40emprenedors-blog

[berryblooo]

Scaramona (as in the Harbinger, Scaramouche, and Mona) will always be the blueprint for the bickering, the clash of beliefs and worldviews, but more and more I come to love and appreciate Wandermona.

As the Wanderer, he’s now had to confront his previously held notions, to challenge his sense of self and his place in the world. He is discovering who he can be in this second chance he’s been given.

Mona’s story is still just beginning. Like Scaramouche, she has a very defined sense of self—genius astrologist, set on surpassing her master. I believe that also like Scaramouche, she will be forced to confront her worldviews when they are thrown back in her face (“The stars, the sky… it’s all a gigantic hoax. A lie.”) and have to redefine herself with this new knowledge.

Where Scaramona was about bickering and clashing ideals, I see Wandermona has an opportunity for discovery, reflection, overcoming. Traveling Teyvat together is one of my favorite headcanons (it’s almost a motif for me at this point) for them, and it suits Wandermona even more than Scaramona.

Mona and the Wanderer, trekking across the seven nations, sleeping under the stars, stopping by every bookstore and library to read, arguing about academics and the nature of fate and self-determination.

[laligraves]

chp.2 - poolside

morning run series

joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~2.7k summary: Your nap is interrupted by Joel. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious, don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), NSFW, pre/no outbreak, some proofreading (not enough so sorry for mistakes), Joel is a tall and very strong man, older man/college-aged reader, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, alcohol consumption, pet names, some degradation, breeding kink (yeah), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: i'm still here <3! just busy with real life :( i don't have a huge plan for this series except to make little one shots here and there since i have a lot of fun with these two characters lol. other stuff on the way i promise <3

You left two days after that encounter with Joel Miller. Your head was still spinning and your pussy still sore, but the semester started and you needed to be back on campus. 

The first night back in your dorm, you debated throwing out the roses that now sat on your desk. You lasted 10 minutes just looking at them before you were touching yourself to the memory of him. You could still feel the scratch of his beard on your neck and remember the smell of his cologne. 

He’d put his phone number in your contact list and you debated calling him. But what would you even say? 

You should be mad at Joel for what he did. Yet somehow, he managed to reach into the deepest corners of your mind and fulfill one of your darkest fantasies. 

Now, back in town, you can’t help but feel a little excited to see him again. Even if the more sane part of your brain is trying to convince you to slap him across the face if he comes near.  

“Hey, lazy girl,” your sister calls out. 

“Hey,” you respond softly, not moving from your spot on the lounge chair. 

“I’m leaving. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah,” you reply, knowing you’ll probably spend the entire week swimming and sunbathing by the pool. 

“I left money on the counter and the keys to my car in case you need it.” 

“Okay, mom,” you say sarcastically. 

She throws a pool noodle at you and leaves with her friend after that, promising to text you when she reaches her destination. Any other time you’d be disappointed that your sister was leaving for a full week just as you arrived for summer vacation, but she’s been working so much that she deserves a trip. 

The stress from the semester leaves your body with each lap around the crisp pool and the warm sun. You go back into the house to make yourself a tequila soda and make your way back out to the chairs underneath the canopy. 

A sudden thought pops into your head as you look around the empty backyard. The fences are tall enough and the gate leading to the backyard is locked. Your sister doesn’t have cameras that face this side of the house yet, so there’s really no reason for you to be so nervous. 

You’ve never sunbathed in the nude, there’s just never been an opportunity for it. But now, with the house empty and the tequila coursing through your veins, it would be the perfect time to do so. 

Before the courage leaves you, you slip off the strings of the bikini and spread out on the lounge chair.

“Absolutely nothing to worry about,” you whisper. 

You eventually doze off, moving around until you’re once again face down. A text message from your sister lights up your screen, but at this point you’ve fallen asleep and don’t pay any mind to it. 

I forgot to tell you that Joel Miller from down the block is stopping by. He’s going to plant the roses Susan wants, but needs to take a look first. Help him with whatever he needs. Tell him thank you! 

You start to dream of Joel massaging sunscreen on your back, trailing his hands over your sides until they land on the soft, plump flesh of your ass. 

His hands massage and spread your cheeks open, presenting your asshole and pussy for his eyes. Joel lands a glob of spit right on your little winking star and you flinch slightly. 

“It’s okay, babydoll,” he coos. 

The tip of his finger circles your asshole just a bit, enough for you to shiver from the sensation. 

His fingers trail down to your pussy where he slowly teases a finger up and down your slit, gathering the wetness. 

“Joel,” you whimper. 

You push back on his hand, overcome with need.

Joel laughs at your desperate attempts to fuck yourself on his hand and moves your thigh to the side, giving him the perfect view of your cunt. 

Before you have a chance to complain, he spreads you open and runs his tongue through your folds. Your hands grip the towel and you almost scream in surprise. 

At the scrape of his teeth on your inner thigh and the scratch of his beard on your skin, you begin to wake. This isn’t a dream.  

“What–” 

“‘bout time you woke up,” Joel growls. “Dreamin’ about me, babydoll?” 

You lift your head, slightly delirious, still grinding back on his face. 

“Joel, whatthefuck–” you whisper, words slurred from sleep. 

He tongues your entrance and swipes a finger over your clit, a movement that has you almost seeing stars. Joel ignores your pleas for him to wait, choosing instead to push two large fingers into your pussy. You choke down on your words at the stretch, still confused. 

“Can barely fit my fingers in this sweet cunt,” Joel says.  

“Wait–” you whimper, “fuck, wait.” 

With his fingers still in your pussy, he moves up to lie partially on top of you. He bites your shoulder, neck, runs the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear. 

“No waiting, babydoll. Gotta stretch this tiny hole,”  

Vulgar. He’s so nasty with his words, still, your pussy beats with its own heartbeat. 

“Joel–” 

“All this time waitin’ for you to call me,” Joel hums into your ear, “just used me for my cock, didn’t you? Little slut.” 

“No, I didn’t. I–” 

“I knock you up?” 

You give a tiny, jerky shake of your head, no, unable to form words. 

“Guess we’ll have to try again, yeah?” he murmurs in your ear. “Gonna’ fill up this pussy.”

“No—“

You mean to say it with conviction. But your voice wavers, and you cum right into the palm of his hand, soaking him.

You grind down on his hand and bite into the towel to muffle your screams. 

“Good girl,” Joel groans, “just love makin’ a mess, don’t cha’?”   

Your hands slowly let go of the towel and your body becomes limp. Joel stands from the chair and you hear the clatter of his belt and the soft rustle of his clothes landing on the ground. 

Your nap being interrupted by Joel is not something you were expecting. In fact, what is he doing here?

“Joel, what are you–” 

His hands reach for your hips and he’s flipping you over on your back, making room for himself between your thighs.

“Needa look at your pretty face and pretty tits while I fuck ‘ya.” 

“We can’t–” 

Joel’s calloused fingers pinch your hard-tipped nipples and as if your body is already conditioned for him, you push up right into his hands.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Joel groans. 

Before you know what’s happening, Joel leans down to drag his tongue over each peak. He bites, leaving only a hint of pain and shushing your needy whines. 

He grinds down between your open thighs, covering his cock in your slick. You moan and writhe on the lounge chair, twisting your hips with each bump of his mushroom head right on your swollen button. 

 “Joel, please,” you beg. 

But you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. The sane part of your brain tells you to put an end to this, to send Joel far away from you. But then he sucks your nipple into his mouth and your mind goes blank.

Joel keeps biting, sucking, lapping at your tits until you feel the familiar sensation in your lower belly. As if sensing another orgasm, either from your moans or the way you're grinding up on his cock, Joel stops, placing a soft kiss on each nipple before leaning back. 

“I needed to taste those tits before I fuck ya’,” Joel rasps. 

You tremble beneath him, laying there in a sweaty heap. Joel’s face is slightly flushed and his chest rises with each ragged breath he takes. 

Fuck, he’s handsome. Salt and pepper hair, creases around his eyes, a hooked nose and a huge cock make him the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. 

The second he releases your hands, you drag your fingers down his hairy chest and over his soft belly. He’s hard and soft, muscular from working outside but with a belly that you want to lay your head on. 

He moves your hand away, linking his fingers through one of yours and uses his other hand to bump the tip of his length at your entrance. You try, in a small voice that’s just about surrendered to the lust swirling in your head, to stop Joel, suddenly remembering that this is not your house, but your sister’s. 

“Joel, my sister is inside–” 

He tsks in disappointment. “She’s gone for the week,” he interrupts, swirling the tip of his cock on your clit, “don’t lie to me, babydoll.”

Your mouth opens to ask how exactly he knows that, but Joel takes that moment to slide right in. A high-pitched squeal claws its way out of your mouth at the stretch of his cock. 

Joel groans, sounding almost pained. His eyes shut and his mouth drops open while you fight to push him off of you. You forgot just how large he was, and even if your cunt is slick and this isn’t the first time, it’s still a little painful. 

Joel places your hand above your head, still keeping his fingers linked, and uses his other hand to push up your thigh. His nose brushes yours and he gives you a soft kiss.  

He rocks his hips slowly, pushing his tongue into your mouth and matching the pace. You don’t kiss him back, too preoccupied with the cock spearing inside of you and the loss of air in your lungs. 

“Too much–”, you mumble, “too much!” 

Joel moves his lips down your chin, the tip of his tongue dragging a hot path down your neck. Goosebumps erupt on your skin as you try to catch your breath. Each thrust of his hips make you lightheaded. 

“No,” Joel murmurs into your neck, “you can take it, babydoll. Take it like a good girl.”  

With your free hand you try to push at his hips, for him to just give you a moment to breathe. Joel quickly takes your other hand and places it above your head, locking both of your wrists in his grasp. 

Your tits are in Joel’s face, pushed up by the arch of your back. Joel takes full advantage and runs his tongue over your swollen nipples. 

You’re not speaking coherently anymore. Between your pleas for him to slow down, please you whine with each hard thrust into your pussy. 

“Fuckin’ greedy,” Joel groans, “pussy keeps suckin’ me right back in.” 

“You’re so fucking nasty,” you mumble in half-hearted anger. 

But he’s right. Your pussy flutters with each slide of his cock and your thighs bracket his hips, keeping him as close as possible.

The thick head of his cock bumps your womb and you’re almost certain he’s growing bigger inside of you. You can smell him, his cologne and sweat, the scent of a man who spends his time working outside with his hands. 

If Joel were any other man, you’d hate the smell. But with him, it’s intoxicating. 

The first time together was quick, in his front yard where you were forced to stay quiet and take whatever he gave you. Now, your whimpers are loud and he’s in no rush to finish quickly. 

“Gonna breed this little cunt,” Joel slurs, “gonna make you a mommy.”

His hips move faster and tears begin to fall from the corner of your eyes. Joel invades your space and kisses every inch of skin he can reach. Imprints of his teeth and his saliva are left on your neck, tits, and mouth. 

“You want that babydoll? Wanna make me a daddy?” 

Any other man, especially one who is practically a stranger would make you cringe. But Joel’s breeding kink doesn’t phase you. You fall into the fantasy of him cumming inside of you and giving you a baby. 

He pushes his tongue almost down your throat while he fucks you. You kiss him back and suck his tongue on instinct. He whimpers, a sound that makes your pussy tighten in response.  

“Jesus–,” Joel groans. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper, “m–more, please!” 

The chair shakes with each of his thrusts, just about able to hold your combined weight. Joel lets go of your hands and leans back to watch his cock slide into you, seemingly mesmerized at the sight. 

Your hands reach for his sweaty chest, arms, caressing his heated skin. Joel pushes your thighs open and you hear every sticky, wet slide of his cock.

He’s suddenly sliding a hand underneath your neck. 

“Look, babydoll,” Joel gasps. 

You don’t pay him much attention, your eyes barely able to focus on his face.   

“C’mon–fuck.” 

You lean up on your elbows with the little energy you have left and watch his length, veiny and large, covered in your slick, piston in and out of you. 

If it didn’t feel so good, it would be almost scary to look at. Joel, so much larger and stronger than you, somehow able to fit so perfectly inside of you. 

You fall back on the lounge chair and Joel places your ankle on his shoulder. He turns his head to nip your soft skin, leaving another imprint of his teeth on your body. 

He pushes his thumb inside of your mouth and doesn’t even flinch as you bite down. 

“I almost drove down to that college of yours,” he moans, “wanted to drag you outta the dorm and fuck you in the hallway.” 

You moan around his thumb, lost in the fantasy of big, broad Joel dragging you by the hair and fucking you out in the open, in front of everyone to see. 

His words are slurred at this point. But he's so drunk on pure lust that he can’t help himself but keep talking. 

“Wanted to show everyone who owns this slut pussy.”  

The way he speaks to you should make you angry, but you pussy only flutters and squeezes as he calls you his little slut.

He removes his thumb from your mouth and gently slaps your cheek before swiping his spit-covered thumb over your clit. 

He swipes over your swollen bud, once, twice, using your spit and slick that now covers both of your lower bodies.

Your orgasm tears through you, washing over you in warm waves of bliss. 

Joel keeps fucking you, moving faster until his hips piston and you're being used as a toy while your orgasm courses through your body. 

He lays on top of you, keeping your thrashing and whimpering body bracketed onto the chair. Joel’s moans grow loud in your ear and you know he’s close. 

“Not inside–” you whimper, “don’t cum–” your words not having any real meaning behind them except to add to your fantasy. 

“Fuckin’ mine, my little cunt,” Joel snaps, “gonna cum in my babydoll–” 

He swells impossibly larger inside of you and then you feel it, the hot splash of cum. Ropes and ropes fill your cunt and he grinds his cock into you, buries his head in your neck and groans your name over and over again. 

Your body, still recovering from your orgasm from only a few moments ago, trembles once more. The warmth of his cum painting your womb shakes another one out of you. 

You’re not sure how long it lasts. Joel continues to whisper in your ear about how fuckin’ sweet you are and how you have the tiniest cunt ever, babydoll while his cock fills you with cum. 

Joel continues to lay on top of you and while he’s larger in every sense of the way, his weight is comforting. The setting sun is blocked by the canopy which you're grateful for because you don’t want him to move. 

“How are ya’ feeling?�� Joel asks. 

You’ve almost fallen asleep at this point. 

“Full… and sore,” you whisper. 

“Maybe this time I’ll actually knock you up,” Joel whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

You roll your eyes and push him off of you. 

“Not going to happen, old man. I’m on birth control. And we just met!"

“Shame,” he sighs dramatically. “How about I grill us some steaks?” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: A Walk in the Park

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You push through the door of the lobby and hold it open for the elder woman hunched over her walker. You patiently let her through but she doesn’t even acknowledge your deed. It’s too bad that most times you help people, you don’t even seem to notice. That’s fine. You’d feel worse to see her struggle. 

She heads for the outer door but before you can rush over to get that too, someone else does. You blanch as you recognise the man with the bristly mustache. It’s Lloyd. You haven’t seen or heard from him in the week since the sandwich shop encounter. You just assumed it was another random crossing of wires. 

The woman mutters as she passes through the door and his cheek twitches as he waits until he’s through to let go. He shakes his head and turns to you, “there ya are. Didn’t know your unit so kinda just been hanging around.” 

You blink, “you’ve been waiting on me?” 

“That lady was a grouch, huh? Not even a thanks. Telling ya, tootsie roll, you’re too sweet,” he says. That pet name is cute but a bit much. 

“Um, yeah, but she’s probably in a lot of pain. Maybe one day I’ll be in the same way and someone will hold the door for me,” you shrug. “But uh, why exactly are you waiting in my lobby?” 

“Friends stop by to say hello, don’t they?” He grins.  

“Sure, but uh...” 

“You said we’re friends so... did I misread this? Were you just being nice? The way you do, huh? Because lying isn’t very nice, tootsie.” 

You shake your head, “no, I just... I don’t know. I’m surprised. That’s all.” 

“Good surprise?” He lifts a brow. 

“Yeah, of course,” you squeak. 

“Mm, and where are you off too, besides helping little old ladies?” He challenges. 

“Just going for a walk. I like to walk through Garnet.” 

“Garnet? You mean the sh—the path down there?” He points to the wall and you nod. 

“They have pretty flowers.” 

“It’s... almost winter,” he sniffs. 

“Yeah, I know. I like it though. There’s still ducks around.” 

He nods, his eyes narrowed discerningly, “you always see the silver linings, don’t ya?” 

“I try,” you shrug. 

“Well, can I crash your walk? Could stand to stretch my legs.” 

You nod and hum, “that’s fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

“Lloyd,” you give him a look, “you’re more than welcome to walk with me.” 

You tuck your earbud case away. The left one is broken anyhow. He pulls the door open again and waves you out. 

He follows and catches up to you on the sidewalk. You walk down the pavement and breathe in the brisk air. You fix your beanie over your ears and slip your hands up your sleeves as you cross your arms. 

“Damn cold, isn’t it?” He puffs a cloud of steam into the air. 

“I can’t wait for the snow,” you say.  

Your father always loved the wintertime. You would watch the flakes drift down and build a snowman, even a tiny one if there wasn’t very much, and you’d have hot chocolate on the porch in your mittens and pajamas. And Christmas... 

You push away that thought. 

“You’re quiet? You alright?” He nudges you with his elbow. You flinch. You forgot he was there for a second. 

“I’m wonderful. How are you? How’s your ear?” 

“My ear...” he echoes. “You remember?” 

“Did you get it looked at? Does it still hurt?” 

“Yeah, it’s alright. Still a bit fuzzy on that side,” he shrugs. “It’s whatever. I’m a big boy.” 

“Right, but did a doctor say so or--” 

“You worry about me that much, tootsie?” He scoffs. 

“It’s important. You never know, could be worse than you think. And if it’s nothing at all, at least you know,” you say. You don’t want to nag him, even if you should have nagged your dad. Maybe... 

“No, I didn’t. Really, it’s not the first time I got a good blast to the ear,” he says. 

“Right,” you accept as you turn through the gate to the park. The arch is missing letters but it’s still beautiful. 

He sighs again and rubs his hands together. “God, I hate the cold.” 

“You should get gloves,” you uncross your arms and reach into your pocket, “I don’t know, mine might be too small.” 

You offer him the woolly mittens. He clicks his tongue, “that’s cute, definitely too small.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and chatters. You look at his jacket. You try to see the inside above the collar. “What are you doing?” He glances at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Is that lined?” You ask. 

“What?” 

“Your coat. Is there a lining in it? It looks thin.” 

“I’m just fine, mom, thanks,” he snips sharply. 

“Gosh, sorry, I just... I could sew a lining into it. I replaced the inserts in my boots too. It’s not that hard.” 

He furrows his brow, “it’s whatever. I spend most of the winter south. Right by the equator where it’s nice and sunny.” 

“Ooo, that sounds cool,” you say. “By the ocean?” 

“Surrounded by it,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Wow. I’ve never seen the ocean.” 

“You haven’t... tootsie, what’re ya doin’ to me? You’re lying.” 

“Nope,” you shake your head. “I’m sure one day I will. Is it pretty?” 

He looks at you and his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, “yeah, it’s... beautiful,” he looks ahead thoughtfully. “Guess I should pay more attention, but yeah, real blue and big and sh—stuff.” 

You bounce on your feet and stop suddenly. You hit his arm and point, “don’t scare him.” 

He nearly trips as you gesture to the little chipmunk on the broken bench. You can’t help a squee as it skitters onto the seat and glances around nervously. You squeeze Lloyd’s sleeve without thinking. 

“He’s so c-y-ute!” You say, “isn’t he?” 

He doesn’t answer right away but you’re too enamoured with the tiny critter to care. 

“Yea, super cute,” he agrees at last. 

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

Because I will never get tired of them, here are some more fic recs. These fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

For reference, anything in italics is an extract from the summaries on ao3.

Never Quite Awake by @sunshinemarauder 

“Endings are nothing unfamiliar to Lily Evans; she’s seen the ends of sisterhood, friendship, and innocence, all from miles away. But this is an end unlike any other. An end that was never supposed to happen.”

If to love someone once is to break their heart, to love them twice is to break yours.

Lily falls for James in her seventh year. But the couple are sent onto two diverging paths when a life-shattering altercation halts their burgeoning relationship. Five years later, she's a curse breaker and he is a soldier.

When they meet again, it feels like coming home.

All the angst that comes with a jily second chance romance that takes place during wartime. A fake dating subplot, cursebreaker!Lily, pining!James. What more could you want. France (country) - a relevant tag

Through The Rain by @bookeatingbean

James and Lily's first kiss, and the story behind it. There's some fluff, some character study, and some good old-fashioned angst.

If you're looking for a character study that shows how they grew up through their school years. This fic shows you that Lily was not a perfect person and James was a bully for the sake of it but he grew to understand that the world does not revolve around him and strives to do better. Or Lily is stubborn and James is the definition of a ride-or-die

It's been a long time by writtenbyfreckles (on ao3)

It's been ten years since Lily left Hogwarts. She's returned to England to work as a Healer on the "ward of the wacky", only to find home isn't as safe as she thought it was. An attack leaves her locked in a ward with her patients, a bunch of Death Eaters and an Auror she hasn't seen for a long time.

I need more cannon divergence Auror!James and Healer!Lily

The Guide To Becoming A Better Man For Lily Evans by @padfootswhiskers

prompt: I decided to walk outside shirtless (accidentally) but I forgot it's winter and why're you screaming at me like that? And oh gosh, you're very pretty.

lingering days, short-lived nights by letthebookbegin (on ao3)

The summer before seventh year, James is desperately trying to think of anything but Lily, who's burrowed her way into his mind and looks quite comfortable there.

The summer before seventh year, Lily is craving a distraction. Avoiding her sister, she picks an ice cream shop for shelter.

At the end of a long summer day, their paths cross - and the rest, as they say, is history.

Ties That Bind by @charmsandtealeaves

Lily Evans grew up with old wives tales about soul mates, but she'd never put much stock in the idea. Not until after she learned about the world of magic and the fact that soul bonds were a thing that actually existed. Which makes these strange new feelings and experiences that much more difficult to manage.

So I read this a while ago but stupidly forgot to bookmark it and then I spent nearly an hour trying to find it again. Needless to say, I ADORE this fic and you should all go read it. Like, right now. Then come back here to talk to me about it.

Lily Evans Doesn't Believe In I Love You's also by @/ charmsandtealeaves

“Did you hear Lily Evans doesn’t believe in I love you's?”

It wasn’t exactly a secret. But no one knew why, until she decided to share a bottle of fire whiskey in the astronomy tower with James Potter.

Same Lily, same

Meet Me At The River also by @/ charmsandtealeaves

A chance encounter with a misplaced owl leads to a correspondence between pen pals. Lily confides in her mysterious Flea and finds herself falling along the way.

I can't remember if I've recommended this one already, but even if I have I'll rec it again because I love it so much!!

Your Friend, James by @thelighthousestale

It is the summer before their 7th year, and Lily and James spend the entire holiday writing letters to each other as their relationship slowly changes from friends to something more.

Just the ending of this one is everything. James and Sirius are never beating the codependent allegations

Castling by @missgryffin

When they were still very young, Remus Lupin’s dad married Lily Evans’ mum. It changes everything.

Lily and Remus are like the little brother who got bullied and then found friends except he invited them over for the first time and they all act weird because they're mildly terrified of his older sister. Friends to lovers jily is only rivaled by academic rivals jily.

Just the Two of Us by @arianatwycross

Head Students James and Lily face a perilous twist when a malicious potion surfaces in hate mail directed at Lily. Dumbledore orders a week-long quarantine in the Head Students' suite. With unspoken crushes lingering, the duo navigates close quarters, leading to unexpected revelations, lingering looks and forehead kisses.

silence and patience, pining in anticipation by @kay-elle-cee

Lily’s been hung up on James for years; a tipsy conversation might be the push she needs to do something about it.

DRESS IS A JILY SONG FOREVER AND ALWAYS

The Devil in the Cloak Room by @chiechie97

Getting your heart broken when you’re 17 seems to alter your brain chemistry more than you would think. Which is the precise reason why Lily has no intention of reconnecting with the friends she lost at the end of school.

And besides, she has no chance of knowing anyone at the masked Halloween party her friend drags her to. Especially not the guy in the devil mask. Right?

Usually I rec complete works but this one is so good I had to include it

Deception and other ways to find love by @annasghosts

“I’ll be your fake girlfriend, Potter.” And this is how Lily Evans embarks on the adventure of (fake) dating her former Hogwarts nemesis (and crush, but ssssh, it’s a secret). Will she be able to keep her cool? Will he?

Class of '78 by @emeralddoeadeer

Class of 1978 Five Year Reunion - July 29th, 1983

Now is the time to look upon our shared experience, our similarities must unite us rather than letting our differences divide us. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry invites the Graduating Class of 1978 to return to the castle for a weekend of reconnecting, reminiscing and recreation. We hope the passage of time has been kind to you all and look forward to welcoming you soon.

Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorc, DWiz, X.J sorc, S of Mag Q

It's been five years since graduation, and while many things have changed, some things never will.

James Potter Won't Go Quietly by la_plus_heureuse (on ao3)

Lily Evans remembers plenty about James Potter from Hogwarts. But an assignment from Mojo Magazine to profile the Quidditch star turned activist makes her realize what she remembered was all wrong.

canon divergence staring quidditch player James and journalist Lily

On A Scale of One to Ten (requires an ao3 account) by @petalsinwoodvale

Lily starts falling for an insecure, yet charming auror named James who is recovering from injury in her ward. No one else on staff will sit and talk to him, mostly due to septic skin covering most of his upper torso. Lily, however, finds him charming and funny. Naturally, when James' injuries start healing, he grows more and more handsome. The other healers suddenly take interest in James, romantically ...

foxy by lizpaige (on ao3)

Lily joins the boys at the shrieking shack on a particularly difficult moon in her new animagus form.

Lily & Remus friendship is so special to me

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 11) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Chapter 11

“Hey, there you are!” Spinner spots you and Tomura first as you step through the portal. “Twice is on his way. We thought you two were never going to show up!”

Tomura lets go of your hand and peels off his gloves, heading for the pile of gear that contains the rest of the hands and his coat. He put the hand he calls Father on his face before you left the apartment. “Kurogiri was busy.”

“Sure he was.” On the far corner of the wall, Dabi is rolling his eyes. “We all know what you two were busy doing.”

Your face heats up, but you’re behind your veil, and Tomura’s busy securing a set of hands over his neck, covering both the bandage and the mark you left on the other side. Nobody else seems too interested in joining Dabi in picking on you, although Magne’s ribbing him for supposed jealousy over his own lack of a cute girlfriend. Toga is studying you. “You changed your costume,” she says, and you hold your breath while she renders her verdict. “It’s cute.”

Compress drifts closer to investigate, too. “It’s an improvement. What’s the occasion?”

“We’re meeting somebody in an official capacity. I just thought I shouldn’t wear street clothes.”

Your costume upgrade isn’t much, and it took a while to put together. You’ve still got the grey veil and crown of thorns, but underneath it you’ve added a grey long-sleeved tunic you thrifted, leggings you bought, and boots you already had. Then you decided that the tunic was a little shapeless and cinched it at the waist with a red scarf. Worst comes to worst, you can use it as a tourniquet. You were worried about what Tenko would think of the entire effect, but when you showed him before Kurogiri came to get the two of you, you could tell he was pleased. Pleased enough to kiss you over it, although it took a while to make it work around the veil.

The aesthetics of your costume aren’t the important part. There’s a thin backpack over your shoulders, completely hidden by the back of the veil, which contains your best approximation of an EMT kit, and there’s a spare suture kit taped to your thigh, out of sight under the tunic. That was Tenko’s idea. He doesn’t want Overhaul to guess what role you play in the League.

And apparently he’s not the only one who’s been thinking along those lines. “It’s a good thing you changed your costume,” Spinner says. You look questioningly at him before remembering that he can’t see your face under the veil. “We were thinking. Shigaraki wants you to stay undercover, which means we can’t use your name in front of outsiders. And that means you need –”

“A code name!” Toga chimes in. “We all talked about it –”

“Nobody liked my ideas,” Dabi mutters.

You don’t even want to know. “And we all agreed,” Compress continues. “Unless Shigaraki has already given you one –”

You look to Tomura. This looks like it’s news to him, just like it’s news to you, and he only ever calls you by name. He shakes his head. “Excellent,” Compress says. “Spinner’s idea was chosen. Spinner should reveal it.”

Spinner looks a little nervous. “We already use a nickname for you,” he starts, “but ‘Saint’ sounds really dumb for a code name. So we decided instead – Saintess.”

It’s quiet for a second. “That’s not a word,” Tomura says.

“It is! We looked it up,” Toga sings out. “It’s like actor and actress, or villain and villainess. Saint, Saintess. It’s perfect, don’t you think?”

You’re not sure if you like it. It feels like kind of a dig against you. More than ‘kind of’, if you’re being honest. “It suits your look,” Magne points out. “And your attitude, since the boss wouldn’t dream of letting you get your hands dirty.”

“My hands will get dirty the first time one of you gets hurt,” you say. “You have the important work. My job is to make sure you can keep doing it.”

“Spoken like a true Saintess,” Compress proclaims. “Shigaraki. Your thoughts?”

“Yeah. She’s your girlfriend,” Dabi says. “You really want to let Spinner name her?”

Tomura considers it for a moment. “If it’s a good name, it doesn’t matter who it comes from. And it’s better to be named by your friends than your enemies.” He nods to Spinner. “It’s a good name. Call her Saintess from now on.”

Toga wandered over to one of the windows while Tomura was talking, but now she hurries back. “I see Twice! He’s got the other guy with him.”

“Places,” Tomura orders, and the League scatters to the sides. He reaches out and links little fingers with you. “You’re with me. This way.”

The League arranges themselves on and around a pile of shipping containers, set up in a rough pyramid. Tomura settles on one just below the highest level, and you sit down on one just below his, slightly off to the side so you won’t block his view. Tomura looks dissatisfied. “You should be up here,” he says. “But it’ll draw his attention to you. I’m not risking that.”

“I’m fine where I am,” you say. You glance up at him. “How’s your neck?”

“It’ll be fine,” he says, which means it hurts. You’ll look at it later, once this is over. “What about you?”

“I’m fine. You did a great job with the aftercare.”

Tomura’s face flushes, and you remind yourself to be careful what you say. The hand over his face doesn’t hide him nearly as well as your veil hides you. “Tell me what your friend said about them again,” he says. “The Hassaikai.”

“The new head – the one we’re meeting �� he isn’t liked the way the old one was,” you say. “Someone who worked for both of them called him a monster. After he left the gang.”

“Yakuza don’t defect. For someone to do something like that, it must be serious.” Tenko’s expression is grim behind the hand. He raises his voice. “Be careful. Twice is trustworthy, but the one he’s bringing isn’t.”

“Understood.”

“You got it, boss,” Magne says, winking.

“For sure, Tomura-kun!” Toga chirps. She’s the only person other than you who uses Tomura’s given name. “I can’t wait to meet our new friend!”

You wish you had Toga’s optimism. Instead, all you feel as the head of the Shie Hassaikai walks into the warehouse is apprehension. You know you shouldn’t. Everyone here is battle-tested, except you. Everybody here has a quirk, except you. They can handle themselves, and they have the yakuza boss outnumbered seven to one – and if things wind up, it’s your job to settle them down.

Overhaul wears a mask over the lower half of his face, and thin white gloves on both hands. Is his quirk in his hands, like Tomura’s is? He’s peering up at Tomura and the rest of you, only the barest spark of interest in his eyes. “So this is where you’ve been hiding. I expected a little more.”

“It takes some time for an organization to adjust following a change in leadership,” Tomura says. “I’m sure you understand.”

Overhaul inclines his head. “Of course. Still, I expected more from All For One’s student.”

His voice is dry, almost inflectionless. Tomura chuckles. “And yet you’re coming to me, not the other way around. Explain that.”

Overhaul’s eyes started on Tomura. Now they’re shifting, from Magne and Spinner and Dabi on one side to Compress and Toga and Twice on the other. Then back to Tomura. Then down to you. His eyes are still on you as he addresses Tomura again. “To my generation, your master was nothing more than a dark legend, but the elders believed we still had reason to fear him. It seems they were right.”

To fear him, not to fear Tomura. Overhaul’s not scared of Tomura, and he doesn’t seem worried about just how badly outnumbered he is. Your stomach clenches. “With All Might gone, the underworld is in chaos,” Overhaul continues. “And it’ll stay that way, so long as the question of who the next leader will be remains in doubt.”

“I’m the next leader.” Tomura’s confidence sounds unshakeable. “All Might fell because of the League’s actions. The heroes are rattled because of what we’ve done.”

He gestures at all of you. “We’ve got victories to our name. What have you got?”

“All Might didn’t fall. He was forced to retire. And it was by your master’s hand, not yours.” Overhaul’s gaze drifts across the League, lingering on each person for a few moments, you included. “Every time you’ve won, you’ve taken losses equal to or greater than the victory you’ve claimed. You still have outside help – you don’t look nearly as filthy as I’d expect for staying three weeks in a warehouse without running water – but it’s much less than you had before.”

“Congratulations. You have eyes.” Tomura’s voice is sharp. “But again – you came to us. Not the other way around. I’m the next leader. You can join me or you can stay out of my way.”

“Let’s assume you’re correct, and you are the next leader. What’s your goal?”

Tomura scoffs. “To expose the so-called heroic system for what it is, and bring it down.”

“How?”

The question rings out, and it’s met with silence. Too long of a silence. Tomura regroups, but not fast enough. “All Might –”

“One hero, who would have retired anyway. Others will come to take his place,” Overhaul says. “You have ideals, but ideals are useless without a plan. And I have a plan.”

Tomura’s jaw is clenched, and you see Spinner’s shoulders stiffen, see a blue spark flicker around Dabi’s fingers. Useless is never anything but inflammatory, and you know enough about the League at this point to know that almost all of them feel like they’ve been thrown away. You speak before anyone else can. “It’s nice that you have a plan,” you say to Overhaul. Nice isn’t the best word, but you’re thinking on your feet. “That’s less important than your goal. If your goal doesn’t align with ours, we should go our separate ways in peace.”

Overhaul studies you. “We do share a goal,” he says after a moment. “The destruction of the current system, and a return to the old ways. We can assist each other in that regard.”

“How?”

“My plan is sound, but my organization is small, with few flashy victories. In order to secure more support –”

“You want our name,” Tomura says. “Why should we loan it to you?”

Overhaul doesn’t answer him. “Put yourselves under me,” he says, and the League reacts exactly how you’d expect them to. Overhaul ignores them. “I’ll ensure you’re better taken care of than this. In exchange, you’ll reap the rewards of my plan to return to the old order.”

“And take orders from you?” Tomura’s voice is full of scorn. “I don’t think so.”

“It isn’t a request.” Overhaul shakes his head. “You lack the vision necessary to make your childish dreams a reality. Since your master didn’t teach you properly, it falls to someone else to rein you in.”

It’s not a request. If it’s not a request, it’s because he thinks he has the upper hand. Why does he think that? “Someone ought to rein you in,” Magne says. She’s on her feet, and a bolt of terror shoots through you. “I’ll put you in your place.”

She activates her quirk, and Overhaul’s yanked towards her from across the warehouse. It surprises him, but not enough. You see him yank off one of his sheer gloves, extend his hand, making contact with Magne’s forearm before her support item can strike the side of his head. He touches her, and then –

Spinner, Toga, and Twice all cry out, but it’s too late. You can barely make sense of what you’re seeing. Dabi looks up at you, shouts at you to do something, but Magne’s beyond your help, beyond anyone’s. Even if you had a healing quirk, you’d need something to heal, and the top half of Magne’s body is gone. All that’s left are her support items and her legs, which teeter horribly in place, twitching, before falling limply to the floor.

Everyone’s frozen – you, Dabi, even Tomura. The only person who moves is the person who’s close enough to contain the situation. Compress lunges forward. A gunshot rings out from somewhere, and you see his arm jerk as his hand makes contact with Overhaul. His quirk should contain Overhaul instantly, but nothing happens. Overhaul seizes him by the wrist with the same hand that killed Magne and blows his arm apart.

He screams, and the sound breaks your paralysis and Tomura’s at the same time. You both leap into motion, Tomura headed for Overhaul, you aiming for Compress, and for a few seconds, you’re running side by side. A second gunshot rings out, from the same direction as before. You know who they’re aiming at, whoever they are. You throw yourself forward, getting ahead of Tomura by a single step, and the bullet tears through your veil, sinks into your shoulder. It doesn’t hurt like you expected it to. It feels more like a sting.

There’s a third shot, but Tomura’s aware now. He dodges, closing the gap between himself and Overhaul, and you readjust your trajectory and race to Compress’s side.

The floor’s covered in his blood and Magne’s, but you drop to your knees at his side anyway. There’s an explosion somewhere in the offing, and for a moment, you’re dragged back to Kamino – but you aren’t there, and you’ve got a job to do. You pull your backpack from beneath the veil, unzip it, and start pressing sterile pads down over the open wound. Compress howls, tries to squirm away, but someone pins him in place. Spinner, who’s come to help. You don’t have even a second to thank him. Your entire world narrows down to finding a way to control the bleeding, to secure the bandages, to make sure the job Overhaul started isn’t finished on your watch.

You don’t see what happens with Overhaul. You hear pieces of it, enough to know that the Hassaikai is withdrawing for now, that Tomura killed one of them, that the not-a-request is still on the table and Overhaul fully expects Tomura to agree once he’s had time to think. And then he’s leaving. Overhaul is leaving, and Magne is dead – but Overhaul’s quirk isn’t what he did to Compress and Magne, is it? That can’t be it. If that was it, they’d call it something else. If that’s not all it is, is there something more he can do?

“Wait!” The words leave your mouth at a volume you didn’t expect, and Overhaul’s progress towards the hole he punched in the wall stops. He turns back to face you, and you seize the chance to speak before anyone else can stop you. “You can fix people, can’t you?”

Overhaul inclines his head. That’s as close to a yes as you’re going to get. You swallow hard. “Please,” you say, “bring Magne back.”

“Why should I do that?” Overhaul’s voice is flat. “He attacked first.”

“She did,” you admit.

“And Shigaraki killed one of my subordinates. Wouldn’t you say we’re even?”

“No,” you say. Overhaul tilts his head to one side, studying you. “You called the person Tomura killed a subordinate. Magne is our friend. We made a mistake, but you can save her. Please, bring her back.”

Don’t disagree with him, but make your point. Don’t look helpless, but hand him as much power as you can. Be respectful, deferential, but not submissive. Every de-escalation skill you’ve ever practiced flashes through your head, and it’ll all be useless if any of the other members of the League open their mouths, Tomura included. But they’re quiet, for once, and Overhaul’s still looking at you. What happens to Magne now is up to him – and up to you, if you’re able to convince him.

“If I bring him back, I leave a valuable piece in Shigaraki’s hands, and I’m not interested in rewarding bad behavior,” he says. You nod. He’s not saying no yet. As long as he hasn’t said no, there’s a chance. “So I’ll make you a deal. If you value his life so much, then I’ll bring him back – and you’ll leave him here for the police to find.”

Your stomach lurches. “Decide quickly,” Overhaul says, and finally, he looks away from you. “As the leader, Shigaraki, the choice is yours.”

Tomura doesn’t hesitate. “Bring her back.”

Overhaul walks past you without looking at you again, to the same spot where Magne’s legs and support item lay in a pool of blood. He peels his glove off his hand and touches the puddle of blood and tissue. You don’t know how to explain what he’s doing, except that he’s reassembling her body, piece by piece. Someone throws up – Spinner, who at least has the presence of mind to turn away from Compress before he does it. Compress, and his missing arm. Why didn’t you negotiate for that as well? You’re an idiot. You’re out of your mind, and Compress is still losing blood. Your job still isn’t done.

You don’t look up again until you’ve packed enough sterile pads onto the stump of Compress’s arm that they don’t bleed through instantly, and when you look up, you find the rest of the League gathered around, and Overhaul’s minions standing back, guarding the exits. Twice is melting down. Toga’s trying to console him, but she looks furious herself, and Dabi’s expression is masklike, frozen. Tomura crouches next to you. “How is he?”

“I’ve secured it for now, but he needs those arteries clamped off. Does law enforcement know his face?” You see Tomura shake his head out of the corner of your eye. “If we take the mask off and lose some of the costume, I can take him to the clinic. They won’t ask questions.”

Tomura nods once. “I’ve called Kurogiri. He’ll take you there. Can you stay with him?”

“We can’t stay here,” Dabi interrupts sharply, before you can finish saying yes. “Half the prefecture heard that explosion. Where are we supposed to go?”

“Back to the waystation.” Tomura answers before you can offer. You would have. He looks to you. “Meet us back there as soon as you can get away.”

Warp gates begin to appear, engulfing the other members of the League, and you start removing the identifying features of Compress’s costume. Hat, waistcoat, tie, mask, the one remaining glove. Now he just looks like a normal guy. A guy who’s had a really awful accident. You pack up your medical kit, put your backpack on, and start pulling Compress to his feet. He doesn’t resist, exactly. It’s more that he just doesn’t try. “Leave me here. I lost my arm. My quirk. There’s no point to anything anymore.”

You’ve lived your whole life without a quirk. It’s not the end of the world. Sometimes people with quirks say the dumbest things. You chalk it up to blood loss and decide to ignore it. “I’m not leaving you behind. We’re going to get you patched up and get back to the others.

The warp gate appears and you drag Compress through it, the two of you emerging in the alleyway behind the clinic. You barely remember to take off the veil and crown and tuck them away before you and Compress make it to the waiting room. All you can think about is how you failed to negotiate for Compress’s arm. All you can think about is how you had to leave Magne behind.

You figured it might be a while before you got back to your apartment, but you weren’t counting on all the complications – the clinic’s short-staffed, and in order to circumvent the policy about sending major trauma to the ER unless there’s no choice, you hop in to help and free up a nurse-practitioner with a quirk that helps blood clot to tend to Compress. Unsurprisingly, there are questions about how Compress got the injury. You don’t feel any shame in saying that a villain did it.

About four hours in, you get a phone call on the clinic’s phone. The person who initially answers it tells you it’s your sister, which sounds not-right – Isuzu doesn’t know where you work, and if she wanted to talk to you, she’d call your phone, not the clinic’s. You pick up the call and hear Toga’s voice on the other end. “Tomura-kun wants to talk to you,” she says. She sounds miserable. “Hang on.”

Tomura doesn’t sound much better than her. “How is he?”

“As good as he can be. Once he’s hemodynamically stable they’ll let him go.” You hear the questioning sound Tomura makes and define your terms. “Once his blood volume’s a little more compatible with life. How are things back there?”

“Fucked.” There’s a light thud. You imagine Tomura flopping back against the wall. “Twice hasn’t quit freaking out. Dabi and Spinner are climbing the fucking walls. Toga is – I don’t know what. You need to come back soon. I don’t know what to do.”

“As soon as I can. But you do know what to do.” You try to think. “Tell them that he won’t get away with this. That we’ll make sure he answers for it. Make them believe you.”

You think of what you’ve seen from the League so far, how they’ve gone from at each other’s throats that first night in the bar to ready to fight for each other now. It’s because of Tomura, because of who he is. “You’ve always known how to do that.”

Someone shouts for you down the hall – something about a patient who needs a pelvic exam. You wince. “I have to go. I’ll call when we’re ready for – wait, how are you calling me? Whose phone is this?”

“Yours. You left it on the kitchen table.”

You did. You’re not under suspicion, but you didn’t want to risk anybody tracking your phone’s location. “I’ll call when we’re ready for a pickup. Soon.”

“Soon.” Tomura hangs up, and you head down the hall to talk a patient into a pelvic exam they really don’t want.

The nurse-practitioner who was looking after Compress really doesn’t want to let him go, but you manage to talk her into it, and you and Compress make it back to the alley and through the warp gate to your apartment. The mood within the apartment is palpable. Sadness. Frustration. Fury. With the number of unstable personalities in the League, it’s a miracle that no one’s trashed the place yet.

Dabi is sprawled on the couch, but even he’s not so much of an asshole that he’d make Compress stand. He gets up, and once Compress is lying down, he climbs up to sit on the back of the couch instead. He peers down at Compress. “You look like hell.”

“So would you.” Compress looks pretty sickeningly pale. “I lost my arm and my quirk.”

“Your quirk?” 

“He touched Overhaul. It should have worked,” Spinner says. “But it was after he got shot with one of those.”

He points at the coffee table. There’s a bright-red capsule sitting there. You’d say it was a bullet, except for the fact that it’s tipped with a needle. “What is that?”

“We don’t know,” Tomura says. He’s sitting on your kitchen table, legs crossed, elbows on his knees. “We need to find out.”

“I heard three shots.” Toga’s voice drifts out of the kitchen. When you take a peek, you find she and Twice lying on their backs on the tiles. “One hit Mr. Compress and one missed Tomura-kun. What about the third one?”

You become aware, suddenly, of a sore spot on your shoulder. “I think that was me.”

“Right,” Spinner says. “You and Shigaraki both ran. I saw you get in front of him. What happened to your quirk?”

You look blankly at him. Is it really possible that the League doesn’t know you’re quirkless? Tomura wouldn’t have told him. It doesn’t matter to him. You glance to Tomura. Tomura nods once, and you take a deep breath. No matter how many times you say it, it never gets easier. “I don’t have one.”

It’s quiet for a second. “Twice,” Dabi says, “pay up.”

“No fair,” Twice protests. “You bet she had a lame quirk, not that she didn’t have one at all.”

“Having no quirk is probably better than having a lame quirk,” Spinner says. You’d argue, except you have a vague idea of the hell that heteromorphs go through, and if Spinner would rather have your problem than his, you’re not going to judge him for it. “Healing quirks are really rare anyway. And I’ve heard they burn through tons of mana.”

“Even if you had one, it’s not like you could make somebody’s arm grow back,” Toga says practically. “Or somebody’s –”

She trails off. You know what she’s thinking of, because you’re thinking of it, too – what happened to Magne, something so sudden and catastrophic that it would take a miracle or turning back time to fix. You got a miracle, but you lost Magne anyway. Her arrest was reported on the news while you were still at the clinic. In the silence that falls, Tomura climbs down from the kitchen table and steps into the center of the room. “Three days from now I’ll tell Overhaul that we’re accepting his offer,” he says. No one says a word. “When we respond to what he did, we need to respond decisively. That means we need more information. And we need to know more about this.”

He points at the bullet on the coffee table. “Starting tomorrow, Compress will test his quirk on the hour, every hour, to see how fast it returns.”

“It won’t return.”

“We don’t know that yet,” Tomura says. He looks around at the rest of you. “Compress’s injury and what happened to Magne won’t go unanswered. But our answer will be the final word. Does anyone disagree?”

There’s silence. Tomura turns away and climbs back onto the kitchen table, assuming the same position as before. You check one last time on your patient, note that he’s shivering, and find a blanket to drape over him. Dabi is peering through your closed blinds, down at the street; Spinner’s sprawled in one of your chairs, lost in thought. Kurogiri is wherever Kurogiri goes when Tomura doesn’t summon him. Now that you think about it, it’s strange that Tomura didn’t summon him for the meeting with Overhaul.

You have questions about that. But as much as your feelings are pulling you in Tomura’s direction, you know rationally that it’s Twice and Toga you need to check on first.

You have a feeling they won’t react well to you checking on them. You’re not their mom or their sister. You head into the kitchen with the excuse of making tea and step carefully around and over them, trying to think of a solid opening line. “If you guys want somewhere to sit, I’ll arm-wrestle Spinner over that armchair.”

“Hey!”

You don’t know why Spinner’s getting wound up. In an arm-wrestling contest between the two of you, you’d almost definitely lose. “Twice likes the floor better. It’s cool and welcoming,” Toga says. She doesn’t open her eyes. “Sorry I said I was your sister.”

“You should have said cousin.” Twice’s eyes are closed, too. “You two don’t look anything alike.”

“I was on the phone. They couldn’t see me.”

“Sister was the right call,” you say. “I only have one female cousin, and she’s a villain.”

“Really?” Toga sits up, interested, and Tomura looks up from the kitchen table. “Why isn’t she in the League?”

“I don’t know that she’s, um, in your league,” you say. “Have you guys ever heard of Gentle Criminal?”

“That guy? I’ve met him! He’s a tool,” Twice says cheerily. “We were locked up in the same holding cell one time. The first time he went to jail it was for trying to be a hero. Your cousin’s with him?”

“Yeah, she’s his sidekick. Or videographer. Or something.” You’re understating it slightly. “I’m pretty sure they’re a thing.”

“Like you and Tomura-kun?”

“Not like that,” Twice disagrees before you can say anything. “The boss is way cooler. Saintess has better taste.”

“Or higher standards,” Toga says. “Or both.”

“What are their quirks?” Tomura asks. He slides down from the kitchen table and comes closer. “Could we use them?”

“I’m not sure about his. Hers – I don’t think so.” Your family thought Manami was quirkless for a while. When her quirk popped up late in primary school, they were thrilled. “None of my family are power types. All their quirks do is change things about other people – like status effects in a video game. My dad can change how people perceive time, so time-out really sucked when I was a kid. My youngest sisters can make people feel the same emotions they feel, which is terrible.”

Tomura makes a disgusted sound. “That’s worse than the twins.”

It’s not great, but on the whole, you’d rather deal with the triplets. “Those are all broad-spectrum. Manami – my cousin – her quirk is a power-up, but it only lets her affect one person. The person she loves the most. So unless her boss’s quirk is something really special, I don’t think they’d be much use.”

That’s true, but only halfway. You don’t want your cousin mixed up with the League. You don’t want anyone you know involved with them. You and Manami were pretty close, since you were the only quirkless ones in the family at for a while, and it was her running away to join Gentle Criminal that inspired you to shake off your parents and follow your own dream. You haven’t talked to her since, but ever since you found yourself a member of the League, you’ve thought about her more than usual. Wondering if she’s happy. Hoping she found what she was looking for, whatever it was. Praying she doesn’t get hurt.

The tea finishes steeping. Green tea. You remember Tomura likes that. You pass a cup to him, then down to Toga, and watch with no small sense of relief as Twice sits up for one of his own. When you look up, you find that Spinner’s come over, too. Once you’ve given him a cup, you call out to Dabi and Compress. “Do either of you want tea?”

Compress says no. Dabi, to your shock, says yes. “I’ll bring it to him,” Toga says. She hops up from the floor, takes the cup you pour, and brings it over to him at the window. When she comes back, she sits on the counter instead of the floor, and she focuses on you. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Seven.”

Toga looks surprised. “That’s even more than me,” she says. “Are you the oldest? You seem like the oldest.”

Not by much, but enough to count. Enough to make sure your childhood ended before it began. “How did you know?”

“Nobody starts out good enough to be a Saintess,” Toga says with a shrug. “You have to learn it somewhere. I’m the oldest, too. But I was never very good at that part.”

You have to learn it somewhere. You’ve never heard someone say that before, but now that you think about it, it’s true. You wouldn’t have gotten so good at keeping things calm, at smoothing things over, if you hadn’t had to. If tamping down your feelings, controlling the negative ones by any means possible, hadn’t been a necessity in your family, you wouldn’t have done it. It’s a personality trait, but not one you were born with. For a split second, you wonder who you would have been if you hadn’t grown up the way you did – and then you realize that you know. The lessons you learned set in before the triplets were born, but long before. The person you would have been is who you were with your best friend.

You push the thought aside. “How many siblings do you have?” you ask Toga. “Did you get along?”

She says yes, which makes sense. She’s outgoing compared to the rest of the League, and just like you learned from your family, she learned from hers. Spinner surprises everybody when he chimes in about his family, too – he’s a middle child, with one older brother and one younger sister. Tomura doesn’t add anything, but that doesn’t surprise you. He stays at the edge of the conversation, listening, and you keep one eye on him and one on Twice. If you wait long enough, you have a feeling Twice will talk about what’s bothering him.

You’re right about that. He speaks up in the next lull in the conversation. “I wish Magne was here,” he says. “She’s the only big sister I ever had.”

It’s quiet for a little while. Twice’s voice is small when he speaks again. “It’s my fault. I brought him there.”

“Nobody blames you,” Spinner says. “He lied. It’s what villains do.”

Nobody steps in to point out to Spinner that he’s also a villain, and something clicks in your head: The League thinks Overhaul is more of a villain than they are. Having seen what Overhaul did, you’re not going to argue. “He lied,” Tomura agrees. “Unless you have a mind-reading quirk we didn’t know about, there’s no way you could have known what he was planning.”

“Big Sis wouldn’t blame you.” Toga pokes Twice in the shoulder with her foot. “So you shouldn’t blame you, either.”

“And she’s still alive,” Tomura adds. “We’ll deal with Overhaul, and then we’ll break her out of wherever the heroes are keeping her. It’s not anything close to over.”

The situation seems like it’s resolving, sort of, and you have other stuff to do. You finish your tea, then make your way out of the kitchen. If you’re going to be responsible for caring for Compress’s injuries, you need to make sure you have the necessary supplies. And there’s blood all over your costume. You should probably change. When you shut the door to your room and peel off the tunic, it sticks to you, which is when you realize that your skin is covered with dried blood, too. It’s all over you, and the sight reminds you of something you wish the memory wipe had cleared away – what happened in the wreckage of Tenko’s house, when you tripped and fell and sprawled out in what was left of a member of his family.

You need to clean up. You need to clean up right now. You strip out of your clothes on the way to the shower, turn the water on hot, and throw yourself in before it’s even started warming up.

The cold water isn’t enough to freeze out the memory, and the hot water can’t burn it away. It’s your turn to throw up in the bathroom, and you do, on your hands and knees in the shower, trusting the water to cover up the sound. Your head is spinning again, between Magne’s death and Compress’s injury and getting shot and getting Magne back and outing yourself as quirkless and getting a new name – a new name, like a villain, like your cousin Manami except you’re all but useless to the villain you serve – and hosting the League for the next three days, and getting shot. You keep forgetting that you got shot. You keep forgetting how it happened.

It’s been clear for a while that you put Tenko above yourself, in a lot of ways. His memory above your sanity. His mission above your integrity. His needs over your pain. But today was the first time you actually put Tenko’s life over your own. Sure, the gun had quirk-canceling bullets instead of real ones, but you didn’t know that when you heard the first shot. You heard the first shot, knew who the second one would be aimed at, and threw yourself in front of him. And you did it without hesitating.

You don’t like thinking about that. You don’t like looking at it, either, once you’re out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and trying to patch it back up. It’s not a bullet hole – more like a puncture wound, angry and inflamed, with jagged red lines emanating from the impact point. You don’t like looking at it so much that you leave dealing with it for last, patching up yesterday’s injuries and getting most of the way dressed before finally facing up to it. You’re just deciding whether to use spray disinfectant or antibiotic cream when someone knocks on the door. “Just a second,” you say, and the door opens anyway. It pisses you off. “Out. If you can’t give me a second –”

The door shuts again, and a moment later, Tenko appears in the mirror behind you. His eyes are fixed on the wound in your shoulder, and without asking, he lifts the supplies out of your hands and gets to work. He does with the Neosporin over the antiseptic spray. In general, you’re pretty stoic about pain, but the spot where the quirk-canceling bullet struck feels like the worst bruise you’ve ever gotten, combined with an ache in your shoulder and arm that almost feel like you’ve got the flu. You flinch from Tenko’s touch. “Careful.”

“Sorry.” Tenko’s hands are barely touching you. It just hurts. Now that you’ve let yourself admit it, you have to admit that it hurts a lot. “This was stupid. Don’t do it again.”

Your stomach clenches. It’s not like you were expecting him to thank you, but – “It was necessary. We’d have been in big trouble without your quirk. And I’m your sidekick. My job is to –”

“Have my back. Help me. Be with me.” Tenko looks up from his work, makes eye contact with you in the mirror. “We’re supposed to win together. You’re not supposed to die for me. I never let that happen.”

Even when you were little, you were a little too realistic for the games you and Tenko played. Sometimes you’d imagine yourselves into a corner you couldn’t see a way out of, and in those cases, you’d try to say your goodbyes – and Tenko never let you. If I can’t save my own sidekick, how will I save anyone else? “Those were just games.”

“And now they’re real. Nothing else has changed.” Tenko’s much more careful than usual as he bandages your shoulder. “Did you get the other ones?”

You nod. And while the two of you are here, he’s got wounds you need to check. You unwrap the bandage without asking, just like he did, and inspect the scratches. For injuries incurred last night, they don’t look so bad, and you pick up into the same routine as before. There’s something almost comforting about the pattern you’ve fallen into with Tenko, of tending to each other no matter where the wounds came from. It settles your nerves, slows down the frantic spinning of your mind. This is why you’re here. To be with Tenko. And you are, so what does the rest of it matter?

You’ve just put the panic in its place when Tenko speaks up. “Don’t do it again,” he says. “Say you won’t.”

“I won’t,” you say. The words roll off your tongue easily enough, but they feel wrong, and it’s not until Tenko kisses you that you understand why. All this time, he hasn’t lied to you. Whether he’s Tenko or Tomura, he tells you the truth. You’ve just lied to him for the first time ever, selling it so smoothly that he can’t help but believe you, and it feels awful.

It’s not the worst part, though. The worst part is that you’re not sorry.

[discountenancer]

Here’s why Jasnah and Hoid is a great ship:

It’s not a ship.

It’s a stopgap.

I think Jasnah and Hoid do, on a personal level, enjoy each other. I do not think Brandon is writing them to last, and that’s intentional.

Jasnah finds Hoid to be an intellectual equal—“after all this time” implying she has never encountered someone who could be on her level before. She finds him “fascinating”. She needs his knowledge to save her planet and people. She doesn’t trust him. The text says this directly.

Additionally, they’ve been ‘together’ for what can’t be more than a few months. I don’t remember how long between Oathbringer and ROW, but it’s not long. People don’t fall in love that fast, and both Jasnah and Wit are too smart and risk-averse to let themselves do such a thing. They are not in love. They are doing a very strange form of dating, on top of which they are facing down Odium. No walks in the menagerie for them, just a constant barrage of stressors on all sides. They are under a great level of stress and not doing anything remotely close to courting or dating, physical affection from Hoid aside. Jasnah doesn’t even call him Hoid, so it’s unclear if he’s divulged that name to her despite telling Dalinar and Kaladin, who forgot or refuse to use it. The text is clear that he has told her some things about himself, like not being Alethi, using some power of physical transformation, and being immortal, but she’s stymied on anything else. I don’t think she’s the sort of woman who would insist on calling him Wit in private if she knew a more personal name, but I could be wrong.

So: Jasnah needs Hoid as an ally, needs his vast knowledge of all things Odium/Rayse, and perhaps fancies him as a future partner (“curious how the relationship would develop”). She doesn’t seem to be betting on Hoid 4 Life, but is enjoying the comfort it provides in the moment.

What does Hoid get from this?

First, he gets his dick wet. Jasnah’s canonically very beautiful. The benefit there is obvious.

Secondly, he gets to influence her decisions. He is shifting the boulder to roll in the direction he wants. Hoid is after something, and we don’t know what it is. I do genuinely believe he wants Odium contained—having a God roaming around the universe who wants Hoid specifically to die would doubtlessly be a big ol’ wrench in whatever his plans are. Hoid can do his work much more effectively at Jasnah’s side than on his own. He gets into the Big Important Meetings and knows all of the Plans being made. He gets to cast his vote. Jasnah takes his opinions into consideration.

They are both deriving an immense benefit from their relationship. Don’t let the sex fool you into thinking it makes what they have deeper than it is—as an ace person, I believe Jasnah sees sex as a necessary compromise in maintaining the relationship (“she could provide the intimacy he desired….this was not a new experience for her”). This is unsurprising. Sex is a small price to pay for, uh, saving the planet from an enemy you only recently learned exists and also happens to be the god of hate incarnate.

Brandon has said of the pairing "Wow, that's a really great and a really terrible match all at the same time, and that's what I'm looking for, in a lot of ways.”

Great match for intellectual brains and snark. Terrible match because something is being set up under the pretense of what we are assuming is a sloppy last-minute ship randomly set up in the second half of ROW.

There’s a WOB about how Jasnah and Hoid perceive power—I cannot find it, so here’s the paraphrase I’m drawing on:

“we should be concerned about how both Hoid and Jasnah view power and that’s what drew them together”.

Jasnah and Hoid are creatures of philosophy. Jasnah values the masses over the individual and Hoid values the individual over the masses (“[he] is legitimately empathetic to the individual”; telling Dalinar he would watch Roshar burn to get what he wants while devoting time and risk to helping various characters through rough spots). This is where their attraction to power and how they subsequently use it will put them at odds. They do not have the same goal, though they don’t know it—or perhaps Hoid does already, but is playing the game. Jasnah wants to save Roshar. Hoid wants to save Roshar, but more importantly, as he’s said, he wants to save his own interests.

Jasnah is brilliant, but I do think Hoid is conniving enough to manipulate her. “Yes, he did seem genuinely fond of her. He said it had taken him by surprise as much as it had her” (ROW 99)—this does not mean romantic relationship. It could. It could also mean a general fondness, like a dear friend. We have not seen Hoid or Jasnah exactly palling around with anybody on their own. We don’t know if they’re awash in good judies. They are two very smart people burdened with difficult tasks. Jasnah didn’t like Wit when we first saw them interact. Now they get along and playfully banter. That’s some unexpected fondness for sure. Trauma bonding, baby! It’s a hell of a drug!

Jasnah and Hoid are not fated to be together. They’re not supposed to be convincingly in love, because they aren’t. They are together purely by circumstance and their time is largely consumed with trying to stop Odium or Jasnah picking Hoid’s brain for her scholarly pursuits. Their relationship is, for now, enabling them to tackle the task in front of them. They are together for now, to save Roshar for now. After the battle of champions in SA5, it’s anyone’s guess—mine is that Jasnah will use what she’s learned against him somehow, and he will oppose her directly in pursuit of his own unnamed goal.

There will come a day where they realize the next obstacle they face is each other. They are locked in an embrace with knives in their hands.

TL;DR: Jasnah and Hoid are not in love and it’s okay if you don’t think they’re a good match, because they aren’t, and Brandon has said as much. Their relationship is setting up a mighty, mighty plot point in the back half of Stormlight.

[mintchocolateleaves]

On the Blinding of Sunlight (2/3)

Summary: It doesn’t take a detective to realise that this is a fairly obvious encounter of what one would call a one night stand. Would Kazuha even remember? What should he do if she did? How does he act if she doesn’t?

A/N: Hah, chapter two so soon? You betcha. Happy Heizuha week all, I hope my fic update can contribue even a little bit.

Heiji doesn’t typically eat at his dining room table. It’s more like an additional storage space for folded clothes and purchases he’s yet to put away and—okay, okay, what he’s got is a pile of things that need to be put away but aren’t. He hasn’t gotten to it yet! It’s been months since he addressed the table pile and now the idea of dealing with it is not only daunting but a little tiring too.

Less daunting than all of… today , though.

When Kazuha gestures at the table expectantly, brows raised, he clears it without so much as a complaint. Nothing muttered under his breath. Heiji is an adult, he can easily move things from the pile on this table onto a pile on the desk in his spare room.

…The desk is also quite cluttered.

Eh, well, he can leave it on the bed Kazuha typically uses. It’s not like her stuff is in here, considering all her clothes are in his room. The green crop top she’d worn yesterday, with the cross-hatched pattern. She’d looked good, Heji can remember that much. Kazuha always looked good—

From the kitchen, a loud clearing of a throat.

Ah, he’d gotten distracted.

The table has been set by the time Heiji finishes decluttering it, Kazuha sitting nursing her own coffee while she waits on him. bowls of rice and miso soup have been dished out, settled and waiting atop the green bamboo mats that she has set out on his behalf.

Heiji drops into the seat opposite her and runs his fingers over the mat. He says, “Huh, I forgot I had these.”

“Obviously, you did.” Kazuha says, rolling her eyes. “You hardly ever host. I doubt you’ve even used these in years.”

Even if it was true, Kazuha didn’t need to point it out. And it wasn’t like he never hosted—Kazuha was his guest, at least once or twice a week. If he wasn’t visiting her, then she was visiting him.

Huh. At that point, they probably weren’t each other’s guests at that point any more, were they? Guests didn’t show up that consistently, that persistently. Guests didn’t treat places like a second home, they didn’t have carved sections in each other’s homes, in one another’s lives, that was purely their own. 

If part of his life belonged to Kazuha so succinctly, then begrudgingly he had to agree with her. He no longer hosted.

[Continue Reading on AO3!]

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 8 A Deadly Tour

I found a new website where I can make cursed murdle gifs.

So uh duke of vermillion crunch

I've turned him into a meme because he's so useless he had NO lines in the first series-

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

VIOLET: Oh, come on. Are we really gonna let that geezer stop us from having a good time?  LOGICO: You know… the invitation really didn’t sound like you were inviting me over for a ‘good time’.  VIOLET: Let’s take a tour of the grounds!

And so, Logico reluctantly follows Violet through the gorgeous courtyard. Only problem, she’s ALSO giving a tour to Baron Maroon and Signor Emerald.

VIOLET: Welcome, to the VIOLET ISLES! 

Logi has a looming sense of dread of course, but he can’t help but admire the beautiful complex. The buildings are gigantic and flawless, and the courtyard is made of a bedazzling maze trimmed to perfection. 

MAROON: [snort] My palace is better… LOGICO: Oh, shut the FUCK UP! MAROON: [growl…]

Emerald is inspecting every corner carefully, looking for anything he can pickpocket. Violet smacks him.

VIOLET: By the way Logico, while you’re here… do you think you could figure out why the OG tour guide is dead?

She points to a body (A sentence present in nearly every episode). 

LOGICO: …such… a fun vacation already

The first thing that catches Logico’s attention is the giant stone statue of Lord Violet. He’s able to get a better look at his figure now - a gazelle creature, with a long flowing mane… and a disturbing human-like mask. 

LOGICO: So this… is your father? VIOLET: Yep! 

Logico is quite confused at how they could possibly be related - Lord Violet doesn’t even resemble a person, more so some unearthly beast. But he can’t say that out loud. 

Baron Maroon quickly gets in the way.

MAROON: Want to go out with me.

He’s well over 70, and Violet is in her 20s.

VIOLET: That’s gonna be a hard pass thanks!

There’s a torn-up bag of acorns with a squirming beast inside. Kind of a weird weapon choice, but Logico doesn’t want to go near it even for clues. Depressed from being unable to steal some pricey trinkets, Emerald is drowning his sorrows in wine on a bench.

LOGICO: Let me guess - you got that from Father Mango! EMERALD: Not… every bottle of wine is from Father Mango. There is other wine.

Logico encounters something familiar on the cliffs. ‘The Scimitar of Death’- it’s a marot card (albeit not a very normal one)! Suddenly, he remembers Irratino!

LOGICO: Oh no.

Irratino feels this, and quickly tries to send Logico a telegram. But nothing is reaching. He then feels a new kind of pain - Logico already forgot about him??

The murderer was Maroon, apparently because he was that mad that Logico told him to shut up. Violet shoos him off.

VIOLET: When the civil war ended, the so-called Free Drakonia never made a claim to this island, and so it became an extrajudicial territory. Unlike those barbarous Reds, we do not execute our prisoners - we simply force them to leave! LOGICO: How polite, I suppose. Now, I have some questions…

He can’t wait to lore-dive into this incredible settlement.

The end!

I'm so excited for minimurdle now that i know it has the same suspects.

BABY EMINENCE.

The Roblox Murdle RP server now has over 40 characters, and also

^ I don't like this at all!

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[nero-vanderwolf]

Remember you are mortal.

As Goro stands, sabre poised to strike a Shadow, he vaguely recalls those words. They ring in his mind, a stranger’s voice in his ears. He doesn’t know where he heard them from.

Remember that you must die.

He sidesteps the Shadow’s attack, but he’s slowing down. He’s tired, separated from the group he’d been tailing. Junpei-san’s, if he recalls. His memory is becoming hazy from exhaustion.

Memento mori.

Next thing he knows, he’s being struck down, swatted at by the Shadow. He lands flat on his back, and struggles to roll out of the way as another attack comes.

He feels sharp claws come down on his shoulder, and he cries out, clamping a hand over it. The sabre tumbles from his hand, and he stares at the floor as it swims up and down.

He’s going to die here. He’s been hurt and he’s going to bleed out and die and it’ll have been his own fault. He’s going to die and he will rot, and his bones will be a feast for the Shadows.

He forgot he was mortal. He forgot that he, too, must die. He forgot that everything dies eventually.

Distantly, he heard someone shouting. There was the firing of a gun, and someone was hauling him to his feet.

In front of him, he saw Naoto-san, speaking worriedly to a pale-looking Yukari-san. She frowned, setting her bow down and seizing her Evoker from its holster. With practiced effortlessness, she turned it upon herself, firing at her forehead.

Her Persona appeared, and a warm glow surrounded him, bathing him in green light. He was alive. The determination and kindness of his senpais kept him alive, kept him breathing and his heart beating.

Distantly, he heard Naoto-san continue their conversation with her. “He’s handy with that sabre, I’ll give him that... But who knows what would have happened if we hadn’t found him?”

Yukari-san said nothing, interrupted by a voice from down the corridor.

“Is he okay!?” Goro turned around, feeling the strong arms of his Dad wrapping around him, the metal of his brass knuckles digging into the soft skin of Goro’s back. Nevertheless, he hugged back, burying his face in the soft vest.

“You had me worried sick! What were you thinking, coming in here by yourself!? We told you to stay out with Fuuka and Rise!”

Goro cast his gaze onto the floor, still weak from his encounter. “I’m sorry. I just- couldn’t stand by. I couldn’t.”

Dad’s expression softened, and he ran a hand through his pearly hair. “Next time, we’ll bring you with us if you promise to never leave our sides.”

Goro looked up, and nodded. “I swear it.”

And he meant it. Never again would he venture on his own into these halls. It was too dangerous without his Persona. Maybe one day, he’d be able to.

But that day was not today.

Memento mori.

Akechi's weakness being that he thinks he's immortal. he takes chances no matter what to help people because he doesnt value his own life and often forgets what death means. he forgets death is permanent and will always come about. he rushes into battle for ken, but doesnt think twice about himself. if he dies, what would happen to ken? to shinji? to aki? it feels so in character for him to forget about death.

[mahpotatoequeen]

tdp - anastasia au

Thinking about a Dragon Prince Anastasia AU.

I don’t think I would change the universe very much- we would still have Katolis and Xadia, that long war and all those endless cycles of violence and grief within it. Moonshadow Assassins are still coming from the Silvergrove to enact their Dragon Queen’s vengeance. 

Here’s the difference: King Harrow and his sons aren’t home in Katolis. They’ve been travelling, visiting other dignitaries at a conference in some other human kingdom. It was presented as a way of family bonding, but there was something tight and drawn in Harrow’s eyes when he suggested it.

They go anyway. They meet other monarchs. They feast on fine food. Successful conferences are often followed by parties, and this one is no different. The music is lively and the moon is full.

Then the elven assassins come. It is chaos. People are screaming everywhere, Callum and Ezran get separated from their Dad, and well…. You know the rest is history.

FEATURING:

Callum: playing the amnesiac prince who only really has some thread-worn clothes and a small little chain with the symbol of Katolis embedded in what can’t possibly be real gold. He feels like he’s missing something, something important, and really wants to get the Kingdom of Katolis in hopes of figuring out his past. He’s sort of surprised when an elf shows up and claims he might be the missing prince though. It’s ridiculous. Preposterous. Straight up impossible. Even if it is a little weird that he can remember that the King’s favourite jelly tarts are the persimmon ones…. 

(Also, moonshadow elves with brilliant purple eyes are suddenly appearing a lot in his ragtag sketchbook??? No idea why. Really. It’s not like she’s pretty. It’s just. She’s very aesthetically pleasing. For art purposes. Ahem.)

Ezran: playing the child king who lost his brother and father in one fell swoop when he was nine years old. He’s twelve, and he’s exhausted, but he has managed to work together with the other kingdoms to broker something like a very, very tentative peace treaty with Xadia. Lord Viren is his advisor, but it seems more like he’s there to undermine and trip him up at every possible opportunity. Ezran’s trying to find a reason to fire him, but one of the constituents of his young rule was that Viren would be there to…guide him. So just straight up telling him to leave without reason won’t work. 

The last Ezran saw of his brother, he was alive. They had been running, and Callum had helped him up onto a horse and sent it cantering. He was supposed to have followed right behind him, but for some reason never did. He’s convinced that Callum must still be alive, though, even if that hope is dwindling. He’s offering a very high reward indeed for his sibling’s return.

(Ezran is tired. He’s tired, and he’s very, very lonely.)

Rayla: playing a moonshadow assassin who is desperately trying to redeem herself in the eyes of her people after letting the two princes get away through a hidden passage that fatal night. She’s been on her own for the last couple of years, ghosted from her home and more determined than ever to get this right. The protections around the palace have grown extensively since the attack, and If she has to use this nobody as a fake ‘brother’ in order to get close enough to King Ezran and finish the job, then so be it. 

(Rayla doesn’t plan on falling in love. Stupid humans.)

Bait: Has gone on a miniature quest to find Big Brother Human himself, cause his Human is SAD and HAS BEEN SAD for SO LONG and it’s Not Good. He’s surprised, then, after a while of mindless wandering, to actually find Big Brother Human, smelling and looking a little worse for wear and definitely older, but. He’s got charcoal on his fingers. He scratches under Bait’s chin the same.  His Human is gonna be so happy. 

Bait forgot how annoying it was, though, that Big Brother Human does not understand him. If the Two Idiots would listen to him, they would not encounter HALF the problems they did. 

(When all this is over, Bait’s gonna have some tales to tell.)

Viren: playing a royal advisor who is more than a little bitter that the crown has gone to an inexperienced child over him. He had been there, the night King Harrow had died, and he had made… sacrifices for his cause. This was not supposed to be the result. 

Still, he is making leeway in winning the council over. The ridiculous treaty Ezran has made with the elves is shaky, and he can use this to his advantage. You can imagine his frustration, however, when he hears rumours about that overprivileged mongrel surviving. Callum had seen something, that night, that could ruin everything Viren has worked for. Something he could not be allowed to remember, or to live and tell the tale. 

(The mirror in his basement has its own magics, its own way of reaching through miles upon miles and placing danger in an elf and a supposed prince’s path.)

Claudia and Soren: Working under their father’s orders, they’ve been given commands to make sure that the elf and a magical fake Callum never reach the palace, because they’re an endangerment to the crown and the kingdom’s safety. A trick from Xadia, according to Viren. A plot against the king. 

(Soren asks what they do if it is the real Callum. I bet you know the answer.)

Amaya: Has moved closer to home with the withdrawing military presence after the peace treaty, as an extra measure of security and out of guilt of leaving her only family left alone for so long. She started conducting initial interviews of potential ‘Prince Callum’s’ the fifth time Ezran had come to her room, frustrated tears in his eyes, shakily signing about how he doesn’t understand why people would lie about being his brother like that, don’t they get how cruel that is? To give him hope and wrench it away?

Does she believe that her nephew is actually alive? No. Not really. Is the experience of interviewing people claiming to be Callum its own twisted brand of grief? Yeah. Sort of. But she’s willing to do it so that Ezran doesn’t have to, in hopes of making it some of those missing years for him. She’s shoring herself up for when he’s ready to hold a funeral, to stumble her way through helping him with this grief. She wishes Sarai was here. 

(She also thinks that Viren is a piece of shit, but that is its own thing.)

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

Reason ~ ch. 32

pairing: female oc (devon alba) x levi ackerman

tropes: instructor x cadet, strangers to lovers, male mc falls first

warnings: angst/slow-burn, strong language, upcoming smut(18+ readers only for those chapters pls 🙈), mentions of death

brief summary: This story takes place a few years after the Fall of Shiganshina. Devon Alba is in her final year of the 101st Training Corps (844-847), due to her success as a cadet she gets the chance to meet Captain Levi. She doesn’t think too much of him until he catches her in the midst of doing something that she isn’t entirely supposed to be doing. But surprisingly, this leads to something unexpected...

ch. 1 [...] ch. 31 | chapter 32 | ch. 33

“I’ll kill–I’ll kill you if you die.”

She set down the hair brush and placed her face in her hands.

She groaned, “Who says that?”

Of all the things she could’ve said, her intoxicated self chose to say that.

She didn’t remember much of what happened yesterday evening, it was still coming back to her in bits and pieces. But for some reason–she remembered everything from their last encounter clearly.

How handsome he’d looked sitting at the edge of the bed. His cravat loose on his shoulders and the dark contrast of his suit in the dim candlelit room. The dark hair atop his undercut slightly ruffled–as if he’d been running his hands through it occasionally.

She had to question if he was real.

She couldn’t get his tiny little laugh out of her head. His subtle chuckle after her meekly said threat. She wished she’d seen his face when he’d laughed. It was stupid… she knew, but she wished she’d just seen it.

She shook her head, letting her hands fall from her face.

Last night was supposed to be something different–something nice. It was supposed to be a light, fun evening that allowed her to unwind with the new people in her life. An excuse to dress-up and simply enjoy herself.

Instead, she’d fully passed out and gotten escorted out the bookstore in Levi’s arms.

She smacked herself in the forehead.

She was supposed to handle her liquor better than that. She was convinced that not embarrassing herself in front of her coworkers was simply not an option for her.

Though, she supposed Levi being there was truly a lifesaver.

She looked in the mirror’s reflection, at the cold cup of tea and folded towel on the nightstand–then the empty bucket at her bedside. He’d been so prepared to take care of her.

Instead she’d awoken only for a moment. To tell him a lame threat and get lulled to sleep in his arms.

She still couldn’t believe he’d let her lean on him. He’d stroked his hands through her hair, and hadn’t complained about her rambling. She wasn’t sure what she expected… but, it felt… almost unusual to be looked after.

She was just so used to feeling like she was looking after him whenever he came. Bandaging up his wounds. Leaving extra food in the fridge for him to eat. Preparing his pillow and blanket on the couch since he was starting to sleep at the apartment more often.

She liked feeling like she was making his day a slight bit easier.

But she forgot, it was him at the end of the day… making her life easier. He didn’t want a penny for rent. He didn’t want her paying for groceries when he was around. In fact, he didn’t want to see any of her earnings used on necessities. He also never asked her how long she planned on staying.

He was always willing to take care of her.

She still wasn’t sure if she even understood it–why he’d do such a thing. It still felt out of character for him to do.

All she knew was the indescribable feeling she got in her gut when he was near. He didn’t even need to touch her to light her up. There was this subdued magnetism… one that she wasn’t fully sure how to acknowledge.

His lingering stares. Easy touches. Reassuring words. They were all affecting her somehow.

And now, he was gone. Back to his job.

She didn’t even get the chance to ask for how long…

The ache that spread within her shouldn’t have felt as strong as it did. She swallowed hard, her hands curling into fists as she rested her head on her arms–completely leaning on the vanity.

Levi had installed a vanity in her room a week ago, along with a matching stool. She’d been too flabbergasted to speak on it. She just hadn’t expected him to notice the not-so-neat stack of bins she’d bought to stuff her things into.

Everything was reminding her of him.

She shoved off the vanity, seating herself upright on her stool. She stared back at her red-rimmed eyes in the mirror. She could almost see the turmoil within them. The ache within her was almost too tangible–too real. It wasn’t good for her… missing him like this.

She looked down at the hair tie on her wrist–the hair tie he’d given her.

“You have to come back.” she whispered.

Her fingers shook subtly as she touched the hair tie, “You have to, Levi.” her voice cracked.

She was shouldered aside and she automatically snapped her head up.

Just as her eyes narrowed at the young man he raised his hands up, “Sorry, Miss.”

She merely looked away and sighed under her breath. The main road was unusually packed today, she just wanted to get home in peace.

She readjusted her cloak’s hood before glancing into a nearby alleyway. She’d only taken that route a few times-when she was in a rush-but she supposed anything was better than being stuck in this horde of slow moving people.

She slipped into the dim alley. She kept her eyes low, careful to avoid stepping on the trash.

She glanced around, doing her best to ignore the ominous feeling of being the only one using the alleyway. Though, she supposed she couldn’t blame others for not wanting to use this route–the stench of garbage had somehow worsened.

She nearly flinched when she saw a stray cat scurry past her.

She chuckled at herself. She’d been feeling a bit out of sorts all day so she supposed it was catching up to her now that she was alone.

She shrugged it off before raising her hand to cover her nose as she walked onwards.

She was suddenly forced to halt when a shadow passed before her.

She froze before deftly looking around. Nothing had changed in front of her so–she looked up. Other than the rather gloomy sky there was nothing to see beyond the edge of the rooftops.

She frowned–not wanting to be in the alleyway longer than necessary so she picked up her pace.

A shadow appeared before her again and this time she immediately glanced up. She caught sight of the edge of something disappearing into the nearby rooftop.

She didn’t waste a second and instinctively broke out into a run. She didn’t know what the hell that was and she didn’t want to find out.

Her hand gripped her bags firmly as she ran. Her other hand drew her cloak close to her chest.

The shadow passed overhead once more and she almost faltered mid-step.

No way. She must be imagining it–but she swore she thought she heard the familiar whirring sound of ODM gear.

ODM gear–here? She couldn’t understand why-or how? But she didn’t get the chance to think too much of it because bits of pebbles and dust began to suddenly fall from overhead.

Whoever it was seemed to be running alongside her on the nearby rooftop.

A jolt of fear spiked through her body and her pace picked up drastically. She was now more than certain she was being pursued.

She ran full-speed out of the alleyway–almost crashing into someone dragging along a cart.

“Sorry!” she yelled out haphazardly before bolting to her apartment building.

She shoved open the building doors before bounding up the steps to her floor. She quickly slipped her keys out of her cloak pocket before roughly unlocking the door and slamming it closed behind her.

Her breath was ragged as she raised a shaky hand to lower her hood–only to freeze when she saw Levi standing in the middle of the living room.

In the midst of her panic she didn’t notice that the living room windows were wide open or that he was fully strapped in his Scout attire, ODM gear as well. And that she wasn’t the only one breathless.

Relief seeped into her the second her eyes landed on him.

She ran towards him, “Levi! Thank God you're here,”

Her hand absentmindedly went to his chest as she quickly turned her head aside to eye the door–instinctively checking to see if her pursuer had followed her here. 

She spoke through short breaths, “There was someone–following me–with ODM gea–”

Suddenly, firm hands grabbed the curve of her waist–forcing her to face him as she was pulled flush against his chest.

The next thing she knew his lips were on hers.

The bags fell from her hand.

She gasped at the pressure of his lips on hers. His lips were unrelenting–almost begging, begging for her.

Her hands found the sides of his face and suddenly the kiss intensified. His arms held her so close that she felt his racing heartbeat against her skin. His chest was taut against hers, his skin warm to touch.

And suddenly the world was non-existent. No one else but them. She didn’t care about his sweat, the way the belts of his uniform bit into her skin or the way he kissed her like he’d die if he didn’t.

She wasn’t breathing, only letting his lips do whatever they wanted. Her body alight in a way she’d never experienced. She didn’t want it to stop. His hands on her felt as if they were born to be there–and he seemed to know it too because he couldn’t stop touching her.

His hands slid from her waist to her hips to all over her back–touching, caressing, grasping–before winding an arm around her back so hard that the front of her body was completely pasted to his. She couldn’t breathe but she didn’t need to–because his lips–his lips.

He pried her lips open with his and slid his tongue through hers–as if desperate to find something within her. She tried to match his intensity but–he was too wanting, too needy. The hunger in his touch… god, she couldn’t take it.

Her mind was lost in a complete haze as his hand slipped into her hair, holding her head close to him as he kissed her further. His lips never leaving hers–even for a second–it was as if he were afraid she might disappear at a moment's notice.

His arm around her so firm that she couldn’t even move if she wanted to–but that was the last thing she wanted. There was nowhere else she’d rather be. Nowhere else that would feel like this.

Her hands slipped into his damp, dark hair. Her chest pushing into his as she kissed him back.

His response was immediate. He tilted his head, impossibly deepening the kiss.

She gasped, letting a hand drop to his shoulder as she tried to keep herself from losing balance. Her whole body felt alive. Wherever they touched, her skin was ablaze. Her thoughts raced–at an even faster pace than her thrumming heartbeat. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

She staggered backwards and broke the kiss. She inhaled a desperately needed breath.

His hands didn’t leave her–continuing to hold her upright as she caught her breath.

His face was flushed, bits of dirt and a faint pink scar along his jaw marked his features. Sweat made strands of his dark hair stick to his forehead. There was an edge of lust in his narrow eyes but it was nearly obscured by the look of sincerity and restlessness on his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

And suddenly she knew–with dawning certainty. Something is wrong.

Her hands in his hair slid low around his neck, her thumbs grazing his jaw as she spoke, “What happened?”

He looked down, “N-Nothing. I’m just.. happy you're here.”

“Why?”

He was quiet for a moment. She could almost see the thoughts brewing within his mind.

She stared at him intently. Her gaze dropped from his face to her hands on his neck—still in complete disbelief that she was touching him.

He was so tense that she could feel it at every point of her skin that was in contact with his. He’d even been tense throughout their lip lock.

He shook his head, “I’m being stupid.” he spit out lowly.

“No..” she prompted.

His eyes met hers once more. Despite their typical sharpness she could almost see through it now—the undercurrent of forlornness within them.

He searched her face. His eyes lingering on her lips but she gently placed her fingers over his mouth—not letting him get away. She knew if she let him kiss her again she’d completely lose her train of thought.

“Tell me.” she urged—her voice uneven.

His lips moved against her fingers, “We lost about 190 soldiers. Nearly three fourths of the entire damn regiment.”

His expression was bitter, full of resentment and hopelessness. It was clear he’d been around to see it all. She could only imagine what a sight that must’ve been.

His eyes were distant, lost somewhere lower on her body as he continued.

“We were surrounded… but Corinna..”

His eyes flickered towards her-watching as her eyes widened.

“Corinna? My roommate?”

Corinna was her roommate in the Training Corps. They weren’t particularly close but Corinna always performed well during the activities—apparently she ranked high as well. Plenty of the boys in their corps had a crush on her, Keith being one of them.

The only thing Devon ever concerned herself with-in relation to her-was when she tried not to wake her whenever she snuck out for her nightly kitchen escapades.

He nodded, averting his eyes.

“She was recently added to my squad. She died right in front of me—I know-“ he gritted out his words, struggling, “I know s-she’s not you. But I-you were the first thing I thought of—It felt like you.”

She didn’t need to hear the words to know what he’d been thinking. It could’ve been you.

She saw his eyes widen—as if reliving it.

“I wasn’t fast enough.” he said almost too quietly to hear.

“Levi.” she gasped out, before bringing his forehead down to hers.

“Stop.” she ordered, heartache making her voice waver.

It wasn’t surprising that he saw similarities between her and Corinna. In fact the entire cadet corps saw it when it became apparent how good the girls were. It was a running joke for a time that their room ‘2A’ was for two aces. Devon didn’t care much for it but Corinna ate it up.

The jokes soon ended when Devon’s skill grew unmatched.

Last she remembered, Corinna had gotten ranked in the top ten so she was sure the girl was going to join the Military Police. It came as quite the surprise to hear that she chose to be a Scout. It made her respect her more somehow… not that it mattered anymore.

“You did as much as you could.” she didn’t need to be there to believe that. She just knew he must’ve.

She saw the spiteful doubt crawl into his eyes but the second he met her gaze it slipped away. He must’ve seen her conviction.

“I know it.” she added, her voice steady.

He was still for a moment before she felt his shoulders sag. His hand on the back of her head slid down to her neck, his fingers raking through her hair.

“You’re right here.” The low rumble of his deep voice seemed to ignite the air between them.

His hand tightened around her nape, drawing her closer.

“Wait,” she blushed before stammering out, “Y-you should shower.”

A glint of humor broke across his stoic expression, “You sayin’ I stink?”

She couldn’t help but crack a smile, “Maybe.”

A tiny smile of his own seemed to flicker across his lips.

His grip on her loosened as he stepped back. He threw off his dark green cloak before efficiently unstrapping his ODM gear–it was clear he’d done it several times before.

He glanced at her, faint pink creeping into his cheeks.

“Don’t go anywhere.” He ordered.

She watched him slip into the bathroom.

In truth, she hadn’t even minded his smell. In fact, she didn’t mind anything that had just transpired and that simple fact was sending her into a complete disarray.

That kiss… it wasn’t a kiss of someone who’d just randomly did something on a whim. Sure, it might’ve been an impulse move on his part but�� that was the kiss of someone who was yearning. He kissed her like he’d been craving her.

And his words… he’d gotten that unsettled because he’d lost his comrades and because… he’d thought of her when Corinna died. He thought of her in Corinna’s place.

He thinks of me when he’s away?

For some reason she hadn’t thought he did. He was always so good at masking his emotions she wasn’t sure… she always doubted… 

She ran her hands over her face. Her thoughts were completely scrambled.

“What is happening?” she whispered to herself.

Corinna is dead.

The first one of her cadet mates that she’d heard of passing on. Her stomach sank at the thought. She didn’t need to be close to the girl to feel her loss.

Her breath came out ragged as she ran her hands through her hair once more. She felt like she was losing her mind.

She suddenly wished Imada were here. She needed to talk to someone—anyone–someone else. She needed air. Fresh air. That would help.

She straightened, readjusting her cloak around herself as she quickly walked over to the bathroom. 

“I’m–I’m gonna step out for some air!” she shouted so he could hear her over the running shower.

She quickly turned around and headed for the front door. Just as she pulled it open, a hand appeared beside her head–slamming it shut.

“Where are you going?”

She froze. She felt his forehead against the crown of her head.

“I just wanted to take a walk, s-so I could think.” her words came out in a whisper.

“Think here.”

When she didn’t respond his free hand found her hip, easily turning her around. She backed into the door.

She had to hold her breath to not gasp out loud at the sight before her. He was shirtless, his dark hair dripping wet. His pale, scarred skin dotted with water as well, his muscles taut with tension. His pants looked as if they’d been put on in a rush–hanging a little too low on his built frame.

His sharp eyes searched her face, “Okay?”

She couldn’t think when he looked at her like that–so much concern and want—maybe even a hint of fear. She couldn't ignore the tinge of desperation in his tone.

“Give me five minutes. I can walk with you, just..”

His hand left her hip to cup the side of her face, “Don’t leave.” he spoke quietly.

Her breath caught.

He appeared strained as his thumb brushed over her plump bottom lip.

The next thing she knew his lips were on hers, probing at first before growing more wanting when he heard her low whimper.

She pressed her hands to his wet chest as he kissed her–driving her head further against the wall. She could feel his fervor thrumming through the heat of his skin. The cool water dripping down his face doing nothing to quell it.

Her hands curled over his firm shoulders, her hands shaky as she kissed him–attempting to kiss him back when all she wanted to do was melt. Her thoughts a complete muddled mess.

He pushed her up into the door–nearly pressing his groin against her only to catch himself a millisecond before. He pressed both of his hands into the door, forcing himself to pry his lips off of her.

“Fuck.” he gritted out, his hands curling into fists. He had to calm down.

All he wanted to do was slide his hands around her thighs and wrap her legs around himself–but he knew if he did that he wouldn’t stop.

Her face felt hot, she didn’t need to look at herself to know she was probably blazing red. Her lips parted, inhaling and exhaling rapidly as she tried to find her breath. He always seemed to chase it away.

She absentmindedly watched one of her hands slowly slide down his chest, his wet skin was marked with healed scars. Some weren’t completely healed–like the one at his navel. It was the one she’d bandaged up months ago and yet its scar still hadn’t faded. She wanted to touch it–

He caught her wrist, his ragged breath made his words sound rough, “Don’t leave.” he repeated.

She was drawn out of her daze. She tried to respond but no words came out, so she merely nodded.

He watched her intently–doubt swirling within his gut but he used his hand on the door to push himself back. He knew if he stayed there any longer he wouldn’t leave her alone.

She finally met his eyes, despite the harshness of his cold gaze she finally saw through it. The veiled indecision.

“I’ll be right here.” she found her voice–even if it was hoarse.

His headstrong stare never left her as he nodded.

He turned around, running a hand through his wet hair before disappearing back into the bathroom.

She stood still for a moment before sliding down to sit against the door with her knees to her chest. She raised her shaky hand to touch her swollen lips in disbelief.

She knew he’d be hungry after his shower so she decided to postpone their walk.

He watched her observantly as she prepared their dinner. She kept her eyes glued to the plate before her. Once she finished pouring the soup into the bowl she carefully placed the bowl onto a plate. The plate had cut up pieces of bread to dip into the soup.

She carefully held up both of their plates before setting his down in front of him. She hesitantly placed hers down in the seat next to his. Normally, she sat across from him but…

Just as she was about to move her plate back to her usual seat across from him, his hand slipped around her wrist and sat her down on his lap. She froze, trying not to focus on the feeling of his firm thigh against her ass.

She glanced down, eyeing her legs between his spread legs. Her face felt hot.

He kept a hand on her back as he reached around her to pull her plate next to his.

“Smells delicious.” he murmured.

She’d used a new recipe from one of the cookbooks from the bookstore. One she particularly liked because it was quick to make. Wild rice & mushroom soup. She liked to add spinach to it.

He easily broke off a piece of bread and bit into it. He peered at her tense frame from the corner of his eye.

He slightly raised the thigh she was seated on–to catch her attention, “Eat.”

She glanced at her steaming plate before turning to look at him. God, he was so close.

“Since when did you want to kiss me?”

This time he froze–he held her gaze, “A while.”

“Since when?”

“Am I supposed to know the exact second I wanted to suck your face off?” His natural monotone made the question sound all the more mocking.

She blushed–embarrassed. His jaw locked to mask his chuckle.

He decided to answer, his tone a tad gentle, “I’d say.. started sometime at the training corps, after our late dinners.”

She squinted in doubt, “Impossible.”

“Why.”

“You never acted like you liked me.”

“Why would I. You were a cadet, I wasn’t even supposed to think about you.”

A faint blush appeared on her cheeks as she contemplated that. She supposed he was right–as her instructor he must’ve felt obligated to ignore those thoughts but.. to think he started to see her like that, that soon? She couldn’t quite comprehend it.

What did you even see in me?

She froze when she realized she just asked that question out loud.

“Are you serious?” There was an edge of annoyance in his flat tone. “Don’t act like you don’t know how tempting you are.”

He didn’t miss the light pink color sweeping across her cheeks to the tips of her ears. Or how her legs shifted.

His eyes narrowed, “I’ve never wanted to ruin someone and watch ‘em succeed til you.”

She didn’t know how to take his monotonous words, or the indescribable undercurrent within them.

She merely let out a small awkward laugh, “Ruin’s a bit dramatic–”

His hand on her back moved discreetly. He wrapped a strand of her hair around his index and middle finger before pulling—making her gasp as her head tilted back.

His eyes ran down her parted lips, down the inviting column of her neck.. His gaze hardened with distaste.

“Look at you.” a dark edge to his calm voice, “This pretty face s’just begging to be ruined.”

She turned away from him, easily pulling her hair out of his grasp in the process. She didn’t want him to see how much his words were affecting her.

She always thought she wanted to hear him compliment her—she just didn’t expect it to undo her like this.

Her heart raced, “Don’t flatter me.”

“Do I look like the flattery type.”

They both knew the answer to that.

But there were still more answers that she wanted to hear from him. So much she wanted to know and uncover.

“Why.. why did you wait so long?” she kept her eyes away from his.

His eyes widened before a small smile flitted across his lips. He raised his knee, drawing her further down his leg—closer to him.

His nose grazed her jaw, “Ah, do you wish I acted sooner?”

She shivered when his thumb began to make circles on her back. She was too distracted to form words.

He continued, quietly, “I wasn’t sure you wanted me.”

She met his gaze, “What made you think I want you now?”

“I never thought that–not until you kissed me back.”

His usual flat tone ended on a somewhat light note. A rare occurrence really–rare enough to make her go silent in shock.

He’d said those words with such.. simplicity—as if that were the only explanation he needed. He sounded almost… happy.

He leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss to her lips. When he pulled away she was still staring at him—unbelieving. Even his most delicate kisses were doing something to her.

He must’ve caught something in her gaze because his grip on her back suddenly tightened–his fingers curling around her waist. His lips were on hers again, more demanding this time.

His free hand slipped around her throat, drawing her face closer. She melted underneath him, letting him hold onto her as he took reign over her lips. Her hand went to his chest.

His lips felt so good it was nearly impossible to register. She never thought it was possible to feel this way. She felt like she was levitating.

She pulled away slightly.

He leaned forward, unready to part lips with her.

She pressed her fingertips to his lips, “I-I can’t breathe.” she murmured.

He went still, his eyes never leaving her face as she caught her breath.

Her brows furrowed before she placed her hand over his face.

She flushed, “Don’t look at me.”

She felt him smile underneath her lips, “My apologies…”

He removed her hand from his face, “-for looking directly in front of myself.”

Her eyes widened before she huffed slightly. She rose off of him.

Before she could even get to her feet, a hand slipped around her stomach—pushing her back down.

“Who told you to move?”

She was beet-red, “I-I can’t eat like this.”

He reached over and dipped a piece of bread into the soup. He raised the piece of bread to her lips.

She instinctively opened her mouth and took a bite.

“Not too hard, was it.”

“Shut up.”

She grabbed a book from the shelf before glancing over.

Levi sat on the couch, looking rather focused as he wrote on the paper before him on the coffee table.

They both had stepped out to try take a walk moments ago but the second they stepped out of the building, all they did was share one look and simultaneously went back inside. It was way too cold.

Levi had decided to do some work. He’d retrieved a couple books and paper from his ‘forbidden’ closet and laid them out on the coffee table. It didn’t take him long to get seated and start writing. His dip pen moving gracefully across the parchment. His expression solemn.

She had wanted to ask about what he was writing but she was too nervous.

She quickly looked away, facing the book in her hands.

She usually sat on the couch when she read but he was in her spot. There was enough room for her to sit on the other end of the couch but… he was right there.

I’ll just sit at the dining table. Wait—that’s too obvious… he’ll know I’m avoiding him.

She swallowed. It wasn’t like she wanted to avoid him. She just didn’t know how to be around him anymore, not after their kiss—or, kisses.

Just sit on the damn couch, fool.

She turned, pretending to be nonchalant as she flipped to her bookmarked page while heading towards the unoccupied end of the couch. Unaware that Levi was watching her the whole time.

She sat down, letting her half-raised legs occupy the space between them. Her bent knees being the stand for her book—and also blocking him front sight.

Suddenly a hand was at her calves and she was being pulled.

She yelped when she looked to see her legs had been thrown over one of his spread ones. His arm rested over her knees.

His sharp gray eyes examined her, “Why’re you so far.”

She blinked, coming up with something on spot, “Uh.. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

His eyes narrowed, “Tch. Don’t be stupid.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it. At least, one of them wasn’t having physicality problems.

He ran a hand over her knees before leaning forward again. He resumed writing on the paper before him.

She bit at her lower lip before readjusting herself slightly, letting her legs rest over his thigh at a more comfortable angle—with her back resting against the couch’s backrest.

She was still so close to him. Her stomach swam with butterflies—God, why am I so nervous?

She felt like such a kid.

She peered at him. He seemed comfortable hunched over, writing away. Continuously glancing back at one of his reference books as he wrote.

If he’s fine, I can be fine. She convinced herself.

She glanced down at the book before her, forcing herself to focus on the words on the page.

Once she finally managed to immerse herself in reading. She felt him run a hand down her leg and immediately glanced up.

“I can’t concentrate if you're gonna keep bouncing your leg like that.”

She immediately stilled. Shaking her leg was one of those unconscious tics of hers—usually happened when she was nervous.

His head was turned, facing her. He appeared to be assessing her.

“You’re nervous.”

“No.” she responded instinctively.

He was quiet for a moment before reaching out and touching her cheek.

“This pink face is telling me otherwise.”

He leaned towards her and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was sweet, slow and gentle. The type of kiss to leave you feeling warm all over.

When he pulled away, her hand impulsively held onto his collar.

Suddenly his hands were on her, easily pulling her onto his lap—making her straddle him.

Her eyes were wide when she saw him directly before her.

He was so handsome up-close it was almost criminal. His stunning, narrow, dark-gray eyes were almost impossible to look away from. His lengthy dark lashes only enhanced their shape. The contrast of his jet black hair against his pale skin suited him so much it was almost unfair. There was nothing on his face that wasn’t cohesive—even the darkness underneath his eyes.

She wanted to sigh. Only he could make tiredness attractive.

In her distraction she didn’t notice that she wasn’t the only one perusing the other.

His hands on her hips twitched.

“I’ve escaped death many times but you’re actually gonna kill me.”

When a small, shy smile made it across her lips his eyes narrowed.

“I’m certain of it.” he added.

A light laugh escaped her. She kept her voice low to hide her nervousness, “Don’t you have work to do..”

“I do,” he muttered, “but I can’t focus.”

His lips were on her in an instant—devouring her. Leaving no room for hesitation-not that she would anyway because the second his mouth met hers her stomach erupted in butterflies. The feeling was euphoric.

She didn’t know how she was going to survive if his kisses kept doing this to her.

His hand slid down her hip to her thigh—squeezing tightly as he resisted the urge to seat her directly over his groin. She was so close. Mere inches away but he had to restrain himself—had to be patient with her.

His thighs flexed underneath her ass.

His other hand tightened around her nape, keeping her close as they kissed each other eagerly. Her chest pressing into him as she held his collar. The pressure of her passion making him fall back into the couch’s backrest.

She broke the kiss, suddenly red. 

She wasn’t the only one flushed. A few buttons below his collar had gotten undone—revealing a hint of his pale chest. The peek at his chest line below his collar bone made an image of his shirtless body flash within her mind. To think that his firm chest and compact abs lay just below her hands, hidden by his thin dress-shirt… her body temperature went several times higher.

Despite this, she still couldn’t ignore the zip of fear bouncing within the back of her mind.

His neck seemed constrained, bringing attention to the thick lines and subtle adams apple underneath his skin. He stared at her-eyes searching-before using his hand at her nape to gently pull her into him again.

His lips dominated hers once more—leaving her body tingling and giddy with butterflies. But as her hands slid down his chest to his taut abdomen she realized she could feel it.. the tension coiled within his skin. The heat in his hand gripping her thigh. His hand gripping and releasing her hair at her nape… he was restraining himself.

The idea of him having more passion to give..

Suddenly a flare of warmth burned at her core and the jolt of fear floating within the back of her mind began to ricochet—all at once.

She broke the kiss, overwhelmed to another degree.

Her fingertips went to his lips as she blurted-breathlessly, “I can’t—I can't think straight.”

He was quiet for a moment before saying, “You think I can?” The words gruff on his lips.

She looked down, letting her hand drop from his lips. She kept her eyes on her hands over his firm abdomen, taking a moment to catch her breath.

He stared at her, silently. His hand at her neck moving ever-so-gently to her face. His fingertips skimmed her jaw before going lower to her neck. His thumb slipping underneath the rim of his plain long sleeve shirt that she wore. He touched her like he was scared she would break.

“I’m-” his voice cracked and he swallowed, “I’m leaving again tomorrow.”

Her eyes immediately latched onto his.

“Have to help deal with the bodies.” he clarified mutedly.

She shivered. That statement in itself was rather morbid.

“How long will you be away?”

He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, “Not sure. I want to say tomorrow evening but it’ll probably be a couple days. Erwin mentioned having some sort of commemoration for the fallen soldiers but… I’m not sure how he wants to go about that.”

He sighed, letting his hand drop to watch her hair unravel around his finger.

“I should probably go back tonight.” he muttered.

“To Scout HQ?”

He nodded.

“Why?” She’d kind of hoped he’d stay the night here—his presence always brought an added sense of security.

“Have to speak to Erwin. The mission failed and our next expedition relied on this one so now we got to figure out what the fuck to tell the Government.”

A scowl appeared on his lips as he spoke bitterly, “MPs are gonna have a fuckin’ field day with this.”

She bit her lower lip. This was the most he’d ever spoken about his job and she was more than curious to know the details.

“What are you guys going to do now?” she asked, worriedly.

He ran a hand through his black hair, “Don’t know. Erwin’s always got some shit up his sleeve so I'm assuming he has a plan.”

His brows furrowed as he added, “He always does.”

“Isn’t he going to sleep?” she asked, in reference to Erwin.

“Doubt it. If we’re all up and there he’ll call a Squad Leader meeting when he wants.”

“Wow.” she murmured, genuinely surprised.

“He doesn’t like to waste time.”

“Sounds like.. a proper leader to me.” she noted in a low murmur.

Sure, it definitely must be taxing on the team leaders but time efficiency was a quality that was necessary in areas of leadership. Especially in the Military.

Shadis would always drill into their heads that learning to think on your feet wasn't a trait that could be taught—but rather one you had to refine. 

You always had to have a plan. And a back up plan. And if you were smart-according to Shadis-you’d even have a backup plan for the backup plan.

“Tch. There you go again.” He’d nearly forgotten about her unwarranted admiration for Erwin.

Even if he knew it wasn’t entirely misplaced it still agitated him to hear her say it.

She suddenly grabbed his collar, “You better get some sleep after the meeting. I don’t care if it’s only a couple hours—get. some. sleep.”

The darkness underneath his eyes truly was concerning her.

A subtle smile tugged at his lips. His hand slipped up her wrist, before letting his fingertips twist her engagement ring.

“Acting like my wife already, hm?”

She felt her cheeks burn.

“I like it.” he continued.

Her grip on his collar tightened-doing her best to ignore the feeling his words caused as she insisted, “I’m serious, Levi. Promise me you’ll try?”

He looked worn, “I can promise but there’s no guarantee sleep’ll actually come to me.”

Her eyes widened as she remembered, “I have chamomile tea! I bought some before you left but the store owner said it’s supposed to help you sleep. You should take some with you.”

His brows furrowed as he deliberated, “I suppose… I could.”

He raised a brow, “You bought that for me?”

She looked awry-suddenly abashed, “Um-well, you said I had to restock your tea so..”

“I drink black tea.”

“Bah! I know I just—your dark circles worry me, okay?” she spat out, completely flustered.

He smiled. Even if the smile was just a bit wider than his usual ones—even if the smile had a bit of sadness to it, she was absolutely star-struck.

It suited him so much.. she was certain she would’ve fallen if she was standing.

He leaned forward and kissed her. A light peck that left her yearning for another.

“Don’t worry about me.” he murmured against her lips, before pressing another kiss to her lips. This kiss a bit longer—more greedy.

It was hard not to be greedy with her, when all he did was want to consume her whole. Her little breathless sounds only making it worse. He wanted to hear more—feel more.

He pulled away before his lust caught up to him.

“You have work tomorrow?”

She nodded.

He ran a hand down her hair, “You should sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when you go.”

His expression turned pained, “Don’t.”

Her brows furrowed, “Why?”

He closed his eyes, “Because I-“

He swallowed before speaking quieter than usual, “I won’t be able to go.”

Her eyes softened, “Levi-“

“Just this once.”

At her silence, he opened his eyes, “Please.”

She was frowning, “I.. I don’t like this.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice a low growl, “I know.”

His hands at her waist squeezed—his voice strained, “W-when I let you go, I need you to get up and go to your room. Don’t stop, don’t speak and don’t look back.”

His eyes searched her face, “Alright?”

She didn’t meet his eyes.

“Devon.”

Her hands at his collar moved slightly but she still didn’t meet his eyes.

“Devon.” he spoke through gritted teeth.

She met his eyes.

“Can you do that for me?”

She looked away again, her voice low, “Y-yes.” 

His lips encapsulated her in a bone crushing kiss. Stealing her breath and securing her heart with steel wiring. She was a complete goner.

His lips pried hers open, kissing her deep as he tilted his head. His hands sliding into her hair and around her lower back—nearly drawing her close but he refused the burning urge. It’d bring her lower region too close to his own.

His lips lit up every square inch of her body—the feeling heedy and addicting. She couldn’t get enough. There could never be enough.

She gripped his collar like her life depended on it.

He pried himself away from her—nearly yanking himself into the couch’s backrest so he could get at least some distance between them.

He had to stop.

He stared at her breathless form before him. The sight so damn appealing he nearly lost all control then and there. His dick so hard it hurt.

His hands squeezed her waist once more.

“Sleep well, baby.” his low voice rough.

And before she could respond, he released her waist.

She froze, suddenly tense. Her heart already aching.

She swallowed, not meeting his eyes as she let go of his collar. Her hands sliding down his chest as she hoisted herself off of him.

She stumbled slightly when she stood up—completely disoriented from his mind numbing kiss. She couldn’t believe how excruciating this felt, stepping away from him. Each step she took more painful than the one prior.

Just a couple days. Just a couple days. She kept trying to tell herself.

But it was too long. Too long.

He'd been away for longer-much longer-and she knew that but.. it was different now. Who knew how much a little skinship could change things..

She stopped right before her door, her hand trembling over the doorknob.

I want to look at him.

She squeezed her eyes shut—refusing to listen to that little voice. If she could make this as easy for him as possible, she would be happy.

I’ll see him in a couple days. A few days! C’mon you got this. She tried to convince herself.

‘Sleep well, baby.’ His words echoed in her mind.

Her belly warmed with butterflies.

Why’d he have to say it like that?

She managed to open her eyes and open her door. She quickly stepped inside and shut it behind her.

Levi stared after her, his brows drawn in distress. Once she slipped into her room, he lay back against the couch. His head resting on the backrest as he stared up at the ceiling.

He already missed the feeling of her warm body on his legs. Her little needy hands at his collar. Her swollen lips against his.

How am I gonna survive a couple days?

His hands twitched at his sides. He was more grateful than she knew that she complied. He truly wouldn’t be able to go if she hadn’t left first.

He needed that and she knew it. She was always too good to him.

How'd I get so lucky?

He swallowed hard before glancing back at her bedroom door. Everything he craved was behind that shitty, wooden door.

His hands tightened into fists at his sides.

I’ll be back. He promised.

[skylarmoon71]

Lance Sweets (Bones) - Crossover AU - Chapter 30 - Final

You go through the rest of the day a bit awkward because Angela winks every time she catches sight of you.

Lunch break is very much needed. Sweets are already there and he waves you over when he catches sight of you. You still feel a bit flustered even when you sit down. He’s curious. You just wave it off with a blush.

“I’ll tell you later.”

He just smiles with a nod as you both order.

“Lois gave me a call today. Apparently Clark’s cousin is coming to visit. She invited us to come by next month to meet Kara.”

You’re fully invested now.

“His cousin!”

Sweets nods.

“Yeah, sorry I guess I forgot to tell you. She called during our little vacation. I was so excited to tell you but I guess I got distracted.

You completely understand.

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

You sound so happy and he smiles.

“I figured. I’ll make sure to schedule my days around it so we can go together.”

“I’d like that.”

He reaches over, taking your hand over the table and as your finger interlocks, you can’t help but remember the first encounter at the diner.

“So what’s your favorite dish? Personally I think the sandwiches are amazing. Then again, maybe I’m biased. I just love sandwiches. But who doesn’t, right? I knew you’d get it.”

At the time you were confused on why he had sat down and started chatting like you were best friends. You had literally threatened him and he still showed up day after day to be your friend.

Your distant smile makes him tilt his head.

“What are you thinking about?”

You laugh.

“Our first lunch together. You wouldn’t shut up.”

Sweets finds himself smiling too.

“I was trying to be your friend. I ramble when I’m nervous.”

“I noticed.”

You can’t believe how silly it all seems now. You squeeze his hand a bit tighter.

“Thank you for being a nosy know it all Sweets.”

He laughs a bit louder.

“You’re welcome.”

The rest of your lunch is quite nice. You both head back to your respective offices to finish the day. In all honesty you just can’t wait to jump into bed with Sweets.

It comes much sooner.

Work has ended and you’re both turning in.

After a shower and some interesting singing by Sweets, you’re both cuddled into the bed, going over the day’s events.

Of course when you’re both comfortable you feel it necessary to tell him about your conversation with the girls earlier.

You can’t hide the bashful look as you explain why you’d walked into the diner looking like a cherry.

“You told them that.”

Sweets is laughing and you just bury your face into his chest.

“They kept interrogating me, I didn’t have a choice.”

He fully understands your embarrassment now. Reaching over, he strokes a hand down your cheek. He can’t express how great it is to be here.

With you.

That night was single handedly one of the most terrifying experiences of his life. Just having the opportunity to hold you like this is like a blessing. One he will never take for granted.

His quietness catches your attention and you look up at him. He’s just wearing that smile. His hand feels so warm, safe.

Most of your life, safety wasn’t truly something you were worried about. Your abilities made you more capable than most, so the only vulnerability you ever had was the discovery of those gifts. Even then you knew that there was little out there for you to fear. Before you met Sweets, life was just something you wanted to get through. You had no real purpose or goal.

Now, thinking back, you can’t seem to imagine life without him, without all of your friends. If he hadn’t been so adamant to befriend you that day, you would not have any of the happiness you now hold. You’re grateful. More than you can ever truly express.

“I love you Lance.”

Words that you would never get tired of saying. His smile is wide, and he leans in for a kiss, one that you happily return. When he pulls back, you giggle, because he starts leaving kisses on every part of your face.

“I love you so much!!”

He exclaims.

You hug him happily as you laugh along with him.

You’re both content with how life turned out, and that’s all that matters. 

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 119

Chapter 119: “Encounter”

Ever since the escape, the WM pen gave Emma hope, insight and a sense of direction, so seeing her drop something she held onto so tightly now that Norman is back is kinda satisfying I guess? He checks off all those boxes for her sorta. She doesn’t ditch it completely though as we see it used later on before the GF raid.

Goes without saying but the reunion was done so much better in manga. All the emotion from Emma reflecting on their time apart hits so hard and of course seeing all the tears they’re shedding contributes to all that too. Also love how they decided to give this moment a double spread as it helps convey that there’s no longer any space between them. The only thing that would’ve made this scene better (for me) is if Emma had knocked ‘em both down to the floor. I know Norman became taller and probably a bit stronger physically since Lambda, but with the amount of speed and force Emma is putting into that hug I’m surprised he’s still standing.

At least the anime remembered his squishy cheeks.

I know this is a very touching moment but honey, why do you gotta say this so causally?? You’re sure as hell ain’t gonna get it back either!

I guess another reason why the manga handles this whole reunion better is that it includes everyone, not just Emma & Ray. Yeah the anime had the escapees see Norman later at that temple they were hiding at, but it didn’t feel the same. As much as I can appreciate the fullscore trio having their own little moment for themselves, I like seeing everyone’s reactions all at once since there’s a wide range of emotions on display here. Emma also looks so pleased with herself with how large their family has become.

I wish there were more chapters focusing on Norman’s time at Lambda. With how closely he was being watched, I can’t help but wonder how he managed to efficiently communicate with Vincent and Smee and how he orchestrated the whole escape without raising suspicions from the demons and Ratri clan working there. (remember when i said no human (on our side) has killed another? well, i forgot about this whole scheme.. so it seems norman has quite the kill count, even if those were done indirectly by an explosion.)

Few chapters ago I wondered if Hayato & Jin knew to look for the escapees based on seeing Norman’s ID or if he told them both what to look for, and though I believed the latter was the valid reason, I can’t doubt the first option now either since his number is in plain sight. I know he typically hides it when outside paradise when attacking farms and making deals with demons so perhaps that’s why I even questioned it in the first place.

Big history lesson incoming.

Favorite panel/moment:

And to absolutely no one’s surprise, of course Ray slapping the hell outta Norman is my favorite. The anime pales in comparison to the sheer amount of power and lowkey rage behind manga!Ray knocking this boy on his ass. The shock on everyone’s face is hilarious as well. At least Norman is a good sport about it.

The rest of this moment is still sweet though, like Norman quoting the letter he left Emma and seeing my boy finally break and have some tears flowing makes me wanna hug him.

To hear the boy who cursed his life and had plans to end it all come around and say he’s happy to be alive is just.. aaahh so so very important!!!!

I do like how the anime gave us a better look at his face with this line though.

And I got nothing against the panel of Emma down below (because it is adorable how she questions her sudden inclusion in the hug), but I love how relieved she is upon hearing such words from Ray.

Stupid is a term of endearment. And I wish I could say we can never let this trio be separated ever again but.. you know. Stuff happens.

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Kenpachi Zaraki (Bleach) Chapter 2

Talk of your battle spread like wildfire. 

You couldn't get around without whispers following and now you were  actually being set up for missions.

“Damn it all.” You sulked in your barrack and Shinji laughed.

“Sorry your secret got out.” 

It was a drag. You need to do your job now. 

“Why me..” 

Shinji pats your head as you whine into the couch. 

“Cheer up.” 

You tried. As you went about your day, you did your best to drown out all the talk. It wasn’t the attention you wanted or needed. Casually walking through the barracks to deliver papers, you slowed down when you saw a familiar head of navy hair. 

His eyes raised the minute he saw you. He seemed to be doing the same.

“(Y/N)-san!” 

His face lit up, and he bowed despite the heavy stack in his hands. 

“Thank you for the last time. B-Both of them I guess.” He straightened, laughing awkwardly. 

The smile he wore, you couldn’t but compare it to one you remembered so many years ago. 

“I almost forgot it.” 

His face felt like a distant image. 

“Tarou-kun..” 

A painful memory. 

“No worries. I should get going.” You lowered your head continuing on your way. Hanataro watched your retreating form in interest as you disappeared down the hall. 

The rest of the day was surprisingly calm. Thankfully you never encountered the rowdy captain who had messed up your entire plan to fly under the radar. Every time you thought about it you got pissed. 

“Spikey-chan!!” 

The yell catches your attention. The second you see that dark hair your face goes sour. Kenpachi has a grin planted on his face.

“We finally found you and it only took twelve hours this time!” Yachiru cheered. For a moment you thought she was joking. But she was still smiling earnestly. 

“They weren’t joking about their terrible sense of direction.” 

It was actually a relief. Hopefully you could see less of him. 

“I don’t have time for games. I need to get back to my squad.” 

“Fight me first.” Kenpachi drew his sword. 

You just walked past him. 

“Not interested.” 

He frowned. 

“What a waste of strength.” 

Kenpachi’s statement wasn’t a surprise. 

“Flaunting my strength doesn’t benefit me at all. The head captain might get the wrong idea and try to put me in some dumb position. Who needs that hassle?” 

Yachiru smiles.  “You’re funny!” 

“Anyway, see you later Zaraki-taicho.” 

Hopefully not. 

“What if I pick a fight with the meek little mushroom, I bet you’d come running.” You froze in your spot. His words don't sound taunting. It was like he was trying to figure you out. 

“You like the little shrimp, that’s good motivation. We saw you that day with the menos.It was just the kind of power I’ve been looking to challenge. “ 

Your fist tightened at your side. 

For some reason, him mentioning Hanataro made you angry. You knew he was just messing with you. Kenpachi wasn’t so tasteless as to attack Hanataro. It became clear that he knew you would respond when he struck that day. Now it makes sense. He’d seen you fight the menos. So he’d scoped you out. 

“People like you..” 

You glanced to the side of you, looking at him. 

“Really piss me off.” 

Kenpachi felt the rise in reiatsu that swept over at the statement, and just as he prepared for battle, you were gone. 

“Eh!! Ken-chan you made her mad! Now she’ll never fight you.” 

Kenpachi kept a steady hold on his blade, internalizing that expression on your face. 

[flecks-of-stardust]

Mercy — A Rain World Short Story

If you die, may you not die alone and afraid.

Five Pebbles, while reminiscing about the past, encounters a strange creature.

Contains spoilers for Saint's campaign; read at your own discretion.

[Five Pebbles]

The same faltering melody, repeating over and over into oblivion. The pearl is warm in his hands as the music stutters, wavering in time with the howling of the blizzard around him.

It is a hymn. That is all he remembers. The contents of the hymn, why it was written, when it was first sung… He accepted the loss eons ago. It was inevitable; even when his structure was intact, bits and pieces would drift away from him, lost to his self-created ruin. But given enough time, as much as he has sat through now, even the best of circumstances would have decayed into nothingness. 

But even as the rest of his memories fade, what little is left of him swept away by the frigid winds, he remembers crimson fur and soft paws throwing a pearl at his face. He hadn’t paid her much heed then. Hadn’t thought this pearl would bring him such comfort. That this memory of her would bring him comfort. 

That happened millennia ago. The turning of the wheels of time have left both of them behind. Try as he might, her specific shade of crimson is lost to history, but he remembers her as the crackling song plays, the notes barely audible over the screaming wind. 

He doesn’t know what befell her, why she stopped visiting all those years ago. Or perhaps he did know, and simply forgot. It makes no difference now. 

Memories of times long past… Moon used to tease him for his fascination with history. She was ever practical, always looking to the future, while he would stare back into the past. Even now they are the same. 

“I love you.” Her last words to him. He tried to say it back, tried to respond even as he felt his structure crumbling below him. He doesn’t know if she ever heard him. 

… Suns… Their last conversation… It’s too late for him to apologize. Too late for him to tell them that he finally understands what they were trying to tell him all those years ago. Do they still think about him? So much time has passed since they last spoke. If anything at all, he hopes they are in a better condition than he is in. 

Time has taken all from him. All he has left are fragmented memories, and this pearl with its shuddering song. Looking into the myriad of cracks on its surface, he can hear Suns’ teasing laughter, can feel Moon’s calm confidence, can see the reflection of a scarred face, long since gone. All these recollections of better times… 

A gust of wind blows his way, sending snow into his face; he flinches, his shaking hands losing their grip on the pearl. Straining, he reaches for it, but stops as he notices the furry green creature standing in front of him. It stares at him, blinking snow out of its eyes. He stares back; its shape is familiar. 

The first sound to escape him after many cycles of frozen inactivity is a grinding squeak, one that makes the green thing recoil in alarm. He tries again, forcing air through the corroded metal of his voice module. “Little… green thing…” he rasps, struggling to project his voice over the howling of the snowstorm. “Hello.” 

It creeps a little closer, sinking down to its belly as it stares up at him. Such a curious gaze. “Nothing here,” he warns, the frigid air shuddering through his puppet. “Nothing… left.” Nothing but memories. Even those are fading. 

It stays there, watching him, unmoving as the snow drifts down around it. He returns its gaze for a moment, then resumes his routine, retrieving his pearl and playing its fractured music again. Once more, the world is little else but this song and his memories amid the howling winds, but ever so slightly, it is warmer. 

Company is rare; the occasional critter stumbles its way in, but they never stay long. If the biting chill doesn’t drive it away, the snow that piles up around him will. But there is a certain deliberacy that shimmers in the eyes of this creature, one that doesn’t wane as the cycle wears on. 

Eventually, though, it seems to drift off, closing its eyes as his pearl continues to play its broken tune. It doesn’t move even as the blizzard crescendos again, the bitter cold eating away at his puppet. With a sigh, he drops his pearl, reaching out to gently shake the critter awake. “Please find… warmth,” he says to it as it blinks up at him with drowsy eyes. “Cold is danger.”

Not moving, it continues staring at him, the layer of snow on it rapidly growing. He shakes it again, dislodging some of the snow. “Find heat,” he says firmly, pushing it away from him. 

Reluctantly (or perhaps he is projecting?), the green creature gets up, shaking the snow out of its fur, and begins padding away from him. The blizzard swallows it swiftly, the ice in the air whipping around too fast for him to keep track of where the snow ends and where the critter starts. In a mere few seconds, he is alone again. He turns back to his pearl, submerging himself into its familiar, creaking melody as the storm rages on. 

Familiarity is a comfort. He has little else to occupy his time with now. It is just him, and his pearl. 

The storm waxes and wanes. The snowfall returns to a gentle drift, and the wind gusts settle down into a delicate breeze. He remains, unmoving, his pearl continuing its faltering song. 

The cold is less intense today. Moon will enjoy it; she never liked the cold. She… 

… he is still cold, in spite of the reprieve. He bunches himself up tighter, his joints creaking as he shifts. 

Soft footsteps, pathing through the snow. He looks up and is greeted by the furry green creature again. It lays down at his feet, staring up at him. Puzzled, he peers down at it. “Why back?” he questions.

There is no response besides a short trill from the green creature, which rolls over onto its back, still staring at him. He leaves it be.

… his pearl. He dropped it. Trailing his fingers through the snow, he searches for it. What did it look like again…? 

The green creature drops its head onto his feet with another trill. Something clinks against his feet; it’s a pearl. His pearl. He picks it up, holding it in both his hands, and then looks down at the green creature. “Thank… you,” he croaks. 

It only stares at him, blinking snow out of its eyes, with its curious, unwavering gaze. 

… familiarity… 

He extends a hand towards the green creature. It shrinks away from him, nose twitching as it stares at his hand, but after a moment’s hesitation, it presses its head against him. 

… it’s comforting. Hesitating briefly, he brushes his shaking hand down the length of the creature’s back. It doesn’t move away, instead curling up next to him. Its body is warm. He continues stroking its fur.

He doesn’t look up until the wind whips snow into his face. The same frigid, deadly routine. He gently shakes the green creature. “Cold coming. Please… go.” 

It looks up at him, letting out a sleepy chirp. He nudges it away from him. “Don’t… freeze.” 

It grabs onto his hand; he flinches, reflexively trying to shake it off. But it merely holds it, then presses the side of its face into it, staring up at him. He stares back. 

Then it drops his hand, bounding off into the snow. He is alone again. 

The blizzard is colder than before. 

Snow, everywhere. Piled around him. Soft.

Soft, like fur. Green thing’s fur…

He used to… there’s something…

… can’t remember… 

Suns said something about… softness…

… green thing again. Crawls straight into his lap. Ragged purring, pressing its body against him. He pets it. “Thank you… for… company,” he mumbles. 

Purring. Vibrating through him. He wraps his arms around the thing. Fingers through its fur. 

… familiar. Ancient memories…

… it’s warm…

—(Line breaker)— …through the mists of memory, your image dances... —(Line breaker)—

[Looks to the Moon]

A distant splash sounds. She looks up, startled. A visitor, in the midst of this snowstorm? 

She lowers herself down to the floor of her chamber as a green furred creature slithers out of the water, shaking itself vigorously. The frigid liquid splatters everywhere, and she shields herself from the spray with an incredulous laugh. A little visitor, just like all those that came before it. She had thought they had gone extinct by now. “Hello little creature,” she croons, extending a hand towards it. “How tenacious you are, to make it here.” 

It stands at the mouth of her chamber, blinking at her. She sits down on her little island of rubble, allowing herself a soft, sad chuckle as she pulls her legs towards her chest. Just like how all the others had reacted when they first saw her. How she misses them. “It has been a while since I had a lifeform like you stumble into my chamber,” she says, wrapping her arms around her legs. “It is good to know some of your species have persisted.”

It creeps a little closer, paddling through the small moat around her island. She helps it out of the water, then laughs as it shakes itself off again, drenching her in the process. “Quite the coat of fur you have there,” she coos, reaching out a hand to it again. It plops its head onto her hand, allowing her to scratch under its chin. “A lovely adaptation in these icy cycles, I’m sure. I hope the journey here did not wet your fur too much.” 

As if in response, it chirps, settling down onto the rubble. It lets her pet it with no protest, and she runs both her hands through its thick, dense fur. None of the others had quite this much, though back then, it would have just been a hindrance. When did they evolve to have this, then? The world has been frozen for quite some time, after all. 

She glances down as something clinks against the floor. The little green creature is holding up a pearl to her. “Oh? Where did you find this?” she wonders, reaching for the pearl. 

She nearly drops it into the water as her hands make contact with it. It’s warm, so much warmer than anything should be in this climate. “This—” She shudders, her breath catching. “You—”

It mewls at her, dark eyes wide and confused. She shoves the pearl back into its paws. “Please, return this,” she pleads, closing its paws around the pearl. “I am sure what little is left of him misses this dearly. Bring it back to him, I beg of you.” 

It looks down at the pearl, then back up at her, holding it up to her again. A sob escapes her, and she pushes at the creature. “Please. Go. Bring it back to him.”

It still doesn’t move. She stills. She knows they’re more intelligent than this. “Is he…” 

The little creature crawls into her lap, staring up at her with the pearl still clutched in its paws. A broken sob, with part of a laugh mixed in, falls out of her. “Did he suffer?” 

It can’t respond. She knows that. But—

The little creature drapes itself on her, its tail curling around her waist. A deep, rhythmic purring emanates from it, rattling through her as it fills the silence in the air around them. Its weight is heavy but warm against her. 

She wraps her arms around it and cries. 

[archivalofsins]

Oh, fuck I forgot another thing... I never put up part 2 of this. So, here it is lol. Finally put it up when the word doc was at exactly 99 pages too. The tarot still isn't done. god...help..me.

 It’s probably because when Boku Mikoto went to sleep at the beginning of Milgram Ore Mikoto woke up and just did whatever the hell made that boing noise. On top of that all the things that Ore Mikoto does are things that Boku Mikoto has actively tried to quit doing. Mikoto states this during his first interrogation,

Q.17 Do you smoke?

Mikoto: Only electric; I used to smoke real cigarettes in the past but since I started my job, I’ve stopped.

We can discern that this happens after him starting his job because his murders are implied to be heavily tied to his work predicament as the tarot thing explained.

Q.20 Are you more of a morning person or a night person?

Mikoto: I used to be basically nocturnal. Recently though I’ve been falling asleep pretty early.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that right as they show Ore Mikoto begin to watch tv it then transitions to this scene of Boku Mikoto waking up.

So the other guy is more than likely the reason the other prisoners don’t know when he sleeps and that alone may have been why Kotoko had her suspicions about him before his first interrogation. The guy is just in there literally doing anything to release pent up energy to the point Amane made a noise complaint.

I’m not over that boing noise coming from his room. Like what the hell made that noise. I mean if there’s a bed in that cell, he’s jumping on it at that point. Es was too afraid and confused by the boing to go in to check and if Kotoko went in back then she would’ve gotten her ass handed to her.

Because of point C. The other Mikoto has limited patterns of behavior. This is illustrated in the John Doe voice drama when Kotoko fights them. She states that “Your technique is definitely that of an amateur. The way you use those muscles of yours is subpar.” The other Mikoto, unlike what is illustrated in MeMe doesn’t have a full understanding of how to use Mikoto’s strength, at least not in a calculative way.

During MeMe, we see that Mikoto plays into his strengths by using something he’s admittedly educated with a baseball bat. To make up and account for any gap in strength between himself and his targets. Sneak attacking most of his victims as we see Kotoko do as well.

MeMe doesn’t show many brute force head on attacks like we overhear in the John Doe voice drama. However, since memories vary between personalities he always has time to learn the more he’s out. He seemingly learned his lesson from his first encounter with Kotoko since he’s able to fight her off during the intermission.

Kotoko’s birthday interaction with them also supports this framing as he responds to her threats with,

“Haah?! Why don’t you try it then you lunatic?! I’ll crush anyone who tries to harm me. I’ll make sure to thoroughly beat you at your own game!”

Did you catch that last part? I’ll make sure to thoroughly beat you at your own game. The fact that Ore Mikoto is comparing Kotoko’s behavior to a game implies that he is actively working to understand the rules of it. Not just the rules around Kotoko but probably around Milgram as a whole.

Which honestly makes the most sense. For him to actually be able to protect anything he first needs an understanding of what’s going on and where danger could come from. During the intermission he doesn’t go on the offensive immediately like he did in the interrogation room or like Kotoko does. Given he remembers good and well how that turned out even if Mikoto doesn’t.

Instead he spends his time being so outwardly hostile and closed off that Mikoto basically becomes unapproachable. Then actively chews through his restraints. Mikoto's trial two design directly reflects who’s been out the longest. In this case Ore Mikoto who unlike Boku can’t tie his shoelaces perfectly,

Boku Mikoto:

Ore Mikoto:

Scratches at his head messing up his hair instead of rubbing the back of his neck,

Oh, yeah and may eat through leather! None of his restraints were lengthened/undone because of the verdict he just bit through it like a gremlin bastard child. He even ripped the fabric beneath. For comparison let’s put Mikoto side by side with Amane.

The clasps at the bottom of Amane’s restraints are still visible and they’ve lengthened. Showing that they’ve gotten tighter because of her verdict. In contrast Mikoto’s restraints have gotten shorter and looser because he bit and ripped through them. We know this is not a result of his verdict because Jackalope says he’s been running about free and unrestrained.

Even though I find the idea of Kotoko resorting to knawing on Mikoto in their fight just because she was losing that badly amusing it’s implied she didn’t even get close enough to him to do anything. Also, if she did get close enough to do this, she wouldn’t bite at his restraints.

Come on we all know at this point she has a tendency to go for the eyes. Too soon sorry. (It's not too soon at this point!) Sometimes she goes for the arms and legs too though. Okay, okay I’ll stop. That and she would definitely want to keep him restrained. I mean the restraints are the result of Es' judgements and a byproduct of Milgram. So, why would she purposely destroy them if her intended goal is to work alongside the facility?

Honestly, Kotoko taught Ore Mikoto dodge and inspect, then immediately regretted it. She’s just here like this fucker shouldn’t exist because she’s embarrassed to admit that once again in her haste to physically assault people for kicks she ended up causing more problems for herself. That’s what she gets for showing her hand early in the interrogation room, I suppose. Something she was called out for by Yuno after her whole attack during the break.

Now that we’ve gone over why Kotoko couldn’t do shit to Ore Mikoto during their second round. What does this mean? Well, it means that once again, like with the hangman, his current state is something self-inflicted. It also means Haruka isn’t the only one learning stuff in Milgram Ore Mikoto is slowly learning as well. Yet, if he’s learning how to be a calculative fighter now... I'm sincerely asking again, then what’s with the behavior in MeMe?

Dissociative Amnesia is when someone is incapable of remembering integral personal information about themselves. Information that would usually normally not be forgotten due to general forgetfulness. Usually, the information forgotten is directly connected to one’s conscious awareness and would be described as autobiographical memory.

Is anyone starting to see why after writing all this and looking this song over more times than I should have, it keeps coming back to how the murders are depicted within the mv. The way it conflicts with all the information we have on the other personality but coincides with what we know about Mikoto. All this is what has led me to believe the murders weren’t done by Ore Mikoto but by Boku Mikoto, who, like Es said from the start forgot he did it.

More than likely due to dissociative amnesia. So, let’s talk about that.

What’s dissociative amnesia?

Is there a difference between it and dissociative identity disorder?

Can you have one without the other?

Is this starting to click yet; are you getting what I’m putting down? Mikoto doesn’t remember his murder but that’s not because Ore Mikoto did it. In fact, as stated before, Mikoto very well could have had undiagnosed dissociative identity disorder way before any of this even happened.

Dissociative amnesia can occur after most traumatic experiences. Even though the memory isn’t consciously accessible by the individual it can still subconsciously impact their behavior and mannerisms. For example, if someone is recorded doing something and it’s shown to a lot of people, they may forget the incident itself happened and what they did in response to it but subconsciously be hypervigilant about being surveilled.

All without really remembering why.

Mikoto is very straightforward when it comes to doing things with others in mind, and it’s heavily implied this isn’t a mentality that started recently through the lyrics of his song. That his whole life he’s probably been doing that, and while it’s easy to go oh he just snapped and then the other personality appeared.

That’s not how DID works, baby. So, let’s get into that and any other wrong assumptions. So, speed run. Mikoto isn’t bad system rep cause DID is not a system. At least it’s not when it’s formed. What?? I hear you asking it’s not? No, it’s fucking not and I’d enjoy it if people would stop asserting it is. Because it’s never been. If you’re looking for system representation though that’s Amane.

I have no kind way of saying this please stop imposing surface level interpretations of actual disorders on media and people.

Wait but Amane isn’t a system? Okay, let me break it down for you. A system is usually what people with dissociative identity disorder work towards having after becoming aware of these other personalities. Until they are actively made aware of these separate personalities it is unlikely that a system will exist. This is the reason Boku Mikoto has at least to Jackalopes admission been restrained but Ore Mikoto has not been.

Now why are you saying a genuine case of dissociative identity disorder isn’t a system the same thing. NO, NO IT’S NOT! That’s OSDD or Partial Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Milgram has already made it clear that the thing stopping the prisoners from attacking Es was imposed through a form of psychological manipulation. This manipulation makes them believe there’s a barrier between them and Es. However, the truth is they’ve been mentally conditioned to not be able to hit Es. The reason this conditioning only affects Boku Mikoto and not Ore Mikoto is because they are existing in two separate mental states not as a system.

I feel like that should’ve been the first hint that it wasn’t a system but a genuine case of dissociative identity disorder. Unlike in a system where there is some communication between separate personalities, or they are at least aware of each other’s existence. Other personalities when it comes to dissociative identity disorder aren’t really controlled, spoken to in that capacity, and most times the person with the disorder can be completely unaware that they have it until much later in life.

But what are those?!

Okay, OSDD stands for Other Specified Dissociative Disorder. It’s just as difficult to get diagnosed with. However, when people don’t fit all of the criteria necessary to be diagnosed with DID yet have been facing long term issues that cause distress or impairment along with some dissociative symptoms, they likely would be diagnosed with this.

On the other hand, Partial Dissociative identity Disorder is a more recent term for a type of OSDD. It’s unlikely that you’d come across the term in North America unless you were doing an essay or something but who would do that… It’s also possibly what Amane has.

It’s when a person still experiences disturbances with their personality, like with DID, but there is a dominant personality. Intrusion from other parts is usually irregular and may only happen during emotional or distressing situations. This is more reminiscent of the discussions around systems brought up as points of contention to the depiction of Mikoto’s DID.

Remember that first post the prelude or preface when I said, “All we’re missing is overt ableism, racism, and sexism disguised as feminism.” Bet most thought that wasn’t coming up again.

But guess what we’ve got one baby! We found it, OVERT ABLEISM! Pop the champagne ma we made it! Okay fake celebration aside. Yeah, now while some thought they were being kind, others considerately just advocating for better rep most were just grossly uninformed. That’s something anyone can be regardless of if they have the disorder or not.

I’m not going to claim that I know everything about autism or adhd just because I have them both. Hell, I only skimmed my diagnosis forms. I don’t believe any neurodivergent person would or should claim to know everything about the disorder they have. Unless I don't know they're a psychologist specializing in the disorder I suppose. Even then a person’s diagnosis is very personal to them, and I can’t tell anyone who has DID or any other diagnosis how they should personally feel about how said diagnosis is represented in media.

However, how someone personally feels and what’s being asserted as fact are two different things. The only people being hurt by the assertion that dissociative identity disorder only works one specific way is people with that disorder. Most of whom go undiagnosed for a multitude of reasons.

Look, I know it hurts to be called out for internalized ableism or any ism. I’m not trying to be a dick about it. It sucks but sometimes ableism is caused by well-meaning people who don’t know what they’re talking about. Being misinformed and under educated can cause instances of discrimination. Instances that can be avoided by taking a moment to step back and genuinely ask do I know enough about this topic.

Especially when it comes to something as personal and diverse as mental health. If the answer is no then go do research, look for information, broaden your horizons. If your opinion still hasn’t changed that’s fine but you’ll be more informed and better equipped to explain why. We’re all learning together here. Do you really think I planned that reveal out.

Sure, I had a feeling that Amane may have a dissociative disorder before starting this essay and even discussed it with friends. However, the overt ableism thing is something I discovered alongside everyone as I was typing this. Okay maybe a bit earlier since I’m not putting this up directly after typing this. Or am I? No, we’re not.

You don’t even have to believe me. I did say do your own research after all. Since I said that this is a great time to list the books I got as references for this. Because I too could be full of shit. I am not a psychiatrist because I didn’t finish college and I’m here now still in debt writing over sixty pages on a fictional character and typing out an existential crisis-  

REFERENCES

Eich, E., Macaulay, D., Loewenstein, R.J., Dihle, P.H. (1997). Implicit Memory, Interpersonality Amnesia, and Dissociative Identity Disorder. In: Read, J.D., Lindsay, D.S. (eds) Recollections of Trauma. NATO ASI Series, vol 291. Springer, Boston, MA.

Kluft, R.P. (1996). Dissociative Identity Disorder. In: Michelson, L.K., Ray, W.J. (eds) Handbook of Dissociation. Springer, Boston, MA.

Reinders, A.A.T.S., Willemsen, A.T.M. (2014). Dissociative Identity Disorder and Fantasy Proneness: A Positron Emission Tomography Study of Authentic and Enacted Dissociative Identity States. In: Dierckx, R., Otte, A., de Vries, E., van Waarde, A., den Boer, J. (eds) PET and SPECT in Psychiatry. Springer, Berlin, Heidelberg. International Society for the study of trauma and disassociation: What are the dissociative disorders.

Now back to Amane. How do we know that she is the system or partial dissociative identity disorder rep people are looking for? Because they show it in the Minigrams all the time.

Since this is a common gag in some anime and manga it’s easy to overlook. The most recent example of this I can think of is My Next Life as a Villainess. However, what sets Amane apart from that iteration of this trope is one thing. Shidou keeps getting in there too.

The reason Shidou keeps finding his way into this council may not just be a funny little gag but in fact a way to allude to there being a system here. Not only that but Shidou just may be directly impacting it. Amane’s entire council is only made up of variations of herself until Shidou appears out of the blue one day.  It’s even shown that at times Shidou isn’t even still discussing the thing that Amane is deliberating on in her head. Like here-

In Amane’s mind Shidou appears and brings up the phrase seeing is believing. Which honestly sounds like something he would say but when she throws the pancakes in his face he’s begun discussing where the word pancake comes from. He’d already said this is something she wouldn’t be able to understand until she experienced it herself. There’s not much reason for him to reiterate that again but this time attach it to a saying.

Plus, the next time he appears in the council he doesn’t even speak before the other Amane’s run out screaming then Amane our usual Amane throws the pancakes in his face. The council doesn’t try to kick Shidou out from the table or just kill him.

They’re just trying to avoid him so his presence doesn’t impact their judgements which would explain the fear filled screaming especially if up there it’s only been them for the longest time.

Plus, it’s not out of character for Amane to react viscerally to him getting up there. Yet him getting in there shows that regardless of how much Amane wants to admit it or not he is growing on her. This interpretation fits with her first cover Positive Parade as well.

“We can’t stop. You’ll be alright and end up smiling beautifully. I’m not wrong but if someone says “no that’s not right” I won’t support anything that denies you.” Also, literally today as I’m typing this:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAHIRU

Also, thanks for accidentally helping prove my point lol-

Amane: Happy Birthday. Mahiru; how has your condition been lately?

Mahiru: Ah, Amane; thank you. Yes, I’m fine. If I use a wheelchair, I can still move around. It’s all thanks to Shidou’s treatment.

Amane: It is only appropriate that I give a warning first. The realm you and Shidou are treading within is forbidden. If you continue to work against or disrupt the natural order, you’ll only hasten your demise. So, think about your next steps carefully.

Mahiru: Amane…Are you actually, Amane?

Sometimes things just fall together was literally messaged this by Star after having a phone call about this exact topic. Also, lol, Amane literally went if God wanted you to walk, you’d be walking get out of that wheelchair. Like come on Amane it’s a wheelchair calm down. She is not toeing the same line as Shidou. He is a literal doctor she’s just injured. Leave her alone!

Damn she really hates all aspects of medicine.

Mahiru is so unlucky she gets jumped almost dies and then is threatened for using a mobility aid by a fifteen-year-old. Mahiru and Mikoto having some of the worst birthday interactions this trial. Like happy birthday Kotoko- You shouldn’t exist. Happy birthday Mahiru, also if you continue to test fate you will meet yours sooner tee hee. As they’re just there like “???”

I didn’t even really need to defend this idea this much since the minigrams literally tell us all this is happening in her head with a big sign but we’re here now so…

That’s not even going into all the similarities and contradictions between her and Mikoto. Her believing deeply in a higher power while he says he doesn’t believe because there’s nothing he’d gain from it. Yet, clearly believing in Tarot a great deal. They both committed murder through bludgeoning and have the same empty look in their eyes in their trial two designs. So, we may have gotten two forms of dissociative rep. Though I get the kneejerk reactions since I rarely saw any decent representation if any growing up.

So, sure people were uninformed, but does that really make it ableist? Can't it just be being uneducated?

People assumed that there was a typical way DID presented itself and felt that Mikoto didn’t properly represent that. Ableism is the discrimination of and social prejudice against people with disabilities under the belief that people with typical abilities are superior. A lot of people assume ableism cannot happen within disabled communities. It very much can.

Even without stating ableism can occur wherever a norm or typical depiction of something exists whether physical or psychological. Which a good chunk of the fanbase tried to create a standard version of DID. Something that in of itself is already a problem.

It’s literally just ableist to ask if someone is really disabled, how disabled they are, or imply they’re faking. Made incredibly worse by the fact that Mikoto never self-reported having DID. Everyone else but him has said he has it. So, how the fuck is he faking at that point?

For a racial equivalent I’ve personally experienced it’s basically going, “You don’t talk black?” Except as a person with a disability I got its lovely variant, “You talk so well you can’t possibly have autism.” That stopped me from getting tested for autism before. That psychiatrist went I know what’s actually wrong with you it’s low self-esteem you just communicate so well when you open up it can’t be autism.

Congratulations; can you communicate while also having Autism? Then some specialist may believe you aren’t entitled to your diagnosis. Or even just, “But you can write entire essays on a topic how could you have ADHD but pay attention that long. Are you sure you’re not just looking for an excuse to be lazy.”

To the surprise of no one that first lady was also racist cause isms tend to come in pairs. Spent a session telling me that critical race theory shouldn’t be taught in schools. Honestly, no one would believe the people with psychiatry degrees in my state. The woman who diagnosed me immediately weaponized the diagnosis against me and begin being directly ableist towards me.

It’s no secret that I’m 27 (at the time I wrote this I am now 28 can you believe how time and my inability to do shit in a timely manner coincide) and this fandom skews on the younger side for a psychological murder show with a heavy mystery aspect… So, I can’t be too surprised that this isn’t common knowledge, I guess.  I’m saying all this to get the point across that I am a full ass adult but when she found out I had autism she literally just started talking about me to my father like I was still a child. Basically, just talking about me and not to me.

She would also repeat things over and over like do you understand. Then got really mad when all her testing was finished and she discovered my verbal comprehension (vci) was above those of approximately 99% of my peers as though I was just pretending to be stupid. I was just here like oh your fancy test says I’m not a dumbass look at that. She also withheld my diagnosis forms from me and lied about sending them to my primary care doctor. Had to fax that shit to them myself.

Is it apparent I’ve faced multiple forms of discrimination at this point because got damn. Everyone experiences ableism in different ways and as it happens they might not even know it’s that. My experiences won’t align with everyone else’s and that’s absolutely okay. In that same vein I think it’s okay for Mikoto, Haruka, and Amane to not be perfect representations of whatever disabilities they may have. At the end of the day I don’t think their murders had anything to do with their disabilities and trying to play it off as though they do is a disservice to them.

It's like Amane said with her age we shouldn’t treat her any differently just because she’s a child. Because that doesn’t mean she has any less of a freewill than the others here and it’s the same when it comes to disabilities as well. Every type of person can be a murderer not just people with disorders or disabilities.

So, I think there’s ableism involved here absolutely.

It also certainly didn’t help that I saw a good deal of people putting forth that the writer was perpetuating a harmful stereotype despite there not being any proof of that outside of the confirmation Mikoto had DID. I don't think this has to be said but a character having a confirmed disorder doesn't immediately make them bad representation. Some went as far as projecting the same stereotype, they were against on the media to further prove it was bad.

It's fine to dislike the dipiction or Mikoto as a character but I feel it's reaching shakey ground when people are going this character having confirmed insert mental disorder here is bad. Not only that but I believe it should be interrogated why this mindset was displayed when it came to Mikoto having DID but not Haruka possibly having autism. I feel the response to Mikoto and his narrative serves to highlight just how stigmatized and overlooked DID remains even now.

Super fun. Moving on.

Then through doing this most of the fandom fell right into the exact same stereotypes and subconscious biases that negatively affect people with dissociative identity disorder on the regular basis. Grossly asserting that he must be faking because the way it presents in him doesn’t fit ones view of the disorder or how the internet has presented it, immediately blaming and asserting the other personality committed the murders check, saying he deserves to be in there cause he’s either a danger to others or himself check. Something made worse simply because individuals who have DID and no more than two personality states are often times accused of faking more than those who have more than two.

However, it's still difficult for either types of people to get diagnosed or taken seriously just because of how the disorder continues to be meet with a wide range of skepticism both publicly and professionally.

Unlike with what Amane has where there is a dominant personality. The thing that makes d.i.d difficult to manage and deal with is that lack of communication and awareness when it comes to the issue. At times dissociative identity disorder can form rapidly due to incredibly traumatizing situations. However, Mikoto’s situation may not be one of those cases.

Okay follow me for a bit we know that Mikoto remembers playing baseball in high school from his first trial interrogations questions.

 “Do you have baseball experience?

I played baseball in high school; I wasn't very good at it though. I still practice my swing when I get frustrated with work.”

Remember that emphasis I put on the pullback in the swing on that attack in the previous post go back and look at the pictures if you need to. The reason we highlighted that is because it shows an understanding of how much strength is needed to get the desired result. This sort of move as we've gone over doesn’t seem like the guy we heard fighting Kotoko in the interrogation room or heard about fighting her off when she had weapons like plural not just a single weapon.

Certain behavior from Mikoto after doesn’t make sense like the thing on Kotoko’s birthday. Would he really attempt to call a truce with her after experiencing being attacked by her even if it was the other who faced the attack unlike with being watched Mikoto shows very little- Well, more so no signs of being wary of Kotoko after either of their conflicts.

Let’s talk about interpersonality amnesia. It’s exactly as it sounds amnesia between personality states. There is already a solid example of how this works within Milgram. It is the reason that the other personality within Mikoto can hit Es and Mikoto cannot. Whatever conditioning that occurred to have the prisoners be incapable of hitting Es did not occur to the other personality.

In fact it’s pretty much like it didn’t even happen to him. Because it didn’t it happened to the other guy. His continued wariness around being surveiled is consistent with what we know about dissociative amnesia. He remembers what triggered the trauma to avoid it but for now at least to our knowledge not the trauma itself. This issue could occur even if he already had dissociative identity disorder before facing this trauma.

As of now the other Kayano knows about their murders to some capacity even believing he was right to respond in the way he did without specifying what he was responding to. Because of this he has no reason to be chummy with anyone here and while he’s out he hasn’t been. Because if he knows that they themselves have killed, then they’d have no reason to believe that the others haven’t like Mikoto does at the beginning of Milgram.

Mikoto asserts that he hasn't killed anyone so more than likely no one else did. Because if Milgram is wrong about him which it must be than how could they be right about the others. Basically he labeled everyone else as Innocent in his own mind through association to himself. He pretty much goes if I murdered someone well I'd know that wouldn't I and all I do know is I haven't. Sure my memory is bad but I wouldn't forget something like that surely.

The memory of that conditioning is therefore specific to the Kayano who was fronting at the time of their incarceration. This is probably why Jackalope reacts to Mikoto settling back down as an issue because that conditioning can’t take place without the other personality out. It's could also be why despite the other Mikoto knowing they did something he's also vague about it when talking to Es during the first trial. When asked about if he remembers his murder now instead of confirming or denying it he just laughs and says Es doesn't know when to shut up.

This can be viewed as a confirmation that he knows or showcase that he's does know they did someone but what exactly could be lost on him as well. If it's a memory Mikoto lost due to dissociative amnesia then the other guy may not know a thing about the sin Mikoto was brought in for just his part in it. If Mikoto was pushed to brink of stress the other personality could have come out during the crimes. In most sce es in MeMe Mikoto seems to have firm control over the situation. However, as I believe we discussed in the previous post if Mikoto was injured during one of his attacks successfully had the tables turned on him it's not unlike the other guy would come out in response to that.

This could be why he immediately rushes Kotoko and jumps to violence with Es because he learned the best thing to do when facing conflict is get offensive before your opponent does. Just charge in because if you don't you could end up dying instead. So when cornered by Kotoko he immediately fell back on what he did before rushing in.

Now the thing with the conditioning could be proven false if the Kayano who was incarcerated attempts and succeeds at hitting Es sometime later. However, the likelihood of that is nonexistent due to said Kayano’s statements on violence. Since he thinks resorting to violence is immature and embarrassing, he is less likely to attack Es overall. Especially given the fact that he still holds to the belief that he is being surveilled. A belief that at this point has been confirmed. So, this is much less likely to be an action he takes, especially in a room where he knows he is being recorded like during interrogations.

However, it seems that the guilty verdict from trial one has pushed Kayano to such a state of stress that such a buildup is no longer necessary for a personality change to occur. Basically, he’s constantly stressed now. This is saying something given the fact he was already on the edge when he was brought into Milgram. Given his hyperveligence about being surveiled and tge fact he is now being forced to live in a panopticon for an indefinite period of time and his concerns about losing his job.

Honestly, if Mikoto heard the recording of him in the John Doe voice drama he’d probably die of embarrassment or never leave his cell again. Personality shifts in people with d.i.d at times can have very specific triggers. Kayano has made it clear on numerous occasions that theirs is stress. We saw on Kotoko’s birthday that switching between personalities has become more common and more seamless. We hear Kayano begin to hyperventilate (as a result of Es' continued assertion that he's a murderer and then weaponization of Kayano's admittedly poor and now poorer memory against him) before the other personality presents itself in the John Doe voice drama.

Okay, finally done. I doubt anyone is gonna finish this.

All of this leads us to believe that there's a high chance that if Mikoto Kayano is voted Guilty again that we won’t be seeing the Kayano brought in by Milgram at all third trial. The second trial commencement notice even alludes to this by saying we'd need to get the other Kayano out again for him to be restrained. Because the restraint within Milgram isn't just tying them up but mental conditioning as well there's no telling how it will affect the two personality states.

For all any of us know it could very well be the equivalent of forcibly merging the two states together.