kinda endurance thing, keeping you up late, getting you so hungry. You're my only lady regular who goes for the Bottomless Pancakes - and don't tell them, but you could eat those boys under the table!"

She cackled and the hero smiled woozily. This was way more social interaction than she was used to. Stupid overblown metabolism. She would finish this last plate and get out of here, before Marie started guessing at her name, age, astrological sign, who knew.

"So, we're gonna need a picture for our celebrity wall!" Marie asked with a grin. The hero almost choked on her drink. Yep, this was getting worse. "Come on! We're practically sponsoring you in calories-"

A blare of frantic music out of the TV blessedly derailed the conversation. Marie and the hero both glanced up as a hastily dressed news anchor flashed onto the screen in front of the reddish glow of live footage. "We interrupt this broadcast with breaking news. A high rise apartment fire has broken out downtown. Our chopper is on the scene..."

"Yikes," said Marie with a head shake. "EDGAR, ARE YOU SEEING THIS? That's not too far from here -"

Marie turned and the hero was gone, a few crumpled bills beside her plate. She stared at the empty stool a moment, looked back thoughtfully to the TV.

---

It was weeks before the hero slunk back to the diner counter, muttered an order for eggs and hashbrowns to the distracted waitress. The place was jammed, but it was only a minute before a plate of pancakes piled with strawberries and whipped cream slid onto the counter in front of her.

"I didn't order-" the hero started to say. The waitress waved her off.

"On the house, hon," Marie said with a wink and bustled off. From the kitchen, the order bell dinged dinged merrily.

Behind the counter, right over the coffee maker, hung a new neatly framed newspaper clipping: "Speedster Stops Fire, Saves Tenants."

The hero considered the frame for a long minute as the waitress rushed plates back and forth. And then she shrugged and took a bite with a tiny smile.

[popatochisssp]

Heya Poppy! I’m loving the new gem headcanons and was wondering if you have a diamond au too? Or any other stuff about the new gems? I love this au so much

Ohoho, of course I do! I do have the new gems’ Backstories, but since you asked about the Diamond AU specifically... UwU

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

Cubic Zirconia (Undergloom Sans) emerges alone, in an abandoned Kindergarten galaxies upon galaxies away from Homeworld’s (known) reaches. He doesn’t stay alone for very long, and not too much later, Moissanite (Undergloom Papyrus) emerges too--another gem.

...Not that they...know too much beyond the fact that they’re both gems. They certainly have no idea that they’re both products of diamond replication experiments at this outpost, commissioned by the (recently ceased) Void Diamond and forgotten when The War began and other priorities became more important.

But! They have each other, so even if their origin is shrouded in mystery and there’s nobody else here on this dusty, deserted rock of a planet, they both decide things could be worse.

They go about their lives for awhile, poking around in things, bonding with each other, making guesses about their species and civilization from their bare-bones programming and the artifacts of the Kindergarten.

It passes the time.

And then, one day, the seismic activity starts.

The two of them have no idea what’s happening or what to do about it; if there’s anything to do about it, and it’s a stressful few cycles before they get any solid answers.

Raw Diamond (Horrorfell Sans), clawing himself up through the ground from the deepest, darkest caverns of the planet, is about as ‘solid’ as an answer gets.

Cubic and Moissanite shouldn’t know the newcomer at all, yet they find themselves automatically saluting, calling him ‘My Diamond,’ and Raw...

Raw is just as confused as they are.

He doesn’t know what’s going on either, where they are, what he is, who he is… he simply is.

He couldn’t know that he’s a forgotten project of Void Diamond’s, too, a new diamond meant to join the ranks with him and Brown and Gray as their empire expanded and needed more leadership. He was simply left in the ground to incubate without being refined or even cut.

(He's monstrous, huge even for a Diamond, and oddly formed with a crooked jaw that won’t open and a hole in his skull…but Cubic and Moissanite hardly know any better than he does what he’s supposed to look like, so no one makes any mention of it.)

Freshly emerged and very lost, it goes without saying that Raw wants answers. The Imitation brothers have a few, but nowhere near as many as he’s after, and he stubbornly demands to be shown around the Kindergarten and the outpost, to see it for himself.

And it all lights up for him in a way it never did for the two that came first, doors and sensors and screens coming to life, responding to the signature of a true diamond. There’s brand new access to everything, reports, records, files and procedures… they learn a lot about what they are, what they’re supposed to be and what they’re not.

They also learn how true diamonds are made, in full and not just halfway.

Raw is certain this is the answer. Cubic and Moissanite are the first of their kind, they barely have any programming, but a diamond…a diamond done right and not left unfinished like he was, surely they would know more and be able to make sense of…whatever it is they’re not getting.

The brothers aren’t totally convinced... but admittedly, they don’t have any better ideas and well…rough he may be, but Raw is a diamond…

Champagne Diamond (Horrorfell Papyrus) unfolds himself gracefully from a craggy cliffside on the abandoned planet, massive in size but otherwise perfect—and he does have some answers.

Champagne knows he is a Diamond and he knows of gemkind. He knows of their society and of their directive to expand their empire.

…What he doesn’t know is the answer to Cubic’s well-meaning query of ‘...what empire?’

Champagne has no clue where the hell all the other gems are, where this little rock is in relation to the Empire, if the Empire even still exists if this place has been abandoned as long as all the charts and data logs say it has been.

He wants answers as much as Raw does, possibly even moreso…but to even start looking for them, they have to get the hell off this planet.

As it turns out, what he lacks in inherent knowledge of their status and origin and social structures, Raw has a real knack for gem-tech, understanding the principles and functions of even the old and mostly broken down devices they have access to, enough to design a passable space-faring craft that they all pitch in to build.

The first world the quartet comes across is empty now, but was once uniquely occupied by both gems and by organics. There’s a handful of gem structures, Kindergartens, bases, et cetera--long abandoned and in disarray of course, but hiding lots of new data and potential clues to mine about what happened to gemkind, and more importantly, where the fuck Homeworld is...

(Like the lost city of Punt, it seems that nobody ever thought to store something as obvious as Homeworld’s coordinates anywhere in the days before warp pads--why bother? Everyone knew where it was.)

There’s a lot to repair and sift through, a whole planet’s worth of it, and there’s only four of them, so it’s probably going to take awhile…

So when Raw finds some old notes that this planet would be a good candidate to incubate a diamond if not for all the useful organic life on it, he nudges Champagne and jokes that all the organic life is gone now, maybe they should…?

To Raw’s surprise, however, Champagne is intrigued.

It could be something worth thinking about, actually… Another pair of hands, another set of eye-sockets… a diamond would be a costly investment, both time and resource-wise, but certainly more bang for the buck than a mess of soldiers or technicians that they really don’t need…

Plus, it’s something to do while they scour the whole damn globe for everything of use on it.

So... might as well try it.

A nice chunk of forest is summarily leveled by Cloudy Diamond (Horrorswapfell Sans) when he decides he’s good and ready to emerge—and while he’s certainly an extra pair of hands for the group, the eye-sockets…didn’t really work out the way they’d thought.

Cloudy, it turns out, is blind as a bat, a defective diamond—but still a diamond, able to interface with and access everything the other two diamonds can, if guided to it.

He sticks with Cubic and Moissanite, mostly, a quid pro quo sort of arrangement that works for everyone, at least until everything of use and worth is mined out of the artifacts of the planet, and it’s time to move on to the next lead: what seems to have been a military base on an almost entirely aquatic world.

Cloudy isn’t interested in visiting a water-world, not for a long-term stay like they’re talking about. He prefers solid ground beneath his feet at least most of the time...and he actually has very little investment in their Quest for Homeworld, so he decides that he’ll stay here.

The others question if he’s sure, and even offer to leave at least Moissanite with him to help him around, but he refuses. Aside from not feeling altogether right about splitting Moissanite and Cubic, Cloudy has his pride and he’ll manage just fine. He is a diamond, after all!

And so off the others go to the military installation.

Raw has a great time digging around in all the decaying ships and weaponry, Cubic and Moissanite explore the things left behind by the gems that were once upon a time stationed there, and Champagne researches.

Cloudy’s defect...weighs on him, though...

(Possibly because they kind of…created the poor guy, imperfect, and then left him there, which sucks… but Champagne is a diamond and doesn’t have half the emotional intelligence to realize the injustice of that is what’s bugging him.)

He somehow decides that it’s the defect itself that’s bothering him, that he failed to create a 100% functional diamond. But he didn’t fail, he could do it, if he tried again…which he’s not going to do, just to prove a point, to himself even and not anybody else!

………

That’s exactly what he does.

Pink Diamond (Horrorswap Sans) rises from the sea one day, kicking up a tsunami in his wake, much to the surprise of the others who were definitely not kept in the loop on this matter.

Champagne, for his part, is unapologetic and unashamed: Pink is a total success, strong and complete and perfectly formed (aside from, perhaps, the occasional, very minor glitching of his physical body... but that can surely be put down to all that water he was incubated beneath, smoothing his intended rose-cut over time into something more like a cabochon. That’s nothing to do with him...)

Pink, for his part, is happy to help and join the search for answers.

He dives right into it all without complaint…until…

Well...

Seeing Cubic and Moissanite, and Raw and Champagne…they get along so well, and his recent arrival hasn’t opened up any space for him in their dynamics.

He’s very pointedly the odd man out, and it’s enough to make a diamond quite lonely,  quite aware that he’s the only gem here without a brother to call his own.

………

Taking a page from Champagne’s book, telling absolutely no one, Pink sets out to squeeze one more diamond out of this big ball of water, even though the planet’s resources are low after his emergence.

It’s not long before Olive Diamond (Horrorswap Papyrus) is slogging out of a dark, wet swamp, assisted by his brother—which is appreciated, because he seems to have a hard time keeping his legs to retain the ‘hard’ part of ‘hard light projection.’ Sometimes they’re solid light and sometimes they’re only light and maybe that’s what happens when you try to make a gem from a planet that’s running on empty...

Pink is delighted by his new sibling all the same!

Even so, a rule is made amongst the gems after that and agreed to by all: nobody makes anymore gems without telling somebody, no more surprises!

………

In retrospect, they probably should’ve decided on that rule a lot sooner, maybe a planet ago.

By the time they all return to the ghost world with a stockpile of newer tech and ships, they find Cloudy in the middle of a fully-operational and tidied up base, with everything rigged to accept voice commands and read out text, and a brand new shadow hovering around him.

Pepper Diamond (Horrorswapfell Papyrus) emerged from the ruins of one of the abandoned cities, Cloudy explains, and has been very helpful in the others’ absence, wonderful company—he told them he’d manage fine. > 3c

Well.

After all of that, the military base had been their last, best clue to finding Homeworld, or at least the remains of it, if gemkind were truly gone…

After a bit of discussion among the group, they decide to take communicators and ships and anything else they wanted/needed and just…go their separate ways, to do their own things.

Cubic and Moissanite set up shop on the first world they can find with sentient organics that will accept them, wanting to be around other people and to live peacefully.

Raw and Champagne choose to stick to their mission, going on the wild goose chase that is the search for other gems somewhere in the universe, even without any solid leads—the gem empire was expansive, but not As Infinite As the Universe-expansive, so they haven’t had any luck yet.

Pink and Olive are curious about other gems, too, but make it their mission to hunt down all the deserted bases, Kindergartens, and outposts in their neck of the universe and fix them up, restoring everything to its former glory as best they can—whether those places are promising in terms of leads/clues or not. It’s their heritage and they want to explore it and restore it, if they’re able.

Cloudy and Pepper intend to stay put on their birth world…but when Cloudy’s done everything he can on their planet, he gets a little bored sifting through the ruins of this dead world and wants to go find somewhere with living organics to stay instead. Pepper (reluctantly) agrees and they stumble upon a fledgling, primitive society that seems to think of these giant, shining and glowing immortals as some sort of deities… Oops, it seems as if they’ve started a colony of sorts on accident!

They’ll all keep on keeping on, and if anything interesting happens or someone needs a hand, they can reach the others to get back in touch.

…

Unbeknownst to the Outer Galaxy diamonds or the Diamond Authority back on Homeworld, a strange pair of Chameleon Diamonds—one Reverse (Gastertale Sans) and one Classic (Gastertale Papyrus)—are spat out of a singularity, somewhere in a galaxy in between.

They’ve got a lot of knowledge between the two of them, in the skulls behind their briolette-cut gems, but not a single solid memory, and their only clue is a whole lot of wreckage of some strange machine scattered around them in space.

They don’t know what they are, where they came from, how they’re alive, or what all this junk is…but once they make their way to a planet with gravity and stuff they can fashion tools and parts out of, they do figure out that they can cobble together a ship out of all this...

What better use of a couple of brothers’ time than a bit of adventuring, leisurely exploring the universe and any interesting lifeforms or civilizations they find along the way, with little more than respect of the Prime Directive to argue about? ;3

[3w-writer-with-wings]

10 Most Powerful Scenes in Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

10) Three things

Starting with probably the most well known quote in VRAINS – three things. It would’ve been probably ranked higher if it was not that repetitive and its impact wasn’t scattered to many different scenes, but it is still a very powerful scene regardless. Yusaku was just an innocent six-year-old child who loved to play a card game and yet that same game was turned against him in the cruellest way possible. Suddenly he had to duel for survival and suffered for each defeat. For half a year, Yusaku was trapped in a never-ending nightmare that didn’t seem to stop until he heard Ryouken’s voice. These few sentences gave Yusaku hope to hold on just a while longer and he started using them as his coping mechanism, even years after the Lost Incident. Like Yusaku said it himself, it felt like the life stopped moving for him and despite therapy he could no longer lived his life like others. Thinking of three things to move forward was the only thing that helped him out and knowing there might be someone else still trapped there made him more determined to find out the truth. Since he used this coping mechanism outside duelling, it may also suggest that three things speech is the only thing that kept him from turning into an empty shell like Jin.  

Another thing that makes this scene so powerful is Ryouken’s side of it. Just like Yusaku, he was also just a child who loved the game and most certainly just wanted to play a game with a new friend. It is still unknown if Ryouken was aware of what will happen to children, but it is most likely that he genuinely meant no harm. True his father brainwashed him with his ideas of work for “greater good”, but Ryouken knew it was wrong. He could only report the incident to police and push the memories of it away and yet he reached out to one of the children just before he did. Later it was only further proved just how guilty Ryouken felt and always had a soft spot for the victims. Neither Vyra nor Faust had the courage to report the incident, but Ryouken, a mere eight-year-old child had. Despite his father’s brainwashing, he acted on his own and continued to do so until all the victims were fully safe.

9)      Ai saves Yusaku

From the start of the series, Ai wasn’t a typical partner character like Atem or Astral since he was mostly goofing off and wasn’t really useful when it came to duelling. However, in this scene, Ai shows for the very first time just how powerful he really is and even Yusaku is left speechless at Ai’s abilities. Ai even tells him to shut up back and letting him know that he is far too in this duel to just give up. He even refers to him as his partner and shows he is willing to risk his life for him all the same way. Considering Ai was already using Yusaku as his personal weapon against Knights of Hanoi at the time, this may be the first time he actually started seeing Yusaku as his own person and not just as the tool in his plan. Ai has always been sneaky and successfully covered up his true colours, though in this single scene, he genuinely looks concerned about Yusaku.  

8)      Hope for the future

Hopeful and optimistic scenes are very rare in VRAINS and this is just one of many reasons why this one was included. Shortly after Earth’s death and Go’s decline, Yusaku blames himself for what happened and is again unsure about what they should do. Fortunately, Takeru, Ai and Flame are there to cheer him up and despite the approaching battle, Yusaku is hopeful for the future. Compared to how he used to be, when he told Akira that he can no longer live normally and that he sees no future, this is a major change. Yu-Gi-Oh! protagonists have always been optimistic and even if it was impossible, they believed in themselves and in their actions. Yusaku has always been bold and realistic, so seeing him hopeful and thinking about future in his own realistic terms made it that more impactful. He even smiled several times and ensured both Ai and Flame that they have a plan to keep them safe and if it won’t work, they’ll just think of another one. Watching this scene for the first time really made you feel that despite the hardships, this show will have a happy ending and for a while it really felt that way. Knowing how VRAINS will end this scene may also hint that this is when Ai truly started thinking of Yusaku as his true friend. Ai has been moulding Yusaku into Playmaker from the start and when his so called weapon acknowledged him as a living being and promised to do everything he can to keep him safe – that’s likely when Ai began to realize just how much is Yusaku willing to do for him.

7)      Earth’s execution

 This scene is probably among one of the most heart-breaking ones as it is among surprising ones as well. Villain very rarely wins in Yu-Gi-Oh! and when they do, it’s a big deal. Earth wasn’t around for long but when he was, he appeared as a very nice, caring and socially awkward Ignis. He was likely also the only Ignis besides Ai that expressed love towards someone and he was willing to do anything to keep Aqua safe. What makes his death that much sadder is that he was captured by Go who was by this point a mere shadow of what he used to be. Both Go and Earth were victims of SOL’s greed and ended up as their tools. SOL did absolutely everything to ensure Earth was not a living being, using scientific expressions reserved for objects and not stopping even when he screamed he is his own person and cried his eyes out when forgetting about Aqua. Another powerful comparison was between Akira’s and Queen’s reaction to it. Akira couldn’t watch while Queen smirked and likely only thought of next step which later turned out to be creation of their own Ignis and putting Earth’s data in Go’s implant.

Other Ignis also felt Earth’s death, along with his own origin. Specter has always appeared to be someone who was entirely devoted to Ryouken’s plans and would do anything to destroy Ignis, despite being connected to one. After Earth’s death he felt like a part of him was gone and he even shed a tear and looked disturbed when seeing Go being fused with Earth’s data. Deep down Specter felt the bond between him and his Ignis and when Earth was no more, he likely felt the same pain as when his beloved tree was cut down.

6)      Yusaku defeats Kusanagi

 The duel between Yusaku and Kusanagi was anticipated from the start since it wouldn’t be a Yu-Gi-Oh! if it didn’t include an emotional clash between two best friends. What made this duel that more emotional is that Yusaku and Kusanagi seemingly did not have that best friend dynamic that so many protagonists before them had. They treated each other more like caring co-workers and even Yusaku stated many times that Kusanagi was his acquaintance and not a friend. Many times it also appeared like Kusanagi saw Yusaku as Jin and was doing all of this for his little brother and would likely choose Jin over Yusaku.  Still there were many moments where Kusanagi showed legit concern over Yusaku and apologized many times for involving him into this. As for Yusaku, he appeared to be more or less stoic about it, showing little emotion, which made it hard to tell just what kind of relationship he really has with Kusanagi, not to mention he always used very polite mannerism towards him which was his surname and –san. Compared to Takeru, whom he refer to simply by his first name, that was pretty polite though then again, Yusaku didn’t mind Takeru nor Kusanagi calling him by his first name either.

It was clear that the reason why they kept their relationship strictly professional was because Kusanagi knew there will be a time where he might need to put Jin over Yusaku and yet he still cared about him. Yusaku also did not want to involve anyone since he knew what he was doing was dangerous and even Kusanagi needed a while before he became a part of his team. Lightning knew well about their bond and did not hesitate to use it against them in the cruellest way possible. Even though Kusanagi played along and tried to make it as convincing as possible he was likely breaking inside. It also does not help that the scene where Kusanagi deals multiple damage to Yusaku looks strangely identical to the Lost Incident flashbacks where Yusaku was electrocuted many times. The duel came to a point where Yusaku couldn’t fight Kusanagi and that’s when it was clear that he also cares about him. The flashback to the promise further proved that this duel was something they anticipated and were ready, but what truly makes this scene so heart breaking is when Yusaku outright cries out after dealing the final blow to his friend. It was clear that Yusaku was ready for something like this, but at the same time he didn’t understand just what this meant for him. It truly broke him and another reason why this was so impactful is that duel was a mirror image to Lost Incident. They again took something that Yusaku loved and turned it against him until he was broken to the core. Only this time, there was no Ryouken who could tell him to think of three things in order to go forward.

5)      “You know nothing about me!”

When VRAINS started, no one really had a clue what it will be about besides hover boards and duels in virtual reality. By episode 2 the first hint of Lost Incident was shown and by that point it was clear VRAINS is going to be a lot more complex and dark to previous shows. We all wanted to learn just what exactly happened to Yusaku and what the truth he was so desperate to uncover was. By episode nineteen he is finally close to that truth, but Akira stands in his way, claiming he knows all about what happened and that Yusaku should let Akira handle this. We learn that there were six children who were kidnapped and held captive for months until they were rescued. Akira compared that experience with his own when he lost everything and had to do shady jobs in order to provide for himself and Aoi. He expected Yusaku to accept his help and move on with his life, but instead of that Akira is met by absolute rage. Yusaku and Kusanagi both appeared to be rather cool and collected people, however seeing how Akira was treating everything so lightly made their blood boil and shouted all of their frustrations out. This was followed by Yusaku’s raw description of just what was happening from the point of view of someone who actually experienced this and not someone who merely reported it. It was nowhere as simple as Akira described it and learning that Yusaku still suffers from PTSD and night terrors rightfully justifies his rage. Like Yusaku put it, he tried to move on countless times and did everything he could to forget the pain, but he just couldn’t. Learning the truth was the only cure he knew would help and seeing someone brush it off just like that was incredibly insensitive and gave him all the right to be as mad as he was.

4)      Yusaku doesn’t want to fight anymore

 It is rare to see Yu-Gi-Oh! protagonist to give up and for someone like Yusaku who will do anything to reach his goal, it was absolutely heart breaking to see him give up. This was the second time he was broken apart, only this time he had no one to give him hope. Yusaku has been fighting his whole life and tried to distance himself from others because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to take it if he were to lose them or if something happened to them. He even was getting better at socialising and trusting others more which is why this scene is so sad. Just when he was seemingly experiencing bits of normal life, Lost Incident happened again and this time it took away his friend. He was outright defeated at that point and despite protecting Kusanagi from Lightning’s badmouthing, Yusaku just couldn’t take it anymore. The pain of loss was so great that he simply shut down. In a way it is similar to when Yuma lost Astral and cooped himself in the room for days, refusing to eat or talk with his friends. And honestly can you blame him? This started out as merely quest to learn more about Lost Incident and over the time it turned into fighting with cyber terrorists, protecting thousands of people and dealing with homicidal AIs. Like suffering from PTSD and night terrors, Yusaku had even more responsibility pinned on him and it is understandable that after such ordeal he could not take it anymore. It was only thanks to Kusanagi’s voice that he found the last of his strength in order to defeat Bowman once and for all.

  3)      “If losing a friend means your heart breaks, then are you trying to break my heart?”

Now this single quote may as well break your heart. Yusaku and Ai might’ve started off as an odd pair that regularly annoyed each other, but with more episodes, deeper their relationship became. Ai has always appeared to be this happy-go-lucky goofball and that turned out to be a mask. Not only to cover up his true motives for siding with Playmaker, but his own personality as well. When he was cracking jokes, he was really just covering up the fact that he has been torn apart and hiding in network for years in order to protect his friends. Yusaku was his only hope and even though he has been manipulating him to the very end, Ai grew attached to him and especially after losing other Ignis, he felt alone and guilty. What makes this scene so powerful is that Yusaku tells Ai loud and clear that he is his friend and losing him would as painful as when Ai lost his fellow Ignis. A couple episodes ago Ai said there is only one person he fully trusts with his feelings and this person turned out to be no other than Yusaku. Ai also revealed that he was using Yusaku as his weapon and yet Yusaku still referred to him as his friend. This entire duel was probably the first time the two of them were completely honest with each other and out of all sentences they exchanged, this one was the most heart wrenching.

2)      Revolver's helmet breaks

 Like Yusaku, Ryouken has also been moulded into Revolver, the man in charge of cyber terrorist organization known as Knights of Hanoi.  His father who brainwashed him with his ideas to a point when he was willing to blow up himself with the rest of the network has created his entire identity and Ryouken had little to no say in it. Despite closely following the orders, part of Ryouken still rebelled since he wanted to uncover Playmaker’s identity and the fact that he managed to do it behind his father’s back proves that he wasn’t completely loyal to his father. He always had that tiny bit of conscience that made him report the Lost Incident and learn about the victims. After his father’s death he both felt free and lost, so it was a good thing he took some time off to clear his thoughts. He had time to learn everything about the victims and the case of Windy’s child was likely one of the many reasons he decided to outright eliminate all Ignis. And once that was done, the only thing he was left with were sins of his father. He was even ready to surrender himself to authorities and go to jail if that would help Takeru and other victims to move on. They settled this with a duel and when Ryouken lost, his helmet broke, symbolically freeing him from his burden. Takeru didn’t want him to go to jail for crimes he didn’t commit and rather wanted him to be a rightful Knight of Hanoi – the one who protects network and others so Lost Incident may never happen again.

1)      Ai means »to love people«

 Yu-Gi-Oh! series tend to give their characters rather meaningful names, like how Yugi means “game”, how Yugi’s and Juninchi’s first two letters form a word “friendship” and even in SEVENS, Yuga Oudo translates to “seventh road” which symbolizes Yuga’s wish to invent things for better future. The second Yusaku named Ai, I knew his name will be important part of the story. I already knew Ai means “love” and considering how much emphasis’ series put on relationship between protagonist and his partner, I assumed it will be important someday. VRAINS told a story of an AI who was torn from his world and friends and ripped apart, driven by revenge and goal to get back. In order to achieve his goal, he manipulated a traumatized boy into becoming a weapon he needed, successfully using him until the very end. What he did not expect is that the person he carefully moulded into a tool for his plans would become his closest friend so when he was slowly fading away in Yusaku’s arms and heard what his name meant… that’s when it hit hard in the feels. Ai was an AI with free will, born from the pain and misery that Yusaku had to endure for long months. He was programmed to think freely and yet the fate has drawn him back to his origin, slowly understanding just how much he needs Yusaku and how much Yusaku needs him. Even though there was a way for them to be together, he understood the pain Yusaku has been feeling his entire life, the pain of being used and knowing Yusaku cared about him to the point of protecting him with his life, it was clear there was only one other way. Not wanting to hurt him anymore, Ai sacrificed himself for his partner and once he learned the meaning of his name, he faded away with smile.

What he did was the ultimate act of love for his partner.

[tofuwhale]

The Genshin Impact Boys as a Kpop group Headcanons [Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, Zhongli]

Me and Tofu started thinking of these after seeing this tiktok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSsftVnW/ 

Enjoy!! These were so much fun to make lol 

- 🐋

Kpop group name: T3YVAT

Their roles in the boy band

Kaeya

VISUAL, 100%, but is also the rapper of the group, 2nd oldest member

Everyone’s blown away and gets flustered from his suave and flirty mannerisms

Does a lot of modelling on the side just for fun & fanservice

Diluc

THE VOCALIST, vocals for daysss, 2nd youngest member

He has such a sweet and charming voice, it’s shy at the same time and sounds like dripping honey

Could sing baby lullabies

Zhongli

THE LEADER, kind of cold in a weird way, oldest member

no one really knows why he’s the leader since (??) he seems kind of lazy at first (but actually works really hard behind the scenes, writes the groups’ songs)

Childe

GOLDEN MAKNAE for sure, kinda a spoiled brat and is good at stuff without even trying, youngest member 

Really good at dance, would almost be the dancer except for the fact he’s good at everything

Brags a lot about the things he can do, kinda gets on the other members’ nerves sometimes

Does aegyo and the members have to hold themselves back from choking him to death

Xiao

He’s a soloist, experiments with a lot of genres like soft ballads, rap, and pop

Collaborates with T3YVAT in a couple songs 

What instrument they would play

Kaeya

Massive drummer boy vibes, has done the drums in the background track of a couple of their songs but no one knows about it

Diluc

The recorder. Jk1!!!1 

Honestly he wouldn’t rely much on instruments, his voice alone is enough for him

(It’s also because he’s broken almost every instrument he’s touched)

Zhongli

He’s a classical type of boy so he’d most likely play piano

Has been playing it since he was a kid, a prodigy but decided to form a kpop group instead (who knows why)

Makes grown adults cry with the way he can play piano 

Them fingers tho 👀

Childe

He can play a little bit of guitar, but not that much

He’s still learning but the group’s schedule makes it hard for him to

When he has the free time though, he goes live while learning guitar 

Xiao

Xiao plays like every instrument, being a soloist he’s really talented and makes all of his music of course

Music is his passion!!

What they’re like during a fansign event

Kaeya

Ofc flirty but man has to tone it down, maybe caresses your cheek though if you’re lucky

He’d be really sweet honestly speaking, he’d probably ask if you ate or if you’re enjoying the fanmeet

Ask him anything and he’ll be honest,, maybe too honest tho LOL

Diluc

He would be so polite and nice, would thank you honestly for coming to the fansign 

Flattered by your compliments, gives you a cute little smile at the end that you’ll think about for weeks

Although Diluc doesn’t really like socializing all that much he makes sure it’s clear that he appreciates his fans!!

Zhongli

He would be very much reserved

He as well would ask stuff like how you’re finding the fanmeet

Omg if you have any concerns or anything he’d 100% would listen. 

Good listener 100/10 perhaps gives his own advice if needed

He’d deny you for accessories but trust me once you leave he’d look at them before wearing them thinking no one’s watching

Fansites definitely took videos or photos of this moment. YOU AIN’T SLICK

Childe

SOFTEST BABY I WILL CRY. 

He’d probably be the most ecstatic compared to the others

If it’s your turn to talk to him he’d immediately grab your hand and wave it around while saying things like “Thank you so much for coming!” “Thanks for supporting us, it means a lot!” 

Gets the most gifts and appreciates all of them, has like 50 cat and bunny ear headbands on and refuses to take them off

What they’re like when they go live, and How often they go live

Kaeya

Flirty. Pretty obvious sTILL. He’d wink many times and just say pick up lines

He mainly just wants to have fun and talk with the fans

Gets cockblocked by Childe overhearing his pick up lines and Childe gags loud enough for the live to hear

Kaeya exits the frame saying he’ll be back and all you hear is Childe screaming

Diluc

Went live once accidentally, never again

Spent 5 minutes trying to figure out how to turn off the live

Zhongli

Zhongli rarely goes live, but when he does it’s to show the fans a new song he’s been writing or to get inspiration 

Plays the piano while live, has all the fans crying from how beautiful it is

Childe

Goes live the most often, for really dumb stuff but everyone joins anyways

For example, he’d go live to ask for directions to a fried chicken place and immediately end the live

Or he’d go live just to show him bothering Diluc and trying to wake him up from a nap and after, Diluc nearly chases Childe down to kill him

LOVES to interrupt the others’ lives, mainly Kaeya and Zhongli

Ever seen that one video of VIXX’s Hyuk getting left behind in a gas station? Yeah that’s Childe.

How often they post selcas

Kaeya

He posts the most out of everyone

Sexy azz selfies 😩

His captions are pick up lines or could be interactive like he’d ask a question for the fans to answer 

Diluc

Rarely posts them, but when he does he poses like a middle-aged white dad taking a selfie

Boring but hilarious captions like “Took a shower.”

Zhongli

Never has posted a selca, refuses to and their manager can’t do anything about it

Because of this, there’s an inside joke in the fandom that Zhongli isn’t even a part of the group and he actually doesn’t exist

Zhongli stans stay strong!!!1!

Childe

Posts selcas often for fanservice, they’re all cutesy with animal filters like bunny or cat ears

Will sometimes post a selfie with the other members without their permission (like sneaking in a blurry selfie with Diluc)

Who’s most likely to take off their shirt during a concert

Kaeya, he’s allergic to shirts

Childe

Diluc/Zhongli, the thing is it wasnt them. childe and kaeya prolly lifted their shirts up LOL

Who’s most likely to accidentally make a fan cry

Diluc

Who’s most likely to hook up with one of their fans

KAEYA, when an interviewer asks him this question he just laughs and looks at the ground while smirking, and then looks at the camera and says “I would never”

Zhongli but no one would find out or expect him to, the only way anyone would know is if he’s the one who tells everyone

Diluc/Childe, they aren’t into that stuff

Who’s most likely to go live while drunk

Kaeya for sure, he’d start a live with his hair untied and messy, half empty bottle of wine next to him and his shirt unbuttoned all sexy and he’d be like ‘Sorry for my appearance haha’, and he’d be extraaa flirty 

Who’s most likely to accidentally reveal the groups’ location/address

Diluc, probably accidentally posts a google map that shows the directions to the group’s house/apartment

Childe

Kaeya

Zhongli

Who’s fancam is most likely to go viral on twitter

Zhongli, but only because his manager told him to ‘put more effort in’ so he did, and now the Zhongli stans went crazy and made his name go trending

Who gets shipped

Kaeya and Diluc (But they aren’t brothers in this AU LOL) instead, their beef is from an unfinished chess match that everyone in the fandom knows about

Childe and Zhongli, could be because of their dynamic since Childe is loud and Zhongli is quiet and also because it was revealed that Childe often wants to room with Zhongli (much to his dismay, Childe is actually roomates with Kaeya)

[the-homicidediaries]

Chris Benoit

Guys.

I am so excited to talk about this.

Not because of the context, but because this is one of the reasons I love wrestling so much; there’s so much that goes on behind the scenes that people have NO CLUE about.

There have been several professional wrestlers who have killed people or been killed themselves and the rabbit hole goes deep.

(Rey Mysterio accidentally killed a man on live tv and they still have the video up on YouTube.)

(Jimmy ‘Superfly’ Snuka murdered his girlfriend in May of 1983. Who is Jimmy Snuka? Jimmy Snuka was related to The Rock, Rikishi, and The Uso’s.)

THERE ARE SO MANY MORE THO.

But today, I want to talk about the Daddy of them all, Chris Benoit.

Chris Benoit’s crimes are so heinous and unforgivable Vince McMahon has swept his name under the rug and removed him from The Hall of Fame.

Benoit’s crimes also changed the dynamic of professional wrestling forever.

Chris Benoit was born in Montreal, Quebec to Michael and Margaret Benoit on May 21, 1967. He and his family resided in Edmonton, Alberta, however.

During Benoit’s childhood, he idolized Tom “Dynamite Kid” Billington (a British wrestler who competed in the 1980’s and had ongoing feuds with Hart) and Bret “Hitman” Hart (a Canadian-American wrestler and a member of the notorious Hart Family. He is a personal fave of mine as well).

When Benoit was 12 years old, he attended a local wrestling event where both Dynamite Kid and Hart were competing and he knew right then and there that he was destined to become a wrestler.

He trained in The Hart Family “dungeon” and was coached by none other than Stu Hart (Bret and Owen Hart’s father. If you don’t know Owen Hart, you should google him as well because he died under bizarre circumstances on live tv as well.)

When Benoit fought in the ring, he channeled both Dynamite Kid and Hart, even adopting Hart’s signature move, “Sharpshooter” as his finishing move.

Chris began wrestling in 1985 in Stu Hart’s Stampede Wrestling promotion. He was quickly recognized as a force to be reckoned with and received his first title, the Stampede British Commonwealth Mid-Heavyweight Championship, on March 18, 1988.

(This dude has a very extensive history or wrestling in New Japan Pro-Wrestling, World Champion Wrestling, Extreme Champion Wrestling, and World Wrestling Federation/Entertainment, but I just.. I cain’t get into all that, please forgive me. Haha! We are talking 22 years here! So I am humbly skipping to his family life.)

-Okay, so. I would love for this to be a romantic love story for the ages and the deaths resulted in crimes of passion, but that didn’t happen. At. All. Not at all.

You’ll see soon why this was all brushed under the rug.-

Benoit was married twice.

His first wife, Martina, and he had two children David (who is a wrestler as well) and Megan. By 1997, their marriage had broken down and Benoit and Martina decided it was best to end it.

Benoit began living with his girlfriend, Nancy Sullivan, who was the girlfriend of Benoit’s frequent opponent, Kevin Sullivan.

(It started off as an on-screen relationship for views and it led to a real-life affair. Many people joke that Kevin Sullivan booked his own divorce.)

On February 25, 2000, Benoit and Nancy’s son, Daniel, was born.

On November 23, 2000, Benoit and Nancy were married.

This 👏🏼 was 👏🏼 not 👏🏼 a 👏🏼 good 👏🏼 marriage.

In 2003, Nancy filed for divorce from Benoit, saying he would break and throw furniture and was cruel to her. She later dropped the suit as well as the restraining order she had set against him.

Benoit became good friends with fellow wrestler Eddie Guerrero, (a beloved and incredible wrestler, one of my dad’s faves), following a match in Japan, when Benoit kicked Guerrero in the head and knocked him out cold. This started a friendship that lasted even after Guerrero's death in late 2005, in which Benoit had written diary entries to him just ten days after his passing.

(I’m only mentioning this because Guerrero’s death has been rumored to be one of the reasons Benoit did what he did.)

Here’s where it gets gory.

So we know Benoit and Nancy did not have a good marriage, but things seemed to be okay because she dropped all the charges against him.

Benoit and Nancy were living in Fayetteville, GA, with 7 year old Daniel.

On June 25, 2007, police entered the Benoit home after Benoit’s WWE employers requested a welfare check after Benoit missed weekend events without notice.

(Benoit was actually scheduled to win another title during these weekend events.)

Upon arriving at his Georgia home, authorities found Nancy wrapped in a towel. She had died from asphyxiation.

Their son was also found, also dead, apparently strangled. Benoit placed a Bible next to each of their bodies.

Benoit’s body was the most disturbing to be found. The wrestler was hanged on a lat pulldown machine, with a Bible lying on the weight machine beside him. There were also allegedly 10 empty beer cans and an empty bottle of wine.

Autopsies concluded the murders and suicide took place over the course of three days.

On Friday, June 22, Chris Benoit killed his wife Nancy in an upstairs bedroom. Her limbs were bound, and her body was wrapped in a towel. A copy of the bible was left by her body. Injuries indicated that Benoit had pressed a knee into her back while pulling on a cord around her neck, causing strangulation. Officials said that there were no signs of immediate struggle. Toxicologists did find alcohol in her system, but they were unable to determine if she had been drinking prior to her death or if it was a product of decomposition.

Daniel was suffocated and killed in his bedroom, and a copy of the bible was left by his body. Daniel had internal injuries to the throat area, showing no bruises. Daniel's exact time of death is unknown. The reports determined Daniel was sedated with Xanax and likely unconscious when he was killed. Daniel's body had also just started to show signs of decomposition but was not as far along as his mother's body, so they were able to determine he was murdered after his mother.

(It was later alleged that Daniel had Fragile X syndrome, a genetic disorder that is characterized by mild to moderate intellectual disability. Physical features may include a long and narrow face, large ears, flexible fingers, and large testicles. About a third of those affected have features of autism such as problems with social interactions and delayed speech. Males are affected more than females. Daniel also had needle marks in his arm and it’s alleged that these were the result of growth hormones given to him because Benoit and his family considered him to be undersized.)

Chris Benoit committed suicide by hanging. Benoit used a weight machine cord to hang himself by creating a noose from the end of the cord on a pull-down machine from which the bar had been removed. Benoit released the weights, causing his strangulation. Benoit was found hanging from the pulley cable.

(On a podcast called The Talk is Jericho in 2016, Nancy’s sister Sandra Toffoloni divulged some more information. She said Benoit’s internet search history showed he had searched “the quickest and easiest way to break a neck”. Benoit had a towel wrapped around his neck when he committed suicide and his neck was broken instantly.)

A suicide note was not discovered, but a note written in one of the bibles Benoit had said, “I’m preparing to leave this Earth.”

A few possible motives I’ve seen people mention have included:

•CTE - Chronic traumatic encephalopathy is a neurodegenerative disease caused by repeated head injuries. Symptoms do not typically begin until years after the injuries and can include behavioral problems, mood problems, and problems with thinking. During his autopsy, it was concluded that Benoit did suffer from CTE after wrestling for so many years. (Back when they threw people from tops of cages, hit each other over the head with chairs and ladders, etc.) Autopsy experts say Benoit’s brain was so severely damaged that it resembled a 85 year old Alzheimer’s patient.

•Nancy’s abuse and filing for divorce - In February 2008, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution reported that Benoit was having an affair with a female WWE wrestler and Nancy found out. It was also speculated they argued over life insurance policies.

•Benoit’s alcohol abuse - Benoit abused steroids, but many people believe it was his alcohol abuse that led to these horrific murders. Many of Benoit’s colleagues attested he would drink more when problems with Nancy occurred.

•Eddie Guerrero’s death - Benoit and Guerrero and Benoit were very close. When it came out that Guerrero has died in his hotel room in November of 2005, Benoit was devastated. WWE held a televised memorial for Guerrero and when Benoit was giving his testimony, he broke down in front of the camera. Some of Benoit’s colleagues say, “he was never the same” after Guerrero’s death.

But at the expense of sounding completely heartless, (mind you, I’ve been suicidal myself), why didn’t he just commit suicide?

Why did he have to murder his wife and seven year old son? If we go with the CTE theory, it makes sense because he was not thinking rationally.

I wish Nancy had had the strength to leave him when she tried.

The night after Benoit’s body was found, WWE Raw had a televised memorial for him and his family with Vince McMahon standing in the middle of the ring breaking the news and a video montage.

No one knew he was the one who had killed his family.

When it was later revealed that Benoit had committed these crimes the episode was removed and WWE made the decision to remove nearly all mention of Benoit from their website, future publications, video games, merchandise, DVD/Blu-Rays, and future events.

Like I said.. swept him under the rug.

Benoit is now the “He Who Shall Not Be Named” of professional wrestling.

In ending this, I’d like to quote Stone Cold Steve Austin now.

“Well first and foremost, what I think about Chris Benoit is that guy was one of the most nicest guys I ever met in my life. He’s one of the most talented, hard working cats I’d ever seen in the squared circle. Anybody who knew Chris would tell you those exact two things. That guy loved the damn wrestling business, he was born to be a wrestler and was absolutely phenomenal. Drawing a lot of his influence from The Dynamite Kid, he blazed a path as the Pegasus Kid and his legacy as The Crippler Chris Benoit was just one hellacious career.

“One night, Chris ended up killing his wife and his kid. That is an act so terrible and horrible I can’t even comprehend or guess as to what happened in that house. That will always overshadow any accomplishment Chris had in the ring. He’ll never be in the Hall of Fame, it will just never happen. His career will speak for itself but his record as a human being, his first and foremost, and those actions will never be forgotten. That’s my feelings on that, we don’t even need to talk about the Hall of Fame. Speaking for myself, Chris Benoit as the person I knew, loved him. Chris Benoit as a wrestler, loved him. Chris Benoit as the person who did what he did, unforgivable. Bottom line.” – via NoDQ.com.

Pictured below are Chris and Nancy Benoit, their son Daniel, and their home in Fayetteville, Georgia.

[gayorphanboss]

Christmas is hell in my world - To be continued

Blood rushing to my head, heart palpitations beating faster than an electronic dance music track and bleeding from my head with a flow like a river. 14-years of this shit, 14 fleeting moments of beatings in a time period of 10 minutes. I’m on my floor, concussed with a swollen face, blood dripping off my face into the floorboard cracks. As the blood dries on my face, then makes it hard to open my eyes with the drying of the blood working as a glue on my eye lashes. The rats in the walls hear silence and make their way near me. I was frozen from the previous events, so I probably came across as an inanimate object of my room. Who did this to me? My father. Why?

The morning before I’m immobilized on my bedroom floor.

Eyes heavier than a dumbbell. I’m Half-asleep and half-awake, before the sun beaming through my bent and crooked cheap aluminon cheap blinds, make me fully aware of the day. Waking up in my own personal hell. Today isn’t just any other day. Today is Christmas. Therefore, it’s a Christmas lunch today with my family which seem like a bunch of strangers who hate me. I’m very much the black sheep. You grow up thinking adults are mature, but sometimes they act like they are still in high school, like a peer I would come across in the hallway.  But perhaps I am the problem. Sigh, why do I always feel like I’m the issue for everything I do. Do all 14-year-old boys feel like this? Sometimes I feel like a fish being pulled backwards and drowning in my own environment. Having the resources like gills and still consuming toxicity.

We are taking a full car from Ballarat to Melbourne. Guess what, I’m in the middle even knowingly I am taller than my sister Shannon. Shannon is three years older than me; she is about to go into her final year at high school. She has a good work effort, quite pretty, has freckles and long thick brunette hair. When I encountered a bullying ideal at school, she mentioned to me “once you let people walk all over you, they will be doing it for the rest of your life. In some sense I could already understand what she was talking about, with my current abuser, my father. All I knew what to do, was freeze and take it like a punching bag.

I don’t speak up or challenge any logical statement of being taller to not sit in the middle, because the consequence is more physically brutal of having a boney ass and no leg room for an hour and a half. Much better than being whipped by a belt, smacked in the face and whatever my father feels like doing to me. He struggles with his own personal problems and looks me like a punching bag, then when he wants to release his anger, he hits, kicks, throws plates, belt and whatever he wants.

Have a small bite of Weet-Bix then straight into the shower. I close the wooden door and make way into the shower filled with moldy walls. Stare at the spider in the web before washing my hair. In this moment I’m fantasying dropping dead. Perhaps being turned into ash like some magical spell in some sci-fi shit on tv, sci-fi or fiction? Who the fuck knows, I don’t! All I know is I want my ashes being washed down the drain like no such thing as existence of myself Xavier. I relive a memory of watching Saw with my mother, while she was spaced out on crack and I was seven. Admired the beauty that they had endure the pain and mostly they dyed afterwards, while I was constantly enduring more and more abuse without being relieved of my pain through death. So… death seemed pleasurable today.    

I wash my hair quickly, since getting a “hurry up Xavier” from my other sister Nikkita, through the wooden door. Now Nikkita is a very amazing athlete, dual sports or being a national athlete, finalist and medalist, I’ve always admired her. Also admired her when she put her body on the line between myself and dad, when his red bull anger was bursting, and he was trying to hurt me. I was at the door, she was in-between myself and dad, while she was not letting him through. She was in a sense stronger than him. In this moment anyways, because she wasn’t backing down and she was firm, and he couldn’t get through. She was pushing him away, while was trying to her out of the way.

I get dressed in some shorts and a T-Shirt. Now we all make our way to the car. We drive to another suburb in Ballarat, to Nan’s home. We are taking her car, on the basis of ours was gross and my father looked after things very poorly. Nan is a, my way of the highway type of women. I have a Ying and Yang love for that part of her.

We arrive, say our hellos’. Then we pack the car with my Nans dishes. Now we are on the road to Geelong. I’m so wrecked and not prepared for this day. In this car trip, I’m quite quiet. I have decided that I won’t speak any more than I need to for the day. Because I seem to always tend to be the problem. The “know it all”. This remark stems from earlier years working out basic logical problems, which ignited hatred towards my intellect. These problems solving were over many different factors in life. But one what comes to mine, is trying to fit a couch through a doorway. I suggested another way, since the initial way of trying to force it through was not working. So, I suggested “how about we try putting it on an angle”. Then my father gave up, had a little tantrum, stormed through the door and slammed the screen wire, like a four-year-old not getting a chocolate at the checkout at Coles. Left my sisters and I, to work out how to get this fucking couch into the house while he is defusing his tempter in his room. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion to be polite and not react to any remarks made by the adults on this Christmas day. Since everything I do and say is just a problem. I sincerely saying this, I’m not being sarcastic, I just want everyone to have a good time and if I do not speak, I think that will be the easiest way.

Looking past the paddocks into the skyline. Listening to my tunes and minding my business. All is going to plan. Just a normal trip, nothing abnormal. Few remarks about us, made by nan. Some body shaming to my beautiful sister Nikkita, influencing Shannon to be more proper and you know, the “know it all” remark made about me even knowingly I am being dead quiet. So in short it is a shit travel from point A to point B.

We arrive. My uncle grant and his wife Christie are the hostesses of this Christmas lunch. Also, Uncle Brett and his wife Andrea are here. With their kids, Nigel and Glen. Greetings to all, I am being polite also a little closed off not to draw to much attention to myself. I have now just witnessed Andrea and Nan accidently peck while greeting each other. I’m moving gently throughout the space and saying hello. I’m sitting on the couch with my mouth shut, but the conversations are drifting between footy (AFL) and the cricket. Two things, I am no longer interested in, but I do not voice anything. Wow. I think I am the problem. The social setting is a dynamic with only signs of peace and joy in this festive. Dad’s laughing loudly. Nan’s smiling. Pa is being the beautiful soul he is. I’m sitting on the couch, identifying I am the problem. That moment of nothingness is followed through with the hollow feeling. The feeling of emptiness, and my thoughts are thinking, I deserve every shred of abuse in endure. I’m a broken piece of shit which brings my family anger.

I make my way out-side to pat the dog. This dog is a stunning Kings Charles, named Penny. Doesn’t bark and is very friendly. I’m patting Penny outside so I can take a breath. I need a second. A second to wrap my head around, that I am a fucking burden to everyone. I am this fucking know it all twat. I want to cry, but dry less tears are coming out since I’m so fucking empty. Soo fucking over everything. I am that “cunt” one of my friend’s parents at the time called me, when over afterschool in grade 6, yes, fucking primary school. I am also that “cunt” my dad called me at 5 years old. I am stupid and ugly which my step mum called me. I am weird. I am arrogant which the dads at the swim club called me. I deserve to be the laughingstock at the swim club’s presentation when dad was awarded the golden clip board award, for breaking one over my head when I was 7 years old in Melton. They all laughed so fucking hard over awarding him it, may as well created the term “lol” before the internet slang took over in later years. I’m all the names grant calls me, I’m worth $5 a day to clean a whole house like Christy said. I’m ungrateful like every single fucking adult in my life has told me, if that’s family or teachers and everything in-between. Perhaps, they can smell the homo on me. And I am an abomination against reproduction and to this conservative family. All the beltings for crying when I was younger. I fucking deserve to have my emotions beaten out of me. The ringing ears from being so consumed by my thoughts gets broken by the calling of me name. “Xavier” Nikkita slurs.

I shift my feet back inside, the realization of my own burden on others feels like my legs are twice as heavy… I’m just extra weight on others. Back inside. Sitting on the light-colored couch, and feet on the carpet-mat. Conversations are still that bleak short talk whether shit. Time passes and we all make our way outside.

It’s a scorcher of a day in Melbourne. I am now seated at the “kids table”, while the “adults:” are at the adult table. We are under a gazebo whole they are seated under a shelter. Everything isn’t still going to plan as I drown in my own guilt of being this factor of unhappiness to my family and a subject of pain for them too. Half or so hour later, we all make our way grabbing a white kitchen plate to plate our food. I get some ham, potato salad and lamb and of course gravy. Some salt and pepper and I’m ready to eat this delightful feed. Through the sliding glass doorway, minding my business while treading lightly protecting my plate of food. Bum to the plastic chairs, very similar to the ones in primary school. Fork and knife in unison eating this delicious plate in serenity.

[orichalcum-ore]

Starved Lion of the Imperial Arena

A short fic about my character Do’saav and her sentence in the imperial arena and her rocky relationship with the thieves’ guild

cw: hunger, blood, brief reference to drugs

Blood.

Blood was all that she could feel.

Blood pumping through every single one of her veins, blood of her opponent splattering against her fur, wetting her claws. Anything else was numbness, survival instincts of a lesser beast.

As she ripped her hands from the elf she saw their last words stifled by the red icor of life she had become so well acquainted with. Do’Saav had won once again.

Anyone with her track record would be thought to be one of the voluntary competitors, a snobby son of a nobleman testing out a sword meant for twice the armsman, an accomplished mage testing their latest staff of fireballs on a miserable gaggle of prisoners. Anyone with her track record was normally free to go.

She was there because someone finally decided to size up the red fury of the west who had the coin purse to put enough men between her and them. She worked with the thieves’ guild, known for being quiet. Her line of work was not so quiet. She extorted people, scared them into minding their own business and letting things lie. She had seldom taken protection money, that’s not how the guild did things in Cyrodiil, but if they refused to show what little kindness they had in their heart and a broken bone wouldn’t do, she’d yank a prized amulet from their neck, maybe grab a candlestick or two on the way out or smash a vase.

This time she had picked the wrong method. A merchant from Vvardenfell had just enough handshakes and second-cousins in the royal court for someone to actually give a shit when he was left with a couple cracked limbs and a bruised shoulder. She was slapped in irons the next day, and she knew as soon as she saw the look on the warden’s face that her stay would be a little longer than usual.

She skulked back to the bloodworks, wiping the paint of her sins off her nose. No matter if it was spilt a second or a year ago the smell made her face curl up into a snarl. It made what social dynamic that was available to her even more of a chore to deal with. The bloodworks would make an awful guildhall. Anyone with more experience than you would spit in your face and call you a worm and anyone with less experience than you would spend their time figuring out your weaknesses.

“Great fight out there Khajiit, a couple more like that and you’ll be walking free in no time!” Said a redguard, former highwayman whose only remaining possession was a rusty axe.

Do’Saav’s nostrils flared as she sighed, healing her wounds in the putrid, oversized basin at the bottom of the steps, “That’s what the last one said.”

The auburn gladiator didn’t speak much, but tried her best to remain sociable at an arm’s length. After a while she understood that anyone here who wasn’t the grey prince was bound to be dead in a week or two. It almost gave rise to a snicker from her, what great lengths necromancers went to speak with the dead when you could do it right here in the heart of the empire.

“So why don’t you ever fight with weapons? Wouldn’t that be easier than going in bare-handed like that?” A peppy Breton asked while stretching between her exercises. It was always much harder for Do’Saav to look past the inevitable death of someone with such youth.

“Khajiit martial art. It is called Claw-Dancing in the common tongue.” She lied.

The Breton was starry-eyed, too innocent to last two more fights, when she’d be matched against a gaggle of sickly prisoners shipped there from Morrowind. They’d tear her apart like malnourished wolves, and then walk the streets they’d be dying on within the same span of time.

“This one thinks you should leave. Really. Join the fighter’s guild, they are always looking for work.”

The Breton put her hands on her hips, it began to disgust Do’Saav how she wore that rainment with pride.

“Not until I prove myself to my father! If I end up anything like you, he’ll just have to give me his heirloom sword when he passes!”

The Khajiit narrowed her eyes and spoke with as much malice as she could muster for such an energetic young woman.

“Your father is a goblin-fucking pig bastard and that sword’s blade has probably been worn to the edge of a butter knife from all the bones of children half your age it has cut through.”

The Breton was at a loss for words, she simply stood there in shock, starting and stopping the first syllable of her retort, before she simply left.

She stood there, barely on one foot leaning against the cleanest patch of bricks she could find. Her empty stomach continues to bother her, keeping her there stirring, unable to doze off. At one point she considered ripping into opponents with her teeth, swallowing what she bit into. Such thoughts were too vile for her, and she knew such discovery would surely have her put to the axe with both her hands bound that time. Her head began to hurt as she saw a stocky Nord in tattered leathers approach her like a wild animal, her lips couldn’t help but form a grin seeing one of the great children of the sky shaking in his boots at a starving prisoner.

“A-are you Doe-Sawf?” The Nord stammered, reaching to his side but his hand past the hilt of the dagger he had sheathed.

She nodded, “This one is. What do you seek of her, meat?” her words had a bite to them.

The dirty blonde pauper swallowed as a drop of sweat formed at his brow, “I-I-I am with the- the thieves’ guild…” the stout man began to choke on the second half of his sentence.

Do’Saav couldn’t help but laugh. It was hoarse, scratchy, disturbing. Her ears perked up in maniacal sarcasm, “Are you- are you here to have Do’Saav pay the blood price…?” She began to descend back into laughter at her terrible and grim joke about the countless slaughters committed by her hands. She wiped a tear from her eye.

As the man returned from his flinch he slowly handed a burlap sack, quickly pulling away as Do’Saav took it. He finally found the courage to finish speaking. “The grey fox… understands you’re being treated unfairly here, because of your association with the guild. He says that he will do whatever it takes to get you out of here without risking your life or freedom at a later date, that he owes it to you…”

The Khajiit was suddenly overcome with a feeling typically found in the eyes of a skooma addict or a pie thief, she looked inside the bag and found a bit of bread and cheese, and nearly bit her hand shoving a morsel into her mouth before remembering she had a visitor. She chewed, swallowed and cleared her throat.

“This one will believe it when she talks to the grey fox face to face about it. That at least is owed in addition to a ticket out.” She shoved the rest of her meal into her maw, grinding and gulping as fast as her body could allow.

The initiate nodded, looking at the floor a moment, seeing the drops of blood that made it down from the ceiling.

“I’m sorry they do not feed you here enough.” This time he was beginning to collect himself.

“Likewise, northman.”

“I overheard what they say about you after I asked and got nothing, besides a few harsh words about the guild…”

The khajiit wondered why the meat was still speaking.

“They talked about how in the past the arena had a pack of lions they would make competitors fight, how they would… starve them so that they’d be desperate to kill and eat whoever they fought.”

She didn’t know whether to be angry or to see this coming, or maybe lie about how she felt, make it seem like a sick game. She was caught off guard enough to be stricken curious.

The Nord spoke softly, as if someone was interested enough to eavesdrop “Do you know what they were calling you…?”

“A lion…?”

He nodded slowly, the fat of his chin squishing against his neck as he did.

“They didn’t even speak as if you were a person.”

The two of them sat there in silence, Do’Saav casually looking through the sack for crumbs.

“I put the cheese in there, hope you… hope you enjoyed it.”

“That was Do’Saav’s favorite part. Thank you northman.”

He nodded again, this time with a bit more urgency, before quickly leaving the bloodworks.

The cat held a crumb between two fingers, holding it up to the light as a weight began to lift itself off her mind.

“Heh. Lion of the Imperial Arena, quite a title for this one.” She dropped the meager speck onto her rough tongue before swallowing it.

“She likes it.”

[catalinaroleplay]

Gender & Pronouns: Cis female, she/her

Date of Birth: September 5th, 1995 (24)

Place of Birth: Catalina Island, California

Neighborhood: Avalon

Length of Residency: Native

Occupation: Freelance Writer, Lifestyle Blogger, and College Student

Face Claim: Maia Mitchell

BIOGRAPHY

The birth of their youngest daughter should have been a blessing, a joy, and the source of utter happiness for Evelyn and Arthur Halliwell, but by the time Celia was born, the relationship between the two adults was already too broken to be repaired. Arthur Halliwell was too far gone with only money on his mind and Evelyn seemed to thrive doing nothing but being a wealthy housewife, resorting to any means necessary to keep their family’s name out of the dirt. Having Celia was supposed to repair what had been broken long ago; a child to restore the love they once felt, something to replace the resentment they held for one another. Neither could understand why their plan failed, but neither of them tried to fix it again.

Being the youngest of four and Evelyn’s last shot at getting the daughter of her dreams, Celia turned out to be the poster child for her “mother’s” parenting skills. She hit all her milestones early, which gave Evelyn a reason to beam with pride and show off, and by the time she began to speak, it was clear that Celia was gifted with intelligence well above her parents’ expectations. She was the Halliwell family’s shining star, something Evelyn had longed for after the troubles she had gone through with her other daughter, especially Ava and Cleo. Being so high up on a pedestal Celia Halliwell had always looked at the glass as half full, which wasn’t hard considering she never had to worry about what the future would hold for her. Her entire week was pre-planned by Evelyn, social appointments and lunch-ins were the highest priority. Whenever she wanted to spend a day with a friend it had to be run by her mother. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but Celia believed to be doing right by her mother. 

Despite all the privileges the Halliwell name came with, she had always been naïve to the way things worked outside in the real world and never believed in the notion of wishing ill upon another or of tearing someone down in order to make herself look better – in her eyes, there was enough room at the top for more than one person, even though more than enough people at school were always competing with her in nasty ways. Unlike her sisters, she usually stayed out of trouble, believing the world to be a magical place filled with only kindness and love, Celia certainly trained herself to overlook all the potential malicious traits people came with and focused on the good in people instead. It wasn’t always easy, but being portrayed as a bad person wouldn’t work with the picture that had already been painted of her. 

While being Evelyn’s favorite child had its perks, there were many downsides. Debutant balls, dinner parties, charity events, and other social events turned into Celia’s life as soon as she was old enough to accompany her mom. Sometimes Celia thought Evelyn tried to go to as many events as possible because she feared it could all come to an end and her youngest daughter would start to rebel as well. But why rebel when Celia lived a life with virtually no consequences? She was rarely told no, anything she desired she could have – anything if she just made her mother happy with a couple of events during the social season and listened when she was told to stand up straight and look happy. On the other hand, Celia never felt the need to step out of line or do anything crazy… as long as she looked happy, she could pretend everything was fine. But looking happy and being happy are two completely different things if your name isn’t Evelyn Halliwell. Maternal instinct was something her mother had always lacked and where a mother should have been, doting nannies could be found, so how could she blame Evelyn for not noticing the obvious? 

Instead, Celia chose to blame Arthur. Arthur who, according to Ava, knew how to be a father and had been a fatherly figure even to her other older sisters, but didn’t feel the need to show his youngest daughter the same decency. Celia knew he hadn’t really been interested in yet another daughter, that he’d wished for a boy at the end of the road, that he blamed her for the failing of his marriage. It wasn’t fair to put the blame for something as huge as this on a little girl and yet, Arthur never tried to convince her otherwise. It was comforting to know that one of her parents felt different from the other, but Celia craved her father’s attention, yet her efforts always went unnoticed. As a young child, she tried desperately to get him to look her way, whether that be with good or ill intentions. After all, she was a true people pleaser. It was so easy to please Evelyn, so why was it so impossible with him? Maybe he would see her if she passed the semester with flying colors, make a heartfelt card for father’s day, or by pushing a girl down the stairs and being sent home for two weeks? No. She never got the affection or attention she so desperately wanted from the man whom she admired from afar. Her efforts continued and blossomed into something she did obsessively as she went into high school as she flourished into a graceful, clever young lady. But behind her friendly smile, was an empty girl, who tried to please the two people who brought her into this world, no matter what.  

Celia turned into a shell of her former self. On the outside, her life continued as it had, and people never noticed the difference. On the inside, everything fell apart. Her naivety turned on her, made her see how cruel people could really be, but once the realization hit, Celia had already become a puppet on her mothers’ strings. Her life was already all planned out for her by her mother. First, she’d graduate and catch herself a wealthy young man from a good family, marry him and then move him to Catalina. Being extremely witty and incredibly smart, she excelled in school and soon was accepted to numerous Universities and colleges that were interested in the young woman, but for the first time, Celia had found something she wanted more than the attention she wanted from Arthur. Parties, alcohol and staying out late – even though done in secret, became her kryptonite. During the day, Celia stood straight with a smile at her mothers side and during the night, she drank more than she could handle and danced until her feet hurt. The group of friends she found herself within, quickly showed her how good it could be to be reckless every once in a while. Accepted into Stanford, Celia left feeling truly untouchable and ended up celebrating her first year, she would only do once in her life. Too much alcohol paired with trying drugs for the first time didn’t end too well for the youngest Halliwell. The night ended in a hospital room, unbeknownst to anyone but Evelyn who got the call at four in the morning. In true Lucinda Cabot fashion, Evelyn took a page from her mothers book and did everything in her power to make sure Celia’s misstep wouldn’t see the light of day. While everyone thought the girl was at Stanford, her mother sent her to a rehab facility; once again relying on other people to care for her daughter, instead of showing her the love she needed. However, Celia didn’t only receive treatment for her ‘drug abuse’ (which was ridiculous considering she never took any before that night), but also for the psychological issues that piled up over the years. 

Coming back home during spring break, Celia met the person who’d help her finally break free for good. Devilishly handsome, a true gentleman, with an ambition to go places. Places where Celia actually wanted to be. They met at a beach party on the night of her return and she was instantly smitten. Completely taken by every detail about him and who he was. She wanted more, more of him. The feelings were anything but one-sided and Celia suddenly wanted something for herself. Something more than just to please the people around her. She’d gotten a taste of happiness when he kissed her for the first time and instantly longed for more. Their romance started abruptly, a couple of months spent in Europe on a trip together and Celia felt free for the first time in her life. When it was time to return to California and ‘’go back to Stanford’’, the young girl sent her mother a text, letting her know she would take the year to “live and breathe” Europe. She couldn’t come back just yet. Freedom tasted good and she would enjoy it for as long as she could. Their relationship lasted all through Italy, Spain, Greece, and France before they went their separate ways. Although Celia came back home alone, she came back home whole. It hadn’t been a whole year, but enough time for her to realize that she didn’t want what her mother wanted for her anymore. Their conversation was civil, Evelyn had a flair for dramatics and turned on the waterworks from time to time, but Celia wouldn’t budge anymore. She’d given her mother seventeen years of her happiness; it was her own turn now.

At twenty-four Celia could have accomplished more hadn’t she let Stanford slip through her fingers, but unlike other people she’d gone to school with, she didn’t walk through life like a zombie anymore. Sure, there were many who would prefer a life as a socialite and be happy doing what her mother does day in and day out, but that could never be her. Not again. She isn’t as naive anymore, nor did she only see the good in people anymore, but Celia still believes in the good in people over the bad. While her mother more than praises herself for shaping her youngest daughter into the woman she is today, Celia knows that her remaining faith in humanity was surely not influenced by her parents or a healthy family dynamic.

PERSONALITY

Positive: Optimistic | Independent | Responsible

Negative: Insecure | Naive | Cautious

Celia Halliwell is portrayed by Nessa.

[siriuslyblack12]

chapter 2

Sirius stood on the blocks, heart beating fast, legs threatening to give out at any moment. His arms gripped the block tighter, steadying his nerves as he let out a long breath. Thoughts spiralled chaotically in his head, impossible to ignore as they built in strength and severity.

 Is my cap on tight enough?

Don’t go too soon.

Don’t go too late.

I have to win. Dad’ll go mad if I don’t win.

I have to make him proud.

 I don’t give a shit whether I make him proud or not.

 “Mr Black,”

 Don’t breathe on breakout.

Don’t breathe at all.

You need to get a good time.

 “Mr Black,”

 Winning is everything.

But be a good loser.

 “Mr Black,” the distant voice was getting louder and louder.

 You know what happens when you lose.

 “Mr Black, I asked you a question! You could at least pretend to be paying attention.” Professor McGonagall scolded, bringing his attention back to the classroom. He wasn’t at the pool, rather in an English classroom, his almost empty page of notes lying in front of him.

 “I’m sorry, Professor. Won’t happen again.” He said shyly, not daring to meet her eyes.

 School had only started a couple of days ago and Sirius already felt as if he was suffocating. Their professors really weren’t holding back this year, piling up homework and lectures and revision to the point where the student’s backs ached with the pressure. Atop of all of that, social lives and media presences took a lot to keep afloat, as well as sport and fitness. Sport seemed to take up 90 percent of Sirius’s current brain capacity, which was now seeming to be a problem.

 English was by far his favourite subject, being the only one that he shared with all 3 of his closest friends. He looked over at James only to see him staring adoringly at the back of Lily’s red head, chin on his hands. With a roll of his eyes, he turned the other way to meet the sight of Peter sneaking snacks out of his bag, handing a few crisps to Remus under the desk. At least he was eating.

 The lesson came to an end with the sharp sound of the bell, and Sirius collected his things as quickly and quietly as possible, heading for the door to finally sort through the anxieties swirling in his head; until he heard an old voice call out, “Mr Black, can I speak to you for a moment?”

 Shit, this was exactly what he didn’t need.

Defeated and ashamed, Sirius was surprised as his eyes met a kind looking smile and a careful gesture to take a seat. His mind reeled in confusion, but he did what was asked of him anyway. McGonagall cleared her throat and began to speak.

 “Is everything alright?” Three words, simple yet powerful, and definitely out of the ordinary. He had no idea how to answer that, not exactly knowing where his boundaries were and how much he could say. He may have been one to overshare on social media, but he was certainly not one to spill his emotions wholeheartedly.

 “Never better, Minnie.”

 “It sure doesn’t seem like it, Mr Black. I remind you that this is a safe space.”

 Sirius looked down at his hands, wrapped in tight fists with his knuckles turning white with the effort. The walls suddenly felt as if hey were closing in on him, his heart rate picking up and foot tapping a rhythm on the floor.

 “I’m just finding it hard to concentrate, that’s all.” He said defensively. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

 McGonagall nodded glumly. This situation was uncomfortable to say the least. Sirius glanced back at the door of the room, where he could have sworn he saw Remus looking in through the window before hurrying away awkwardly. That boy was a mystery, which only drew Sirius further to him.

 “You know Sirius,” his professor never called him by his first name. “Help is always given to those who ask for it.”

  ~~

  “Please Moony,”

 “No.”

 “I’m begging you!”

 “No, Sirius.”

 “Why not? It’ll be fun, I promise. I really need it.”

 Sirius really was like an excited puppy, Remus thought to himself. He’d just been relaxing in the library, catching up on some reading and enjoying the quiet lull in the day before he was quite rudely interrupted by the one and only trade of Hogwarts High. He supposed he didn’t mind it, given that he was always happy for Sirius’s company – no matter the circumstances. However, on this occasion he was less willing to participate in what the other had planned, that being tutoring him.

 Remus let his mind wonder for a few moments, imagining what it would be like to be alone with Sirius, bonding over books and equation. Now that he thought about, it sounded stupid, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

 “Why are you asking me, Pads? Why not one of the girls?” He suggested thoughtfully. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who would be better than me.”

 “I’m calling bullshit, because you my friend are the smartest person I know.”

 Remus slumped back into his chair, his heart skipping a beat. He desperately wanted to say yes, to help him out and be a good friend. He knew that Sirius hated studying, so asking for the blue-eyed boy to help him with that must have been a challenge for him. He also knew that he needed to exercise at least some self-control. Maybe tutoring Sirius would be an excellent idea, a chance to do a good deed and spend some quality time boding with his crush at the same time, without it being too suspicious.

 Do you know how pathetic you sound?

 He watched as the boy in question looked down towards the floor, one hand running through his hair which Remus had quickly learned was a nervous habit of his. This wasn’t going to end well, nothing ever ended well for him. Rising to stand on two weak legs, he swept his things that had been spread over the table into his bag and slung it over his shoulder with as much swagger as he could muster. He looked back to see that Sirius’s eyes were trained on him, silently reading the room and atmosphere.

 “Tomorrow lunch, 12:30, in the library. Don’t you dare be late.”

 Remus walked briskly away, not waiting see Sirius’s reaction and biting back a wide smile.

 ~~

 Turns out that tutoring Sirius Black was not the gentle, romantic, flirt-fest he thought it would be, and was in fact turning out to be a lost cause. The boy had a lot of trouble recalling metaphors, understanding Shakespeare and the like, frustrating Remus with basically everything he said. Often times he would zone out, picking at a loose thread on his t-shirt or twirling a piece of hair through his fingers, and even more likely were his frankly stupid remarks that were only made out of his compulsive need to be the funniest in the room. The most stupid thing about them is that they were actually funny, and Remus couldn’t always contain his laughter.

 “Pads, stop, stop, no,” He warned. “You cannot compare Romeo and Juliet to fucking Spider-Man and MJ.”

 “What? Why not? It fits, that’s all that matters, right? Sirius reasoned, pen between his teeth.

 “You have to get rid of that. The whole paragraph would probably be best, so it still makes sense.”

 “But that’s my best one! If you didn’t like that then you’re definitely not gonna like the next few.”

 Remus buried his face in hands, as Sirius took the essay and out of his hands and ripped it right in half. Drama queen was the only thing he thought to think but a closer look at the other’s face told a different story. “You didn’t have to do that.” Remus said softly.

 Sirius didn’t reply, instead opening his notebook and flipping through to find a blank page and start again. The remnants of drawings and doodles did not go unnoticed, some of which were surprisingly good. He wasn’t taking art this year, but by the looks of the pages in front of him, he should be. Sirius got back to work quickly, scribbling none sense that wouldn’t do him any favours in front of his teachers.

 “C’mon, you can do better than that. Let me help you.” Remus pried the pen from his hand and pushed the textbook towards him. “And no more drama.”

 “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Sirius added with an enthusiastic wink that made him swoon and squirm in his seat.

 The table was subdued for the next few minutes, Remus’s intelligence never failing to impress Sirius, but this was more due to the fact that he shared practically none of the same wit. He wasn’t actually as clueless as he had previously made himself out to be, but that didn’t keep him from acting like it. Perhaps some people’s smarts were more suited to other areas: those areas not exactly helping Sirius’s grades. Remus helping him out was just an extra bonus, or so he told himself.

 Long hair fell into his eyes as Sirius leaned over Remus’s shoulder, too close for comfort, inspecting what he was pointing to and explaining. Something about themes that even Remus was quickly forgetting as the boy by his shoulder got closer.

 His trance was broken as the bell rang, penetrating through his ears, earning a laugh out of Sirius as he jumped slightly.

 “Well, moony, I best get going,” he said briskly. “Maybe we could do this again sometime, eh?”

 “Yeah, sure, yeah” Remus stumbled exasperatedly, a blush forming on his cheeks that was often present these days. “Whenever you need me.”

 It was an authentic moment, sweet and short, but meaningful nonetheless. Until…

 “Padfoot! Moony! Get over here, Peter’s trying to arm wrestle Marlene.” James. Always one to ruin it.

 “Poor thing, why the hell would he?” Sirius laughed, rushing to follow him. “Moons, you coming?”

 Remus smiled. “You go ahead, I’ve got my own work to catch up on.”

 “Are you sure?”

 “Yeah, I’m sick of you anyway.” He added sarcastically, earning another deep laugh.

 ~~

 They continued to have these study sessions, Sirius becoming alarmingly enthusiastic about what would once have kept him far away and out of reach. It was a strange change in the groups’ dynamic, as where Remus and Lily would disappear of to the library, or a classroom to interrogate professors about the work, Sirius now trailed along with them. The red-headed girl had at first raised her eyebrows, or squinted her eyes suspiciously, but had now acclimated nicely. But that didn’t stop her from forming her own theories about what was going on with Remus and Sirius.

 This also had the unexpected effect of getting James Potter of all people in the library for what must have been the first time in his life. Seeing Sirius so confident surrounded by nerdy things like books and papers had been the push he needed to follow him and shamelessly flirt with Lily. Remus noted the way she tucked her hair behind her ears and fiddled with her bracelets whenever James was around.

 At this current moment, the four of them were hard at work on different projects, making mindless small talk as they grew increasingly bored. Sirius whispered something to James, obviously amusing as they burst into fits of laughter.

 “Do you two ever shut up?” Lily said, fighting her own amusement.

 “Lily, my dear,” she rolled her eyes. “That would take the fun out of it!”

 More comments were exchanged, mainly between Lily and James, as Remus found himself unable to form any words of his own in the presence of Sirius.

 Stop it. If you fall too deep you won’t be able to swim back up.

 Maybe I don’t want to swim back up anymore.

 “Hey, moons, what do you think about this?” Sirius questioned happily, thrusting a sketchbook towards him. To say it was absolutely beautiful would be an understatement, Remus thought as he studied what was in front of him. It was a detailed drawing, all in coloured pencil, of a field at sunset. The outline of a forest coated in orange and pink shades covered the page and his eyes were drawn to the silhouette of a rabbit, burying itself a hole in the grass.

 “I’ve been trying my hand at art, my dad hates it.” He said, directed only at Remus. “I know you saw some drawings the other day and thought you’d like it.”

 “I-, Sirius this is amazing.” He gushed, until Lily saw what he was looking at and joined on his shock.

 “Where have you been hiding all this talent? Are you serious?!” She squealed.

 “Nah, I’m Sirius. You know that.” The familiar joke didn’t exactly catch anyone off-guard.

 Remus’s mind went to what he’d said about his father, and he began to wonder the exact meaning. He only knew what everyone knew about Sirius’s home life: it was shit and he didn’t like to talk about it. He’d speculated that his parents were quite controlling, but the details were unknown. James hadn’t even been informed.

 He secretly hoped that perhaps one day he would know, and he would be able to help Sirius through whatever was going on, but he would wait until the other boy was ready. In the meantime he supposed he would do whatever he could, whilst making sure his secret didn’t show itself.

 He’s your friend. That’s all.

 But when a friend is hurting, you should put in a little more effort.

[rorykillmore]

it’s @spearitsandmonsters‘ birthday today!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPEAR. as a gift, they requested an au fic for a dynamic we’ve been developing quite a bit lately, which we’ve affectionately dubbed villabeth. i picked “baby assassin villanelle breaks elizabeth out of her tower instead of booker”, which is an idea we’ve only loosely talked about, but something about it STUCK with me. so i hope i did it justice and i hope you enjoy, spear!!

and here’s wishing you a wonderful birthday <3 i know basically everything is difficult right now and while it goes without saying that i wish that wasn’t the case... i know that one of the things that helps me get through it and remember the good parts is talking to you and writing with you and having you for a friend. so i hope i can provide that same support and escape for you. if nothing else, knowing you for another year is absolutely worth celebrating in my book!!!

Oksana had expected someone pampered and spoiled, who might have turned up her nose or screamed at someone as rogueish-looking as her. Instead, Elizabeth is acting like she’s never spoken to another human being before in her life, and looking at her as if Oksana has suddenly become the center of her universe.

It’s a ridiculous thought, but it spurs another excited little flutter in her chest.

She doesn’t ask what her employers want with the city in the sky, or why it’s so important to them that Comstock’s heir doesn’t live long enough to succeed him. This had been one of the first in the long list of rules Dasha had taught her: never make your employers think you are interested in their plans or motives. Makes them nervous.

It’s Oksana’s first official job on her own, too, so she’s not about to fuck things up the second the Twelve have actually stopped breathing down her neck for five minutes.

A part of her wonders, though, if they’ve changed her minds about wanting her. Because for a first official assignment, the risk involved almost makes her think that her employers are trying to get rid of her.

She’s good, of course -- good enough to sneak through Columbia and up into Monument Tower without incident, but it had been far from easy. And now that she’s in, she feels like she’s breaching the site of a nuclear meltdown, or the cage of a bloodthirsty monster. When they had told her that the city’s heir needed to die, Oksana had assumed she would have to snatch her away from a life of luxury. She had allowed herself to begin to resent the other girl without even having met her, entertaining the image of some wealthy, ultra-religious, spoiled little brat who’d enjoyed so many things Oksana had never been allowed to even touch, had dreamt about stealing into some preposterously frilly and extravagant bedroom and smothering her with a pillow in the dead of night.

But this?

This is like a prison, or a laboratory, or something worse than both. Oksana fights to keep her hackles from raising as she stealths her way towards the last heavy steel door. What sort of person have they sent her to deal with? 

She draws from her bag the replica key that one of the Twelve’s Columbia contacts had provided, and hesitates, weighing her options. She’d have liked to find a less direct method of entry, but her employers have cautioned her from making too much noise or disruption, lest she alert the tower’s unique security system.

So she’s going in through the heavy, reinforced door that looks virtually impossible to open subtly. Practically blind. 

She doesn’t like that.

Oksana reloads her weapon. Whatever her mark might be capable of, whatever the reason she’s been locked up so tightly, it’s nothing that a quick shot to the head won’t take care of, surely. With her free hand, she inserts the key, which seems to trigger several other mechanisms within the door to whir and unlock, and then - carefully - she steps inside.

If it is a prison cell, it is the most impressive one she has ever seen. Oksana is standing in the doorway of something resembling a well-furbished library, like the kind you’d find in old castles or government buildings. It seems empty, so Oksana supposes that her target could be in one of the other rooms. Maybe the noise from the door opening will draw her out. Hopefully. Oksana does not fancy a game of hide and seek in unfamiliar territory.

Despite her mission, though, and despite the dedication and focus she is supposed to feel, curiosity tugs at the corners of her thoughts. She is not supposed to ask questions, and yet the pieces of a puzzle are set before her, and when she tries to put them together they do not quite make sense. Why keep the Lamb of Columbia here? Why go to all this trouble? What was with all the charts and laboratory equipment Oksana had passed on her way in, and why did they make her sound like some kind of monster in need of containment?

If she’s such a monster, why do they need her?

Perhaps it’s a terribly ironic question for Oksana to be asking. But she is an assassin, a perfectly crafted weapon, and that’s one thing.

She ventures a little further into the room, her pistol lowered but still held firmly in front of her. It’s only when she passes the staircase that she realizes something is wrong. A shadow moves out of the corner of her eye, and Oksana turns before she can process anything else, instinctual and immediate the way her mentors have always praised her for as she closes her hand around the girl’s wrist.

The girl cries out, and tries to jerk away from her grip. Once. Twice -- Oksana lets go the second time, so that she stumbles backwards and falls back against the bannister of the staircase she’d just hidden herself behind. Oksana is on her again in a second, pinning her easily and letting the barrel of the pistol dig into her ribs, her free hand now clamped over the girl’s mouth to keep her from screaming.

“Shh,” Oksana tells her, and she should end it right then.

Except -- 

The ‘monster’ has a much prettier face than Oksana had anticipated. Her eyes are a shade of blue Oksana can’t remember ever seeing for in her life, a little brighter and clearer than even Columbia’s skies, and presently blazing with rage or fear or probably both. She might be the around the same age as Oksana, or just a year or two younger, she has lovely dark hair that’s now just a little disheveled by their brief struggle, and she seems to be trying to bite the hand Oksana is holding against her mouth. Oksana feels her lips twitch briefly, despite herself.

“Shh,” she tells the other girl again. “Do not scream.”

Satisfying her growing curiosity is a bad idea. It will complicate things unnecessarily. Oksana knows Dasha would tell her to get the job done and then get out, but...

The questions do not count if nobody ever finds out she asks them, right?

“I did not come here to hurt you. You just startled me.” Oksana continues, softening her voice. It’s a lie, of course, but she takes a little bit of pride in how earnest she makes it sound.  “If I take my hand away, you promise you won’t scream?”

The girl’s pretty eyes bore into hers, but they look less angry now, less scared, more... disbelieving? As if she isn’t quite convinced Oksana is real.

“Please?” Oksana tries, all but batting her eyelashes, and finally the girl nods. Oksana supposes she will just have to trust her. She lowers her hand and steps back, putting about a meter or so between them both, close enough that she can still move in if --

“How did you get in here?” the girl asks breathlessly.

Oksana blinks at the question. Then nods to the way she came in. “Through the door?” 

She would find it funny, the way the girl gapes at her suspiciously in response, if she wasn’t also so confused. “You can’t just come in through the door, there’s no way -- no one ever --”

“They put a door there, then told you you can’t use it?” Oksana widens her eyes deliberately. “Wow. Really cheap con.”

“It’s not exactly like I have a key on hand.” The girl crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes, though she also doesn’t take them off Oksana for a second.  “Who are you?”

Oksana opens her mouth to answer -- then remembers herself midway.

“Villanelle. My name is Villanelle.” A name new enough that it doesn’t quite feel like hers yet, but it will. Oksana already likes the way it rolls off her tongue.  “What is your name?”

“I’m Elizabeth,” Elizabeth tells her breathlessly, a bit too trusting for someone talking to a stranger who’s just broken into her home. And for someone locked up like a high-security prisoner. The longer Oksana talks to her, the more bemused she becomes. Elizabeth seems so... normal. “You -- you’re so --”

Oksana is not sure what she was going to say, but all speculation flies out of her head when Elizabeth seems to lose all impulse control and places her hands on either side of Oksana’s face.  “-- Real.”

As a rule, Oksana does not like people touching her face. Bad memories, and all -- from more than just one source. But this touch is gentle (and confusing) enough to give her pause, to cause a strange flutter in her chest at the softness of it.

She should be wary, perhaps. Anna had once touched her this way, and Anna... had not been what Oksana expected. Elizabeth is not what Oksana had expected either, but in a different way. Oksana had expected someone pampered and spoiled, who might have turned up her nose or screamed at someone as rogueish-looking as her. Instead, Elizabeth is acting like she’s never spoken to another human being before in her life, and looking at her as if Oksana has suddenly become the center of her universe.

It’s a ridiculous thought, but it spurs another excited little flutter in her chest. “Yeah?” she answers belatedly, uselessly, to break the silence.

As if she’s suddenly become aware that she’s violated some social norm, Elizabeth drops her hands and steps back, slightly abashed but no less curious. “Where do you come from? You sound like you’re from far away. Your name -- it’s French, isn’t it?”

 “Latin, technically,”  Oksana says, composing herself and quirking an eyebrow.  “Like the poem? You must have time to read a lot of poetry.”

“You have no idea.” Furtively, longingly, Elizabeth glances towards the door like she’s readying herself to bolt. Then her gaze snaps back to Oksana, like no matter how taken she may or may not be by the appearance of a pretty stranger in her tower, she’s abruptly remembered that it’s a good idea to be at least a little suspicious.  Her eyes drop to the pistol in Oksana’s left hand. “Why are you here?”

This is it, Oksana thinks. The moment where she shrugs as casually as anything in the world, answers ‘to kill you’, and finishes the job point blank. But she doesn’t move. The hand on the pistol doesn’t even twitch.

“Uh,” she answers instead, grasping idly for something that makes sense. “To rescue you?”

Wouldn’t that be hilarious. If Oksana decided suddenly that she would whisk this girl away with her, and then they’d spend the rest of their probably-short lives dodging not only Columbia’s forces, but the Twelve’s if they ever made it out. Oksana knows - has been warned over and over again - what the Twelve do to traitors.

Elizabeth seems speechless beyond words, so Oksana adds quickly, “Why do they keep you locked up in here, anyway? Did you do something bad?”

Elizabeth opens her mouth uncertainly. Then closes it again. Then laughs. “You mean someone sent you here to rescue me and they didn’t tell you that?”

“I didn’t say anyone sent me,” Oksana corrects her. “I decided to.”

Has she really? She watches Elizabeth closely, as though Elizabeth is the one who can answer that for her. “The security measures outside this room -- you would think they had locked up a mass murderer, or a radioactive mutant, or something,” she adds, a humorous way of prodding for answers while she thinks.

“I guess --”  Hesitation laces Elizabeth’s tone as she answers.  “I guess it’s because of what I can do.”

What can you do? Is the obvious question. But the one Oksana asks instead is:  “People think you are dangerous?”

Elizabeth shrugs minutely, the look in her eyes unreadable.

And Oksana feels something in her soften a fraction.  “I was locked up once.” Albeit in not nearly as spacious a cell as this.  “People think I’m dangerous too.”

The seconds pass as Elizabeth watches her, until Oksana almost itches under her searching gaze.  

“Will you leave with me?” Elizabeth asks finally.

Oksana gives her a rueful smile. “Where do you want to go?”

This had not been the plan. Can she risk what she’s made for herself for the sake of her own curiosity? For a pretty face?

Elizabeth exhales quietly, shakily, like she still can’t believe she isn’t dreaming. “I’ve always wanted to see Paris.”

How about for someone who’s a little like she is? Who, in only the span of a few moments of knowing one another, has made Oksana feel a little less alone?

“I have been to Paris many times.” Oksana steps forward, closing most of the distance between them, her gaze intense. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Soft,” she remembers Dasha spitting at her, “You are too soft for them, still. You need to work harder, try harder, show them how lethal you are.”

Oksana grins a faint sharp grin. Dasha would never have the guts - or perhaps the reckless stupidity - to do what she is about to do. She reaches out and touches Elizabeth’s hair, tempted to pull it out of his ribbon. Instead, she simply twirls a lock of it around her finger. Despite the unchecked contact Elizabeth initiated only moments ago, she freezes under Oksana’s touch, and Oksana’s grin softens into an ever-so-slightly smug smile.  “Once we leave, you know... you would not be able to come back.”

She waits to see what Elizabeth will do, but Elizabeth doesn’t flinch or pull away or even waver. Her eyes locked with Oksana’s, she just breathes, “Why would I want to?”

“You haven’t seen the world outside yet.” Oksana takes another step. It’s another challenge, but Elizabeth does not back away, and now they’re so close that they practically breathe the same air. “You might find you would prefer your cage.”

 “Did you?” Elizabeth challenges her, and Oksana laughs breathily. It’s a good response. She thinks maybe she will enjoy this, no matter the consequences in the end.

“Okay,” she says suddenly, and pulls away. Elizabeth’s expression dims slightly -- maybe with uncertainty, or even disappointment. Oksana wonders for a moment if Elizabeth had expected her to kiss her. Would she have been Elizabeth’s first kiss?

She somehow likes the idea of that, but... perhaps not here. So she offers her hand instead. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Elizabeth’s hand is soft in her own as she takes it, but there’s something about the recklessness of her smile that makes Oksana wonder if it’s the rest of the world that needs a warning.