#made sure i know he still doesn't regret a single thing he's done to me. as if i didn't already

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

So. Turns out he hates me (in part) cause I'm the reason he's here

[threepandas]

Bad End: Witness

"Specimen '873 is starting to disappoint me. He was showing such promise. These numbers, however?" My keeper muttered to himself, distaste painting his face as he watched the feed in front of him. "Unacceptable for a battle class. He might as well be spare biomass at this point."

He was supposed to be wearing his glasses, not holding them. They may have been called "reading" glasses? But they were not, technically, just for that. They also had a blue light filter. Helped with headaches and eyestrain. He just hated wearing them because he thought they made him look old.

A God Forbid ANYTHING remind him of the passage of time.

He did NOT take it kindly.

I managed to avoid THAT landmine by virtue of having witnessed his receiving them. An "incident" that resulted in his head slamming against a screen. Protocol demanded he get checked. In the process, they discovered his eye sight was declining. It was a... bad day. I brought him things to break and stayed very, very quiet.

He bounced back fairly quickly, though. Once the arrogant researcher who had arranged for the incident to even OCCUR? Tried to come lord his "weakened old man" status over him. It was one thing to "accidently" let the battle class get unfettered access to weapons before loyalty train. But to be dumb enough to step into his lab, call him weak, and gloat about it?

Dr. Raghnall Periculum was many things.

But "unwilling to bludgeon a man to death with the nearest object" was not one of them.

He was dangerous like that. Murderous. It came and went like shifting storms, all you could really do was learn to read the triggers. Get good at knowing when to back up. When to hold really, REALLY still. After all... this was a lawless, immoral place. No one here could or WOULD stop him.

They were all just as bad.

Gritty Sci-Fi Otome games are... a lot less fun to LIVE. To be honest? They are actually pretty horrifying. Traumatizing, really. Hellish. As in, I am pretty sure this is a futuristic version Of Hell (but that is a personal opinion). I regret EVER playing a single damn one. But... BUT? I CLING to the knowledge I gained from it. So I can not regret it completely. Because through them? Through KNOWING this world?

I KNOW this will end. KNOW we will be free. That these monsters will pay for what they've done. The epilog promises a golden age. A beautiful, peaceful dawn after this long and terrible night, filled with horrors. I just... I just have to survive. Hold on. Keep my head down and pray.

I may be trapped in hell, but I'm not broken.

We will be Free.

I have SEEN IT.

Sometimes the greatest defiance is just refusing to die. Just keeping hope alive. I... I can do that. May not be able to fight my way out. Not smart enough to hack or sabotage these nightmares. But I can stay alive. I... I can do that. Bear witness, that someday I may stand against them in trial. Record. So no one is forgotten.

It doesn't feel like enough. I feel tired and angry. Hateful and small. But for the sake of my sanity? I make myself feel nothing. Compartmentalize. I've... I've become unfortunately quite good at it. Good at a lot of terrible things. Like placating. Making myself small. Being invisible. A retail smile. Being one with the furniture.

See, just like the poor souls on the screens in front of him? I'm a Clone. Of who? I have no idea. None of us do. They use old DNA databases. From when it was first commercially available, I think. Like those ancestry tests. Here it was squirrelled away, kept for later use. Which... was us.

My template has been dead for centuries, I think. Or perhaps? She would have considered herself my mother? I hope she would have, strange as I turned out to be. We are all children of the dead. It'd be nice to think they'd have wanted us.

Dr. Periculum's cup lifts lightly as he take a drink, more focused on his work then anything else. That heft is about midway point. I've discovered if I begin brewing now, it will be done by the time his cup is empty and he wants more. A glance at the closest screen gives me the time. Food too, is a good idea.

He likely won't eat it. But if it's there? The chances are higher. And when he comes out of his focus, it'll be available. Less chance of him getting irritated by hunger.

On a well practiced route through piles of notes and projects I know better then to touch, I quietly make my way to the coffee machine. Begin another round of abomination the caffeine tar. It is, quite honestly, a wonder he hasn't accused me of trying to poison him to a heart attack.

A few granules of salt, a bit of cinnamon, some expensive fatty creamer, aaaand? There. Unholy bitterness gone. "Just" a cup of liquid tar so potent it could make a rhino taste time.

I also grab one of the meat pies and put it on a little paper plate.

Ah... what has my life become? That I am so well practiced in make snacks for a monster? Picking them up, I don't dare answer that. That way lies madness. Don't think about it. It can wash out in therapy. After. Because there WILL be an After. There HAS to be an After.

Careful steps and...? Just as I estimated. He just ran out. I nearly silently tap the paper plate down to the edge of the table then slide it forward, with-in ease of reach, but not too close. Then I swap the cups. Go to step away. Only to freeze. As, out of the corner of my eye, I see one of his hands briefly leave his keyboard to make a nearly dismissive "one moment" gesture.

Stay put. Don't move. I'll address you when I'm done with my, more important, thoughts. I feel the flash of fear, of panic, but let it go. There is nothing I can do. I will be hurt or I won't be hurt. There is no use suffering twice, through speculation and fear, I remind myself. Force my mind empty and pleasant. Retail smile. Happy to serve.

He finishes. Leans back, dissatisfied with some project or other, and finally slips on his glasses. Gestures imperiously for the cup in my hands. I do not question of course, merely hand it to him. He takes it, passes it to his other hand, and sets it aside. Then, casually, leans slightly over and wraps a thickly muscled arm around my waist. Dragging me off my feet and into his lap.

"You know, girl? B-21873 really was, actually quite promising. I was starting to think I'd keep him. Decent speed, good stamina, excellent problem solving. His test scoring was exceeding all expectations. Really thought I might have gotten you a little friend to play with. A gaurd so I could send you out on some chores safely. But no, he just HAD to be a failure." He said, leaning forward to grab his cup.

I was crushed awkwardly close. Could feel every moment. Acutely aware of his woody and sea air cologne, the coffee on his breath as words were spoken far to close, the beating of a heartbeat I could feel against my arm. Hyper aware of him. Why was I in his lap? This felt dangerous. I should not be in his lap.

Between sips, he turned his head and pressed his lips to my temple, not kissing... somehow worse. Just... just breathing me in. Slow, deliberate, and deep. Like savoring a scent, a sensation. The subtle back and forth, as though rubbing his lips against my hair. Enjoying the feeling against sensitive skin. It could almost be a cuddle on any other man. It took everything I had not to shudder.

"Unlike you of course. You pet, could never disappoint me. If these rejects tried even half as hard as my perfect darling girl? The world'd be a better place." He paused his almost nuzzling. To simply rest his head against mine, pulling off his glasses so he could tuck his head closer. His breathe was hot against my ear. His voice gravel and distain as it spoke of others.

"It's disgusting. Like they don't even try. We spend countless resources breeding, feeding, and training them... for what? Failure? I'm starting to think those bastards are deliberately sending me bad specimens."

Every word he said was horrifying. I could not cry. Dare not. But my heart screamed for those poor souls. They were just kids. Trapped in hell. Tortured from birth. Disposed of when they no longer met some arbitrarily impossible anime standard. If I turned my head, even slightly, I KNEW, I would be faced with screens of untold suffering. Feeds of "testing". So called training. Autopsy reports and datapoints.

Lists of who... who had been deemed "not good enough".

Who were scheduled to become "recycled biomass".

But if I looked? I would weep for them. And that? That was dangerous right now. Right NOW? I had to be pleasant company. A child's doll to be dragged around. No thoughts, no differing opinions. Preferably no opinions at ALL. Just warm and huggable. Soft. A beloved pet who serves coffee and brings things when told. Endure. I just... I must simply ENDURE.

The night will end. Dawn will come. Believe in her.

J-Just empty your head... and Believe In Her.

An alert pops up. I can hear it on a screen somewhere behind me. Dr. Periculum turns his head to look, reaching for his snack. Freezes. Then, a sharp bark of laughter. It's violent, like the strike of a lightning bolt, jostling me. The ones that follow just as harsh. He's not a man that laughs often. And it's not a kind sound.

Filled with schadenfreude, his laughter is like the vicious barks of hunting hounds. The shots of a weapon. A short and harsh to the ears sound, over and over. Delight in the suffering of an enemy. The fall of a rival. It strikes through his body like seizures. Making him lean forward to read. Brace against the desk, tighten his grip around me, widen the brace of his legs.

Glancing up, his eyes are alight with manic glee. His grin is vicious.

He looks Feral.

"Well, well, WELL! What do we have HERE?! Is that Jack ANDERSON'S facility I see? Mr. 'Master of the genome' himself? Looks like SOMEONE got AHEAD of themselves! Ha!" Raghnall cackles spinning his chair so I can see the screen. Leaning back to grab his cup and toast with it. "Look what we have here, pet! Some fucking KARMA! I knew that little shit wasn't worth the paper his degree was printed on! See this? THIS is what happens when you can't control your own damn compound!"

"Rest in PIECES, you worthless little SHIT!"

I sat. Frozen. As Dr. Periculum laughed and laughed, his mood viciously pleased. Because... because I recognized that facility. Chapter Two. There was an animation that played. The... the BREAKOUT! Joy filled me. Like the first rays of dawn. That was HER. S-she was OUT! Free! She DID it! Oh god... oh god she was COMING! It had finally BEGUN!

I caught myself. Barely.

My eyes felt a bit wet so I disguised it with a fake yawn. I dare not show empathy. NEVER show empathy. Keep it guarded like diamonds in your chest. If he thought, for even a moment, that I empathized with anyone but him. CARED about anyone but him? They wouldn't last the hour.

And it would be the longest, cruelest, hour in existence, as they died.

You make that sort of mistake exactly ONCE.

"Ah~ todays a GOOD day. And you know what we should do?" He hummed, nearly a coo as he spun us almost lazily around on his chair. In whimsical circles like a bored child. "We should celebrate. Ding dong, the fuckers dead~ HA HA! Not to mention? It's been entirely too long, pet, since I've spoiled you rotten. We should get a cake, hmm? You want a cake? Lil treat? Sweet lil treat for my girl?"

"I could get you that new dress I've been looking at. Bet you'll look like a classy lil princess, won't that be nice? Can even make it match the trackers I'm finishing up! No more uncomfy collars when we go out! Just pretty lil bracelets, ain't that nice?"

I force myself to smile. Nod. Ignore the fear and anger, the humiliation and helplessness. It's not time yet. Bid your time. You will LOSE your chance for True Freedom if you give in to your anger. Your hurt. Patience, THEN strike. Remember! Chapter two! There are FIVE.

It is COMING.

He stopped spinning, planting his feet on the floor. His manic grin softening. No less unhinged, less full of teeth, but perhaps the closest a man like him could come to loving. His eyes obsessive as the roam my face. Cataloging everything.

"You know, pet? You really might be might greatest creation. Best thing I've ever made or done. Anyone wants you? They'd have to pry you from my cold, dead hands. I'd burn EVERYTHING down. Kill just about EVERYONE." His voice was the sort of whispered confession meant for churches, not the heart of this hell he had built. It felt unholy. Dangerous.

Exactly like him.

"Once I figure how to take humanity to it's next stage? Reverse aging? Heck, even stop it. I promise, pet. Gonna take you with me. You're coming along for the ride. Straight to the end. Heat death of the universe. Well become GODS, pet. Live forever and a day. Bet you can't wait, huh?"

"Don't worry. The futures going be BEAUTIFUL. Just you wait."

[i-cant-sing]

Dabi would punch a kid who was rude to his kid on the playground

Of course 10000% Just because you refuse to be a menace to society like him and will literally be nice to every stranger that comes your way even if they tried to hurt you (because let's be honest, baby reader ain't getting hurt as long as Dabi is around), doesn't mean he's going to shy away from violence, because that is the only language most people understand.

Let's say a kid has been bullying you, and you're such a sweet thing that you didn't even know what "bullying" was, or why that kid was being mean to you, so you never bothered to complain to your father. But then the day you return from school with a small but slightly deep gash on your forehead, Dabi is CONCERNED.

"Baby? Are you okay? What happened?" Dabi asks, picking you up to inspect the gash.

You gave him a toothy grin as he lifted you up, before pecking his nose when he pulled you closer. "Yeah! I fell off the swing!"

"Fell of the swing?"

You nodded, playing with the loose staple on his cheek. "Mmmhmm. I was on the swing and then my friend came and he pushed me too hard and I went flying!"

"And then you hit your head?"

You shook your head. "No, no! I landed on my feet the first time. But then I got back on the swing and he pushed me hard again but I didn't fly this time, I just fell! Then he laughed, and I laughed. Silly me, daddy!"

Pushed two times? Dabi never really believed in coincidences but he didn't wanna beef with some kid until he's sure.

So the next time you go to school/park, Dabi comes along. And when he spots the boy who "pushed you accidentally", he knew instantly the kid was a bully who had no good intentions for you. The moment the kid tried to push you off, Dabi immeadiately caught the swing (and you along with it).

"Y/n? Sweetie, will you go and get the water bottle from bench over there? Good girl." He watched you skip along and just when you were out of earshot, Dabi gave the meanest glare to the bully as he crouched down to his level, holding his arms so he couldn't run away.

"Now, listen here you little shit. That girl is my daughter, and I know what you've been trying to do. Now since I have never introduced myself before, I'm going to be lenient with you." Dabi's hands began to warm up, not enough to burn but enough to cause severe discomfort and make the threat clear. "If you ever hurt Y/n again, if you even think about it, I will know. If you hurt her, I will hurt you more. If she cries, I will make sure you cry harder. If she even has a pebble in her shoe, I will stone you to death. If she's in pain, I promise you- you will fucking regret it. I don't give a single shit if you tell on me- I will hurt everyone you care about too. Do you understand?" The boy with tears in his eyes nodded shakily.

Dabi looked over his shoulder to where you were and saw you struggling to hold the 1L water bottle. Honestly, you looked so cute with your little face puffed up as you used all your might to carry the bottle that was almost your size.

So cute.

He looked back at the kid who was trying to escape Dabi's death grip, but he only patted him on the shoulders before a manic grin appeared on his face.

"Now, its good that we've made things clear. However, you still pushed my daughter and she's got a scar on her forehead. Will it heal? I don't know, but I do know that I need to return the favour. So, hold still. This won't hurt... much? I don't know I've never done this before."

And with that, Dabi singed off the bully's eyebrows, the boy yelping in fear more than in pain.

"An eye for an eye, kid. Remember what I said." Dabi said before turning around and walking to help you.

Natsuo is both in shock and also laughing his ass off once he heard about Dabi burning off a kid's eyebrows off.

[bi-bard]

Family Trip - Rafael Barba Imagine (Law & Order: S.V.U)

Title: Family Trip

Pairing: Rafael Barba X Reader

Word Count: 1,024 words

Warning(s): bad family, bullying, cussing

Summary: (Y/n) just got back from visiting family. However, instead of bringing back funny stories or leftovers from their parents, (Y/n) brings back baggage that no one could see. Baggage that (Y/n) didn't want to acknowledge.

Author's Note: The holidays are rough for a lot of people. If you need a better family for the holidays, then I am happy to be a part of your found family.

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It wasn't meant to be anything more than an off-handed comment.

I knew that.

That didn't stop my brain from going into fight or flight mode when Rafael made said off-handed comment.

In all honesty, I wasn't sure why Rafael was there. We didn't have anything for him to look at or talk about, but he was standing in the middle of our office.

I had started rambling. I had been reading this new book series. It was new and exciting, so I was talking about it. I knew that sometimes my rambling could be a little intense and hard to follow. I knew that. I should've known that.

"My only problem is that I can't seem to find the last book," I explained, probably talking a mile a minute. "It's pretty popular, but I didn't think that meant that I wasn't going to be able to get my hands on a single copy of the thing. I've checked most of the places around me, but there's one shop- it's between my place and this little coffee shop- that might still have a copy-"

"(Y/n), (Y/n)," Rafael smirked as he held his hand up to mimic telling me to slow down. "Take a breath."

My mouth reacted before my brain could stop it, "Jesus fucking Christ."

I shook my head and looked down for a moment.

"Hey, I was just-"

"You should try letting people enjoy things without being treated like shit," I snapped before he could explain himself.

"Excuse me," Rafael asked. The whole team seemed to freeze.

My jaw clenched. I didn't speak.

"Liv," he turned to her. She had stopped when I snapped at him. "Can we use your office?"

"Be my guest," she nodded.

Rafael looked at me again. I sighed, already regretting my choices as I pushed myself out of my seat and toward the office.

He didn't speak up until he had shut the door to the office, "What the hell?"

"I'm sorry," I ran my hands over my face.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on," he asked.

"I... I just got back from visiting my family," I said. I took a deep breath. I was already yelling at myself for how I had reacted and for talking about this whole thing. "They're... They're just a bit difficult. I get a bit... touchy when I visit them."

Rafael's eyebrows were still furrowed.

"They just make a lot of jokes," I tried to shrug it all off. "Quite a few of them are targeted at me. Whether they're just about shit that I've done or how I look or the things that I like or... whatever. I tend to get a bit defensive."

"I... I didn't mean to-"

"I know," I stopped him, forcing a grin. "I'm just overly sensitive. I know that. Can't learn to take a joke."

I felt the tears in my eyes. I tried to figure out how to subtly blink them away. It must've not worked because Rafael stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me as he tried to shush me before I started sobbing. I wrapped my arms around his torso and closed my eyes.

"I don't mean to be invasive, but this doesn't seem like innocent joking," he muttered to me. "If it's this upsetting... (Y/n), this isn't normal."

"I'm the one that's not normal," I stepped back, rolling my eyes. "I... I just can't get my brain to not take it personally. Either I get defensive and overreact or I shut down and that's still overreacting. I just never learned how to take a joke. It's always been that way."

"(Y/n), no."

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"Hey-"

"I have a lot of work to get done," I said. "I'm gonna go clean my face up and get back to it. I'll see you later, Barba."

"Wait-"

"See you later," I repeated before walking out of Liv's office.

I ignored everyone's sad looks. I just continued working. Typing and writing. I answered a call or two. It was the rare occasion where S.V.U didn't feel like it was being left to drown and hopefully take down a few terrible people before we sank completely.

Sonny tried to talk to me a few times. Rollins too. Liv had called me into her office, but I pushed her away. Fin seemed to respect that I needed the space.

I had shut down. I figured it out as soon as I got home. Just like I always had. I had fucked it all up. I thought that I could keep myself together when I was away from my family. That those reactions could just fade away with time. But here I was. Still acting like such a child.

I spent the entire night caught in this cycle of punishing myself. Stuck in my thoughts and insecurities until I finally couldn't force myself to stay awake any longer.

I came back the next day to see something sitting on my desk. It was wrapped in some Christmas wrapping paper. It was just after Thanksgiving. It was probably what was in stock.

"It's from Barba."

I looked at Rollins as she spoke. She had caught me staring at the gift. I furrowed my eyebrows at her. At the idea that Barba felt the need to get me a gift.

"I saw him put it on your desk."

I chuckled.

"Will you open it," she asked. "The curiosity has been killing me."

I scoffed before picking up the gift.

I pulled off the wrapping paper to find a book. On top of the book was a folded piece of paper. I put the paper down on my desk before properly reading the cover of the book. I chuckled.

"What is it?"

"It's the last book in that series that I was talking about," I said, holding it up for her to see. "I... I don't know where he found it."

I grabbed the piece of paper that had been placed on the top.

I grinned a bit at the short note.

You deserve so much better.

Maybe he had a point.

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[unclewaynemunson]

TW for drowning, implied PTSD and lots of thoughts about dying | 3k words | also on ao3

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

One of the very few facts Steve knew about Eddie was that he had never seen the ocean. It was one of the things Eddie had blabbered to him when he was bleeding out in his arms, the regret of a dying boy. Why had he never done it? He could've just driven down the highway, west or east, it didn't even matter, and seen the horizon. Sure, he had seen Lake Michigan a couple of times, where the shore on the other end was too far away to see, but it wasn't the same.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

It had become a symbol of survival for Eddie, at first. A reason to keep going, even when every single fiber of his body was telling him to let go.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

Part of Eddie had been infuriated by how sure of himself Steve had sounded when he said it again, after he survived but when horrors of a whole other kind came on his path; the horrors of being confined to the four walls of a prison cell. It made him all too aware of how different the two of them were: how much Eddie was not the golden boy, but the devil worshiper, the one who could easily be blamed for killing three of his classmates.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

Another part of Eddie had held on to those words like they were a lifeline. That one promise was enough to get him through the roughest days, a reminder of why it was still worth the fight to get out.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

It was the only thought on his mind, repeating again and again and again like a mantra long after he lost count of how many times the waves had closed above his head.

🌊

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

It is the first thought that comes to his mind when he wakes up in a hospital bed, until a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

'What the hell were you thinkin'?'

It doesn't even sound angry.

'Wayne? How'd you get here?'

His head feels all foggy; he doesn't know when he opened his eyes, but he quickly scans the room and concludes that Steve is nowhere to be seen.

'Steve called me. I came over as fast as I could.'

His uncle probably means that literally, judging from the way he looks: he has this drowsy look in his eyes that he always gets after working a double shift, an indication for Eddie that he has made the drive from Hawkins to Pennsylvania in one go without allowing himself any sleep.

'I was hopin' I would never have to see you in a hospital bed again, boy,' Wayne tells him in a soft voice.

The complete lack of anger or blame hurts Eddie worse than if Wayne had started shouting at him. He has to blink rapidly to force his tears away. He wants to say he's sorry, but the words get stuck in his throat. It doesn't feel like enough; those words are so inadequate that it's almost laughable.

'What happened?' Wayne asks him.

Usually, between the two of them, Wayne is the one who struggles with words. Eddie has learned to interpret his uncle's silences as if he were speaking, and he has never had a problem talking for the two of them. But right now, Eddie finds that he cannot explain, that it's impossible to translate his feelings into language. And even though Wayne can listen better than anyone, he has never been trained to listen to silences.

So Eddie merely closes his eyes. He doesn't want his uncle to see his tears. He doesn't know how to tell him about... Well, about everything. About what it's like to think you're going to die.

After everything Wayne has done for him, Eddie has only caused him pain, time and time again. And after they thought it was all over, after they thought it would finally get better, Eddie let him down yet again.

He's so tired that he barely registers the big, calloused hand landing on top of his own. He's already fading back into nothingness. He hears Wayne's voice say something to him, but he can't make out the words, almost like he's going underwater once more.

🌊

It had been good, celebrating his newfound freedom with Steve. Of course it had been good. It wasn't Steve's fault, and it definitely wasn't the fault of the ocean. It was something inside of Eddie, something still so wrong and broken because of all that had happened to him. Something that had started suffocating him from inside ever since he woke up weakened and broken with needles in his arm in a fucking prison cell. As it turned out, a trip to the ocean couldn't magically cure the all-encompassing fear of a death sentence that had nestled itself in Eddie's chest ever since that day. The fear that got months of time to grow and spread like a poison injected into his veins, taking over his whole body and deforming his mind.

It's not like he had a death wish. He was happy to be alive, to be out in the world again, to make something of the life he still had ahead of him. But he needed to actually feel like he was alive again.

After a sleepless night, he wandered outside while Steve was still fast asleep in their hotel room. The beach was still quiet and the early morning sky gray, the sun barely having risen yet.

He found himself at the shoreline before he knew it. The water felt even colder against his skin than the day before, when he had stood in the ocean for the very first time in his life. And it woke him up like nothing else had in months.

The waves were wild, wilder than before. But Eddie could swim, he wasn't afraid. The icy water stung against his skin and he finally felt truly alive again. It was hypnotizing, to see the tall waves coming, to dive into them when they reached him right at their highest point, tasting salt and foam and letting his feet float away from the sand underneath them. There was a sense of liberation in surrendering his body to the powers of nature and let it get pulled in various directions like he was a puppet attached with invisible strings to Neptune or Poseidon or whatever god was ruling these waters.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

He had never experienced before how easy it was to underestimate the force of the waves.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

It was already too late as soon as he realized he lost control.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

He had once heard that drowning was one of the most peaceful deaths out there. He even wrote a song about it, one time. Your lungs fill with water, and then your brain shuts off like you're falling asleep. You drift away, not one concern on your mind. But what he didn't know, was that it took some time for your lungs and your brain to stop fighting that exact process. And what he didn't know, was that the process that came before was not peaceful at all.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

He found himself desperately kicking, wordless screams getting lost in the waves, panic taking over when he could no longer distinguish what was above and what was below and when all he could breathe in was water while all he needed was air.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

He was here, for fuck's sake. He was in the goddamned ocean because he survived and now that very same ocean would be the one to kill him anyway. Maybe he truly wasn't meant to be alive. Maybe fate did exist – or maybe he was just fucking stupid.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

His legs were tired. His arms too. He was freezing cold. His lungs wanted to stop fighting.

When you get out of here, I'll take you to the ocean.

🌊

When he wakes up again, Wayne is still sitting at his bedside. He looks like he hasn't moved at all. Another quick glance around the room tells Eddie that Steve still isn't anywhere, though.

'I didn't mean for this to happen,' he manages to say this time. His voice sounds raspy and weak, not at all like his own.

Wayne looks at him for a long couple of seconds.

'You didn't mean to drown, or you didn't mean to wake up again?'

His words make Eddie flinch. He should've known that Wayne wouldn't beat around the bush.

'I didn't want to die, Wayne, I swear,' he rushes to say. 'Saying I'm sorry does not even begin to cover it. I was – I don't know how to explain it. I wanted to feel free. It was goddamn stupid.' Those fucking tears already start filling up his eyes again.

Wayne sighs. He has this faraway look on his face that already gives Eddie an idea of what he's about to talk about.

'After Nam,' he starts, 'I'd do all kinds of reckless shit. I was causin' just as much trouble as your dad, stealin' cars, drinkin' myself near death every other night, gettin' into fights in the wrong parts of town... I just needed to feel somethin' again. It was like... Like everything was numb. Like the most important part of me had died with my buddies in the jungle.' He sighs. 'But that's no way to live; I found out about that the day you was born. As soon as I held you in my arms, I understood what life was about again.'

A long silence stretches out between the two of them.

'Are you telling me to get someone pregnant, Uncle Wayne? Cause you know that that's never gonna happen, right?'

Wayne's laughter finally drives some of the heaviness out of Eddie's chest – and promptly, Eddie understands exactly what his uncle meant to tell him.

'I'm just glad you're still here, Ed,' Wayne says. 'Just... Make sure to stay here, alright?'

Eddie nods.

'I love you, Uncle Wayne,' he says. Contrary to many other men, that's never been something he's had difficulty saying. But ever since prison he has started to do it more consciously.

Wayne, on the other hand, doesn't say those words often. He saves them for big moments, like when Eddie came out to him, or the first time they saw each other after Eddie woke up in that prison cell with stitches keeping his organs inside his body. But over the years, Eddie has learned to listen to his uncle's nonverbal I love you's as well, so he hears him loud and clear when Wayne stretches out his arm to squeeze Eddie's shoulder lightly.

A doctor comes in to give him a final check-up. She seems happy with Eddie's progress, emphasizes how lucky he is to be here and answers the big question that he hasn't gotten to ask yet.

'Someone saw you from the beach and dove after you right away. You're lucky they knew how to handle a situation like that. It seems like your vital organs are working properly again, so I want to give you a final lung scan in a few hours to make sure that there aren't any lasting injuries, and then you'll be free to go.'

'Where's Steve?'

It's the question Eddie has been waiting to ask ever since he woke up. He finally asks it the moment the doctor closes the door behind her.

Wayne sighs a heavy sigh; it's enough to tell Eddie something isn't right.

'He got real spooked by your stunt, Ed,' he says.

'Did he leave?!' It sounds way more panicked than Eddie would want it to; but the idea of Steve just leaving him alone in the hospital makes him nauseous. He thought... Well, it doesn't matter what he thought. He must've been wrong about it.

'He didn't go back to Hawkins,' Wayne tells him in a reassuring voice. 'But he needed to get away from here – and I don't really blame him for that. He's the one who found you.'

Eddie feels his mouth fall open.

'You gave him a real big scare, boy. Give him some time, alright?'

He lets his head fall back onto the pillow and closes his eyes; not because he's tired, but because he doesn't want Wayne to witness any more of his tears.

🌊

After some more rest and a positive outcome on his lung scan, Uncle Wayne drives Eddie back to the hotel. Despite Wayne's objections ('I can sleep in my car just fine, boy') Eddie books him a night in one of the nicest available rooms.

'Look, man, they gave me this money to say “sorry we took four months of your life and wanted to take another fifty years and kill you” so I might as well spend it on some nice shit,' he tells Wayne. 'You can either complain about it or enjoy it, 'cause no way I'm letting you sleep in your car after you drove all the way out here only because I made a total fucking mess of things once again.'

Wayne sighs. 'Alright, message received,' he says. 'But just so ya know: I'm always gonna drive anywhere for you, no matter how often you make a mess of things.'

Eddie wants to answer with something silly and self-deprecating, but when he sees the earnest look in Wayne's eyes, he swallows his words and instead gives him a hug.

🌊

He opens the door to the hotel room he had been sharing with Steve, already mentally preparing himself for waiting God knows how many hours until his roommate will come back – but he freezes in the doorway when he finds Steve already there, sitting on the bed with a pillow against his back and a magazine in his hands.

He looks up and closes his magazine, his eyes wandering over Eddie's face with an almost investigative gaze.

'You're back,' he flatly establishes.

Eddie lets the door fall closed behind him and nods.

'I'm sorry,' he blurts out.

Seconds tick by, but Steve doesn't say anything; he only keeps looking at Eddie, his face unreadable.

'Thank you,' Eddie finally says. 'For getting Wayne here, and for – well, for saving my ass. Again.'

Steve lets the magazine fall on the nightstand next to him, freeing his hands to wipe them over his face and through his hair.

'Well, um... I didn't know if you even wanted me to save your ass in the first place.'

Eddie nods, not really knowing what to say.

'Steve –'

'Do you want to die?' It sounds more scared than accusatory.

'No!' Eddie immediately says.

'Then why did you –'

Eddie waits for him to finish his question, but he doesn't; he only averts his gaze and pinches the bridge of his nose.

'I wasn't thinking. It was an accident, Steve. I swear. A dumb, stupid fucking accident.'

'Do you have any idea what it was like?' Steve says when he looks up again, with a tremble in his voice. 'To wake up to an empty bed, no note, nothing. I just – I just randomly walked to the beach, man, and I saw –' He abruptly cuts himself off again, overcome by emotion.

Eddie takes a hesitating step towards him.

'I really am sorry, Steve,' he says, but all possible words feel utterly lacking. 'I never meant for any of this to happen. I just felt... I felt so suffocated. I already felt like I was drowning, every goddamn day since I woke up in jail. It didn't change when I got out, and it didn't change when we got here, and I just needed to feel free, for once. I'm grateful that you took me here, but...' He sighs. 'I still was taken somewhere, you know? I still didn't feel truly free. I can't really explain it, I know it's fucked... But my whole mind is kinda fucked, y'know?'

Steve nods. When Eddie takes another step towards him, he notices the way his lip is trembling and the tears in his eyes.

'I couldn't bear the thought of living without you,' Steve says in a choked voice.

Eddie sits down on the mattress, right next to Steve, grabbing both his hands without even really thinking about it.

'You won't have to,' he tells him. 'I'm here.'

Steve shuffles on the bed, wraps his arms tightly around Eddie, and pulls him into a warm but bone-crushing embrace. His whole body is shaking and Eddie can hear the quiet sounds of suppressed sobs right next to his ear, where Steve's head is buried in the crook of his neck.

'Oh, Steve,' he whispers. 'I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm here.' He keeps repeating apologies and reassurances while combing his fingers through Steve's hair until Steve finally calms down and manages to take a deep, shuddering breath.

'I can't lose you,' he says, in a soft, hoarse voice that sounds so broken that it pains Eddie to hear it.

'You won't,' Eddie whispers back at him.

Steve lifts his head, but keeps his arms tightly wrapped around Eddie.

'When you were in jail,' he says, 'I was so scared I was gonna lose you. It didn't make sense, because we barely even knew each other at the time... But I had already almost seen you die and I – I knew I couldn't go through that again.'

They've never really talked about all the support Steve had given Eddie while he was on trial: about how he kept showing up at the prison any time he could, how he called Eddie as much as possible, how he made his parents hire some fancy lawyer for him... Nor have they ever talked about how much Steve kept showing up for him after he got out, always worrying, always checking in on how he was doing. They never addressed their sudden closeness, not even when they went on this trip to the ocean together, spending every minute of every day in each other's presence, even sharing the same bed every night.

Eddie realizes how much is still unsaid between them. But Steve has seen Eddie at his lowest, and Eddie supposes that right now, he can say the same thing about Steve. So he merely squeezes him back and presses a kiss against his temple.

He knows they'll have to talk about a lot of things. But for now, the look in Steve's eyes when he finds Eddie's gaze, is telling him everything he needs to know.

[initiumseries]

Hi,

I searched your blog but didn’t see anything, not sure if I’m using the wrong keywords.

I’m watching Angel for the first time and I’m wondering what your takes were on Spike being a champion and the whole Nina/Angel relationship.

Thanks for looking! I haven't talked too much about s5 because usually on a rewatch I'm sick of the show by season 3, but I've contemplated skipping s4 entirely or just watching episodes and then jumping to s5 to refresh me. But anyway, I never really had strong opinions about Nina and Angel. I think at most, I was glad we were finally no longer acting like sex was off the table for Angel, because it never was. Sex with Buffy is off the table and that's because, well, true love. So with Nina came the acknowledgment that there was not the same kind of feelings there and that was fine. Especially after the whole horrible Cordelia thing, it was a breath of fresh air at the time. I don't know if I'll still feel that way now, but I did at the time.

As for the Spike thing...well...hmm. Lol. I don't believe Spike earned his position as a Champion. I think that they made Spike a poor man's Angel and I think his character deserved better than that. Angel's soul was thrust upon him, sure, but he rose to the occasion when called. Spike, did not. Spike lamented his circumstances despite doing it to himself. He whined and self pitied and then was used against the side of good to kill potentials for the first because he was so weak willed. I don't think he did a single think in s7 BTVS to deserve being a champion other than sacrificing himself, which, honestly, isn't enough, because again, he didn't do that to save the world, he did that to save Buffy. Spike's motivations for being "good" have always been either, because he still got to kill (when he had the chip), and then eventually because it got him closer to Buffy. In Angel, s1-3, Angel is put through hell because he is still atoning, but Spike...just gets to be a Champion now? Lmao. He doesn't earn it, and it's insulting honestly. But I think shows struggle with characters changing while still maintaining their core personalities, because it requires a longterm goal and plan.

Consider Zuko's redemption arc. It's probably the best redemption arc ever done on television. But it's because from the very beginning, Zuko was not irredeemable. He struggled, but he received love, he was forced into situations that exposed him to the violence of the fire nation, and ended up on the receiving end of that brutality. He was stripped of his royal status and had to interact with every day people, seeing the scars of war. It fundamentally changed him as a person. And even then, when the time comes for him to make a big choice, he makes the wrong one. He chooses his home, his sister, his previous life, and Aang nearly dies for it. But he had idealized the palace, and when he returns, and his uncle refuses to speak to him, he feels shame and regret. He realizes he isn't the same person he was when he left. He finally makes the right choice, and seeks out the Gaang, and they don't accept him easily. When they do, it's because Zuko *acknowledges* how he hurt them and how he plans on doing better. And even after ALL that, he still has to win over Katara.

But Spike? Lmao. Spike gets a chip in his head - which on its own is hilarious and fun - but becomes exhausting after a while. He doesn't spend more time around the scoobies and begin to see value in what the scoobies are fighting for. He doesn't begin to realize all the fear and harm and damage demons do to humans. He doesn't even actually save anybody, he just kills demons because it's the only people he can kill. He creates the buffybot out of his obsession with Buffy, and she rewards him for it. He doesn't go out and save people on his own, he kills demons on his own. He doesn't begin a path to redemption and keep trying to do right. He manipulates Buffy into spending time together "fighting evil" to expose Riley and stands outside her house so long he leaves piles of cigarettes. When he keeps Joyce and Dawn safe, it's to impress Buffy. It's not really about Joyce and Dawn. Sure, he likes them, but if they weren't an extension of Buffy, he wouldn't care about them nearly as much. He has no path to redemption, no reckoning with who he used to be, no guilt even. With a soul he mocks Robin, and wears his dead mother's jacket. Angel was ANGUISHED over what he'd done before. Spike tries to rape Buffy, then gets a soul to punish her. He never truly apologizes or is forced to confront what he did to Buffy. The scoobies aren't even allowed to be mad at him over it, much less make him work for their forgiveness. Buffy just lets it all slide. Then he self immolates and he's a champion? Where's the path to goodness? Where's the redemption? Where's the amends? Angel has an entire episode dedicated to making amends. Spike? Lol.

So all that to say, I don't think him becoming a Champion is any more earned or deserved than I think it made sense for Cordelia to suddenly take Buffy's place cuz she got visions.

[crying-fantasies]

No woman, no cry

Masterlist

Many of the stories I do have a specific song that is the base, the bone and the heart of the whole work.

Personally, I feel this song, and any version of the same, to be the goodbye message for a loved one made by the person that is going away, be it for any personal reason or because they are never coming back, trying to comfort the people they are leaving behind, in case of the original one made by Bob Marley a man that is saying goodbye to his little sister, as the "woman, little sister", meaning him, the man of the house, has to go away, "but while I'm gone, everything is going to be alright" and the younger sister now has to grown up, she has to be the new head of the family, be the woman that guides the family, while he reassures her that "everything is going to be alright" over and over, going straight to the "in this great future, you can't forget your past" in how the man wants his dear sister to still be herself and be her best version too, don't forget him, but don't linger in him, the sadness will pass, and she'll be okay.

Now, I'm not exactly a MCU fan, but the version of the trailer for Black Panther 2 and the movie itself destroyed my soul and heart in the most bizarre and beautiful way, and once again you all don't have to like what I do, and that's okay, The Tems version has it's own beauty, giving off vibes of a mother calling for his beloved partner and her children, at least that's how I always felt about that version, but that trailer with the two cents of KL and his "Do you hear me? Do you feel me? We're gonna be alright" in such desperate way.

Maybe that's why I liked this song for Roddy's story, I feel terrible for what I made him go through, maybe I'll always be, but given how things go in that universe and that roulette page on Google where I put it up for destiny's picking who's SO was going to die, well, I was flabbergasted when the first one resulted being Rodimus, I was like: "no me jodas, este man no tiene respiro ni en el fanfiction" but remembering how I wanted to be fair, I went with it, making one of the most sad stories I've done so far.

I feel for Roddy and his little family, he is the epitome of trophy husband if you ask me, and also the type of "he is your husband but also your kid", and given the circumstances, this song goes well with Roddy.

He gets married young, in cybertronian perspective at least, and he chooses someone everyone else asked him: "are you sure? Like, really sure?" Not because of thinking it was bad, but because they were worried for him, by that time the fact that sparks prolonged a human average lifetime for hundreds of years by different bonds (in this reality the Amica endurae and the conjunx endurae rites have this effect in organics), so Rodimus, while being a anxious ball in the inside, said proudly "of course I do!"

Rodimus, being married young, is also a young father, and in the meantime has everyone expecting him to take his title of Prime back and stop wandering in deep space, be a good creator and leader and settle down finally to do things right, he doesn't listen, and ends up going to a dangerous place that destroyed his life.

Rodimus, a young widow and single creator to a new spark that still needs his carrier, has little to no time to mourn before Cybertron is about to fall in another war and the integrity of his only family alive is in danger, full of sorrow and anger he does something he regrets even now, making his legacy as Prime as one deeply criticized and loved in equal parts, stripping Earth, the thirteenth's, Optimus' colony of all the advantages the former Prime gave to the humans, leaving them to take care for their own problems and their own fights, humanity suffers for it, of course, but while he didn't have any hatred to humanity before the incident he now has it as humans of the Lost Light were found in labs on Earth, obviously long deceased, their own people cutting them to pieces in order to know why they didn't have any negative reaction to energon or the natural radiation cybertronians have.

The fact that he left Earth, his conjunx's planet, to the mercy of other organic aliens after humanity tried to conquer and ended up being conquered, is something that haunts him but not something he is exactly judged for as the "they had it coming" comes from mechs and femmes, Rodimus ends up asking for help to the newly recovered Optimus Prime to help Earth once again, and he does, Earth is saved, but still not learning their lesson.

He made mistakes out of anger, out of his own misery, like he did before, but this time, I wanted him to have an ounce of love his beloved would have given him if only in memories, "everything is going to be alright" you would say, comforting him "while I'm gone, everything is going to be alright", as he tries to feel that little fragment of what could be your heart, you soul, something that he could relate to a spark he just swears is still deep in his own, "do you feel me?" the fragment of your soul would call, "do you hear me?" and his spark tries to spin in the same wave as yours shine just enough to find him, trying to answer back desperately, yes, yes I do, "we're gonna be alright" and all he can do is hug Sunset near just knowing his bitlet is soon gonna be a big mech in no time, he wants to cherish the feeling of his little helm above his spark chamber, repeating your words, data banks providing with the recording of your heartbeat, the way your breathing would rouse his armor, how your body is pressed against him, giving himself comfort to go on another day.

[ask-experiment-1006-theprototype]

prototype let me tell you about other universes of you some are more reasonable than others with one on the Hour of joy made sure to only kill the guilty and Spared the rest, while another one has killed everyone including the toys just for the sake of it and others have done similar things and some don’t like violence some are the most evil creatures that ever existed and others are Saints who have done no wrong. so I ask you were do you stand on the line ?

are you evil? or are you good? Maybe some kind of neutral zone?

"...I...see. So that is why so many assume the worse of me in particular."

He looked off to the side, raising a single primary hand near his chest as his fingers slightly tense. He thought about their question. Truthfully he thought he had made it clear that he wasn't evil, that he was in fact trying to save everyone here and help others. But clearly he hasn't. He knows he has done terrible things in the past, deeds that he still regrets to this day. Things that, no matter how hard he tries, he can't make up for. Apologies can only go so far and the marks left on those involved are permanent. In more ways than one.

There is a reason why he decided to isolate himself from the others. Only communicating to those he trusts and knows don't fear him through the shadows and within his own domain. He doesn't want to hurt them further than they already are. But unfortunately sometimes him doing nothing does just that. This is especially true regarding Catnap's recent behavior.

Despite the things he has done however, he is indeed trying to be good, trying to do good, trying to undo the damage the scientists have done and to allow all of them to be free and live happy lives.

He looks towards the stranger once more.

"I would say I'm good. Considering all I've done to help the others. I don't understand how one could want to add more cruelty to the lives of those who have suffered so much at the hands of true monsters. It's sickening to think that one in my position would want to add to their pain."

His tone darkened at the end of his statement.

[scatterbrainedart]

The Frankenstein musical is a really good adaptation of the book and I adore it.

Firstly, bangers. Not a single bad song on there. Secondly, it's very loyal to the original story while taking a couple liberties that generally serve a very good and understandable purpose.

For example, the writing for Victor's creation. Instead of strangling his victims while lashing out, his more common method is embracing them. To me, book!creature is very much like an oversized, inhumanly strong toddler that raised itself. Therefore, he doesn't know how to regulate his emotions at all. Much like an abandoned toddler throwing a tantrum, he hurts people and causes a ruckus so Victor will notice him and meet his needs. They emphasises this a lot in the musical, partially by feeding into the father-son connection of him and Victor and partially by showing more of the creature's emotional state and reasoning for a larger portion of the story.

They still show him as intelligent, which a lot of adaptations seem to completely skip out on. They also emphasise how utterly lonely he is. These are all things that are the same in the book, but are emphasized by subtle changes like the strangling hugs and makes the creature an even more tragic character than he already is.

But then there's The Modern Prometheus. Despite literally being directly named after the novel, it's by far the least book-accurate song of all in my opinion. At least where it's placed. I mean, book!Frankenstein was NOT in that mindspace when he created the creature's bride. He had abandoned science and was doing what he was doing purely out of peer pressure and was considerably zoned out the entire time, trying not to think about what he was doing. Meanwhile musical!Frankenstein was having a whole mad scientist reprise moment, even going so far as to DEFEND HIMSELF when Cherval confronted him.

Okay. Alright. First off, book!Frankenstein would never in a million years defend the creation of the creature after it was actually made. That's the biggest mistake of his life, and he literally spends the entirely of the rest of the book in regret, shame and guilt because of it. Sure, he'd probably explain that he didn't have much of a choice and that he had to make another one to neutralise the first one, but not like that. Not as if he still thought that was by any means a good idea still. Do I get why they wrote it like that? Yes. It makes for a far better climax with much more hyped drama. Mad scientist reprise calls for far more catchy tunes than guilty man working away in a complete dissociative haze. Plus, the song is a straight banger, and that automatically overwrites any problems I originally had with it.

Though. It does annoy me how so many adaptations of the book tends to have someone find out about the creature. Again, I get it, the drama. But the guilt and shame that weighs on Victor for keeping that secret is literally, like, 95% of the whole book. And that all kinda falls apart if people know about it, I feel. And again, it also falls kinda flat if he has that second mad scientist moment later on in the story, as it just... makes all of that previous guilt undone. Although, it also feeds more into the story's theme of hubris. It failed once but he WILL make it work. But yeah, especially the bit with Henry annoys me. Book!Henry had nothing to do with the creature, which is part to why his death hit so hard. He was killed in retaliation, in one of the creature's tantrums. He had just been robbed of his one chance of companionship, and to hit back he decided to rob Victor of his most dearest friend.

Henry Cherval my beloved, my dear, my darling boy. He is always done so dirty. The whole purpose Victor's friend and family play in the story is that they're perfect. He grew up in outmost comfort, outmost love, only to be ripped off it. His loved ones didn't serve to interfere with his plans or the plot. Never once did they tell him what to do. They tried his best to console him and continued to show him the beauty in the world in the midst of his depression. They continued to care for him through it all, and the only reason their consolation didn't work was because Victor knew he had doomed them all.

To me, one of the book's main themes is how beautiful life is. It's a fragile thing, yet an untamed force which he tries to tame. Victor Frankenstein, in both book and musical, creates the creature in hopes of finding a way to cure death simply because life is such a beautiful thing and he wants it to go on forever, for everyone he loves. He wants to build a world that never has to end, because he adores it. It's a tragedy, but after reading it you don't come out wanting to die. You come out of it wanting to live. A character losing something or someone only hurts if they have something to lose, and Victor has everything. And then he has nothing. He has a few months of obsession that results into one moment of hubris which cost him everything.

Although. Literally all of that could have been avoided had he just patented the thing but yknow. He did not. Anyway, what was this about? Oh yeah, the musical.

So yeah. The Modern Prometheus? Banger, but so far from the actual story. Which I think the musical can get away with. As a treat. For again, it is a banger.

May I also just add how absolutely stellar of a performance whoever has the role of the creation?? Gosh, it's so good. It's so much how I picture him. My favourite part of the musical is definitely the creature, had you not guessed already. Both the writing and the performance. An Angel's embrace also feels very true to canon for both characters I feel. I care about that song a lot, actually.

The ending is also slightly different, in how it again emphasizes Victor and his creature's father-son connection. And honestly? I'm all for it. I'm a sucker for family dynamics, so I love that they really kept with that interpretation of the story. Also, the parallels between Victor saying goodbye to a dead Elizabeth and the creature saying goodbye to a dead Victor fucking gets me. It's so good.

So, final thoughts? Very good. Most changes tend to serve the story by emphasising certain parts that might be harder to explain in the medium it is in, and I understand the reduction of certain plot points for the sake of time. I'm glad they didn't try to make it as much of a horror thing as most adaptations do. Because yes, I bet it was absolutely horrific for Victor, but we're not looking at the story through his scared eyes. He is telling the story as a cautionary tale. There is no fear left in that man, only sorrow, anger, regret and guilt. And the musical keeps those vibes. It's a tragedy, it's a warning, and it's sci-fi for goodness sake.

Good family dynamics, good creative decisions about what to emphasize, and overall very loyal to the book.

[zargontari]

I regret to inform you..

I regret t←..

I am sorry to report that←

I am sor←

Tap, tap, tap.

It is with a heavy heart that I write you this message. I'm sure that you knew that Miranda was doing a lot without your knowledge.

Tap. Tap.

I'm sorry. It was my fault.

I'm sorry. It wa←

"What are you doing?"

The holo almost hits the ground as Francis jerks away from the table, slamming his knee against the leg in the rush to turn around. He relaxes only slightly as he watches Garrus take a step away, his hands raised and a gentle expression on his face. Francis runs a hand down his own face miserably. "Drafting a letter to Miranda's sister. She deserves to know what happened."

"Oriana, right?" Garrus asks, coming to stand behind the desk. He leans against Francis' chair, causing the fiber lining to stretch with a quiet creak of complaint. His other hand manipulates the false screen, bringing back the draft, which had automatically hidden whenever the table had been jostled. "Her sister died a hero. She should be proud."

He allows himself a dark look at the turian, who isn't looking at him. Garrus' keel, bare and unarmored, reflects the soft light from the holo. He seems so much more fragile like this. Francis rubs his wrist with one hand, pressing his thumb into his skin until the drag feels like it should be painful. It's almost comforting. They're all fragile, except for him. "I doubt pride will be the first thing on her mind," he eventually says. "Dead heroes are still dead. And it was pyrrhic at best."

How many people had been at Sanctuary? Enough that there hadn't been enough space for them. They'd been cleaning out storage rooms to put people in, according to the audio logs. They were having trouble feeding everyone. They were keeping the families together. Hundreds of children, refugees of war, with no parents left to care for them, thrust into the hands of strangers who promised to save them.

Not a single person had made it out. Cerberus damned everything they touched. Humanity ruined more than it saved.

He drops his head into his hands, resting on the table, and sighs. What an awful, horrible thought. He feels the rustle of his shirt as it's disturbed more than he feels Garrus rest a three-fingered hand on his back. "It's because you're a turian," he finally manages to say into the table. "You're— Sacrifice matters so much more to you guys. How you die is almost more important than how you lived. How can you think like that?" It's probably insensitive to say. To think.

Some of the husks had been so, so small. Cerberus wanted to do that to more people. They had sounded like children. Miranda died so that no one else would die like that. They're still dead. She's still dead.

"It helps," Garrus says, like it pains him. Francis wants to curl away from the words, but he stays still, allows himself the feeling of warmth against his spine. "When your society is structured around war, people die. A lot of them. It has to mean something, or none of it means anything. You know?"

"I didn't even like her." It doesn't fit in the conversation, but it has to go somewhere. "We argued all the time. We couldn't agree on anything." Miranda had been his opposite in most ways, and it hadn't been complimentary. Had been. Was. Past tense. He had held her hand as she died, and it was the first time in years that there had been a body, and damn him, he'd thought, this is the part where you come back. Where you get up. Where you don't leave me here like this.

She'd died just like any other person, despite everything that had been done to make her extraordinary. If it had been a story, maybe there would have been something to that; some deeper meaning, or a metaphor. There is no story here. No metaphor. Just a person who was alive one second and dead the next.

The ache doesn't fade. His heart beats as if it's trying to kill him with the force of it.

"Just because you didn't like her doesn't mean you wanted her dead," Garrus says, quietly, like he isn't sure how to respond. Francis looks up, then, and meets his eyes. Garrus isn't looking away this time. The scars on his face and his neck stand out against his otherwise light coloring, like proof of his mortality. He remembers blue blood on his hands; a body in his arms, breathing in the way that the nearly dead do, and suddenly it is hard to inhale.

"Then why does it feel like I killed her?" Francis asks, and is chest is tight and his lungs feel as though they'll crumble under the pressure of his breathing. "If I'd gone sooner, or— I could have insisted on going with her, instead of letting her go alone. She said she could handle it. That she *was* handling it."

He should have known. Nothing's ever handled if I'm not there. It's a bitter thought, and it tastes sour on his tongue. He keeps it there. Silent. Unsaid. No one can save themselves if I'm not pulling them out of the fire.

[asachuu]

Paul "I'm not going outside for 6 years bc my partner is the only one i want to see" Verlaine doesn't actually grieve his partner trust me guys asachuu said so

Paul "I'm so sorry rimbaud now that you're gone I'm so terribly sad" Verlaine

my brother in christ asachuu can you actually read!!!!

-rimbaudthursday (sadly still blocked :( )

Um…anon…? I’ll scratch this up to an honest mistake, but…

You are aware that in the very same sentence I do acknowledge his grief post-epilogue, plus that is something I’ve never denied once, I’ve spoken about it multiple times as well, right?

Also, you are aware that I’m talking about every single thing happening pre-epilogue, in which— I’m not sure if we’ve read the same novel, but I’d like to sincerely believe you’ve accidentally skipped over what I quite obviously meant and downright said— Paul explicitly states himself that he hated Arthur, which is then further told to us on multiple occasions, and thanked Chuuya for bringing upon Arthur’s death, all which happened following his betrayal and Arthur’s “first” death…right?

To put it very simply:

Yes, Paul does indeed grieve his partner very deeply, regretting his actions more than anything, AFTER THE EPILOGUE OF STORMBRINGER.

BEFORE THE EPILOGUE OF STORMBRINGER, he does not— in fact, he does the exact opposite, expresses his disdain for Arthur in both words and actions many times, and this is what I’m referring to back in that post— I have absolutely no reason to be talking about Paul’s feelings at the very end when it’s absolutely irrelevant to covering his entire past with Arthur, in which it could not be made more clear those are not his feelings yet.

Additionally, on the chance you’re trying to make an argument of Paul carrying the grief with him up until the epilogue in which it’s made clear even to the audience— I don’t know if this is your opinion, of course, but I’ll say it regardless, just in case that’s what you were aiming at— you wouldn’t believe me saying this, but there is, canonically, at least some hesitation and grief in Paul’s mind shown to us right before he pulls the trigger on Arthur, but that’s where it ends for the time being, until the epilogue. Whether or not Paul somehow “secretly carried it around”, which…I can’t say I haven’t seen people claim already, would not only be downright impossible to tell with his constant reminders that yes, he did, in fact, hate Arthur, but also, it would change absolutely nothing about his behavior if it clearly had no influence on it— before the epilogue, I’ll remind you— when he still betrayed his partner, still expressed his joy over Arthur’s death, still spoke harshly of him on multiple occasions throughout the entirety of Stormbringer and still was the reason his late partner died sincerely believing he was never doing enough for Paul and he was the one in the wrong the whole time, among other ways he behaved extremely coldly towards Arthur that render any potential hidden guilt in his heart completely irrelevant, because none of it softened, let alone prevented a single thing he’d ever done.

Now, anon, I very much don’t find any use in being rude to anyone, but I do have to say, since you’ve been so kind and sweet to me first— and please take this in the most neutral, non-personal way you can— before you question whether I can read or not, in the case this wasn’t a simple, innocent mistake of yours at all, could you please find out the answer to this question about yourself first? While I will gladly explain what I’m talking about to you if you need more clarification on it, albeit I would be much happier to do so for a polite request rather than anything you’ve sent me so far, if you’ll deliberately ignore half of my words in the exact same sentence you must have read to even come up with this, I won’t be able to try to correct or explain it to you even if I do so fifty times, because you could easily just cherry-pick whatever you want to read yourself out of my words while discarding the whole rest again.

Nevertheless, with all that being said…to answer your question properly, yes, I believe I am able to read, thank you very much for asking. 💕

[abysscronica]

She-Hulk gotta be the worst Marvel series yet.

I just watched the last two episodes (after I seriously considered dropping the series altogether, and I endured all the Marvel series so far, Disney+ and Netflix). Now I'm like... what was that? Seriously, what do the writers think they were doing here? Something original? Something funny? A comedy series with a tad of legal drama and a sprinkle of extremely serious issues that are just dropped there, with no depth or weight whatsoever?

This show was such a mess that I don't even know where to start. I'm sure there are tons of people who tackled its problems much better than I ever could. Starting with the obtuse, cringe, appalling attempt at what they call feminism (??) scattered here and there, to the use of revenge porn; let me say it again so it sinks, they dared to throw in revenge porn and then just, you know, forgot about it. Am I stupid to think that a shallow, dull comedy show should never touch serious issues when it's obviously unable to handle them?

Even without this problematic aspects, there's not much salvageable in this series. The whole fourth wall thing was executed so bad it turned out embarrassing to watch. I guess Jennifer was supposed to come off as relatable for single women in their thirties? Instead they just made her a no-pride-desperate-for-a-relationship character? Way to spit on your pathetic attempt at feminism there. The rest of the characters are just flat caricatures that nobody cares about. They have no purpose and add nothing to the plot (what plot anyway?). Nikki, Titania, Pug, Amelia, you could literally write off any of them and nobody would notice. I will forget them in a day (had to google the cast to list them). And the writers were aware of this! They had to use the fourth wall breaking at least twice to remind the viewers who a character was! Like, hello? You're doing something wrong here? And this is a pity because it's not the actors' fault. Tatiana Maslany seems like a decent actress, but she was given such a bad script that it was impossible to shine through in any way. Want a proof? Charlie Cox, aka Daredevil. As I started watching the seventh episode I thought "okay, at least this series has the merit of bringing Matt Murdock back". Boy, did I regret it when I saw what terrible lines they shoved onto him. This coming to a fan of the character, the actor and the original series. I was super excited when I saw his cameo in the latest Spiderman installment. I'm still happy that he appeared in She-Hulk because I take it as a sign that the MCU is not abandoning nor recasting Daredevil (whereas we see no life signs for Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Iron Fist or The Punisher at the moment), but I'm a little disgusted with the way they violated the character in this series. I get it, Daredevil/Matt Murdock, with his grit, darkness and complex introspection is not exactly Disney material and it doesn't go well with the happy-go-lucky MCU vibe. But damn, I thought we were moving forward! I'm sure you can still keep the character without tearing apart all the great work that was done in the Netflix series. Or maybe not? Whatever, I'll think about it, now I'm too grossed out.

(Before anyone comes at me saying how shitty the various Netflix series were: I only save Daredevil and the first season of Jessica Jones. BUT you have to admit that the casting for Luke Cage and The Punisher was great as well, those actors deserve a place in the MCU in my opinion.)

[dukeoftheblackstar]

x

Never one to faff about whose fault it is when arguments arise because it's silly. It's stupid. It's pointless. I get snappy only because anger does not rule in my galaxy. I can't. I can't handle anger because I'm scared. Scared of ending up with words I'd regret even after you've moved. Words that will haunt me because I know those same words would sting if I hear them.

So I cry. I don't talk.

But if you be out there breaking things and you scare the goddamn cat I will fight you. I will scream. I swear to god, I will break every single instrument in this house and electrocute you with it.

If you scare the cat too much that he hides and you direct your anger at him, I will burn you. Set you on fire. I will seriously yank every single cable on that fortress I made for you and watch everything topple so you could hurt. Yes, I will hurt you. I will hurt you if you hurt my son. I will burn you to the fucking ground and make sure you taste every ounce of venom I possess.

So please. Please stop scaring the cat so I don't have to kill you.

But you. Gods you. You let anger fester so deep in you for decades, it consumes you. It consumes you through music and that's great. Rage on. Shreds to your heart's content and I'll still be there at gigs and rehearsals. Recording. Watching. Listening. Supporting. I'll be there with my phone on with 12983912381 pictures of you and your band. Stand awkwardly in a moshpit scared for my fucking life because I do not fancy being pushed or the concept of getting hurt? No, no. But there I always am.

You're such an angry man. Such an angry man all the goddamn time. And sometimes. Just sometimes. I want to punch you in the face and set you on fire. Watch you burn so you'd actually calm tf and ask me for water. Ask me to make you un-mad because that be me right? I'm the one who doesn't get mad. The one who doesn't cuss you or call you names like your ex. I'm the one who took you out of your fucking 11-years of not being allowed to attend gigs and put you back on the stage.

I'm not throwing this at your face, but I brought you back like I promised. You wanted a new King V, I got you a King V. You wanted a new pedal? Bitch, I got you that fucking pedal. You needed a drummer, I got you a fucking band, you dick. You wanna chill with the babes during gigs, by all means. Let's talk about how hot they are, I'm game. Tell me your darkest fantasies and I'll make top that shit with how filthy I can be.

You wanted to blow money every other weekend to travel and get drunk with your bandmates who live 2 hours away? Done. You wanted to get shit-faced with the boys? Ya girl's here waiting. I'll make sure you get proper rest after and soup for breakfast. Wipe you, wake you, make you drink water and shit so you don't get that morning hangover amidst being pushed away and being yelled at because I wouldn't let you sleep? No biggie.

You wanted a new phone, you got it. Not touchy? It's fine. I'll hold. Not kissy? Fine. I'll fucking hold and kms over it. Not cuddle. K, idgaf anymore tbh. You wanna meet with this chic you said was cute when you were drunk and asked if we could do a threesome? Fine.

The hurt tho, babe. The hurt. Like it's not good angst, but I'm here tho, right? I'm in this house of sin we built because I write filth and you sing death. And the middle ground is the cat. The prefect cat. The cat that doesn't let the doors close so we're lost to our own devices. The cat who wakes us up an hour before our shift. The cat that waits by the door when we leave.

All I ever asked was to keep the door closed. Keep the fucking door closed. Not that hard right? Not hard to close the fucking door so the cat doesn't go out.

He doesn't know how to get home. I don't even know if he knows how to get down or walk up the stairs. Probably doesn't even know how to defend himself. Probably would just climb onto someone who picks him up out the street. Probably get chased by a stray dog and go even farther from where I can find him. Probably get hungry. Drink dirty water and get sick.

He's so fucking sheltered because he's my goddamn son. I wipe his feetsies each time he uses the litter box. Add balm so they don't dry up. I brush his fur every fucking day. TWICE. Doesn't let him walk on the ground unless it's the house flooring.

All I ever asked. All I fucking ever asked. Was to close the goddamn door. Close. The. Door.

And now he's out there. God knows where. I And I'm seething. I am beyond angry that I just want to literally set you on fire. I'm angry. I'm smoking. I hate the fucking taste of this goddamn strawberry mint flavored stick. But I need it.

My cat's lose. My son's somewhere outside.

I'm about to burn this entire building if the cat that got reported that you're on your way to pick up is NOT my Zorro. I will break every single electric guitar in this fucking house if that is not my son.

I am sweet, babe. Sweetest as can be. We're talking I will turn a blind eye to all your redflags not because I can fix you, but because I love you and will stay by your side until you fix yourself or until you don't need me. So find my fucking cat or I swear to god I will break everything in this house and set this fucking building aflame.

[thatblueshade]

Thoughts on the “friendship narrative”

Note: I wrote most of this a few months ago and never posted it but now that the shit show is over i thought I could bring this back up

I made another post that did kinda well about the beginning friendship narrative before but of course everything was completely wrong. I guess it could still be the same idea used in a different way so if you wanna check that out here's the link.

Anyway, like i said that was about the beginning of it but lately I've been thinking a lot about how the rest of it might unfold so here are a few thoughts:

So i think most of larries' first instincts on this are that it is gonna be very low key, very casual and believable and very much like almost any other stunt but maybe a bit better done. And for most of it i agree, there are definitely so much more possibilities for it to happen like this. Louis and Harry are very private people and i am sure that even when they start dating publicly (if they do) we would still not see much of it.

What is the problem with that then if we all agree on it? well i was thinking, what if a public discourse is started over this whole thing? what if people from the general public somehow start to believe/realize that maybe they were actually together all along? or start finding things fishy? or even if that doesn't happen, what if they decide to get the most out of the announcement of their relationship? what if they decide to create a big ass narrative that everyone (both fans and gp) will happily and completely eat up so they can save themselves from any risks and keep absolutely everything (meaning, the public's opinion on it and the media as well) under control?

Well, my mind is crazy and I've been thinking about this for a long while so I'm gonna tell you what I came up with:

Disclaimer: this is more than likely not going to happen but it would be in my opinion a good idea and a great way to get the most out of it.

Imagine they make a big ass very dramatic narrative. I'm thinking they make it so big and dramatic that it has everyone completely fed up on it the same way everyone was obsessed with the Olivia/Joshua/Sabrina drama last year.

also i was thinking they make it so they can subtly deny that Larry was real before and it just actually became a thing recently.

i know it sounds kinda ridiculous but bear with me.

in very basic words, this could be the narrative:

they always liked each other, there was always tension, maybe something happened on the early days when they were both single but decided not to do anything about it bc they didn't want to affect their work and their band mates. they were always close and they kind of always knew they were each other's “the one” but we're too scared to admit it. but then, boom, they are suddenly spending lots of time together again for whatever reason and now that they are both single they realize that they want to be with the other but still don't talk about it, they have a complicated relationship where they are not boyfriends but they are also not just friends and everyone can see that even if they don't accept it. they talk about the other with stars in their eyes and they mention being each other's person, everyone suspects and ships them but they admit in a badly disguised sad way that they are not actually together. there can also be some other big drama like someone else getting involved, they can feed Harry's womanizer/afraid of compromise image and make it out to be like, by trying to not fuck up things with Louis, he dates another woman, maybe he gets in a hotel with her and gets out alone the next morning looking regretful, and then make it more dramatic to make it seem like Louis is heartbroken, and then somehow harry apologizes and then they are very obviously together and happy for a while before they announce it.

i know. it sounds like a fanfic. but just imagine how fed up and invested people will be. we all know they can eat up basically any narrative they're fed but this impossible love/soulmates way too dramatic thing is definitely something they'll love.

Now I'm going to explain how this thing could work out without making it too suspicious with way more details.

Phase one: we were always in love but it was impossible to be together.

it could be something one of them actually talks about publicly on some talk show, i don't know why but i see harry saying this.

“oh yeah, i had a massive crush on him, and after a while i found out it was kinda mutual but we decided not to do anything about it bc we didn't want to affect the band, you know those were other times and it probably wouldn't have worked out, not bc i didn't love him, i did, still do, he's my best friend, but having to hide? i don't think we would've been able to manage that” and then someone comments how it was kinda obvious that they liked each other and harry says that there was some tension and that it was a pain in the ass to go through all that pining but in the end it was for the best.

he could also talk about writing some songs about that, like something great, happily or just a little bit of your heart “oh i wrote that one about being kinda in love with him but having to accept the fact that i would only ever be his friend bc we couldn't be together and he was already with someone else and therefore i would only have a little bit of his heart, it's wired to finally say it but i guess we're both out now so i can talk about it” the GP would be dying and sobbing on the TikTok comments from that part of the video with the song playing in the back.

i can also totally see people being like “oh noo, that's why he could never have a serious long lasting relationship until years after he lost contact with Louis, because having to spend time with him never allowed him to fully move on and fall in love with someone else, noOoO😭😭😭”, so tragic, so convenient, so perfect.

now i bet you're thinking, how would he bring that up? well, maybe after months or maybe longer of them again being publicly close friends a host of a show can “find” that video of harry saying that Lou was his first real crush and the classic “it was mutual we discussed it” bc that is pretty much the biggest most easy to believe Larry proof.

with this, the plant will be seeded, i can garantee you so many people will start shipping them without knowing shit about Larry and it'll all start. this also practically eliminates any possibility of past Larry “rumors” to ruin this thing, everyone will see that we weren't completely, but still mostly wrong.

Also like i said, obviously most people won't look into Larry bc they don't think it to be that important and with the help of the media it will be easy to control the narrative.

Phase two: the rebirth of a love that never should have (or maybe never) died.

okay so basically this is the normal typically stunty part of the narrative, they will spend more and more time together and they will make it seem as organic as possible. not too many paparazzi, and those will of course actually look natural. they could slowly (at least Louis) start to be more active on social media, like posting more pictures and videos and Instagram stories that will slowly start to include harry more and more, but of course, all very subtle. their friends and family will help as well, talking about them being together, casually posting them together (perhaps some pics or videos in which they are accidentally caught in the blurry/barely visible back, a bit more close and touchy than normal), all that stuff. they support the others projects and go to each other's concerts, they party together and stick to each other on public events like awards ceremonies. this part will last a few months.

they will also be asked about Harry's statement and say that no matter what, they love each other and are the other's best friend but no more than that, like i said earlier, looking a bit down about it.

they are so cute and so obviously in love that everyone ships them, normal people who aren't fans probably don't even listen to their music will make edits about them, everyone is anxiously waiting for the latest news the tabloids are gonna give on their relationship.

of course I'm not stupid, so many people will be hateful and awful about it, but mostly it will be fine, it will be the new hot gossip of the year. plus, we've seen how much people enjoy dramatic gay love stories (hello? young royals and heartstopper)

Phase three: Oh no! Drama!

Now this is gonna be the real catch, the part where absolutely EVERYONE will know what's going on, the part where shit will start trending and everyone will be oh so worried for them.

this is also kind of an optional part but like is said, if they decide they want to milk it, this is definitely the way to go.

there could be two kinds of drama:

they are too afraid of what will happen and when one of them can't hold it anymore and confesses and the other runs away.

some model gets involved.

now, obviously the first one is a lot harder to make bc how would the public find that out? bc of the tabloids? no, that would be too obvious. some paparazzi that just happened to be there to film a big dramatic fight where one waits for the other to say they love them back while on the pouring rain? no, again way too fucking obvious and telenovela like, so no. i don't think we can go with that one. so we can just go with the good old womanizer/afraid of compromise image that everyone loves and knows.

maybe a few days before the model fiasco happens they are seen way too close together, perhaps almost kissing or actually kissing in a very blurry potato camera filmed video. people are going crazy, they are actually together wtf!

and then nothing. at this point they were together everyday, maybe people were already suspecting that they are living together but now they are not getting nothing. what happened?

Oh No! Harry what have you done?!

everyone is shocked! what happened? was it never real? and if it was, did harry cheat on Louis? or were they never something serious? still why would he do that to him? that is so shitty!

and then a few days later, Louis shows up at a concert, looking sick and devasted and then he sings a very sad dramatic song, it could be a break-up cover song, or even worse, a new romantic song that everyone knows is about harry because it's just that obvious, but he can't get through it trying to control himself, maybe not being able to do it, he starts crying or stops the concert.

everyone understands now, there was something there and harry fucked it up, but why?

and then harry somehow explains it, probably singing a song, making it seem as the only way he has to apologize to Louis, he has to make it publicly bc Louis just won't let him get close.

so sad, so dramatic, such great food for gossipers.

Phase four: reconciliation! yay! finally the happily (kdbxskjd) ever after!

we see them together again, except now it's different, harry is way more obvious and it is very noticeable that he is trying to win Louis back but he's already done that, Louis is obviously just as in love with harry but perhaps taking his distance for while just in case.

time passes, they are okay now, better than okay, they are together.

from then on they could announce their relationship or not, and if they do it, it will be very simple I'm sure, that's just how they are.

but yeah, anyway! this is a good narrative they could do, people would absolutely eat it and by the end they could get a big part (hopefully a majority) of the public to accept their love.

let me know your thoughts, i know this sounds crazy and like way too much but people love that kind of shit, i would too tbh.

thanks for reading such a long post! have a good day/evening or whatever.

[ecosystem-administrator]

Solution

Timeline: 6.0, major MSQ spoilers around late Elpis

Mayhem doesn't have a single answer for "the dreadful algebra of necessity", as Urianger put it, but they have to make a choice anyway.

Despite the worries that weighed on their heart, and the regret of knowing that this past was long gone, Elpis had proved an enjoyable little interlude. Meeting Hythlodaeus properly had proved delightful, and Emet-Selch…between the gifting of Azem’s crystal and the softer, less embittered version of Hades they were now able to meet, Mayhem finally understood what had drawn their other self toward him.

And then Hydaelyn arrived. Or rather, Venat, who would one day become Hydaelyn. They weren’t surprised to hear her called by her name: the shades in Akadaemia Anyder had mentioned it, and Mayhem had filed it away with the voracious eagerness with which they treated all knowledge of the long-lost past, now come to life around them. Her instantaneous insight into the nature of their presence was troubling but not surprising, as surely the woman who was capable of becoming Hydaelyn could only have been an impressive person in life.

The reveal that she had been the previous Azem was a shock, like a burst of cold pure water that clarified the mind: suddenly, a great many things made sense all at once.

Elidibus’ warning words echoed in their mind: You cannot reshape the past to undo the tragedies of the present. They weren’t meant to have been seen at all, and they’d done their best so far not to change anything that would matter to the future.

But Venat was before them now, and Venat was gently smiling and speaking with the voice of the Mothercrystal, and Venat was asking them, “Will you not reveal it to us? Mayhap we can be of aid to your cause.”

It would be so comforting to reveal it all, to unburden themself, to let someone else carry the terrible secrets that they knew. To have help in repairing the wounds of the future. “I can’t fool you, it seems,” they hedged. “…I am here from the future, you’re right. I came seeking answers from the past, for a problem that seems to have originated here and is affecting us many years hence.”

For a moment they’d almost forgotten that Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus were still there, having been so overwhelmed with Venat’s presence. Now, Emet-Selch spoke out again, with an insistence that he hear everything out in his official capacity as a member of the Convocation. Hyth remained silent, but Mayhem could see the confused and thoughtful furrow between his eyebrows, quietly processing the situation as it unfolded.

Rather than responding to Emet-Selch’s demand, they lowered their head and closed their eyes. What could they do? If they spoke about the future, would they change it? Could they erase the world they’d come from, if they tried to save this one? Because more than just the Final Days of the future, they knew the awful truth of this beautiful past: all these people were doomed to terrible fates within their own lifetimes.

Urianger’s words on the moon floated back through their mind as if in rebuttal to Elidibus. No effort did I make to seek out alternatives. He’d been tormented for so long over the choices he’d made, believing his restraint to be for the greater good even as pieces were torn from his heart over and over. Was that still the right choice? And could they endure it? What of those we cannot save? How do we make peace with the dreadful algebra of necessity?

Mayhem hadn’t had a good answer for him then, and they still didn’t. But as they raised their head again to meet Venat’s eyes, they realized they had an answer for themself, for this moment.

I always took up this role because I wanted to save the people in front of me, to bring them truth. Elpis isn’t some recreation of the past, like Amaurot at the bottom of the sea. I’m really here, talking to living people who are going through this history for the first time. …If I keep silent, if I choose to sacrifice their lives and their futures for the certainty of the one I know and love…how does that make me any different than the bitter and desperate creature that Hades became?

Venat had read a certain intent into Hydaelyn’s choice to send Mayhem here with her mark upon them. They would trust in her choice, and in the cries of their own heart, and speak the full truth, whatever the consequences of it might be. There was no one they could pray to for forgiveness if they made the wrong choice: Venat was not yet a goddess, and they were in a time before the Twelve existed, but they held a silent prayer in their heart anyway, to no one at all, begging understanding for the mistake they were half-sure they were making.

[schleckermaul]

( 🍭 unprompted valentine's! )

Strangely for today's occasion, Cuscuta's approach was rather noticeable and distinct; noncaring of how much noise she made, hurried steps were quick to approach him unlike her normal pace, almost as if the girl was excited. ❝ Break … Happy Saint Bridget's Day, ❞ she greets with an attempted smile. Gingerly, she hands two items to Break, a bag of treats and a flower, notably a purple iris.

Tied with a yellow ribbon, in the plastic bag were obviously hand-made chocolates and cookies with how misshapen and even slightly burned some of them were. ❝ I gotten the idea to try making sweets for the holiday. I made sure to put sugar rather than salt this time, but I'm still not sure if they're any good … It's okay if you don't want to eat them, ❞ is what she comments when pointing them out. As much as she tried to follow her own advice and put her feelings into them, as expected, her chocolates and cookies were probably not as good as store-bought ones. Still, she can only hope Break appreciates the gesture, even if he doesn't eat them. Or that they weren't actually that horrible.

❝ As for the flower, I remember reading about it in a book ... It reminded me of you. I thought you would like it. ❞ Her statement almost made it sound like an afterthought, but for someone who liked flowers as much as her, it was clear the gift beared some significance. Rarely does Cuscuta grow anything but black or white flowers, however this felt like a special occasion; she did choose this specific flower and color for a reason.

After explaining her gifts, Cuscuta goes quiet for a moment. Shifting her weight from one foot to another, she seems almost hesitant now. ❝ Break, ❞ she finally says. ❝ If there's anything else ... specific you want for today, just let me know … I'll do my best to get it for you. ❞

( geez, break, how come you get three things from cuscuta sorry break for the horrible awful chocolates )

— @revivancy

HE'S ALREADY SMILING THE SECOND he hears those particular footsteps approaching. it's funny, that you can tell cuscuta is in a very different mood just by the way she walks up to him. break doesn't question the change in his own mood too much, how some of the weight on his chest lifts, how he feels a bit warmer. it's nice. it's very different to feeling panicked when she speaks up, standing right behind him, without him noticing her presence at all beforehand.

   it's happened before. plenty of times, in fact. he'd like to think he's learning, or maybe he's just bridging time until he can rely on mad hatter a bit more, to tell him when even the quietest of people are getting closer.

   break takes the flower first. he doesn't know too much about what kinds there are, or what they mean, despite it being a big topic in noble circles back home. sharon certainly talked his ear off about it being a trope in one of her romance novels plenty of times. he regrets not listening to her explanations every single time, now. but, still, stroking a few of the petals carefully, he can tell the difference in shape, its fragility. as he listens to cuscuta's explanation, he lets out a soft breath, carefully tucks it behind his right ear alongside a few strands of white hair.

   ' sugar instead of salt sounds like a good idea, ' he huffs, clearly amused, but with a different note in his voice than anybody would be used to: fondness, clear as day. nibbling at one of the cookies, break's composure dissolves into a short burst of laughter.

   oh, they are horribly burnt. crunchy, one could say. there is the subtle hint of a sweet flavour in there, which must be the sugar she mentioned, but it's mostly burnt, tasting slightly of ... is that caramel? that's almost impressive. definitely better than anything he could whip up in a kitchen. it's humbling, to know that she spent time and effort doing something she hasn't done before, hasn't mastered yet. that she's here, delivering it anyways, despite the uncertainty about whether or not he'd like it. she tells him he doesn't have to eat them, she tells him she read about a flower in a book and went out of her way to collect it for him, because she thought he'd like it.

   he is reminded, vaguely, of sitting in the gardens of the rainsworths, his left eye still healing, covered by bandages. a small lady sharon approaching, shy, bouquet in hand. having gone out of her way to gather flowers, for him.

   ' well! miss cuscuta— thank you very much! ' break does not give her any warning whatsoever. scooping cuscuta up under her arms, break lifts her into his arms and twirls, in a few circles, holding onto her tightly, making sure she won't fall. when she's set back on the ground, break's grin is as wide as it can get, a delighted chuckle on his tongue, patting her head a few times.

   ' i have something for you, as well. ' he rummages once more, but is fairly quick about it this time, excitement evident. before he can think about why, he's already knelt down in front of her, paper in hand.

   ' one card, for the sweet lady. ' it's another simple design, a pastel blue card with two figures drawn on top, easily recognizable despite his lack of artistic talent, since he kept it to very simple shapes: a blue doll, looking an awful lot like emily, next to a black bunny with golden eyes. in zhilan's handwriting, it says, happy valentine's, miss, underneath the figures, with a small heart at the very end.

   break doesn't wait for her to react. in fact, he's used this moment of her looking at it to grab the second present, safely tucked away under his coat. ' and one hat! i knitted it myself, i hope it fits. ' he's tempted, immediately, to put it on her, but instead merely holds it up by the ... are those ears? oh, they certainly are. after receiving cuscuta's drawing, this is either a very smart move, or a very good joke. or maybe it'll be both. here's hoping.

   ' i made sure to include your ... ears? so you can keep them warm, in cold weather like this. can't have you getting sick. who will i spend my time with? ' it's the chunky yarn he'd bought a while ago, but in mustard yellow, this time around, expertly crafted. peeking above the hat, break squints lovingly at cuscuta. ' and as for things i'd like to do ... how about we take a walk? collect some flowers together? i can't be the only one who has one, i'd feel bad. '

   and he doesn't. he doesn't feel bad. he feels good, and happy, if a bit nostalgic. but with things to do, who has time to dwell on that?