#so i still needes to show those key character details from back then

[waffletheorist]

So, I wrote a sort of prequel/backstory thing for Hero of Simulation, just adding to his character, how he came to be the way he is, different stages of his life and some description. Might rewrite first meeting later as well because I just got so many more ideas for him that I want to add, and because I'm on the creative high right now, so I may as well write as much as possible and improve it.

TW, implied suicide.

Content below the cut.

"The Hero? He's barely a month old!" The woman cried.

"I know it might come as a shock, but that is his destiny. That mark right there on his left hand proves it." The old man replied calmly.

"I don't care what some goddess-forsaken triangle birthmark says, I will not be sending my infant son out on a quest!" The heartbroken mother screamed, cradling her son, who had not made even the slightest sound during this whole ordeal.

"I apologise, but we have no choice in the matter. It is what he was born to do." The wizened sage said gently, not seeming sorry at all.

"No. I refuse to accept this. You sages can go find a new hero. I refuse to let you turn this innocent boy into a weapon for the world. Get a capable adult, not my child."

"But miss-"

"No. I will not accept any argument on this. My son will live his life, far away from all this hero business, you hear me?"

"But only he can-"

"No."

The women stormed out of the castle, infant son in her arms, the mark of the Triforce glowing weakly on his hand.

Days passed, and all the soldiers and knights of the kingdom were sent out to find the fleeing family. There were posters in every town, and the two had a bounty on their heads. There was no place for the desperate duo to hide, even short rests at inns were risky when anyone could be looking to collect their bounty. But they always persisted on their path, the woman determined to keep her child from harm. The mother told the young boy stories every night, of how the Triforce could grant any wish. He had always loved his stories, the same as her.

"Maybe that could keep you safe. That accursed triangle on your hand that binds you to your fate, saving you from it. A bit poetic, don't you think?"

The child just stared, the woman letting out a tinkling laugh.

But, the women had an idea now, and she wasn't going to give up on it. While the Triforce of Courage rested in her son, the other two pieces remained in the Sacred Realm, the door to which was in the Temple of Time. But no regular person could open the Sacred Realm, as only the one who the Master Sword deemed worthy would be able to raise it and open the gate. While the woman herself wasn't worthy, perhaps her son would be, despite his age and size. That was what those insane sages said, wasn't it?

So, the mother picked up her child, a look of guilt, grief and sadness briefly crossing her face for what she was planning to do. She donned the armour she had stolen off of the poor Hyrulean soldier who had been guarding the path to Death Mountain in order to disguise herself, and carefully placed her baby into her bag. She didn't have to worry about him crying, he had not made even a sound since the moment of his birth. Her small campsite in the Kakariko Village Well was no place to raise a child, and she knew that. So, when the sunlight finally stopped reflecting off the water, she climbed out into the night. It was a long walk to Castle Town across Hyrule Field, especially when you add factors such as her heavy armour, needing to check on her son, and her decreased physical ability due to the sleepless nights spent watching over the entrance to the well, making sure nobody would discover them. The gate to the town was closed at night, but she knew that with all of these combined, it would take her until morning to arrive anyway. So, she walked, straining and struggling the whole way, until morning arrived and she was at the gates. She took a brief rest to catch her breath, she might be caught if people saw her struggling when she was meant to be disguised as a soldier. Helm concealing her face, she finally entered Castle Town.

"Ey, soldier! You're meant to be stationed outside Death Mountain! And what's in that bag of yours?"

The woman almost jumped out of her skin, her heart skipping a beat for a moment when she heard this. She thought she was going to be stopped. Deepening her voice as much as she could, which wasn't much due to naturally being high pitched, she replied.

"Just delivering a message, sir, I've got someone covering my shift until I return."

"Alright then. But I better not catch you slacking off, you understand?"

"Understood, sir."

The woman almost breathed a sigh of relief, but quickly stifled it so as not to seem suspicious. It was early in the morning, and not many people were up and about this time of day, which made things easier for her. She advanced towards the Temple of Time, not once letting herself break character, and finally went inside, arriving at the Master Sword pedestal. She gently removed her infant from her bag, and placed his hands on the Master Sword. They were small. Too small for this large duty imposed upon him. He could barely even wrap his hands around the hilt, let alone raise the sword and kill with it. But, the child's touch was enough, and the blade allowed them both to lift it together. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I knew there was something off about you. You're that woman the Royal Family is-"

The man was cut off, as the Sacred Realm opened, sending a beam of pure golden light upwards to tell the whole world. In front of them was an expanse of gold, bathed in the light of an eternal sunset. A beautiful realm. If this was the last thing she ever saw, she could die happily. She climbed the marble stairs in front of her, with her son, and almost as if he sensed what she was about to do, he cried for the first time, the Triforce glowing prominently on his small hand, begging to be reunited with its two other powerful and wise counterparts. Holding her son in one arm and the Master Sword in the other, she ascended to the top, and the Triforce was completed once again.

"Triforce, I wish upon you. Please, transport my son somewhere safe, far away from here, where he can grow up like a normal child. Please, let him live."

The Triforce glowed brightly, and the Sacred Realm changed around her as her son wailed and screamed. He was raised into the air, and in a flash of light, he disappeared, her wish granted. The woman was alone with the Master Sword and her thoughts. With one last laugh, she raised the sword high and pointed it towards herself, so that they would never be able to find out what she wished for.

Meanwhile, in the United Kingdom, an infant was found abandoned in a field, seemingly having just appeared out of thin air. Nobody knew where he had come from, and he was eventually adopted by two expecting parents who didn't mind having another child with them.

Hylia was watching all of this from above, and she was not pleased with the woman's wish. It irritated her that she could not go against the will of the Triforce, even if it was for such a noble reason as needing the child back to save the Kingdom. However, the woman had only wished that he be allowed to grow up, he could still become the hero eventually if Hylia bent the rules, and she knew that. For now though, she couldn't touch him and would have to hide her time. But how to prepare him for his eventual duty when this world has not a monster to speak of, and the art of fighting is rarely taught? For three days and three nights, Hylia watched over this strange world with its advanced technology, until she discovered videogames. She was intrigued by these small virtual worlds, and saw their potential in teaching the hero. Nintendo games in particular caught her eye, they were the most popular in this world, and for good reason too. So, Hylia travelled back to the past of that world to bring the story of Hyrule to Nintendo. The people of this land used strange number codes to keep track of the date, and according to Hylia's knowledge, it was 1984. With her influence, the Legend of Zelda series began development, named after her mortal reincarnation.

Link was now twelve years old, and his younger brother was eleven. His brother hadn't cared much for the Legend of Zelda, but after being introduced to it by his father, Link had always felt a strange connection to the world of Hyrule, beyond just sharing a name with the protagonist. Today was another boring day of classes for him. His hands absentmindedly drifted to his ears. They had always felt... wrong, somehow. There was nothing abnormal about them though. Every time he checked, there was nothing strange about them. But, that feeling of wrongness never went away. Sometimes, when he looked in the mirror, they would seem pointed, out of the corner of his eye, even though he knew that was impossible, and it was far more likely that he just had a few screws loose.

"Link, answer the question."

The teacher said impatiently. He hadn't been paying attention again. He quickly looked at the girl beside him to see what question they were on.

"The answer is 17."

"Correct. But pay better attention next time. You're smart, but that doesn't mean you can get away with being lazy."

'Yes it does.' Link thought, but he held his tongue, as always. He was a well-behaved student to a bit of a worrying degree, his mother actually payed him to get in trouble, although it backfired on her when he demanded money for not doing his chores. He just nodded along like he was listening. "Smart.", the teacher had said. It annoyed him. Every Friday, a student was selected and every other student had to write one good thing about them for mental health or something. For him, it was always just "smart", "intelligent", "good at math", "good at spelling", with the occasional "nice", "kind" or "pretty" from the students that just wrote the same thing for everyone. He had liked it at first, but it was getting repetitive, and at this point, it felt like a bit of an insult. What about everything else? He didn't like being known for his smarts, he had other defining qualities he wished people would talk about. Is his academic skill all he has? Despite not being blood related, his brother was the same, as a result of his competitiveness driving him to try and beat Link, although it never worked.

The bell rang, and Link got out of his seat and packed his bags in a hurry so he could leave quickly. He was often made a target by some of the more annoying students, since he never fought back out of fear of getting in trouble for defending himself, and because his long hair, petite size and more reserved personality gave them lots to pick on. Luckily, he made it out in time, and walked home. His days continued on in a similar manner to this one for many years, with only a few notable events, such as starting horse-riding lessons and briefly trying out different martial arts.

When he finally turned eighteen, he decided to get a tattoo of the Triforce on his left hand. He had been planning to do this for quite a while, with the only thing stopping him being the law and the common sense required not to break it and end up getting an infection or a low quality tattoo. While his hair wasn't as long as it had been when he was twelve years old and refused to cut his hair, it was still reasonably long now, a little below shoulder length at the back. He spent even more time indoors than he did before, researching and working harder than ever, while still leaving enough time for videogames and writing by sacrificing sleep.

He was alright with the way he was living, but something still felt off. There was something he was supposed to be doing, he just couldn't figure out what. He got a part-time job, the feeling didn't go away, he studied harder, the feeling didn't go away, he applied for university, the feeling didn't go away. No matter what, there was always that nagging feeling in the back of his mind, like he was forgetting something important. It had always been present, but now it was worsening. Every time he looked at his left hand, at the tattoo of the Triforce, it felt like it was trying to remind him of some long forgotten duty. Days were lost trying to figure out what was wrong, and he decided to go back to playing the Legend of Zelda games, his childhood favourites, and somehow, they seemed to dull the pain and stress even when nothing else did. He collected all the Golden Skulltulas, fused hundreds of Kinstones, found every Korok, and then did it again in speedrun form. Sometimes, he wrote theories as well, or streamed himself playing the games. He had a small following, but it was steadily growing larger as he became more of a known name in the community. Sharing a name with Link helped with that as well, it made him stand out.

After a year of this life, balancing his part-time jobs with his social media and online career, along with school, he lost more and more sleep and started getting burnt-out from all this work. But, on one late rainy night that he finally found out what he was missing.

[aardelea]

Love Languages: How They Show Their Affection

Hey everyone! I'm back with another headcanon post, this time diving into how our favorite characters express their love and affection. Whether it's through subtle gestures, grand displays, or tender moments, each one has their own unique way of showing how much you mean to them. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together!

Jin • Jin is not a man of many words. That’s why it’s important to understand the language of his gestures in order to feel his affection. • He shows his affection in various situations where you can count on being the only person who gets to experience it. For instance, he often lets you decide what you’ll have for dinner. Believe it or not, you won’t even notice if you pick something he has no appetite for. • When he craves closeness, he’ll send you a message, regardless of the time, calling you to his room. It’s more of a command than a request. But if you comply, you’ll find yourself wrapped in his arms on the couch or bed, simply enjoying his presence. That moment belongs to just the two of you. • Whenever you even think about wanting something special, it will appear in your room the next day. He also likes to surprise you with things you hadn’t even thought of. He catches every little detail from your stories about your dreams and passions, and when the opportunity arises, he brings them to life through small gifts.

Tohma • Both of you have strict schedules, so showing affection is key in this relationship if you want to make the most of the time you have together. Tohma knows this well. • When you see each other amidst the hustle and bustle of the academy, he gives you, and only you, his warmest smile. • He’s not a fan of showing physical affection in public, but when he crosses your path, he’ll always pass close enough for your hands to “accidentally” brush. His hand closes slightly, as if trying to hold yours. • If time and circumstances allow, he’ll quickly and wordlessly pull you into an empty room or hallway when you pass by him. He gives you a brief but passionate kiss, brushes a strand of hair from your face, and looks deeply into your eyes before you both go on your way, as if nothing happened.

Luca • Luca is initially reserved about showing his feelings for two reasons. First, he knows his best friend Kaito has feelings for you and doesn’t want to rub it in his face that you didn’t choose him. Second, Luca is a true gentleman who would never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. • But he never tires of showering you with compliments, all of which he means sincerely. You can see it in his eyes—no man could look at you with more love. • When you’re alone, and you’re facing away from him, he loves to hug you from behind. You both linger in that position, enjoying each other’s warmth. • When you sleep together, he holds you tightly, as if afraid you could be taken from him at any moment.

Kaito • Kaito knows you love it when he makes you something, so he spoils you with plenty of sweets whenever he has time to bake for you. Missing desserts from your homeland? He’ll surprise you with them as soon as he finds a good recipe. • He’ll take many photos of you and the two of you together. While part of him loves to show off, it’s mostly because he still can’t quite believe you and he are real. Your relationship is still beyond his imagination, so he treasures every photo when you’re not with him. • He remembers every detail about you and is always looking for ways to surprise you. Love ice cream? Prepare to visit every renowned ice cream parlor in Tokyo—he’ll take you to all of them. • And of course, you won’t be able to escape his constant messages. He always wants to know what you’re doing and how you’re feeling, not out of worry or jealousy, but because he genuinely cares (though he’s no stranger to those feelings either).

Alan • Do I even need to mention how often he’ll pat your head? • He always checks how you’re doing and makes sure you have everything you need. He’ll also always offer to let you sleep in his T-shirts when you stay over. He just loves seeing you in his oversized clothes, and though he’d never say it out loud, the smile on his face when he sees you in his sleepwear says it all. • His sweetest way of showing affection is his almost casual request for you to join him in nearly everything he does. He loves having you around. Even if you’re not into physical activities like he is, he doesn’t mind—he just wants to be near you. • Wherever you are, Alan will seek your physical closeness. Sometimes, you’re not even sure if he’s doing it consciously or if his feelings just naturally draw him to you. Whether it’s an arm around your waist, moving closer on the couch, or casually holding your hand, he always seeks contact.

Sho • For Sho, love truly comes through food. So rest assured, you’ll never go hungry if this man is yours. Lucky you. • Though Leo is his best friend, he will never allow anyone, not even him, to badmouth you. Never, ever. No one—absolutely no one—touches his sweet girlfriend. • Sho will often give you small gifts in the form of jewelry. Nothing overly expensive, but always something unique. Seeing you wear it makes him incredibly happy, so you’d better wear it, because it’s also his way of marking you as his own. • Though he’d never admit it, Sho actually enjoys public displays of affection. He’s proud to have you by his side, and when you reach for his hand, he’ll pretend he’s only letting it happen for your sake, to make you more comfortable. In reality, his heart is always racing when you do.

Leo

Leo could only accept a partner who is on equal footing with him. That's why he can actually be very sweet in a relationship when he wants to.

Naturally, the maximum amount of physical affection in public will be displayed, as long as you allow it. After all, the world needs to see what a great relationship you two have. It’s a wonder you haven’t yet shared a French kiss on campus. He definitely enjoys making your admirers jealous.

But of course, he’s only doing this for the show and for the clicks when he films you both. It has nothing to do with the fact that he maximally enjoys your closeness and can’t get enough of you. Never. How could you come up with such silly ideas?

He will shower you with gifts that he "just happened to buy somewhere." Does this have anything to do with the fact that he actually listens to you and explicitly searches for things you like and that he hopes will make you happy? Such nonsense.

Haru

Despite his strict schedule, Haru will never miss the chance to show you how much you mean to him.

Every now and then, you'll get messages from him asking where you are, only for him to show up shortly after with all kinds of stuff. Surely, you've forgotten to drink enough today, right? Don’t worry, he’ll take care of you.

You’ll also receive sweet messages from him every day. At first, he’s a bit overwhelmed with flirting properly, but eventually, he gets the hang of it and showers you with subtle love declarations.

Speaking of love declarations: when he sees you on campus, he won’t miss the chance to greet you with a hug and a kiss on the forehead. He doesn't care if others see you.

Towa

Towa is a true romantic. He understands the language of flowers like no other. So, be prepared to receive numerous flowers from him. He takes the effort to present you with a special one every day, just to emphasize how unique you are to him.

He doesn't care what people around you think. He will hug and kiss you in public whenever the mood strikes.

Towa is a good listener, and even though he's not necessarily good with words, he always knows how you feel and what you need at that moment. If it's peace, he'll leave you alone; if it’s closeness, he'll whisk you away to a quiet spot and hold you in his arms until time forces you back to reality.

Wherever you go together, he'll want to hold your hand. It’s important to him to have you by his side at all times.

Ren

Ren is more the type for subtle expressions of love. So, a keen sense of perception is needed if you don't want to starve from lack of affection in a relationship with him.

The most noticeable thing for an attentive observer is Ren's smile when he's around you. He always seems much more relaxed when you’re there, and you're probably the only person who’s ever made him laugh.

In public, he wouldn’t dare show any affection, but when you're alone, he craves your touch. Even though he'll always claim you're the one who wants it and he’s simply complying with your wishes.

He also loves playing with your hair during your evening movie nights. Not having to ask for head massages definitely has its perks.

Romeo

Usually, it's Romeo who receives affection, but even he sometimes gets overwhelmed by longing, and everyone around can see how much you mean to him — and that no one should mess with you because of that.

Romeo is possessive. It’s no different with his partner. You belong to him alone, and everyone who even thinks about getting too close to you should know that. That’s why you're probably the only person on the planet who’s allowed to touch him in public without getting punched.

He lets you sit on his lap in his office when you're talking, and he makes no effort to let you go when one of his lackeys enters the room. After all, everyone knows you belong to him.

You also don’t need to worry about not being stylish enough for Romeo. He'll make sure your wardrobe is perfectly aligned with his. Expect a complete makeover. You won't recognize yourself — in a good way.

Taiga

Regardless of his moods, Taiga is definitely a physical type. This means that he loves to show his affection through hugs and kisses of all kinds, as long as you let him. His lap is your second home.

He may not be greedy or superficial, but he has taken a liking to showering you with gifts. Though, in most cases, you’d better not know where they came from.

Depending on whether you’re okay with it, he’ll either nibble on your ear and cover your neck with kisses when you two are alone. He just loves it.

He practically lets you move into his room because, as his good luck charm, he always wants to have you near.

Ritsu

The first thing anyone who knows Ritsu even a little would notice is the fact that he doesn’t talk to you like a potential client, but actually like his girlfriend. Even though he would never, ever talk to you in a childish manner or give you pet names in public. That’s simply not his style, love or no love.

Ritsu has good manners and knows from several sources that it’s proper to take a lady out to dinner. So, he regularly dresses up and takes you to the finest restaurants Tokyo has to offer.

Since he wants to be taken seriously as a lawyer, he refrains from physical contact in public. But since he still wants people to recognize you as his love, it’s acceptable to link arms with him.

Though he seems rather stiff, he does enjoy hugging and kissing you. It should just happen in private.

Haku

Haku is an incorrigible charmer and will shower you with compliments anytime, although you often have to read between the lines of his jokes to find them. However, the longer you're together, the more serious he becomes with his compliments.

Physical closeness is something Haku finds very comforting, so he loves holding hands or walking with his arm around you.

He also won’t hesitate to kiss you passionately in public. Of course, he’ll refrain from doing so if it makes you uncomfortable.

Additionally, he regularly invites you on dates, making an effort to keep them as varied as possible. By the way, long walks are not considered actual dates for him but rather a standard activity.

Subaru

Due to his stigma and his rather reserved nature, Subaru will initially refrain from showing affection through physical closeness. Instead, he expresses his feelings in a more subtle way through many small gestures.

Even though he values having enough personal space for both of you, he places great importance on seeing or at least hearing from you every day. If you couldn’t meet during the day, he will call you at night to wish you goodnight.

Another way he shows his affection is by sharing his memories and feelings with you. Normally, he doesn't like talking about himself, but with you, it feels so natural to share his deepest thoughts that he doesn't mind at all.

Whenever there's an event he thinks you might enjoy, he’ll make sure to arrange everything so you can attend together. After all, he wants to make sure you're happy and that you experience lots of things together, helping you grow closer.

Zenji

Zenji is a master of words and will primarily express his affection verbally, especially when there are no other alternatives. This might be in the form of poems or songs that he has written exclusively for you, meant only for your ears.

He’ll also always keep you company whenever you need it. He loves staying up with you late into the night, talking about everything under the sun until you fall asleep. Seeing you so peacefully and safely in bed is the greatest gift for him.

You'll often find little hidden notes from him, wishing you a good day, asking for a smile, reciting a short poem, or revealing his feelings. You usually discover them much later because he hides them so well.

Wherever you go, he will watch over you. Even though he may no longer be able to protect you himself, he’ll make sure you’re safe.

Rui

Rui’s days of physical affection are unfortunately behind him, so he has had to find new ways to express his feelings. His first idea was to gift you a small teddy bear, which you can cuddle whenever you feel the urge to hold Rui instead.

If you’ve managed to convince him to enter a relationship, he will generally want you to have something that shows you're taken. So, he'll gift you some sort of special piece of jewelry — most likely a ring. Although Rui's the one constantly surrounded by admirers, he's the one who is deeply afraid of losing you because he believes you're too good for him.

Rui is incredibly attentive and can literally read your wishes from your eyes. If it's within his power, he’ll fulfill them. This also means he always knows how you’re feeling, as he can read you like a book. So be careful what you're thinking!

When you're out together, he gives his full attention to you alone. Even though he may use his usual charm when approached by others, especially women, he never gives you any reason to worry.

Ed

Usually, Ed is the type who craves attention and affection, but he’s also capable of expressing his own feelings.

Social conventions matter little to him, as he doesn’t see himself as part of society. So, you can expect him to show affection at any time or place — whether through hugs, kisses, or his hands wandering elsewhere on your body. That is, if you allow it.

You’re never quite sure if he actually wants to bite you, but he loves passionately kissing along your neck. The fact that he rarely breathes during this makes the situation just as eerie as it is arousing.

He regularly texts you about how much he misses you and what a cruel person you are for leaving an old man alone. After all, he always wants you by his side, no matter what you’re doing together. It’s more than clear that he finds you far more interesting than he would ever admit.

Lyca

Lyca is known for having no experience with women, let alone relationships. Therefore, he reacts quite shyly to anything you do involving physical contact, making it difficult for him to initiate gestures himself.

If you do anything that even remotely puts you in danger, he’ll call you an "idiot." He worries about you practically every second, so don’t hold it against him.

He’s trying his best to live among humans, so he observes people a lot. On campus, he watches couples and tries to pick up certain behaviors from them. Depending on the couple, this can be more or less awkward. Shy attempts to hold your hand, sharing lunch, or stroking your hair — he’s really doing his best to make things work between you.

Most of all, he shows his affection by wanting you to accompany him everywhere, especially when he’s discovering something new. You’re meant to be part of his journey toward humanity.

If you enjoy his drawings, he’ll be more than happy to paint anything you ask him to.

Yuri

Yuri is a very passionate man when it comes to his work and research. However, when it comes to dealing with women, he lacks much experience. Still, his innate enthusiasm for you is definitely in your favor.

He will gradually involve you more in his work, asking you to help him in the lab whenever possible so you can extend your already-too-short time together. He’ll even send Jiro away more often just so you two can be alone.

Whenever Yuri makes a significant discovery or feels proud of an accomplishment, he becomes filled with energy that he needs to release. He'll pick you up, spin you around, and then give you a passionate kiss before turning back to his work. Only after a few moments does he realize what just happened, as you can see from his blushing cheeks — always an adorable sight.

Despite his tight schedule, he’ll try to regularly take a night off to have dinner with you. He understands that variety is key to keeping a relationship alive.

Jiro

Jiro initially struggles to identify his feelings for you, so you'll need to be patient if you want to feel his affection.

He’s not a man of many words, so you're more likely to experience physical affection from him. Once he’s had a taste of you, he’ll want more of that sweet feeling. Why does his heart beat so fast when you touch him? Why can’t he think clearly when your hands brush his cheek? Why do his knees go weak when he feels your skin touching his own? These are all things he needs to thoroughly experiment with to understand the obvious cause.

The most beautiful thing for him is your smile. He’ll do anything to bring it out — whether through jokes, gestures, or giving you flowers. He quickly learns how to behave in ways that get the desired reaction from you.

He’ll also ask you to do ordinary things with him, such as eating or cleaning or activities that foster a deeper relationship. Very soon into your relationship, he’ll realize that everything is better with you by his side.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

We’ve been looking at this all wrong the entire time...

So my brain is a weird place that I don’t fully understand, but sometimes it connects dots and I figure something out that has been staring us in the face the entire time! Lets just say it explains so many things - right down to the very pointed use of tommy calling Buck Evan!

This all stemmed from me looking at colour theory and costuming for Buck and Eddie (and by extension Tommy) season 7 again, because I was going to try write the buddie costume metas for episodes 9 and 10 that I never managed to get done before we started season 8 I will hopefully get to those posts, but this post - while technically about Tommy and his costumes (yes me ant Tommy person writing a post on him I know!) it does also look at the costuming for Buck and to a lesser extent Eddie more widely across the season and what the colours used actually mean - getting some distance and some time on the season has been a blessing!

Im not going to go into it in detail, but, broadly speaking the show has given each character a signature colour - this doesn’t mean they wear it all of the time - but they do wear it a lot of the time and especially in key scenes - characters can have more than one key/ signature colour, and it can change and develop over time. We can ignore season 1 because it was a pilot season and very often shows won’t choose to establish a signature colour for a character (911 s1 is all over the place from a costuming perspective - because they had several designers working across the 10 episodes but since s2 we’ve had much more continuity with Alayna Bell-Price at the helm for most of it). So for example Athena’s signature colour is mostly black with white and khaki green also in the mix. She’s moved away from that subsequently - wearing less black and more white/creams but both colours are still staples of her wardrobe.

Eddie we all know mirrors Athena from a costuming perspective - his signature colours are also black and khaki green with some white/cream as well. The khaki green was much more dominant than the black to begin with - which played into his military past -  that had evened out on the black and khaki front whilst the cream had stayed fairly steady, but now we’re also starting to see a little bit more of it as well as some darker blues. this mirrors Athenas own journey t healing - the more she heals the less Khaki we see and the more white/cream - Eddie is starting to follow the same path from a costume perspective. 

Bucks signature colour has always been blue, but he also wears a fair amount of yellow and grey, so those are his three colours. He obviously wears a lot of other colours, especially white, but white has its own specific use in Bucks costumes that sits separately from his signature colours. 

We all know about yellow/ blue and green blue colour theory - I’ve gone on about it enough (especially yellow blue colour theory and its queer coding) and others such as @lover-of-mine have as well. Well both yellow/blue and green/blue continued to play out in season 7, I’m not going to go into them in too much detail - there are posts on my pinned post that cover that much better and I want to get to the good stuff (and I know you all do too!) 

We do need to remember that Buck and Eddie very very rarely wear blue and green in scenes together - if Eddie is in green Buck won’t be in blue, and vice versa - this is because of the ties to blue/green being Buck and Eddies break up colours - the colours they wear opposite their respective girlfriends when the relationships are ending. This is a little less set for Eddie - who actually wears white/cream much more when he’s ending relationships than blue or green - but the one time he has actively done the breaking up he was in green.

As I was starting to do a bit of work on the 7x9 and 7x10 metas, I ended up going back and looking over the Buck and Eddie costumes for the season as a whole, and how Tommy fit into all of that as well - as we’ve all been billing him as Eddie lite.

While I do still think there is an element of Tommy being Eddie lite, I don’t actually think that is what the show has been doing -that concept is a bit of a red herring. I’m sorry that this is likely to get a bit convoluted and wordy - but my brain is  still reeling and incoherent so bear with me - I hope it all makes sense.

Right this post is super long so the rest is going below the cut! I hope you enjoy!

Because I was looking for Eddie and Tommy parallels in the costuming for the season, I had been looking at the choice to put Eddie in red/black for his dinner date with Kim and Buck being in green for the scene at Bucks loft, and the fact that back in 7x04 Tommy had been dressed in the same colours - a red henley which was shot with black giving it a red/black colour way. I naturally started looking at the other Eddie - Tommy costume parallels - and there are plenty - lots of the khaki green we see Eddie in - playing into Tommys own military background.

These are Tommy’s scenes - where he wasn’t in uniform of some description (which is a good chunk of his scenes to be fair) 

7x04 

at the hangar - white tee, greenish stone coloured shirt and a tan jacket with stonewash jeans

at the court - light grey marl cut off hoodie and bright blue shorts

at Bucks loft - red/black short sleeve henley and stone wash jeans

7x05

at the restaurant -dark khaki green shirt (I would also like to point out the blue green colour theory here with the addition of tommy having a blue phone case - which is relevant later I promise!)

coffee meet up - light grey henley and navy blue hoodie with mid wash jeans

7x06

karaoke club - navy blue short sleeved henley

7x10

light grey marl tee and greenish denim shirt 

So what you can see from this is that besides the use of henley’s, the only time we get actually get direct reference to Eddies costuming is through the use of khaki green and his first outfit at the hangar. There is of course the direct parallel of the red/black colour way I spoke of before, but, beyond that if you look you’ll see that Tommys outfits actually parallel Bucks far far more. I would even argue the Henley’s are more similar to Buck than Eddie - because they are short sleeved and Eddies are invariably long sleeved.

Bucks colours are blue and grey - and so are Tommy’s - particularly in scenes that are 1-1 with Buck. What I’m trying to get at and will explain is that this has never ever been about Tommy being Eddie lite - this is all about Tommy being Buck - Buck’s subconscious if you will. (I know you all this I’m completely mad at this point - but stick with me!) I have a lot to say about all of this which will explain the why of it all and how we ended up here so we’re going to go through it Tommy costume by Tommy costume!

Lets start with the hangar scene - the most Eddie like Tommy looks throughout the entire season. this is very much intentional - this is about the red herring of it all, but it is also about Eddie (I’m not discrediting anything we’ve talked about regarding Tommy being Eddie lite etc - it is all relevant - but that’s what makes it such a good red herring!) and about Buck being an unreliable narrator. This is in part why we also still see Buck in his too short trousers and his white sneakers. This is his journey (the sneakers), but he’s still trapped in his old self at this moment in time - but aware that he doesn’t fit his skin anymore (as an aside I will be writing a post about Bucks trousers and their changing fit throughout the seasons at some point soon!)

Script wise the key lines are plentiful - the entire scene is full of double meaning. We get Buck stating that he is ‘happy where he’s at’ and Tommy’s response of ‘you’re thinking of changing things up’. viewed through the idea that Tommy is a version of Buck, this then plays out as an internal conflict - a battle about wanting what you already have - being happy with what you have, but also wanting to change things.

Eddie saying ‘you aren’t thinking of leaving us are you’ and Bucks response ‘I’m keeping my options fluid.’ Eddie needing reassurance that what they have isn’t going to change, while Bucks reply is about him not really being sure of himself - of who he is - keeping his options open because he’s figuring out if he wants to change - the line is said to and directed at Eddie so its about Buck keeping his options open about possibly changing their dynamic - becoming something more, even in the face of Eddie not wanting things to be different.  Tommy stating in this scene that Buck doesn’t need to leave the 118 to get certified to fly - that its something he could do for fun on his days off - becomes even more loaded through the internal monologue lens - Buck considering how he can stay at the 118 and have the joy, fun and benefits of ‘flying’ when he isn’t at work - that he could fly with Eddie (Eddie going flying with Tommy to do something fun and date like is a very literal visual metaphor for Bucks internal monologue - showing him what it could be like if he changed things up). There not being three tickets - only two is also important - its again a metaphor this time about how if Buck and Eddies relationship changes - it would only change for the two of them - it would become a relationship that doesn’t have room for another in it. When I say that’s about Chris not being involved it sounds really harsh, but the reality is Chris cannot be a a part of Buddie - he cannot be a part of something romantic. it isn’t saying Chris isn’t important or central to Buck and Eddie - simply that he cannot be a factor in a romantic relationship - that has to be just between Buck and Eddie alone - its kind of about Eddie (and also to a certain extent the same is true for Buck) not being able to hide behind Chris anymore when it comes to Buck.

Fundamentally its all tied back to his death in season 6 (we even get the being struck by lightening reference from Buck just to bring that aspect home) and subsequent resurrection and rebirth  (post linked on my pinned post if anyone wants to read it!). we have to keep at the front of our minds that Buck has died and that is still playing on his mind - its still influencing who he is and who he is becoming and it was all throughout season 7 - even if it wasn’t obvious or stated.

The basketball costume is actually the one that has always stood out for me - Its the most Buck outfit of all Tommys outfits. The bright blue shorts especially. 

So in that scene, which we know is supposed to read as being from Bucks view point, not only are we getting golden haloed super happy bouncy Eddie - Eddie the way Buck sees him -  but Buck is also projecting and seeing Tommy in the place he (Buck) has always existed in. It’s a visual representation of what Buck talked about with Maddie and Tommy replacing him in Eddies life.  Its unreliable narrator buck in visuals he’s seeing Eddie replacing him with Tommy - occupying the same places Buck has and more - from the calendar to the basketball court.

But that’s actually wonderful, because not only does it give us information on how Buck views himself (as expendable/replaceable) and how he thinks others view him - because if he thinks he’s similar to Tommy (which for a purely visual stand point he is - Lou looks more like Oliver than Ryan) but it also gives us information about the reality of how much Buck is actually intwined in Eddies (and Christophers) life - its telling us that Buck is in fact on Eddies calendar (and therefore fridge - fridge magnet theory for the win!) and how much space and conversation he occupies in the Diaz’s everyday life.

So he isn’t actually seeing Eddie in Tommy at all - he’s actually seeing the version of himself he doesn’t think he is but wants to be in Tommy. The version of himself that takes Eddie to vegas etc - that’s the Buck that Buck wants to be - the one openly flirting with Eddie and taking him on dates etc. That’s why the vegas fight is so seemingly ott (especially when you think about the fact Tommy and Eddie have known each other a week or so at most by this point) its the grand gesture Buck wishes he could be making.

All of this also makes Bucks ‘attack on Eddie’ more telling (it’s still the boy pulling the girl he likes pig tails in the playground concept) because Eddie is being receptive to all of these advances by Tommy - adding further weight to the Buck being jealous of and threatened by Tommy. 

Tommy is this version of Buck swooping in and doing all this stuff that Buck wants to be doing (subconsciously still at this point - willful ignorance be winning) but either didn’t know how to or didn’t know Eddie if would be receptive to. Remembering that this is all Bucks viewpoint of things its essentially Bucks brain showing him what dating Eddie would be like and Buck being Buck misunderstands what his brain is telling him (forever misunderstanding the assignment).

There is a second aspect to this and it ties into Tim’s comments about the hamster wheel Buck has a been stuck on and it being time he got off it - the hamster wheel is actually multifaceted and has more than one meaning. The most important is that the hamster wheel hasn’t ever been about his relationships or about the women he’s dating (or men now). The hamster wheel he’s stuck on is actually the fact that he’s built this strong relationship and family with Eddie and Chris - (you don’t find it son you make it) and its something safe and stable and predictable in his life. Getting off that hamster wheel is about being brave and moving that relationship - that family dynamic onto the next level - removing the platonic aspect of their family and making it a fully formed family for real - romantic love and all - so the ‘platonic’ family is the hamster wheel he actually needs to get off of. 

The other aspect of Tommy actually being Buck and the hamster wheel of it all is that hamster wheels are solitary pursuits - the implication is that Buck is the one standing in his own way - and coming back to the basketball game we see that played out in the moment where Buck tries to literally run through Tommy - only you can’t act out at yourself, and Tommy is a literal solid unmoving barrier and Buck won’t get past himself by just trying to bulldoze his way through.

This all then plays into the final Buck and Tommy scene of the episode - in bucks loft. I already spoke above about the red/black of it all, but now with the added concept of Tommy being A version of Buck things start to become more interesting. The red/black of it all is a warning (and the poker date red/black velvet suit and eddies red and black suit from s6 actually play into this as well!) - its dark romance - ‘forbidden’ dangerous romance or love. So for Eddie and his date with Kim that meaning is very self explanatory. The two season 6 suits are also fairly self explanatory - for Eddie again its the dangers of looking for romance that isn’t on your own terms and for Buck at the poker game its about the danger of falling in love with the person you are when you aren’t being truly yourself. Tommy being a version of Buck and this concept is a little more murky - essentially is about a similar thing to his poker suit - with a twist - its about the danger of seeing more value and loving a version of yourself that ‘used to exist’ as well as a version of yourself that you think will make you more attractive to others.

We do also need to Talk about Bucks costume here as well - the fact that it fits him almost perfectly - he’s in well fitted if slightly loose jeans and a navy shirt that isn’t tight with buttons not clinging on for dear life (to the same extent). The colouring is still on the dark side - so its not entirely positive - much in the same way that other scenes with buck in a dark navy shirt are moments where things go a bit askew for Buck (think the  taylor ‘I kinda love you for it’ scene from s5 as an example). The implication is that - before Tommy comes along Buck is at his most content with who he is - he’s fitting into his skin better than he has in a long while but it’s not perfect. This is key, firstly because of how the scene unfolds and secondly, because of how he is then costumed from here on out for the rest of the season.

I do also want to mention the yellow blue colour coding in this scene and that is mostly done through the lighting - Buck is in blue and the light behind him is always yellow - he is surrounded by yellow light. In contrast - Tommy is barely touched by the yellow light - not until Buck starts to figure things out - then we get him briefly touched by the yellow light - the rest of the time he is lit very cooly - which is in contrast to the warmth of the loft - and further plays into the idea of Tommy being a stand in for Evan - Evan who isn't loved and accepted in the same way Buck is - Evan who Buck needs to learn to love.

If we look at the script for this scene, it also fits in perfectly with the idea of Bucks internal monologue.  Tommy and Eddie being ‘buddie’s’ making perfect sense is a literal aside to the audience telling them that Buddie makes perfect sense - but it is more than that. This is where I have to bring up the ‘Evan’ of it all. I know a lot of us shudder with horror because of the fact Tommy only ever calls Buck ‘Evan’ and how both jarring and rude it is. How it shows how little Tommy knows Buck. We’ve always known it was being done intentionally. Well, if we view the use of Evan through the lens of Tommy being a version of Buck and things become clearer.  Because Tommy is basically the old version of Buck - the Buck who existed before he knew Eddie - before he joined the 118. And this is where the choice to bring back Tommy specifically for this role becomes a really smart one - because ‘Evan call me Buck Buckley’ was Tommys replacement at the 118. Tommy who has a problematic past that has never been dealt with on screen. This isn’t about the nature of the problematic past. This is the show playing on the idea of Buck’s software upgrades - before Buck 1.0 there was Evan, and using who Buck replaced at the 118 as a plot device to actually dig into Evan more so that Buck can deal with, accept and move on from Evan and become who Buck is meant to be.

Tommy saying he couldn’t replace Buck furthers this - because Buck cannot go back to being Evan - Evan can never replace Buck. invoking Christopher adds weight to this - because Chris never knew Evan - he’s only ever known Buck and Buck is ‘his Buck’ and irreplaceable. Tommy then stating his jealousy is about Evan feeling the lack of family that he grew up with - the recognition that as Buck he has made a family for himself - Bucks assertion that Tommy (Evan) was a part of it is valid - because without Evan Buck couldn’t build the family he has. The entirety of this conversation is about Buck choosing to ‘get to know’ his past (remember this is coming of the back of Buck crossing out the ‘LEY’ on his nameplate in s6 and his struggles with his parents acceptance in that season before the lightening strike), choosing to learn about Evan and embrace him as a part of Buck.  

Bucks assertion that he was ‘trying to get [Tommys] attention and it being exhausting’ is part of that as is the confusion Tommy expresses. The choice for Buck to use the word ‘exhausting’ - it’s Bucks subconscious trying to get his own attention - its his subconscious telling Buck that he’s exhausting himself by not listening to what his inner voice is saying. It’s of course a play on Buck being called exhausting by other people (and is perhaps why he doesn’t have the confidence to listen to that inner voice) and that also plays into the Evan of it all and how Buck views himself. Tommys confusion also plays into that - bucks own mind is confused - it was getting ready to ‘pursue’ Eddie but now we’re pivoting into what is essentially self love.

The continued bringing up of Eddie also makes sense with the contact of Tommy being alt Buck - because Eddie Eddie Eddie fills Bucks heart and mind - Both Evan and Buck recognise Eddies importance if not his full relevance in this moment. The resulting kiss then becomes less about Bucks bi awakening (I am not diminishing the importance of that in any way shape or form - its a vital aspect of Bucks journey) and more about Bucks decision to pursue loving himself - this ties into his statement ‘it wasn’t about me wanting to leave the 118 - it was about wanting to get to know you’ - its about Buck wanting to get to know himself - on the other side of his death and resurrection. It’s a continuation of his comments about Natalia ‘seeing him perhaps better than he sees himself’ - it’s about Buck starting to see himself better now he’s died and essentially been reborn and bout Buck now being in a place where he feels ready to confront that idea of being reborn and becoming someone new.

At the restaurant in 7x05 we have Tommy in an Eddie colour, but in a shirt that is much more Bucks style. There is also the green/blue colour play with Tommy stating Buck isn’t ready and Tommys ‘mismatched’ clothing bears that up - the play is on Bucks lingering confusion and uncertainty about what he wants - is it the Eddie side of things we’re pursuing the self love of Evan aspect we’re looking to explore? The entire scene is not just about Bucks first ‘date with a dude’ its also about Bucks fumbled attempts at self love - at not getting it right - its why Bucks outfit doesn’t fit him- why they’re now too big and baggy (I wrote about this in my costume meta for that episode - which like all the other costume posts can be found linked on my pinned post).  The innuendo about closets and Buck going into masculine bro mode is as much about his nervousness about being on a date with Tommy and being seen as it is about the fact that a man practicing self love is still taboo and so often met with derision - hiding that you are pursuing that is a kin to hiding queerness - at the start - until you get to a good place with it.

We side step into the Buck and Eddie loft scene briefly to look at Bucks confession to Eddie - I could write a whole thing on Eddies acceptance of Buck and its importance - but that is for a different post that isn’t already a million words long! what I want to mention in this scene is the why Buck can’t stop thinking about Tommy of it all - how it is essentially establishing the idea that Buck is starting to listen to himself.  He can’t stop thinking about Tommy because it isn’t Tommy he can’t stop thinking about it’s actually himself - Evan - in a learning to love himself and embrace who he is and was kind of way - all being done through a bi lens. it is essentially about Buck doing the thing he needs to do to be ready for a forever relationship with Eddie - which is love and accept himself - all of himself and acknowledging that to Eddie.

Buck switches back to better fitting clothes for the coffee date - and tommy is now dressed back in Buck colours and no trace of anything resembling Eddie in sight - making it clear that Buck has chosen to pursue himself. To get himself to the place he needs and wants to be first - the line about not knowing what it is he’s ready for but being ready for something is key - its a very self love line, but it also puts a very clear time frame on things - it makes it clear that Tommy is not endgame - because Bucks choosing self love and embracing and understanding ‘Evan’ isn’t his end game but a part of his bigger journey - a part of becoming who he needs to be to achieve what he actually wants - to get him to his endgame.

Then we have the Karaoke - brief scene(s). There isn’t really a huge amount in these scenes. But I do want to point out two things - the awkwardness of Buck and Tommys hug - and how that plays into the tentative nature of Bucks self love journey - and also Eddies behaviour towards Tommy - and the way it was very very clearly a lot cooler than we saw in 7x04.

We all jumped on the Petty Eddie train - and I agree there is an element of that. But - there is also the fact we are not seeing that scene through Bucks eyes - its through external eyes and we are therefore seeing the actual reality of Eddie and Tommys friendship - in that it isn’t this heightened date like - flirty new love type relationship - its simply two people who are loosely friends. Its remarkably normal and no threatening - only furthering the entire purpose of 7x04 being from Bucks viewpoint and Tommy being an alt Buck rather than an alt Eddie. It also therefore serves to further establish the Buddie of it all (but we all already knew that!). Tommy is still in Buck colours and the short sleeved henley is still something I would put more into the Buck costume camp than the Eddie one - especially in this season! 

The final Tommy scene and costume is the date at Bucks loft and the conversation about daddy kink. I still don’t like this scene (which has a lot more to do with execution and the script than the actual daddy kink of it all) but I am much more sanguine about it now that I understand what it is setting up.

Bear with me here I probably won’t make sense, but with the knowledge that Tommy is actually buck lite - a less good and developed version buck (Evan and in part the version of Buck that Buck himself thinks he is) the daddy kink scene actually becomes about setting up Buck addressing his past and his actual real daddy issues - because bucks past self sees his worth in those issues and without them it means both Evan and Buck have no worth. Buck confronting and dealing with them and choosing to forgive and move on means the end of Buck and Tommy because Tommy is no longer needed - he has served his purpose and Buck would be ready to start his future - Evan stays in the past and Buck completes his rebirth and closes his lightening strike arc.

Onto Bucks season 8 journey - Bringing Gerrard in to Bucks arc rather than the others who have far more connection to Gerrard now begins to make much more sense. Tommys past under Gerrard actually echoes Bucks past - in different ways and to vastly different degrees, but the parallel is there.  S1 Buck being a play boy and sleeping around and not treating women especially well (objectifying them etc) because of his own hang ups - is a pale echo of Tommy being closeted and racist sexist and homophobic under Gerrard. Like I said before - Buck is a pale imitation to Tommy here and that’s intentional (more in a sec) because once Tommy is under the wing of Bobby when he takes over the 118 we see him begin to grow and change. Buck follows the same pattern - Bobbys guidance pulls him away from his destructive behaviours and sets him onto the right path (Bobby is arguably the birther of Buck - Look I could write a whole thing off the back of my death and resurrection of Buck post about Bobbys role as God - the heavenly father - in Bucks life and how that is the overarching theme of Bobby and the show but I don’t have the time tbh!) to ‘redemption’.

Bucks behaviour is very intentionally not as bad as Tommys behaviour, because if Tommy is the plot device meant to essentially represent Bucks subconscious and how he views himself, then the reason we haven’t been shown Tommy atoning for any of his past sins and behaviours is because Buck hasn’t forgiven himself for his own. Buck is his own worst critic and will self flagellate to a ridiculous degree - and again with him being an unreliable narrator - he views his past indiscretions as being the equivalent of Tommys - therefore in his mind he hasn’t yet done enough to deserve absolution (Buck and Bobby being father and son in this as well!). 

Which brings me to s8 and the return of Gerrard and what Bucks arc is going to be (this is slightly incoherent and not fully formed - I’m still percolating!). Gerrard being central to Bucks arc - and Bucks push back is imo going to be about Buck taking a good look at himself and recognising/ facing up to and accepting his past. And that actually does come down to the daddy issues of it all. Because if Bobby is as good as Bucks dad - and allowed him (and his subconscious in the form of Tommy) to develop and grow - then Gerrard is Phillip Buckley (obviously a heightened more terrible version of reality in the same way Tommy is a much worse version of Buck) who parented Evan through apathy and taking the easy route - we saw Evan pushing back against Phillip in Buck Begins and being rewarded for it and thus establishing Bucks self destructive and self sacrificing pattern of behaviour. Acting out and getting hurt got him attention - so Buck acting out against Gerrard is this reduced and will ultimately have the same results just in an essentially more destructive way.  This is is a good thing - because this is about Buck recognising that he is worth and acting out etc is detrimental to him progressing as a person - its going to actively prevent his self love journey to flourish (and this is why in part I maintain my belief that Tommy is going to, if not encourage Bucks behaviour, then at least tell him to go along with Gerrard demands - for an easy life and also part of why I don’t think we’ll see a huge amount of Tommy - at least to begin with - until we get to a point where Buck is really motoring on the self love journey and getting to the point where he needs to do some pre break up face to face conversations that move him forward!).  It’s about forgiving and accepting his father for how Evan was raised - Bucks arc is going to be about forgiving himself and allowing himself to be happy, and he cannot do that if he doesn’t go through the Gerrard stuff - which is essentially a type of therapy. That’s also where I think the golf comes into it - it’s a metaphor for Buck building bridges, gaining understanding and accepting his past with his father - the metaphor of the driving range being the idea of standing side by side and performing the same thing, but landing in different places. There is also the concept of improving ones self and choosing to not repeat the mistakes of the past.

It also means the thing Tim said about Buck and Tommy becoming more comfortable with one another makes much more sense, and why he’d flip the question to talk about Eddie and about Eddie feeling a bit left out in the cold but not out in the cold! Buck is becoming more comfortable with himself and while he’s doing that and learning to be happy etc as I described above. Eddie is going to feel left out - because this is about Buck not Eddie - because it’s about Buck being ready for forever with Eddie - and Eddie ultimately cannot be a part of that journey - Buck has to do it for himself in the same way that Buck cannot help or be there while Eddie goes through his reckoning with the Catholic Church, and faiths place in his life and also dealing with the ghost of Shannon and his mother issues(because he has those and they are all set up to go in s8 - Chris being in Texas really sets that up nicely!

Bahaha Tim I’ve finally figured out your question answering methods and how they tell us all we need to know!! 

All this to say - Tommy is actually alt Buck - not Eddie lite (I mean he is still also that but it’s a bit of a red herring) he is a plot device for the biggest thing about Buck as a character and it all means Buddie here we come!

Thank you so so much if you have read this epic piece of waffle - I hope you enjoyed and I truly look forward to hearing all your thoughts on this and to you being as insane about it as I am!

Tagging some people who asked (and some who didn’t but might be interested anyway!)

@spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @lover-of-mine @fruityfirehose @leothil

@bewitchedbewilderedbisexual @theladyyavilee @livingwherethesidewalkends @craigyxo

@izzysbeans @buddiediaz118 @inell @hotshotsxyz @winterskydragonx

[shadamyheadcanons]

For me, Shadow and Amy's dynamic is basically two different types of touch starved in a person

((If any of the gifs on this post aren’t loading for you on mobile--like they aren’t for me--you can download them or check the sources listed. As for desktop, they play just fine, but they won’t line up next to each other like they do on mobile. Tumblr is a comedy of errors.))

Yes! Absolutely. I’ve seen tons of fans say Shadow is prickly and would respond badly to hugs, but canon says otherwise. This is a bad reaction:

[Sonic 06]

Whenever I feel like being sad, I wonder if Bad-Future-06 Silver has ever been hugged.

This is a bad reaction:

[Sonic Unleashed, gif source.]

And I shouldn’t have to say this, but...yeah. These are very bad reactions:

[Sonic X]

[Sonic Generations]

Yikes. I feel bad for both of them.

But this?

[Sonic Adventure 2, gif source.]

This is Shadow’s only canonical hug in the games, and aside from jumping slightly from being snuck up on, he seems to like it just fine.

Just look at that smile! He’s happy. He finds it endearing.

It was a hug from a complete stranger meant for someone else, but he still drank it in--and, given that he’d effectively just lost Maria, he really did need it. It’s the combination of Amy’s gentleness AND her speech that changed his mind. After all, if someone as sweet as her sees something in the humans, maybe they’re not so bad.

My buddy who runs @shadowxamyweek recently reblogged a post about this hug, and their tags sum it up perfectly:

[ID: A screenshot of tags on a post. The tags read:

#official art #4kids #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #YEAH 😭 #listen I read nothing that has happened with them in SA2 as shippy - and i ship them #THIS HUG? THR SPEECH ON THE ARK? #those are two lonely kids #those are two left behind kids #those are two kids so desperate for affection #for two vastly different reasons #Amy loves with her whole chest and will never stop doing so- no matter what happens #and Shadow does too- that is key to remember- Shadow loves... so fucking much... that it hurts #you are RIGHT op when you say this is probably the first time someone has been gentle with him in a long long time #he doesn't even run away #in the game- when Amy flees- he takes a step after her- a moment's hesitation- a 'wait' #this kid NEEDED a hug #and i firmly believe part of the reason Shadow listens to Amy in the end is BECAUSE she is the only person who showed him gentleness #softness and kindness and affection #if only for a moment #fjdodhdofjgor THIS is what i mean when i say 'be gentle- be kind' #it MATTERS #it FUCKING MATTERS

End ID]

Shadow doesn’t hate hugs inherently; it’s just that no one hugs him in the first place...

...aside from one person.

Amy’s easily the most affectionate character in the cast. It’s cute at first glance, but there’s a common thread to every instance that puts a damper on it.

She’s always, ALWAYS the initiator.

She puts more into each hug than anyone else does.

She’s always the last to pull away.

The most reciprocated Amy hug I know of in canon is this one:

[IDW Sonic issue #22]

Which is absolutely adorable...but Amy still initiated. Because it’s always her job. Even the characters who like affection don’t need it the way she does...with one exception.

And this tiny detail just killed me. The little, “wait, come back 😟”

It’s the only time I know of when someone has actually stepped after her like this. In a game where everyone left Amy behind, he wanted to follow her. Mister so-called-prickly didn’t want the hug to end.

Because he’s the only one who needs it as much as she does.

He wants to be held as much as she wants to hold someone else, and no one else is warm and sincere enough for it. Compare these instances:

[IDW issue #6]

Sonic thinks Shadow is wrong about something, so he grabs Shadow’s arm to stop him, and Shadow aggressively wrenches it away and leaves.

[Archie Sonic Universe #23]

But when Amy thinks Shadow is wrong about something and grabs his arm to stop him, he gently removes her hand and thinks about what she has to say.

Even when he doesn’t want to be touched, he makes the distinction between “don’t touch me” and “not right now, please.” These are from two different continuities, of course, but I think the point stands. Amy’s special. He’s gentler with her than he is with other people, and that’s consistent across all canons.

Side note: how often does Amy get to feel special like that? I actually really like that Sonic doesn’t place others in a hierarchy of importance, and I wouldn’t change that about him even if I could...

[IDW issue #2]

...but Amy does play favorites. I want her to feel like she’s someone else’s favorite, too. I want her to have someone who puts her first and likes her best. I think Shadow’s more than capable of that. I believe he craves clinginess like hers deep down, even if he hasn’t consciously figured that out yet.

I have an entire tag for these two being affectionate. My favorite is probably this one.

Of course, there may be those who say I’m reading too much into one (1) hug. And you know what? Maybe they’re right! We need a bigger sample size. Sega, make more characters hug Shadow, please. Let Rouge comfort him after he confides in her about something. Have Omega give him an awkward metal embrace because he read on the internet that organic beings like that kind of thing. Make Shadow himself pull Silver into a hug when he’s breaking down crying from the stress of always having to be a hero. Show Tails accidentally grab onto him out of fear when they’re trapped in a lightning storm, and when he gets embarrassed and pulls away, have Shadow hold him for the rest of the storm and admit he’s not fond of bright lights, either.

[Sonic Boom]

That scene where Shadow and Amy rescue Cream and Cheese from Cryptic Castle? That easily could’ve turned into a cute group hug.

[Shadow the Hedgehog (2005)]

And I have seen some absolutely adorable fanart where he holds Cream’s hand while he and Amy lead her through Cryptic Castle to make sure she doesn’t get lost 🥺

Have Knuckles give him an empathetic bro-pat on the shoulder when he finds out Shadow’s the last one of his race, too.

[Archie Sonic Universe #89]

Have Sonic try to hug him, and then when Shadow inevitably pushes him away and says he doesn’t do hugs, have Amy arrive and latch onto Shadow instead while he tries to stutter out an excuse as to why she’s allowed to and Sonic isn’t.

The most affection Shadow has in recent history is stuff like this...

[Sonic Prime season 2 episode 1]

...where Sonic tries to hug him and Shadow immediately pushes him away, knocks him over, and tries to punch him in the face. Kind of says it all. Amy stands out as the only one with a good track record here.

[IDW issue #36]

Especially when you have him look at her like this when someone else is on the receiving end of that affection.

So in the absence of further evidence, I have no choice but to interpret this in the most Shadamy way possible. Your move, Sega.

[chigirisprincess]

Covered in the Colour of You ࿐

— Armin Arlert

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, cisfem reader (use of girl as reference to the reader), reader's hair gets combed through, reader wears a nightgown, post-canon exploration of characters and setting, reader is mentally ill (so is Armin), hunger as a metaphor for desire, love as consumption, love confessions, first times (Armin is a virgin, Reader is not), first kisses, sex on a table, some foreplay, unprotected sex, creampies, ambiguous ending, angst, hurt/some comfort, childhood friends to lovers. ⊹ Run time. 10k ⊹ Note. I don't know how we got here but I'm glad we did. This was meant to be a cute comfort fic to deal with the ending of Attack on Titan but it became so much more, I hope you enjoy.

❝A surprise visit from your childhood friend, Armin Arlert forces you to confront the feelings you've been harbouring for over a decade..❞

The Jägerist’s cries are deafening, they bounce off the clay brick walls of the surrounding houses and slither through your shuttered window panes. Every Tuesday and Thursday, the newly minted Paradis military regiment convenes in the small town square within the rebuilt city of Shiganshina. It took them just under a month to replace the fallen with green boys and girls who were just buzzing at the idea of honouring Eren Jäger and avenging his death. Once Paradis managed to secure the resources– if there were any left– you were certain that the military would erect a bronze statue of Paradis’ “saviour”. For now, they’d bother napping babies and the elderly folk who milled about the area to soak in some of the sun’s sweet warmth. 

Today they seemed to be reminding those who’d spare an ear to listen, that traitors would soon shore and with them came treasonous falsehoods. If not for Queen Historia who still harbours some morsel of affection for her old comrades, they’d be as good as dead the moment their ship docked. Word spread quickly, how you weren’t sure, but like wildfire the claim that Armin Arlert had been the one to kill Eren Jäger scorched the plains and further sowed the seeds of instability amongst the population. 

The irony of such a ludicrous statement was not lost on you. Armin Arlert couldn’t kill Eren Jäger, they were best friends and all of Shiganshina knew there could not be one without the other. You had known the two almost as long as they had known each other. Shiganshina wasn’t so big in those days, Grisha Jäger was the only doctor and Armin’s father was something of a handyman. They were who you called upon when something was amiss and you’d thank them with a warm meal or something sweet. That was what you did in those days, you showed kindness wherever you could. They were so simple, those days when the walls kept secrets and our minds were shrouded with ignorant bliss. Some mornings when you woke before the sun had yet risen, you wished Paradis could have remained tucked safely beneath the blanket King Fritz had pulled over the island. 

What little sense of communal affection remained dwindled with calls to action that erupted from the square.

This morning, the sense of longing that had settled between your lungs weighed heavily as you listened to the shouting. You wished the clock would turn back and the next time you woke, you’d be ten years old and the house you lived in would be your home. It was sort of a sick joke, to be given the keys to the house built upon the rubble of your family's home. Floch handed you the keys as if he had done you this great personal service when it had been Eren, Armin, Mikasa, and their friends who had dug through the wreckage to salvage the home they too had lost. Vagrancy was tiring and what little money you had to your name after years of working for meagre wages that just barely covered your expenses, maybe you should have been grateful to at least collect a few pieces of your life before even if they jagged and misshapen. Something was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

It had to be. 

There needed to be some reason for you to keep going. Lately, there didn’t seem to be any. Everything felt wrong. The once-cobbled streets were made of smooth even stone that allowed you to bounce around the city with ease, it reminded you of the capital. As a child, you often felt jealous that Wall Sina was home to such niceties while you were made to trip over protruding stones and wade through mud puddles in the wet months. Now though, you’d give anything for a semblance of a distant past that would make Shiganshina home once more. But as you lingered around your old haunts, searching for familiar faces and memories that would ease the pain in your chest, all you’d find was something new and foreign that left you feeling disappointed.

Turning over onto your side you curled inwards, a soft sigh passing your lips as you willed your mind to banish the longing that gnawed at you. The cool breeze that glides through your window leaves goosebumps on the bits of flesh that aren’t being swaddled by your thin white blanket. All the battle cries seemed to have simmered down as the sun inched closer toward the middle of the sky. You might be able to catch the morning market before they pack up their wares for the day if you leave now. Your icebox was pathetically empty, with only a head of rapidly wilting lettuce and milk to occupy the space. Sitting upward with a yawn, you cast a glance toward your dresser. Your clothes hang sloppily over the side of the open drawers. You should probably tidy things up before the hour grows too late.

The sleek, mousy brown floorboards that make up the second story of your house do not creak as you pad across the room—your chest aches, though you’ve grown desensitised to the familiar feeling. Your house used to creak and groan when the wind blew too roughly, and the walls were thin enough that you’d wake to the sound of your mother humming as she prepared breakfast for your family. You tried not to dwell too hard, if anything you should have been relieved. An unexpected storm wouldn’t dare to blow the roof off your house now. 

Plucking the soft, brown wool knit cardigan off the lip of your cracked door you slipped the fabric over your body. Your delicate muslin nightgown did little to keep the morning chill away. It did even less to preserve any ounce of modesty. Your bare feet slapped against the stairs as you headed downward, and a soft knock sounded at your door. Pulling your cardigan closer to your body you sighed. It must have been Mrs. Bergmann from next door coming to check on you, make sure you left your house this week, let in some fresh air– function as any other human would, that sort of stuff. She had been widowed long ago, her only son had been one of the many scouts to give his life for a free Paradis. There wasn’t much for her to do aside from checking in on her neighbours. She was a wife, a mother– it was in her nature to nurture all the little lost souls she came across.

“I’m coming Mrs. Bergmann,” You called, your voice echoing around the empty space that would have been your living room, “You don’t need to call in Werner to bust down the door just yet!”

Forcing a smile to your lips, you prepared yourself to open the door. Mrs. Bergmann was well-meaning on the best of days, if a little nosey on the worst. It was better to have someone than no one at all, you remind yourself, pushing back the urge to blanche and roll your eyes at the urgency of her knocking. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you hope your hair wasn’t too gnarly after all the tossing and turning you did last night. The door opens with a soft click as you twist the knob open.

Shock blows through you as you blink at the person on the other side. Your eyes frantically open and close, trying to make sense of who stood before you but as your synapses fired off round after round, searching for something, they found nothing.

“Armin?” You timidly ask, your throat twists up and grows dry.

The syllables on your tongue felt wrong. Maybe, the muscles had just forgotten how his name tasted. As a child, his name rolled off your tongue sweetly and constantly. Back then, there had been too many emotions packed inside your small body, you could never make sense of them, all you knew was that they all led back to the man in front of you. Your cheeks warmed at the reminder of the crush you used to harbour, of how you’d write your name and his, silently calling yourself Mrs. Arlert as if she hadn’t already existed in the form of his mother.

Armin’s cheeks grow round with the shy smile he wears, “Hi,” he says. The remnants of his boyhood live in the soft curve of his jaw and the cherub-like softness of his rosy complexion. 

“Hi,” you breathlessly whispered as you searched for any other lingering signs of familiarity. 

“May I come in?” he asks, his nervous hands smooth imaginary wrinkles in his sage green tie. The breath is selfishly stolen from your lungs by the greedy, monster who lived inside of you. They swallowed back the traces of your youth, you hoped it was enough to placate them because as long as your breath was hitched, no words could come forth.

Armin’s blue eyes curiously peered back at you from beneath his pale blonde lashes. He was still quite pretty, but the edge of maturity that marred his features made your heart flutter in a way it never had. The desperate longing that clawed at your rib cage slowed, pawing instead as its interests morphed into something more amorous. You would have beaten it down if you could, shame prickles your skin as you clear your throat.

“Of course,” you stutter, opening the door to make room for him to enter, “You’ll have to excuse my appearance, I wasn’t expecting any guests this morning.”

His smile is polite, “What about Mrs. Bergmann?” He inquires, his eyes darting around to drink in the interior of your house. It looked just like the one he was raised in but it had been twelve years since he stepped foot in one. The scouts lived in barracks that were carved out of long-since abandoned castles, “You seemed to be expecting her.”

“Ah, not exactly,” you muttered, offering him a seat at your dining table, “She’s just the only visitor I have as of late … So, what brings you by?”

Armin declines the seat, instead pulling out the chair opposite of him for you. You thank him with a small bow of your head. His knuckles brush against your shoulders as he slides his fingertips along the edge of your chair before swinging around to the other side. In a world of boys, Armin Arlert was a gentleman, as he always had been, even at the age of ten when boys took to tugging girls' pigtails for attention. His grandfather would be proud of the young man he’s become. You think Mr. Arlert would have been proud even if all Armin did was survive.

The warm yellow sunlight filters through the windows and turns Armin’s hair a shade of bleach blonde. His skin is tanned, his cheeks rosy. He looks healthy, he’s a bit taller too. His hair was different too now that you took a moment to look at it, only slightly so. The shaved undercut reminded you of the short, stoic captain whose charge Armin was in for years.

Insecurity stirred in your belly. You thought of what you might look like to him being so dishevelled in nothing but a nightgown and cardigan. Unkempt, that is how you must have appeared to him. The bike in your stomach burns at the back of your throat as you cross your legs and tuck as much of your body beneath the table as you can. 

“I just wanted to see you,” he says, resting his linked hands on the table, “It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

It’s been over four years, the bitter overly insecure voice in your head hisses, “It has, but you’ve been busy, saving the world and all,” you say instead, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, “Honestly I must confess, I'm a bit surprised, I thought you and the other ambassadors would be meeting with the Queen.”

What you truly mean to say dangles in the air. Armin can feel it, he shifts in his seat— why wasn’t he with someone more important? How did he manage to sneak past the Jägerists predatory gaze? He shouldn’t have been here. The anguish that wrought the shores of Paradis couldn’t be fixed with a measly conversation but surely, it was a start so, why was he here with you?

“She met our boat at the harbour to ensure our safe passage into the city,” he explains, picking at his fingers, “We’re still trying to coordinate with the army but they’ve agreed to allow free reign of Shiganshina so long as we remain unarmed.”

“It would be rather counterintuitive for peace ambassadors to bear arms.”

Armin lets out a small chuckle, smiling a bit to himself.

“But, they’ve already proved their incompetence in thinking trained soldiers need weapons to fight,” you muttered, casting your eyes away from him, “I … My apologies, I shouldn't speak ill of your comrades.”

“They’ve dissolved the Scout Regiment, I’m no longer a soldier and they are not my comrades,” Armin swiftly replies.

He fiddles with his tie again, flattening out the fabric with scar-riddled hands. The last time you saw him, his skin was surprisingly unmarred. Old scars you could have sworn imprinted his skin ceased to exist, something to do with his newfound titan ability, that’s what Eren said when he rolled up his sleeves to expose his own blemish-free body. It seemed unnatural then, for the pieces of personal history to be erased but Armin felt alien enough without you reminding him of how much he had changed. 

“Yes, but-”

“How are you doing?” He interrupts, and an apologetic look swims within the depths of his baby blue eyes. His time in the military was a touchy subject, which was to be expected but it didn’t wash away the burn of curiosity that ribbed at your bones, “When I last wrote to Mikasa, she said she hadn’t seen you in some time in spite of being neighbours.”

Pursing your lips, you sigh, “I’m doing well Armin,” it’s a bald-faced lie but the two of you have become so estranged, Armin couldn’t know you the way he once did, not when so much time has washed the imprints you’ve pressed upon each other as it brought in the tide, “How are you?”

“That’s not an answer,” Armin frowns, the dip of his lips making his cheeks round in a way that reminds you that he is only twenty-two, “I haven’t seen you in four years, I … I want to know what your life is like.”

Reaching over the table, Armin takes your hand in his. If he notices the irritated and oozing flesh around your cuticles, he keeps it well hidden. Smoothing his thumb over your knuckles, Armin settles his eyes on yours, taking in the two little lines that have been carved into your skin from how often you furrow your brows. There was no “correct” way to tell someone that you spent most of your afternoons curled up in bed, lying listlessly as you listened to the sounds of the bustling street below. Armin had a penchant for worrying, he’d worry about your well-being when there were far more important issues for him to focus on. 

“It’s not so different from before.”

Armin was unconvinced. Eight years ago, after the Scout Regiment took control of the central government, a bit of money was sent your way in addition to your rebuilt childhood home. Though they wouldn’t say it, you believed that Eren, Armin, and Mikasa felt guilty for abandoning you the moment they turned twelve thus becoming eligible to enrol in the Cadet Corps. You had no interest in joining the Scouts, Military Police, or the Garrison but Eren was determined and wherever Eren went so too did Mikasa and Armin. With no family and no friends, you had to fend for yourself. It wasn’t so bad. A woman, you could hardly remember her name now, paid you to care for her youngest child while she and her husband worked, and their older children attended school. She gave you room and board, fed you three square meals, and gave you “hand-me-downs” to wear.

In the chaos of Trost being breeched you became separated and weeks later learned that the family perished. You used what little money you managed to save to pay for board in an inn near Jinae where you worked as a stable hand until your childhood friends and their comrades came bearing gifts. You’d need to find work soon. Now that you were of age, you were sure to find a cushy job as a barmaid at the local tavern. 

“You think it is?” You asked, biting on your bottom lip.

Armin nods. His grip tightens and he mutters a low, “Sorry” when you wince from how he accidentally squishes your fingers beneath his.

Shrugging your shoulders you think back to the before much like you did most days, “Paradis is being run by lunatics who worship a dead man,” you blanche, your chest preemptively tightening from your nerves, “That’s not so different to before when this shitty little island was run by lunatics who worshipped the walls.”

Except now, people actually paid mind to the chirping loons. They had access to weapons that could wipe out what was left of humanity and certainly were unafraid to use them. Crossing them would be a very stupid and very dangerous mistake. Bravery was what this island prided itself on, now the most one could muster was a contempt-filled glower that was sent in passing. 

“That’s not …” Armin’s voice trailed off. There was that look of guilt again. 

“I know.”

Lacing your fingers between his, you squeeze Armin’s hand.

“It’s not your fault, Armin,” you assure, your mouth twisting up into a strange smile. The muscles in your face seemed to ache as though you were contorting your expression, “You know that, right?”

He nods his head, and strands of his pale blonde hair fall against his forehead as he does, “I know,” he whispers with conviction though his hand trembles in yours. You remain unconvinced, guilt rolls off his shoulders in sickening waves.

“It’s not Eren’s fault either.”

You’re unsure why you say it. It was Eren’s fault. It was his name and his image that they fought for. Whatever politics happened behind closed doors did not matter, not when he died knowing that those men and women idolised him and would wage wars in his name. One spoiled fruit rotted away the entire crop and now Paradis was ready to cosign its doom, picking on the weakened and the damned as if this island had not once been just the same.

“Thank you,” Armin mouths, his voice barely audible as he clears his throat and replaces his expression with a friendly smile.

“I guess the trains are different,” you blurt, looking for a way to steer the sinking ship that was this conversation, “I’ll never get used to them, they’re so loud and dark inside.”

“Glad to know our hard work is being appreciated.” 

You lift the corners of your lips to smile at him, “It is, the horses are very grateful to no longer be worked to the bone by merchants transporting goods from Maria to Sheena,” you say, nearly forgetting that there no longer was an interior or exterior to name, “Life here is still simple, Armin, there isn’t much to update you on.”

“Still-”

“We can’t all be heroes,” you jest, nudging his foot beneath the table, “So, tell me what is life like for you?”

Armin withdraws his hands from yours, “It’s all I talk about, I don’t want to talk about it with you,” he explains, swallowing thickly, “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.”

Rising from your seat you round the corner of the small table to press the palm of your hand between his shoulder blades. The gesture is meant to be comforting but you feel awkward, like you shouldn’t be touching him like this though your body craved the knowledge of what his skin would like against yours. The tips of your fingers graze the edge of his crisp collar, you hastily jerk back, eyes narrowing to inspect the fabric for any unwanted crinkles you may have caused.

“I’ve been such a bad host,” you mutter, “My mother would be so disappointed that I haven’t asked you if you’d like anything to drink.”

“Tea if you have any, please.”

You nod again, you still have some dried chamomile that Mrs.Bergmann gave to you when you confessed to her that you struggled to sleep some days. The tea didn’t help but it was the thought that counted. Goosebumps trailed up the length of your bare legs and you cursed yourself for not excusing yourself to dress before you sat down with Armin. The early spring air wouldn’t warm until the late afternoon most days. 

Armin’s gaze is heavy. He watches you flutter about your kitchen with keen intent. His eyes slither up your body in a methodical manner. You’re unsure if he’s leering the way men unabashedly do when they’re three pints in or if he’s searching for any indication that something might be amiss. You hope it’s the latter. It should be the latter, you didn’t feel uncomfortable and Armin wasn’t one to steal eyefuls of others.

“Do you still like it with milk and honey?” you ask, though you’ve already reached into the icebox in search of the milk you knew was in there. Hopefully, it hasn't yet spoiled.

You flinched when you rose to your full height. Armin had materialised behind you. The jug nearly drops from your hand but Armin is quick to wrap his fingers around the handle, overtop of your hand. He guides the jug to the counter and reaches an arm around you to take the teapot off the heat before it can release a shrill squeal. 

Pressing your hand to your chest, you murmur a breathless, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Armin chirps.

His eyes bore into yours, he’s inspecting you once more. Whatever he’s in search of, you’re certain he isn’t going to find it. The girl that he once knew was not the same woman that stood before him, nor was he the same boy even if his eyes twinkled just the same. That was growing up. Your stomach grumbled, licking its chops as the wanting returned. Your eyes trickled down Armin’s face until they settled on his cupid's bow. His lips were full and a dusted pink colour. They were nice, you remember wondering what they’d feel like against yours if it’d hurt to kiss him after he’d bitten his lips raw with stress. 

The sharp edge of the counter digs into the plush flesh of your hips as you press your body against it. Hunger is as frightening as it is all consuming. You are hungry. Are you hungry for him? You’ve craved and yearned for places and their people, but never their bodies. The one time you allowed a man in your bed it’d been out of curiosity and some twisted need to feel something, anything other than the dull twinge of melancholy that sprouted from the roots it planted in your heart. 

Armin placed his hand on your chest where your heart was. The heat of his palm melted through the thin fabric of your nightgown, causing you to instinctively shiver, “Your heart is racing,” he comments, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, “I didn’t startle you, did I?”

“No.”

“How is Annie?” You nervously ask, searching for a way to stifle the deluded desire that coursed through your veins, “Last I heard from Hitch, she had been freed from her crystal and joined you. That must have been exciting, being able to speak to her after so many years.”

His face crinkles up into a confused expression, “Annie is fine, they’re all fine. Connie and Jean are excited to see their mothers,” he replies slightly, cocking his head to the side, “Why do you ask?”

You shrug your shoulders. Armin doesn’t remove his hand. Your heart skips a beat, you’re sure he feels it. 

“Was just curious I guess, since I heard you had feelings for her.”

“Annie and I are friends, nothing more,” his nose crinkles, he seems to want to ask where you hear such a ludicrous rumour but doesn’t. When he wasn’t with the scouts, he was with her crystal, talking as if one day she might answer back.

“Oh.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Armin counters, his long pale lashes fluttering against his cheek as he blinks, “You’ve always been … quite the catch.”

His voice trails off, he regrets his wording. He didn’t want to liken you to fish or cattle but of all the vast information stored in his brain, there seemed to be nothing on complimenting women. Not that he’s done much of that in his lifetime. There’s never been a need to. Armin wants to compliment you, to tell you how he really feels but it gets clogged in his throat as he struggles to get a read on you.

Shaking your head, you avert your gaze.

It’s not for a lack of trying or wanting. None of the relationships you pursued ever felt right. Their hands didn’t fit within yours the way they were supposed to. Your body was hallowed out in the middle but they couldn’t fill you up. It wasn’t their fault. You’d accept that you were broken, someone who simply wasn’t meant to be loved. It was easy. Until now, when the one person your heart still clung to stood here and dangled himself like a carrot.

“Good, you’re too good for anyone on this island,” his proclamation makes your skin itch. Even if what he said were true, you would have to settle for someone on this island eventually, lest you spend the rest of your life as alone as you are now, “You deserve someone who’s good enough for you.”

You nearly laugh, though he makes this statement with such earnestness that you’re almost inclined to believe him. Almost.

“Who then?”

Looking into his eyes made your lungs ache. There was nowhere to escape with how he pinned you in place with his gaze.

“Who’s good enough for me?” You ask, your nails digging into the wood counter as you curl your fists around the lip of it, “You?”

Armin rolls his eyes and the sight alone shocks you, “No, I could never be good enough for you,” a laugh springs forth, crackling past your lips before you’re able to stop it, “Is something funny?”

His cheeks turn red with embarrassment but there's nowhere for him to hide either.

“No … Yes, actually,” you sigh, expelling all the air from your lungs as you muster up the resolve to be truthful, “I have loved for as long as I can remember and I have wanted you even before I even knew what love truly was.”

Your fingers coil around his wrist, intent on wrenching his hand away from your chest but the look in his eyes stops you. Sadness and self-loathing meet in the bright blue pools of his irises. You were born six months before he was but he’s always seemed years ahead of you. There was a certain kind of wisdom that surrounded him, you weren’t sure why. Now though, whatever maturity that shrouded Armin vanished and all that lay beneath was a newborn fawn that teetered on legs far too long for him.

Your nails dig into the cuff of his jacket, crinkling the pristine fabric, “There is not a day that goes by where I haven’t thought of you.”

“I’m no good for you either,” he says with a wet laugh. His eyes shone with welled up tears that had no business blurring his gaze.

“Because you’ve killed people?” You ask, your brows furrowing as you frown, “There are many people who have done worse for less. At least you had a reason.”

“I could never be the man that you need me to be.”

“Not even for an afternoon?” You had always known his future held more than your own, even before he became humanity's saviour. He’d make his peace with Paradis and leave, maybe he’d come back years from now, or maybe he’d plant his roots elsewhere.

His hand trembles as he shakes his head, “No.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, he releases a shaky exhale. You bite back the urge to ask him once more why he was here. You were never that close as children, you were close in a way that all of Shiganshina was but never anything more than, at least nothing that would have meant this unannounced visit was appropriate.

“Why?”

“You should live a quiet life,” Armin whispers, his lips nearly grazing yours as they move to form each syllable, “A happy life, after all you’ve been through, you deserve it.”

Your eyes flutter shut, “And you don’t?” It’s a stupid question, really, if he believed he did this conversation wouldn’t be happening, “You’ve been through far more than I, you’ve lost so much more.”

“I have even more to atone for.”

His bottom lip quivers as he presses the weight of his body into you. He’s heavier than you could have imagined, and his body is harder too. Somewhere between now and then his lithe frame melded into lean muscle and it serves as another reminder of how much time has passed, how little you two knew of each other now. Trailing your fingertips over his shoulder, you slide your arm around him, pulling him into an embrace. Armin shudders in your hold, a meek whimper slipping past his lips as he crushes his body into yours. Your nails press into the sliver of skin that peeks over the lip of his collar. 

It's the nape of his neck.

When titans were simply the monsters that hid beneath your bed and plagued your dreams, it was common knowledge that the way to snuff them out was through the nape. It felt oddly vulnerable for your hand to roam over the smooth expanse of skin, though even as a titan shifter it was no weak spot, it may well have been with the way his body shook in your arms.

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to live or to love,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, “You get to love now, you get to be loved. Armin, you’re allowed to have things and to want things even after all that has happened.”

Armin sniffles, pressing his nose in your hair. The scent of the lavender soap you’ve used for as long as you could remember still clings to your hair. You wonder if he remembers if that is why he burrows his face deeper until the tip of his nose and his lips brush against the skin of your neck. 

Wanting was hard.

So little felt tangible and on the off chance it was, it remained just out of reach. Like a tease, that brushed your fingertips as you outstretched your arm before pulling away or a glimpse of the sun before an array of clouds moved in from across the sky. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted something. Whatever it was you felt for Armin simmered lowly on a back burner until now, longing did not serve survival. Still, you wanted him but not in the way magpies coveted shiny trinkets but in the way the stars longed for the moon. It was a constant, all consuming yearning that made your stomach twist inward at the strange sensation.

“I don’t even …” Armin trails off, his voice wet with emotion, “I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to desire something.”

Leaning back, Armin allows enough space for him to look at your face. His cheeks are pink, blotchy, and shiny with half dried tears that pooled atop the apples of his cheeks. Cupping your face with the palm of your hand, he smiles sadly at you.

“But, all I have wanted for years was to know what it is like to kiss you.”

Your body burns, not with embarrassment but something else.

“Is that all?” You ask.

The corners of Armin’s mouth twitch upward, “Maybe not but I let go of those dreams long ago.”

“You kept this one, why?”

“Wishful thinking, maybe or … ?” Armin says, scrunching his brows together as he trails off, “You’ve always been here, you’ve been a constant in this ever changing world so I suppose I hoped there’d be a day where I could …”

“Kiss me?”

Armin bashfully nods, biting his lip a bit.

The shiny metal kettle of water grows cold in the length of time you and Armin spend silently staring at each other. He assesses you, slowly, looking for any signs that your affection for him remained buried in the past. You spoke in the past tense, and your words were too easily misconstrued. Your hands slip to cup the underside of his jaw. All this waiting, all this thinking was maddening when you knew exactly what you wanted. His face replaced those of all the men you kissed, his body manifested in the throngs of taverns like an apparition to taunt you. You wanted to kiss him more than you wanted anything else in this world.

His skin was warm to the touch, you’re sure yours is too. You feel warm like you’ve been dipped in melted candle wax. A bit of stubble tickles the palm of your hands and it makes you giggle. His hair is so fair, you didn’t even notice. Armin’s shoulders tense as you lean in, insecurity claws at your throat but you’ve already taken the leap. You were too far gone now to change your mind. Gently grazing your lips across his, you give Armin a chance to back away but he only leans in closer, his calloused thumbs bite into the soft edge of your jawline as he instinctively squeezes you.

Armin’s lips are slightly chapped and scabbed over in a way that tells you he still nervously chews them when he’s worried. He’s inexperienced, that you were expecting, not that you were particularly tactful with how you clumsily melded your mouth against his. Though, he didn’t seem to mind as he eagerly attempted to mimic each movement. The thread of want that coiled around your stomach roared, begging for your attention as pulled away.

The small noise of disappointment that gathers in the back of Armin’s throat does not fall deaf upon your ears. But, you feel ravenous. If you didn’t slither away now, you’d consume him, bones and all, before he’d even had the chance to register that you sunk your teeth into his sternum. You feel ravenous. It makes your skin itch. Your fingers twitched, they desperately wished to burrow themselves into his flesh to feel how his heart thrummed for you.

Through lidded eyes, Armin peers at you, “Just like I thought,” he says, his cheeks somehow deepening in colour.

“What do you mean?”

“One kiss and I’m gone,” he explains but that doesn’t smooth the confused furrow from between your brows, “I want more, I don’t know how I’m meant to live on knowing what it’s like to kiss and never being able to again.”

Your nose scrunches as you frown, “Say who?”

“Pardon?”

“Who said that I’d never kiss you again?” You ask, smoothing your thumb along the length of his stubbly jaw, “Because, I never said that.”

“I just thought-”

Looping your arms around his neck you sigh, “Stop thinking so much,” you whine, allowing yourself to relish in the knowledge that he too wanted more, “Sometimes things are far simpler than you make them out to be.”

Armin bashfully dips his chin for a moment, his heat filled gaze cast away which offers you some reprieve. Only for a short moment, though. He faces you once more in an instant. You can see it swimming in the pools of his irises, the want, the hunger. It’s something you never imagined to be reflected back to you, least of all from Armin. It thrills you all the same, your skin prickling with electricity that crackles to life when he reaches for your hips.

It’s gentlemanly, how he rests his hands respectively over your body with a feather light touch that may flee should you move too quickly. You want more though, you wish he’d take claim to you the way you the way your cunt ached for.

“Are they?”

You nod, fearing your voice would somehow betray you.

He too nods, far more thoughtful than you were, “You know, I loved you too, never had any doubts of what it was,” he muses, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows, “It never faded either even when I lost and confused about what came next.”

His admission makes you bristle, your ears perking up in search of any misspoken syllables that may have deluded you. There were none. There was no mistaking what Armin had confessed. It doesn’t feel real. You’d pinch yourself if Armin’s watchful gaze was pointed anywhere but you. That alone was proof enough that this was very real, Armin just confessed his love for you.

“And you?” Armin asks.

“Huh?”

Your heart pounds, screaming over the sound of Armin’s voice. You suck in a shaky breath and will your heart to calm down. In all your years of wanting, of yearning, you never imagined what it would be like to have your feelings reciprocated. You assumed neither of you would live long enough for anything to come to fruition. But you could hope now, right?

“Did your feelings for me ever fade?”

“No … no, never,” admitting out loud that you pined after a boy for nearly two decades would have made you feel pathetic if it wasn’t Armin who pulled the truth from where it coiled around your ribs,  “Even if I wanted them too, they never would. You’re it for me, you’re the only person I was made to love.”

You didn’t fancy yourself a dreamer. At least, not after everything was said and done. There wasn’t much to dream up, but if you were to dream or indulge you’d tell him that there could never be anyone else because your souls were tied together. It was a terribly selfish thought but it was true enough that you felt inexplicably tied to Armin. Even if this day passed and you never saw him again, your heart would remain his until you both returned to earth.

Armin kisses you before you’re able to backpedal on any of your words, almost shyly, but still eager enough that his need rolls off his body in waves and crashes into you. His nails press through the thin material of your nightgown to nip at your hips. You’re reminded of just how strong he has become in all your years apart when you feel his muscles ripple through his forearms.

“Armin,” you sharply whisper between the desperate press of his mouth to yours, “I want you.”

It’s an unfinished thought. There are too many words that could come next and not enough actions to convey what it is you want. Threading your fingers through carefully styled hair, you tug at the strands. Armin keens into your mouth, one of his hands shooting out to grasp the edge of the counter you were pressed against. Having braced himself, he’s careful not to put too much of his weight onto you as his body melts into yours. 

“I’m right here,” he says, with a slight laugh.

Resting your forehead against his, you sigh, “I want you,” you repeat, untangling your fingers from his hair to fiddle with the top button of his shirt. You flick it open, slowly testing the waters. There’s a sparse patch of flaxen hair that leads your gaze past his collarbones, “I want to be close to you, close with you…” 

Your whisper, wanton words did little to clarify what you meant, Armin’s confused stare was fixed on your swollen, kiss bitten lips. Popping open another button, you glare at his tie. It constricts the fabric of his shirt from spilling open any further. Pulling the tongue of the tie out from where it’s neatly tucked in his waistband, you tug on it until you’re nose to nose. You swallow thickly, your gaze trailing down the expanse of his neck. The muscles strained beneath the skin as he nervously clenched his jaw.

“Oh … Oh.”

The red in his cheeks deepened. He looked a bit like a tomato but it was rather endearing.

“...Yeah?”

He nods a bit too quickly, “Yeah,” he agrees, biting his bottom lip, “I want this, I want this with you.”

Tentatively, Armin rests his hands on your shoulder and thumbs at the worn wool of your well loved cardigan. The fabric is slowly peeling away from your body, slipping down your biceps to pool in the crook of your elbows. Your heart flutters, it’s a strange sensation and for a moment you wonder if it’s healthy. It can’t be, not with how your stomach lurches alongside your heart. Unfurling your fists from his tie, you straighten your arms and allow your cardigan to unceremoniously fall to the floor.

“Are you sure?” You ask, your fingers skimming the delicate neckline of your nightgown. You weren’t yet so overcome with lust that you forgot yourself or Armin’s apparent lack of experience.

His hands replace yours, “Yes,” his skin is clammy but so is yours, the sheen of nervous sweat that gathers along your jugular feels disgusting when laid overtop of goosebumps but you can’t will either away, “You’re special to me … there isn’t anyone else I would want to do this with.”

“You’re not just saying this because you want to die with no regrets?”

You cringe at the crippling edge of insecurity that creeps over you, mentally slapping your hand in shame. Bad! You silently scold. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. In spite of all that happened, the future was never promised, you both knew that much. There was no shame in wanting to taste all life had to offer just in case. It was human nature.

“I’m going to live a very long life,” Armin says with a confident smile. Such sureness would usually make you roll your eyes in annoyance but Armin doesn’t say it to be boastful– even if he had, he’d have earned it– he says it matter of fact, he will live a long life in spite of everything, “And so are you, there’s no need to think in half measures filled with worries because we’re going to live long beautiful lives filled with everything we could ever want.”

It’s a pretty picture he paints but you can’t help but whisper, “We are?”

Smoothing his calloused thumbs along the column of your throat, Armin exhales, “Yes, we are,” you almost believe him, his optimism was just that convincing, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Armin tugs on the loop that keeps your nightgown tied closed, not minding that the two of you still stand in your kitchenette and it’s his first time. He gently guides the thin cotton fabric open to expose your chest but doesn’t move to pull the cloth from your body. In turn, you push his jacket off his shoulders and toss it to the floor with your cardigan. He unbuttons his shirt, letting it fall open to reveal his lithe abdomen. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, walking backwards at your behest, “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

His brows shoot into his hairline when he bumps into the edge of your table, “I never pegged you to be such a flatterer, Mister Arlert,” you tease, pushing his chest until he takes the hint to hop onto the tabletop, “You tell all the girls that?”

It’s easy to wear a smile and play the part of a bashful lovestruck young lady. It’s only half a performance. There were parts of you that have long since been buried amongst the past lives you lived. They seemed to come back to you with each puff of breath that passed your lips. You slip in and out of you were and you could become. It’s frightening and thrilling. You like the rush you get when he smiles back at you. It’s megawatt bright and wide enough to take up most of his face. You wonder if he feels it too, the pieces that come together like a puzzle. He must, that’s why he smiles and allows himself to indulge in the perilous depths of wanting that lap at your bellies.

“No,” he playfully rolls his eyes, his fingers splaying out as he presses his palms flat against the table, “Only you. It’s only ever been you.”

Your stomach somersaults, you could get used to the feeling, the flirting, being desired earnestly. 

You’ve been desired before but those men didn’t desire you, but rather the idea of you, your house, even your cunt, but never really you. They never filled you with empty promises, their intentions quite clear from the first shared mug of ale. It never bothered you before but now it does. You wish you didn’t fall for their promise of something good when the real thing was so much better now that you had it in your grasp.

The tip of his shoe just barely grazes the floor as he swings his leg back and forth, stepping into the space between his spread legs, you graze your fingertip along the length of his thigh. The metal of his belt glints in the warm morning light. You should probably bring him upstairs, to your bedroom. You worry if you do, you’ll lose the nerves that have steeled over to service the aching monster in your belly. Tomorrow he might think you crass, perhaps he would even sooner when the haze of desire faded and he was left with the weight of his indulgence.

“May I? 

“Yes, please,” Armin breathes, shuddering a bit when you place your hand on the buckle.

His hips twitch upward, seeking the warm touch of your hand. Daring to cast your gaze downward, you rake your eyes over his growing bulge. His belt clinks open and you suck in a nervous breath. You’re about to ask if you can unbutton his dress pants when he whispers another small plea, his breath heavy.

A few strands of hair slip over the edge of your shoulder, Armin tucks them behind your ear with a pleased smile. His cock springs forth when you pull the waistband of his underwear downward. The wispy trail of hair that disappears beneath his shirt is a shade darker, but just as fine as the hair on his head. Your mouth waters at the sight of his rosy tip, precum oozes when you gently squeeze the base of his cock. Slowly pumping your hand up and down his length, you glance at Armin.

His bottom lip is squished between his teeth, hiding the sweet little sounds that travel up his throat. You strain your ears to listen, your eyes boring into his. He blinks but holds your gaze. He frees his bottom lip and allows his jaw to hang open when he realises that you’re listening to his sounds. Armin doesn’t have to be quiet, he can loudly indulge in his pleasures so he does. Softly moaning your name with a goofy, lovestruck expression on his face even as he jerks his hips up to match your rhythm. 

“Does that feel good?” you ask, internally cringing as you wrack your brain for something to say. You wonder if you should stay silent, but words may be more comforting. 

Armin’s head bobs as he nods a bit too quickly, “Yes,” he moans as he digs his nails into the splintered wood of your table.

He uses his other hand to curl his fingers around your wrist, the one that wasn’t languidly working his cock. Armin squeezes your wrist too roughly like he forgets himself and his own strength, your brows crinkle in pain but it’s easily masked as a look of concentration. You don’t mind though, the pain reminds you that you’re alive, that this was real and not just the machinations of an overactive imagination. Armin shudders when you use your thumb to spread some of the precum gathered along the head of his cock down the shaft, allowing your hand to slide more smoothly.

Your name is  sweet on his tongue, the syllables roll off it in a way that makes you think it belongs there. Like Armin was meant to say your name like this for the rest of eternity. 

“I want to touch you too,” he pants, between wanton whimpers. The smooth silver of skin that he clings to isn’t enough, “I want you to feel good too.”

It’s difficult to say no to Armin when he asks so sweetly, “Okay,” you say, bringing your linked hands up to your mouth to press a kiss to the back of his hand, “Lay back for me, okay?”

Armin does as you ask without question like a dutiful dog obeys its owner. You hitch your legs over the edge of the table and settle atop of his thighs. Hiking the hem of your nightgown upward, you guide Armin’s hand between your legs to where your bare, wet pussy clenches in anticipation. Your cunt aches with need and your chest squeezes at the slight brush of his calloused fingers across your folds.

“Touch me here.”

“Like this?” he asks, curling his fingers to rub against your throbbing clit, a shiver rolls through your spine.

Cupping your hand over his, you encourage him to make a few small circles, “Mhm, just like that,” you shudder, your breath halting when the table creaks beneath your shared weight, “It feels good, Armin.”

Seeming satisfied with himself and the way his name melted past your lips, he replicates your movement. You feel feverish with need as the urge to burrow yourself within his sternum consumes you. It melds with the pinpricks of pleasure that dance inside your belly as your muscles tense. It’s a terrible fate– to be ensnared by Armin Arlert. You don’t believe his promises, no matter how saccharine. It’s devilish for him to touch you, you’ve decided. Like with your kisses, how were you meant to go on without Armin ever touching you like this again? But, you’ve learned to manage your expectations. Dreams were called dreams because they were never meant to be anything more than something to wish on as a child. Even if he did still love you, there was too much distance between what became of your life and what became of his. 

Pleasure burns your belly. It singes your insecurities but doesn’t snuff them out in their entirety. It’s just enough to chase them away and leave nothing but bliss in their wake. Your head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. Your chest heaves with haggard breaths, and your nightgown slips open to reveal the supple skin of your chest and your breasts to Armin. His gaze is respectful as he drinks in the sight. He moans to himself and marvels, it’s quite endearing. You like it, you don’t feel dirty or ashamed for your wanton ways, how could you when Armin drinks you in like you’re a perfectly crafted mountainside that has been crafted just for his admiration?

“Armin,” you sigh, “I need you inside of me.”

Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you slide the head between your dripping folds. Armin’s body wracks and his shoulders shake as he quivers with need. He moans your name once more, and you commit the sound to memory, for those cold and lonely nights that never seem to end. Your shoulders tense when you press the tip to your hole. It’s been a while, the stretch burns a bit. But, it’s nice. Your eyes roll back into your head and you curse under your breath. 

Armin slopes his hand around the nape of your neck, “Can I kiss you?” he all but moans, “I want to kiss you again.”

His rosy cheeks grow round when he offers you a bashful smile. You kiss him, your tongue and teeth clicking against one another as you sloppily move your mouth alongside his. You’ve never been much of a multitasker. It’s hard to focus on much else aside from the mind numbing pleasure that distracts you. He hasn’t stopped rolling your clit between his fingers and as he swallows up your moans with desperate, fevered kisses, you wonder if he’s enjoying how much of a mess he’s made of you. 

Your heart throbs in a funny sort of manner when you sink all the way down the length of his cock. The feeling of fullness spreads to the tips of your fingers all the way down to your toes. You hate how complete you feel, the fact that a small part of you wishes you could bottle the utter feeling of contentedness that warms you. The hunger and longing that lives inside of you never felt satiated, not once in the decade since it burrowed behind your lungs. Now though, they purr happily like a fat cat who’s had its fair share of the cream.

The taste of salt dabbles on your tongue, “Why are you crying?” Armin asks, his voice laced with concern, “Is something wrong, does it hurt?”

Swiping your fingers across the top of your cheekbones you confirm that those are your tears and not his. They spill past your lash line and there is nothing you can do to stop them. You don’t feel sad, even with the mess in your head you know that much. You sputter for a moment, desperately searching his face for an answer but nothing comes.

“I’m just so happy,” you say though you’re unsure where those words come from but they flow freely before you can stop them just like your tears, “I like being this close to you, I want to stay this close to you.”

Forever.

That’s the word that should complete your sentence. You keep it clutched to your chest where it’ll remain safe so long as you’re vigilant.

You knock your hips forward to silence whatever endeared sentiment Armin is about to form. His brows press together in concentration. He’s nearing his end, you can feel it in the way he throbs inside of you. Your tears are gently wiped by rough hands, you hardly register them. It’s difficult to focus on much as he plays with your clit and dutifully matches each flick of your hips. He’s a quick learner, he always has been. You wonder if he’s storing your reactions and sounds for later so that if there was a next time, he’d do exactly what you’d like without instruction. The end nears for you too, it lingers amongst the obnoxious groans from your table as you rock your hips. The sounds of skin bare slapping marry your shared, debauched whines. They’ll haunt your walls tomorrow and the next. 

They haunt you right now.

You didn’t think you were capable of feeling so serene, but you do. You’re untouchable as you chase your release. It lays in the palm of Armin’s hands. You’ll eat straight from them if you have to. The coil in your stomach tightens for a moment and your breathing becomes staggered. Armin is no better, he sputters small half breaths between needy whines of your name. His forehead rests on your shoulder, and his sweat dabbled hair sticks to you. Strands of your hair cling to the nape of your neck too. The cool breeze that slithers across your house makes your heated skin break out with goosebumps. It doesn’t bother you though, nothing could bother you now.

“I love you,” Armin whispers into your skin as he cums, holding your body close to his.

A few more tears well up as your orgasm washes through you. Your thighs shake and you struggle to bring your arms around his torso. His tight embrace makes up for it as they lay limply by your side. Your flush skin is peppered with affectionate kisses and his nose is nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You feel loved, you haven’t felt it in a while but it felt similar to this. The earnest way he embraces you without a second thought is imbued with love. Lifting your tired arms, you curl them around his body. Your nails dig into the hardened flesh of his back. They leave a few crescent moons to join the myriad of battle scars and freckles that have returned to him.

‘“I love you too.”

You wish you could say it was true for the moment but it’s not. It was true because you did love him, you loved him in a way you weren’t sure you were capable of loving anyone else. If Ymir the Founder had left her people with anyone before erasing herself and her titan kin from existence, you think it might have been eternal love. The kind that wasn’t possible of fading, even when you didn’t understand why.

Hours pass and you find yourself in your bed once more, on the edge of waking and sleep you register the lack of sunlight. You don’t remember exactly how you made your way upstairs but you do remember two strong arms holding you close as you allowed slumber to cradle your tired mind in its embrace. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your blanket is tucked snugly beneath your chin.

There’s a letter on your bedside table and a glass of water. You make out the letters of your name and the promise of return but you choose not to read any further. Laying in silence you wonder if she’s still out there, your creator, the founder. If she was, you hoped she would listen to your pleas. You were strong, but you weren’t strong enough to spend the rest of your life waiting on a lost life whose remains had long since returned to the dirt and earth.

You prayed that the Jägerist’s stupidity would fall deaf to Queen Historia’s ears and that when you awoke next, there’d still be a head of blond hair next to you with long pretty eyelashes and rosy cheeks that told all his secrets. 

He was too far entangled in your rib cage. You were far too comfortably curled around his aorta. Armin may be able to withstand it but you weren’t. After all this time, you really hoped you could be happy. Even with all the strangeness that came from estrangement, you felt more alive with Armin than you had in all the years of living in Shiganshina. It was a shell of its former self, with the ghosts of yesterday's past filling all the nooks and crannies. You too easily allowed yourself to become one of them, the ghosts but you didn’t half to be a ghost, you could want things just the same as Armin could.

And you wanted him to come back to you so the two of you could experience that future he was talking about.

Mr. Arlert did not raise a liar or a man who’d break promises. Your chances were good. You could be happy. All the lost parts of you could return and maybe you’d feel whole again, and maybe you’d welcome the warmth of the sun on your skin the same way you welcomed Armin back into your life. 

You deserved some ounce of happiness too. 

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

[aziraphales-library]

First of all, love your blog. As many has said, I have found some amazing fics off of here.

Second, would you happen to know any fics that have to do with discorporation? Like, through plagues or wars? I have been craving some angst recently.

Thank you if you consider this, much appreciated!

Thanks! We have a #temporary character death tag, so do check that out! Here are some angsty sics featuring discorporation to add...

now can these broken wings free me by Bentley26 (T)

Crowley and Aziraphale meet back up in Rome in 140 CE. After an enjoyable lunch, Crowley isn't ready for his time with Aziraphale to end, so he invites him to accompany him to a chariot race being held at Circus Maximus. If he's spending time with his angel, what could possibly go wrong?

Lead Us (Not) Into Temptation, But Deliver Us From Evil by OtterFi (T)

“So… that’s it? We’re just… an angel and demon, following our orders then?” Aziraphale asks quietly, dazed by how the pleasant conversation turned so contentious so quickly. Crowley turns to walk away. “‘S what we’ve always been, hasn’t it?” “So, ah, I suppose I’ll, I’ll see you out there then?” This causes them to pause as the implications sink in. Aziraphale isn’t just going to be witnessing the destruction of a city. He is going to be witnessing the how… and by whom. “Pray that you don’t…” they mutter as they go. And if they were talking to Aziraphale or to themself, it isn't clear.

In 33AD in Rome, a demon sports a new haircut and an angel (to both their surprises) invites them to lunch. But this is not that story. This story takes place a few years before, where finally after 4000 years of paths crossing, the two finally intersect. But such an event is not a small one, and takes no small event for it to happen.

at the edge of the water by viperinz (G)

“Hello, dearest. Do you mind miracling a cold pack for me? I’m afraid I can’t focus enough to do it.” Crowley swallows, his eyes wide. He does what he’s asked to do, because of course he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all. He walks to the side Aziraphale is facing, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He hands the cold pack to Aziraphale, who gratefully takes it. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Crowley watches as he puts the pack on his right thigh. Aziraphale sighs in relief, but his face still conveys how much pain he still feels. And, Crowley gets it now. The pain that needed a cold pack, the way that Aziraphale was limping. It was an injury, wasn’t it?

Crowley notices that there's something going on with Aziraphale's leg. He realizes the pain lies deeper than he first thought it would.

La Petite Mort by PanDemonicPanDemonium (E)

Crowley moves from being more allosexual through to demi/greysexual or greyace, as people can change how they feel about things over time. There’s some moderately graphic violence and temporary discorporation but no MCD. there are *minor* character deaths (eg canon Ligur and similar). The fic is canon adjacent/compliant. Detailing events not seen in book/show, but also putting those in context of the character’s feelings during some key canon events. It is largely a tale of personal growth and discovery, and what it means to love another through changing circumstances over time.

Everything Is Temporary (But Love Will Never Die) by The_Bentley (E)

Crowley found he was unable to keep from thinking about the whole situation to the east.  Would Aziraphale’s sense of duty get the best of him?  Lately he had been telling Crowley he didn’t feel he was performing his angelic duities the best way he could . . . And that’s exactly what he was doing wasn’t it?  He overthought his partaking of the pleasures of Earthly life, and now he was going to stay in Jerusalem doing penance for not being a good little angel as he should be. It is 70 AD and the unrest between the Roman Empire and its province of Judea is going to come to a swift end with the destruction of Jerusalem. Crowley flees to Rome, seeing exactly how all this is going to turn out. Aziraphale feels compelled to aid the citizens of the Holy City despite Crowley's pleas that he abandon his cause. Angel and demon are about to get caught up in desperate events that could prove disastrous for them both.

The Beauty of a Broken Angel by Wanderingbard3 (T)

Aziraphale watches the fallen being cast out of heaven and despite the clear message that he's not supposed to feel bad about what's happening, he does. The experience teaches him to distrust his instincts and feelings, awakening the belief in him that there's something fundamentally and dangerously wrong with him. The pleasure he experiences through being embodied and interacting with the world corroborate his fears. He spends the next 6000 years fighting his "flaws", trying to be what's expected of him, and afraid that at any moment he'll be found out. The only time he feels like he can be himself is when he's around a certain demon, the Great Tempter of the Garden of Eden himself. Unfortunately, that only confirms Aziraphale's suspicions about himself. Only a bad angel would feel more comfortable on Earth with a demon than in heaven surrounded by proper angels. But through the course of those years, and the events of the cannon, Aziraphale finds the courage and understanding to be himself, learning that hiding and pretending are far more damaging in the end than facing the consequences of being himself.

- Mod D

[bastila-s]

Baldur's Gate 3 Screenshot Tutorial

Hi, I decided to make a more in-depth guide for my twitter followers, as I'm super limited in characters and formatting options over there.

For this tutorial, I'll explain how you can enhance your screenshots. I'll divide it into five parts: ReShade, making your screenshots high resolution, camera mods, photography basics, and post-processing. By the end of following all of these steps, you should have something way better than the start!

I recommend going through this tutorial downloading things step-by-step for the first three parts, as it'll help you to quickly identify where you've gone wrong if you have any issues.

1. ReShade ReShade is a post-processing tool that allows you to change the look of a game with an array of different effects and adjustments to use. It can be a lot to wrap your head around at first, so I recommend starting off by finding a ReShade preset that speaks to you from this page if you're not already familiar with using it. The mod authors should explain how to download it. I find 22:20 of this YouTube video to be helpful to introduce ReShade if you're completely new to it. This video is for the Sims 4, but ReShade typically works the same across different games. Now that ReShade is downloaded, we can get depth of field working within the ReShade. This step is optional. Depth of field refers to what will be in focus in your screenshot, and what will be blurred. It's essentially simulating shooting with a camera, like so:

To get this effect working, you need to follow this tutorial within the ReShade menu.

2. Making Your Screenshots High Resolution Typically, Baldur's Gate 3 is ran in 1920x1080 resolution, or standard HD (unless you have a higher resolution monitor and are running the game in 4k, in which case, you can ignore this step if you'd like). This is definitely an acceptable quality, but if you'd like to capture any detail, you're not going to get much out of this. To get a better quality image, there are two ways to achieve this. The first method is through hotsampling. Hotsampling is briefly running a game in a much higher resolution than your monitor supports, allowing you to capture screenshots with incredible detail, then bringing it back down to a native playable resolution. To hotsample, you'll either need to use the BG3 camera tool, or SRWE. For either of these hotsampling tools, it's important that you've downloaded ReShade, or they will not work.

Once you have either of these downloaded, make sure your game is running in windowed mode. If you have more than one monitor, you need to change your display to show only on one screen. Or again, this will not work.

Next, you're going to want to make sure you have a key set for taking screenshots in ReShade, as well as making sure you like the folder where your screenshots are set to be saved. You can find this in the settings tab. Once you have those set, you're ready to take really HD screenshots!

To do that, you want to set your game's resolution to 2x, or even 3x what it's currently displayed as. Once it's set, your game screen is going to look giant and probably run way off your monitor. This is a sign it's working! Once it looks like this, press the screenshot key you set earlier within ReShade, and there you go, a nice big screenshot should be in the folder you set!

If you don't want to do hotsampling, and if you have a Nvidia graphics card, you can download their their app, which can take resampled screenshots. It won't be as high quality as hotsampling, but still better than standard HD.

3. Camera Mods

There are two camera mods that I know of for BG3. One is paid, the other is not.

The first one is the Native Camera Tweaks mod. This mod allows you to move the camera around more freely as you're traversing the world, but in cutscenes you'll still be stuck.

The second one is the paid one, but it allows for total freedom within the game, even during cutscenes. This tool is also very helpful for hotsampling. Within this tool, it's very useful to configure your own controls for moving the camera around in game, as well as setting a key you'll remember for pausing the game so you can set up a screenshot. I changed the movement keys to be wasd and the keys to change the angle of my camera side to side/up and down to the arrow keys.

4. Photography Basics

Taking screenshots in a game is a lot like doing photography irl tbh lol, same rules mostly apply. You of course want to do the basics like making sure your subject is in focus, it's not too dark or too light. But some other tips for people not very familiar with taking photos to take note of are:

Make sure if you're taking a photo of a person, the top of their head is within frame

Try and either make sure someone is front and center, or in the rule of thirds

Pay attention to the lighting, sometimes it's too bright or too dull. Sometimes it's unflattering in certain angles. Lighting will always make a huge difference

5. Post-Processing

You can now leave your screenshot as is, or edit it further with a photo editing software! I recommend using Photopea, as it offers basically everything Photoshop does without the insane price tag. From here you can do whatever you feel is best to enhance your image.

And that's all! If you have any questions, feel free to ask, and if you get stuck anywhere in this tutorial, don't feel bad. A lot of this stuff is just trial and error, but if you're very persistent with it, I promise you'll get these working. Also I would just like to mention that a lot of this stuff applies to taking screenshots in a lot of games! So you can take this knowledge with you elsewhere <3

If you happened to follow all this, please send in an image of your Tav you took!

[freshbakedbreadstick]

No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Chapter Four

Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader

Richie Jerimovich x F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: Old habits (of fleeing) die hard unless, of course, you're forced to face things rather than running from them.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers. Mentions of death, toxic relationships, grief, angst, strained relationships, minor injuries, arguments/yelling matches, details of anxiety/panic attacks, bad coping mechanisms, mental health issues, running away, Al-Anon, addiction, interventions.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Hi besties ! ! ! ! As promised, here’s the next chapter for you all, earlier than planned as a sorry for taking so long ! Life is getting hectic and I'm currently preparing to move into my dorm for this coming school year, hence why I couldn't update with the last chapter earlier . I transferred to a different university than the one I was originally going to so a lot of things are new to me again, but I'm still excited ! ! ! Anyways, get your happy puppy and kitty pictures to look at after this chapter and i hope you all have a wonderful day and wonderful read <3

EDIT: Changed the name used for an added side character to avoid confusion with the name of a character from the show, sorry to those who are named Amanda as that's the name i used as a replacement (:

Taglist: @marysucks-blog @shinebright2000 @jadeittic

Chapter Three / Masterlist / Chapter Five

Your fingers shook around the steering wheel as you pressed on the accelerator harder, making the engine of your old car rumble louder in your ears. It wasn’t loud enough to drown the loud and rapid heartbeat in your ears though.

Luckily for you, it was green light after green light.

You raced home, expecting to come home to a silent house with nobody there to try and talk you out of your decision. After all, it was a weekday and it was past noon, almost everyone in Chicago was either working or in school.

“Pack then leave, pack then leave, pack then leave…” you mumbled to yourself, eyes darting back and forth as you switched lanes to weave in and out of traffic. You were met with angry yells and annoyed honks as you did so, but it didn’t matter to you. You needed to get home. 

Your stuff was shoved in the back seat, half spilled from both you throwing it inside and your reckless driving. After you had the argument with everyone at The Beef, you stormed inside to silently grab your things from your locker and go. Neither Richie, Carmy, nor Sugar said a word to you as you did so, but Tina was the first to call out your name and try to calm you down. She had definitely heard everything that went down outside, those walls were absolutely not sound proof. 

“What the fuck does Carmy know anyways. He’s the one who refused to come back or even reach out at all when Mikey…  fucking hypocrite,” You mumbled to yourself, eyes narrowing and your hand gripping the steering wheel until your fingers hurt. 

Tina, however, anxiously worked at her station, half glancing over to you and half working on her task in the kitchen. You knew that she was split between wanting to reach out to you and wanting to keep going with her work, but you would never make her or anyone else choose, so you chose for her by ignoring her and leaving. 

She and everyone else are better off without you anyways.  

The tires of your car screeched as you swerved into the empty driveway.

“Fuck yes…” you whispered to yourself, skin sweaty as you shoved yourself out of your car. No cars in the driveway means an empty house. You were in the clear. 

As you approached the front door, house keys already in hand, you mumbled out plans to yourself, “Maybe Florida? It’s probably rainy and humid this time of year but if it means getting away from here, I can deal with it…”

The front door swung open before you could finish unlocking it, making you jump and gasp out as you came face to face with your mom.

“Sweetie? Are you okay? What’s going on? Why do you look ill?” You mom rushed out, eyes wide and confused.

“I'm fine Mom but I have to go.” You rushed out, pushing past her to run to the stairs. Your mom let out an unintelligible string of words as you started running to your room, heart pounding as it seemed like your once “foolproof” plan was starting to unravel. 

“Fucking fuck fuck fuck shit!” You mumbled to yourself, spitting out the words harshly as you barged into your room and began pushing things into the boxes and bags you hadn’t yet unpacked.

In your rush to pack, you didn’t hear your mom’s footsteps getting closer nor did you hear what she was saying. 

"Honey, how about you slow down for a second and take a deep breath?" She said, sounding exasperated as she pushed herself over the threshold and into your room.

"Not now mom," You replied, hissing for a brief second as you cut your finger on a sharp edge of a box before continuing to pack. 

"Seriously, I think you should stop for a second and then we can do whatever it is that you want to do, okay?" 

This made you pause. 

"...what?" You blinked, slowly turning to your Mom. 

She smiled at you, but the corners of her eyes didn't crinkle as she did so. You scanned her body, noticing the way her body language indicated that she was fully open and not at all anxious. 

You opened your mouth briefly, before shutting it and complying with her ask. You breathed in for 4 seconds, held it for 7 seconds, and let it go for 8 seconds. In front of you, your Mom beamed at you, but again you noticed how her eyes never once left yours and how they didn't crinkle at the corners like they usually did. 

"Let me help you pack, okay?" She said, voice calm. 

You watched as she moved forward and grabbed a box already full of your stuff before grabbing a smaller box. You continued to watch and followed her as she went down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door to your car. 

As she placed the box in the car, you turned and bolted. Your feet thumped loudly as you went back up the stairs and you felt your shirt cling onto your sweaty skin. Something was up, you just knew it, and you needed to find out what it was before it was too late. 

But in this moment, the memory of your conversation at The Beef earlier replayed in your head for the 6th time that hour, and your panic settled in once again. 

With two boxes in hand, you started to leave your room to go to the front door, passing your mom who didn't so much as glance at you. Your eyes followed her frame, noting no change in her calm demeanor. 

It frightened you immensely. 

The pit in your stomach gnawed at you as you placed the boxes in the trunk, making you feel like you were going to throw up and pass out at the same time. When you left Mikey's funeral in a rush, your parents followed you. You had insisted on going in separate cars, convincing them that being alone in your car would help you prepare yourself before you went into the funeral home. But they still followed you in their own car, practically tailgating you as you ran through red lights to get home. 

You let out a shaky breath, remembering the way your mother sobbed and tried convincing you not to leave as you packed your car with the few things you were willing to take. Your father tried reasoning with you, eyes filled with tears and voice shaky but stern as he pleaded you to think your decision through. They tried everything, from promising you a vacation to get your mind off everything to threatening you with involuntary inpatient services. But nothing worked, so all they could do was run down the block, following your car as you took off, determined to seek refuge out West. 

Your mom walked around you, placing more boxes in the car with a loud clunk, taking you out of your thoughts. Your head whipped around to see her organizing your boxes.

"There's a couple more things up in your room but I wasn't sure if you wanted to take them." She said, a small smile appearing on her face as she looked over her shoulder at you.

Your eyebrows creased and your chest heaved, feeling disturbed by her overall calm attitude to this situation. She was not at all acting like the way she did the first time, which felt odd considering that you were planning on doing the same exact thing as you did before. You would even dare say that you felt like she was happy you were leaving. 

"Uhm… okay," and with that you took a couple careful steps back to watch her before turning to go back inside. 

'What the fuck is going on?!' You thought to yourself, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to chew on it as you went up the stairs. 

Sure enough, there were some things left in your room aside from the boxes labeled 'The Beef' that you were certainly not going to take. But before you could decide, the sinking feeling hit you. 

Why was your mom home? She should've been at work at this time. While she did take time off to spend with you when you first came home, she had already returned to work a couple days ago. Why did she not continue to question why you were home? You did leave a message explaining where you were before you left so she knew that and she also knew that you planned to stay at The Beef the whole day, so she would probably be confused as to why you came home early and in a rush. Additionally, she seemed okay with your decision to leave which was nothing like her previous attitude. And why the hell was she so calm?!

Then, it clicked. 

Your throat dried up. 

Someone must have told her and now she is planning something. 

You raced down the stairs, hands clammy as you gripped onto the stair railing to launch yourself forward. The only person you knew that would have her number and would be willing to reach out to her about something like this was Sugar. Your legs buckled as you rushed out front, only to see your Mom calmly waiting for you. 

"Oh honey, don't forget your wallet and charger-" She said, perking up when she saw you. 

"What are you planning?" You blurted out, interrupting her. 

Your mom furrowed her brows and tilted her head, "What do you mean?" 

"Why are you letting me go? You're not screaming or yelling and just letting me do this?"

You mom blinked at you, unmoving. It was eerie to see her not react to what you were saying.

After some silence, your mom spoke up, "You're an adult and I respect every decision you will make, regardless if I agree with it or not." 

Your eyes narrowed. Although this didn't seem very far off when it came to the parenting philosophy they raised you with, something about this still made you feel alarmed. 

"How about we stop for ice cream at that creamery we love before you go?" 

There's the catch. 

You visibly tensed your body, "Okay…" 

Something was going to happen to you once you got there, you just knew it, but you were going to make a plan and get the hell out of there. 

With a smile, your mom walked to the passenger's seat of the car, "Go lock up for me, okay? I have my purse in the car already." 

You nodded slowly, jaw locked as you took small steps to the front door. When you finally sat down in the driver's seat, your mom was humming to herself and messing with her hair in the mirror. 

"You're planning something," you announced again, half mumbling. 

Your mom briefly stopped humming to chuckle and shake her head before continuing, seemingly unphased by the way you accused her. But this nagging feeling would not go away, so you did all you could do in that moment: drive. 

You sat on the bench outside of the small old creamery, leg bouncing rapidly. You've been going there with your parents since you were a kid, something that you also included Mikey, Carmy, Richie, and Natalie in when they could join you. You would sometimes sneak away after school together or go after football games, right before it would close at midnight. And here you were, one last time, before you would go to… Florida. 

The sweet cream of the ice cream cone you had in your hand made you hum as you licked it, the flavor exploding over your tongue. It was delectable, after all you got your favorite flavor.

You were going to miss it. 

You mom walked over to the table you sat on, holding her own cup of butterscotch ice cream, before sitting down to join you. The sun was warm and the sky was a bright blue. The overall happy atmosphere of the day didn't seem to quell whatsoever. 

You eyed her carefully for a second but only saw her indulging in her own ice cream. So you looked away and started to plan your trip to… Florida. 

You decided that first, you would drop your mom off at home and tell her what you wanted to say to dad. Then, you would drive to the nearest gas station and fuel up on both gasoline and snacks, maybe get a slurpee from 7/11, and start driving towards St. Louis. You could sleep in your car for the night at a Walmart and then drive to Atlanta the next day. After that, just head straight to Florida, home free!

Your mom cleared your throat to get your attention, making you whip your head around to face her. 

"Oh sweetie, do you mind if I go next door? We got a new tax guy and his office is just next door. I need to drop off some papers so that he can finish prepping our file." As if like magic, your mom pulled out some stapled papers from her purse. 

"When did we get a new tax guy?" 

"Last month, your father wanted to change from using H&R Block because of all the problems we had with them last year so we found this new guy."

You glanced at her, finding her eating her ice cream and looking at you; not a concern or worry was written on her face. Her story did seem to add up, your parents did complain about their tax people so this didn’t seem suspicious. So you, cautiously, nodded. 

She got up and began to walk down the sidewalk, "You can join me if you would like." 

You pursed your lips and took the risk, "Uh… sure." 

The request seemed simple and innocent enough, making your anxiety ease for a second. She might have not gone to work because she had errands to do and the paperwork she held under her arm seemed legit. And as you walked into the building and headed towards the office at the end of the hall, everything actually seemed okay. Maybe she did respect your decision and just wanted to spend some time with you before you left. 

"Give me a second," Your mom said, pausing. 

You crashed into her back, heart racing again as she stopped. But all she did was hand you the papers and turn to walk over to the trash can. 

"Give me your trash," she said, reaching out for you to give her your dirty napkins. 

Complying, you watched her throw the trash away before walking back to you, nodding for you to walk through the door in front of you. 

Inside was a large, empty office. It was bright with the grayish white walls and unfinished concrete floors projecting the light from the large windows everywhere. It made you squint as you moved blindly forward. 

The door behind you clicked at the same time that you blinked, eyes adjusting. There was a small circle of chairs in front of you, some occupied by a few people while others were empty. A couple people were hanging out by what looked to be a snack table and another person was standing by someone, chatting. But when you came in, they all paused to turn to you. 

This was what she was planning. 

Someone in a cardigan and with a gentle smile began approaching you and beside you your mom began to speak, "Sweetie, this is for the best…" 

But her voice faded from your mind as your heavy breaths and fast heartbeat overwhelmed you. You whipped around, stumbling from the speed in which you did so, and crashed into the chest of a tall person who was blocking the door. 

You heaved a breath. 

Behind you, the person in the cardigan spoke, "Hi, I understand this might be confusing and overwhelming but your mom brought you here because she cares about you and your well being. My name is Amanda and I'm more than happy to answer all your questions." 

"What the fuck is this? Is this an intervention? What am I doing here? Why am I here? Mom, why did you take me here?" You rushed out, feeling the room spin and your body get cold as you quickly glanced around the room. 

In an instant, the calm neutral face your mom had fell into one of concern, with her eyes glossy  and eyebrows pressed together, "This is an Al-Anon meeting sweetheart and it's for the best, okay? Just one meeting and then we can go home, alright?" 

Your legs gave out on you. As you collapsed onto the floor, your vision blurred but you could make out the way your mom screamed and rushed forward to grab you. Amanda looked concerned but concentrated, as if she knew exactly what to do, when she got down onto her knees to help you. You could also feel some heavy hands grab onto your shoulders behind you as your vision faded to black.

When you regained consciousness, you felt the wind gently caress your cheeks as it blew by. It felt nice, not feeling sweaty and flushed. But as you blinked your eyes open, you found yourself leaning on your mom, half laid on a bench, outside a building you had no idea about. 

“Hey honey, are you feeling ok?” Your mom said, instantly hugging you against her body as she noticed you beginning to stir. 

“Yea… yea… I'm fine,” you said, your words coming out slurred as you brought yourself up to sit. 

“How are you feeling?” A voice said, behind you and your mom. 

Everything came rushing back as you recognized this voice as Amanda’s voice. 

You stumbled up, making your mom gasp and jump up from her seat. Amanda placed a hand on your mom’s forearm, gently smiling at her. 

“What do you want from me?!” you yelled, feeling anger seep into your skin as soon as you got up and faced her. 

Amanda looked at you, “We are not here to hurt you, take you away, or anything. Your mom brought you here to give you a safe space to talk about Mikey.”

“I don’t need to talk about SHIT!” You heaved, making your mom look away from her, desperately trying to conceal her own anger. 

“We care about you and we believe that you should try this out, just once. You are free to leave if you don’t want to, okay?” Amanda continued, voice soft. 

It made your blood boil. 

With fists clenched, you glared at your mom, “You did all of this, just to trick me into coming here?”

Your mom continued to look away, refusing to look at you. You seethed. 

“You can’t even look at me or respond to me?” 

Amanda shook her head, “I understand your feeling upset and confused right now, considering how your mom brought you here, but your mom only has the best intentions for you in mind. Please, come inside. You don’t have to share anything with the group or even sit with the group. You can stand in the back with your mom and share whenever you would like.”

With a roll of your eyes, you crossed your arms. 

Softly, your mom said your name, “I never expected myself to be a perfect mom, but was willing to die trying just for you. Both your father and I made a pact to do everything we could in order to make sure you had the best life you could live. As you got older and became your own person, it was hard to watch you make mistakes but we knew when to step in and guide you, and when to step back,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat before continuing, “And watching you be with Mikey, to be happy, was a joy in the beginning… until we saw the cracks forming in your relationship. We did everything we could to help you but nothing worked. I understand you loved him… but sweetie… his addiction hurt you too.”

“Mikey never hurt me!!” you yelled, not even feeling the tears rushing out, “He never once laid a hand on me! He never brought me around that stuff! He never wanted me to suffer!”

“He was unstable!” your mom sobbed, doubling over as the dam of emotions broke for her.

Amanda gently gripped her arms, holding her up. She stared at you with a pained but apologetic expression.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone to addiction. I lost my father when I was 16. I was such a daddy’s girl growing up, so losing him was bad but discovering why I lost him only hours after I did made it worse,” Amanda said, filling the air with something other than cries and sobs. 

You stifled your cries, making them come out as jagged breaths and rough sniffs that made your throat tighten. But you stood your ground, standing tall as your mom tried so hard not to collapse to the ground. 

“You’re not… you're not coping well. I don’t want to lose you too.” your mom managed to get out between sobs, voice small and watery.

A sob escaped, shaking your body and making you stumble. 

“You’re not going to lose me, I swear. I’m okay. I just… I just need some time.” 

[bavarianredsblog]

The Other Side of Suzui Ryota

What do you think of Suzui Ryota from Kakegurui? I can tell that most of you will tell that he's a useless character who always follows Yumeko's to wherever he go.

Most of Kakegurui fans are even not sure of what's purpose that Ryota serves in the Kakegurui plot so far and even in some forums, I saw many people makes fun of him by saying "Who the fuck is Suzui?" and there's also limited fanfictions or fanarts about him too.

Well, everybody can have their opinions, but is it justified to plainly deem Suzui Ryota as useless characters? I'm personally thinking it's not and I have one sole reason for it.

It is because Suzui Ryouta might be the only character in Kakegurui that has not clear past and much details besides the ones that the viewers saw in anime and the readers saw in the manga.

Kakegurui franchise has been up and running since 2017 until now. Besides its main manga, it's also already produced the character's spin-off like Mary's Kakegurui Twin or Midari in her own manga story.

And yet, In all those things, Suzui Ryouta's past or details about him are still lies in darkness while the other characters like Kirari, Sayaka, Yumeko, Mary, and many others are having their own "explanations" about who they are, what they do, and so on.

To understand that, first we need to at least to knows what's the intent of the author for Ryouta's character. In many articles, it is stated that Ryota is positioned as "observer" and "storyteller" to what's happened in Kakegurui's series, particularly about Yumeko's journey where he was acted as her companion throughout the story.

Compared to other characters, Ryouta seems doesn't have "other clear purpose" other than being a support and close friend to Yumeko.

But keep in mind that the official wiki still officially recognized Ryota as one of the main protagonists of the series. Then, it is raised some questions which correlates to my early statement. If he's one of the protagonists, then why any details regarding who he actually is and his past are very limited? or Will there any character development for him in the future?

To answer those questions, we will need to breakdown some key points about him and his correlation to the plot.

We already know a little about Ryouta in the beginning as he was fell into housepet status after losing to Mary in a gambling game, then he met Yumeko who helped him regain his human status, and then starts a friendship with her.

Besides of that, Ryota is also shown holding a position as class representation. Anything other than that ? nada. We don't know much more about his other activities in the school like if he's belong to any clubs in the school and so on.

Other things about him is, he's actually a very smart person who's excelling in his academic study (although Hyakkaou Academy is not focusing much on academic or sports). He's also very quick to understand what's going on in a gamble (both involved or just watching) and also has an expertise to analyse every single details and devising solutions.

This traits of his is showing several times in both manga and anime version, particularly around Yumeko's gamble against Midari where his approach is succesfully getting both him and Yumeko out from danger of Midari's game of death or how he quickly realize Kirari's manipulation on the entire tarot game.

It shows that Ryota is actually a good gambler and he has so many potentials on it. The only thing that holds him back is his low self-esteem, reluctant personality and low level of confidence. When he's with Yumeko, he's not only watch over her but he also learns a lot from her and after so many chapters in the manga, he's shown a growth in his gambling skills and confidence level which one point for his character development.

Another interesting point about him is how he seems the only one in Kakegurui franchise who doesn't have "psychopatic" traits like the others. He's shown to be a nice and kind person who also rarely holds grudge against people. His personality is calm and sensible which also added by his honesty trait.

Looking at those, it seems that we are looking Ryouta as the only colored thing in the middle of black and white. This is his exceptional things that makes him different and also on the same time, special from the other characters. To put it more dramatically, Ryota is like the sailor whose ship is trying to survive in the sea of madness which is the Hyakkaou Academy.

After that, from here thing is getting more interesting. Who is Suzui Ryouta actually is and his family background?

To begin with, there's no clear details on that, but the wiki said that he has unnamed parents. A Day after Yumeko helped him pay his 5 million yen debt to student council, Ryota is offering 1 million yen that he borrows from his parents to pay Yumeko back which Yumeko simply refused.

It's indicating that Ryota is coming from a rich family while it's also considering that how he can enrol in Hyakkaou possibly from regular way where he need to make frequent deposit to student council and school fee.

But who is Ryota's family is still clouded in dark. But we might have a lead on this. In one reddit thread few years ago, it is said that Ryota is coming from a famous wealthy baker family with the brand name "Seikadou". Here's the overview.

The interruptions when he's about to saying "Oh, It's our ..." is really one strong proof about his family's business. It is still not confirmed yet, but this cake business theory is the most logical one to explain more about him.

Another thing about him is, people don't realize that he is actually existed all the time in any of Kakegurui franchises so far, whether it's the main manga, twin, or Midari.

For example, both Kakegurui twin and Kakegurui Midari are both set in the previous year of main Kakegurui manga plot which makes Ryota is strongly possible in both spin-offs, although his names are not mentioned.

But is is definitely happened since the gap between the two spin-offs and the main story is only one year apart which means that Ryota is already there wandering the school and knows every events in both spin-offs like the raise of Mary, the full bloom society, and so on. After all, Ryota's is very aware of his surroundings so he's keeping on track.

What's he's doing on that period? It's still a big mystery, but judging from his behaviour, he might be living a quiet and ordinary gambling and schooling far from the spotlight. As mentioned above too, there's also question if whether he's involved in a club's school too.

Well, I can't say for sure, but Ryota is probably involved in one or maybe just spend his days of gambling and socializing with his friends. Just a completely ordinary guy.

For his love interest, well it's pretty obvious that Ryota probably holds a secret romantic feeling for Yumeko. He's stated it in sublime way when he's confessed that he wants to keep watching her in the best seat and walk with her when they faced Kirari in a tarot game. He even said that Yumeko's risk is also his risk which shows that he is ready to die anytime for Yumeko.

From this point, we already know there's so many undiscovered thing about Ryota's personal life and how his character's development happened in both manga and the anime which happened to be a lot without people noticing.

Being on the side of Yumeko all the time, Ryota is influenced by her but still in a positive way and accordingly. He's still trying to be himself and hopefully more of him will coming up so soon.

And that's it.

Hope you guys enjoy it.

Give me your thoughts in the comments yeah ?

[beelsnack]

Back in the Saddle - Obey Me! Boys and an MC Who is Overcoming a Depressive Episode

Hyper-specific coping mechanisms? On my blog? It's more likely than you think.

(Just kidding that's like the whole reason I started the blog in the first place lol)

I'll be honest, I'm not caught up on the games at all. I got like 2 chapters into Nightbringer before the rhythm games gave me sensory overload. But they're still my emotional support demons and I'm still going to write about them on my silly little blog. Enjoy!

May make a part 2 with the other characters, this one was getting kind of long.

-----

Lucifer: The music room had always been one of the few places that Lucifer could seek solace from the chaos that seemed to follow him. Most of his brothers had no desire to practice an instrument, and those who did tended to want to do it on their own, so if he was there, they tended to avoid the area. He had come to expect the room to be empty when he arrived there.

So seeing the human hunched over the grand piano threw him off a bit.

He knew they played the piano - it had been in their paperwork when they first came to the Devildom. They played quite frequently before, taking comfort in the familiar feeling of the ivory keys when the strangeness of their new home got to be too much. But something in recent months stopped them, and he didn’t have the faintest idea what. They hadn’t been very forthcoming about their mental state, and Lucifer didn’t want to pry. 

Well, actually, he did want to pry, but each time he asked, they got more and more irritated and withdrawn from him, and that stung just as much as not being able to help.

They were making considerably more mistakes than they had before, likely due to a lack of practice, but Lucifer could see a bit of their old spark returning to their eyes as muscle memory took over. They were playing an ost from a human world show, something slow and soothing that they played often. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Lucifer thought he could see the beginnings of a smile on their face.

Before he quite knew what he was doing, he had silently made his way over to them. His shadow fell over the keys, and they jumped in shock. They whipped around so fast he was worried that they would twist something. “Lucifer?!”

“Don’t stop on my account, my dear,” he smiled gently at them, perching himself on the bench next to them. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard you play, won’t you indulge me a little?”

Mammon: It was just a little doodle.

Borrowing the human's notes was a pretty common occurrence for Mammon. If he even remembered to take notes, they were sparse at best and incomprehensible at worst. He had just wanted to take a picture of them at first but the human insisted he write them himself. 

"We don't need to make it too easy for Lucifer to tell you don't pay attention," had been there reasoning, but Mammon wasn't going to turn down some alone time with them. Even if it was in the library.

When the human had presented their notebook to him, his eyes had immediately gone to the little drawing in the corner. It wasn't very detailed, more like random scribbles that eventually morphed into a flower and some stars. When they had first come to the Devildom, their notebooks had been absolutely filled with doodles and drawings, ranging from rudimentary shapes and shading to full-on sketches in the margins. They claimed it helped them focus, so Mammon had been a little concerned when the drawings had dwindled to nothing.

"What are you smiling at?"

Mammon jumped, heat creeping up his neck as he realized he had been caught. "Nothin'!"

He glanced back at the drawings, wishing he had his shades to hide behind. "...I missed the doodles, is all."

Leviathan: Right.

Left.

…Alright, the coast was clear. Sighing softly in relief, Levi emerged fully from his room and made his way downstairs. Most of the residents went their separate ways after dinner, and he knew for a fact Beel had his Fangol game so the kitchen should be free.

Levi stuck his hand in his pants pocket to make sure the folded square of paper was still there. One of his favorite Deviltubers are done a video recreating various dishes from different anime, but Levi just had to try them as well. But any sort of attempt at baking was doomed to fail if Beelzebub was in the house, so as much as Levi had wanted to jump right in as soon as he had seen the video, this excursion needed careful planning.

He was feeling rather hopeful until he got to the kitchen and saw the light on.

Defeated, he was about to turn around and head back into his inner sanctum to await his next opportunity before he realized that the shadow moving along the wall was far too small to be Beel.

Quietly, carefully, he poked his head around the corner and peered into the kitchen. There, in an old t-shirt with an apron tied around their waist, was the human scooping flour out of a bag.

Either he made some sort of noise or they just felt his presence. They turned around, looking startled for a moment before regaining their composure and grinning sheepishly at him. “Hey, Levi, what’s up?”

Levi blinked owlishly at them for a second. “Uh, well…”

The human’s baked goods had quickly become treasure in the House of Lamentation when they first arrived for the exchange program. It had been their passion, but something happened somewhere to tamp out the gleeful little spark they had whenever they were trying out a new recipe. But, like a storm passing, that light was beginning to peek through the dark clouds.

“Levi?” they asked, cocking their head at him like a confused puppy. “You alright?”

“I-I’m fine!” Levi had to physically shake himself out of his train of thought. “You-you’re baking something?”

“Mm-hm,” they hummed, turning back to the counter to glance at the recipe on their phone. “I was really in the mood for some chocolate cake.”

Chocolate cake wasn’t one of the recipes on his list, but seeing them passionate about something again made him forget about his whole mission. “Do you…want some help?”

Satan: Someone was humming.

Satan had thought he was alone in RAD’s library. Very rarely did students venture here at this hour, and his brothers were causing suck a ruckus back at the house that he hadn’t been able to focus on his book even shut within his room. And now someone was being annoying here.

His already short fuse was slowly but surely reaching the end, and he slammed his book shut with a bit more force than necessary. He would get his quiet time or there would be blood.

The perpetrator was somewhere in the fiction section, it sounded like, and Satan rounded the corner of the shelves like a predator sniffing out its prey. Finally, after a few moments of following the sound, he caught sight of another person. He stopped at the beginning of the aisle, mouth already open in a snarl to scold whoever had the balls to - 

“Oh, Satan, hi!”

He deflated like someone had poked a hole in him. Of all of the people he thought he would encounter, the human had been very low on the list. Recently, they barely left their room except to go to class or eat. Usually if he wanted to spend time with them he had to gently coax them out into the open like one would entice a cat with treats.

Satan cleared his throat. “Well, this is unexpected.”

The human had their arms full of books. Quite the assortment, too. A thriller, a book about previous kings on the Devildom, what appeared to be some sort of romance manga and an autobiography of a well-known witch.

“I ran out of things to read,” they shrugged, looking away. “Went through everything I had at least twice.”

“You know,” Satan walked over and took two of the books out of their arms - they always got irritated when he took everything, like a stubborn kitten, so letting them hold on to something would preserve their dignity. “You can always come to me if you want recommendations.”

Asmodeus: “Hey, Asmo?”

There were only a few people who were brave and/or stupid enough to go into Asmo’s room without knocking. Not because he would be angry or anything, but one never knew what kind of salacious activities would be going on in there and it was better for all involved if there was some warning before opening the door to Asmo’s den of debauchery.

“Hello, darling!” Asmo chirped, beckoning the human inside. They were lucky, he had just gotten out of the bath and was in the middle of his skin care routine. “What’s up?”

“Do you have anything for eye bags?” they asked, poking idly at the puffy skin beneath their eyes. It was clear that their mental health hadn’t been in top condition lately, their stress written in the dullness of their skin and drawn across the acne that dotted their face. But Asmo knew better than anyone that pointing out someone’s physical flaws did nothing for self-esteem, so he hadn’t said anything.

“Of course!” he grinned, scooting over a bit to give them some room on his vanity stool. “Skin care is self-care, darling, glad to see you treating yourself.”

The human sat down next to him, and now that they were closer Asmo could tell just how drained they were. They sat with their shoulders slumped, and they had an air of exhaustion about them.

“Oh, dear, haven’t you been sleeping well?” he asked, reaching over to pick up a small tub of cream. “Sleep is extremely important, you know. I’m a hot mess without my beauty sleep.”

“Really?” they quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Emphasis on hot,” he giggled, dabbing his fingertip into the cream. “Now, hold still for me, darling, wouldn’t want to poke your eyes out~”

Beelzebub: Beel had grown to like the quietness of the gym in the morning.

He was one of the few demons who had the diligence to work out every morning, and the ones who did make it a daily habit tended to leave each other alone to work on their own things. Everyone knew each other there, to the point where they each had their own spot where they left their stuff and there was an unspoken rule that nobody touched anyone else’s belongings.

It was also an unspoken rule that anyone who tried would get eaten by Beelzebub but he tried not to think too hard about that one. He still felt kind of guilty about it.

Muscle memory took him over to the bench by the weights where he usually set his things down, and he was in the process of sliding his gym bag off of his shoulder when he realized that there was another bag there that he didn’t immediately recognize. He stared at it for a moment, trying to see if he could figure out who the owner was until he got close enough to smell it.

Usually gym-bag-smell wasn’t something he would actively seek out, let alone find enticing, but he would recognize that scent anywhere. It was the human’s.

Sure enough, when he turned around, there they were, stretching in front of the weight bench. It had been…Beel didn’t even know how long it had been since he had seen them in the gym. They used to go quite frequently. Not enough to call themself a gym rat, but they kept up with their fitness pretty well. Until they didn’t.

Beel hadn’t wanted to pry, but he had been worried about them when they stopped working out. He could tell they were suffering physically from it as well - whatever had stopped them from exercising had also stopped them from taking care of their body in general, and he could tell by the weakness in their arms and the dragging of their feet that they weren’t at the top of their game.

He called out their name as he approached them. “You’re here.”

They jumped, eyes wild before they realized who was talking to them, and they shot him a sheepish grin. “Oh, hey, Beel.”

“You haven’t worked out in a while,” Beel stated matter-of-factly before smiling warmly at them. “It’s good to see you here again.”

“Ah, yeah,” they mumbled, looking away. “Kind of…lost my momentum for a bit, I guess. But!” they perked up. “I’m back at it!”

“Good. That’s good.” Beel dropped his bag next to theirs on the bench. “Want me to spot you?”

Belphegor: He was trying to stay awake this time, honest.

Belphie didn’t exactly have the best track record for showing up to class, much less managing to remain conscious for it. Lucifer had been nagging him lately about his attendance, but he was always nagging him about something. No, the real winner of the annoying yet effective big brother olympics was Mammon, who had looked Belphie dead in the eye and said “I bet you couldn’t show up to class for a whole week if you tried.”

And Belphegor was nothing if not a stubborn asshole.

Although, the dare was about going to class, not staying awake, so technically he could snag a nap and Mammon couldn’t say any - 

Belphie’s eyelids snapped open - he hadn’t even realized he had closed them - when something small and bright blue landed on the desk in front of him. It took a moment for him to refocus, but when he did he noticed that a small folded paper star had bounced in front of him.

He raised an eyebrow before turning to look at the human, who was sitting a few seats away from him looking too innocent for them not to be the culprit.

“Can I help you?” he muttered.

“Wakey-wakey, Belphie,” they grinned back at him. They had surrounded themself with a myriad of different-colored paper stars, something Belphie hadn’t seen them do in quite a long time. They had claimed that keeping their hands busy helped them focus during class, and even outside of class they were usually doing some sort of origami project. But at some point, they had stopped. Maybe someone had pointed it out to them, maybe something happened to make them depressed, he didn’t know. But he had kind of missed seeing their little army of paper animals.

“Can you make a fox?”

[bluestar22x]

The Weekend

Summary: Steve and Connie visit you and Javier in Texas; Connie realizes something new about you that changes everything.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader (The same from my Sweet Summer Series - there is a mention of the reader having hair again, but no other details)

Rating: 18+ (to be safe)

Word Count: 3,790 (ish)

Warnings: Anxiety/angst, fluff, fowl language, pov changes, and mentions of pregnancy symptoms

Author’s Note: This can easily be read as a regular oneshot if you haven't read the series yet/don't want to. Anyway, I was so excited to write this one cause I've wanted to write Steve, Connie, and Chucho since all of last year, I just never thought of a plot for it until now. (Chucho still didn't get enough love here, but someday, maybe, it'll happen). Anyway, apparently I won't stop until pretty much every Pedro character is either a first time dad or a dad again. Sorry, not sorry.

xxx

The first time you met Steve and Connie Murphy was on a weekend in mid-November, the same year you'd started dating Javier Peña. They'd driven from Florida with their daughter Olivia to stay at the ranch for a few days, Steve's excuse being that duck hunting season had started in Texas and he needed to show Javier how to actually shoot one, claiming his ex-partner was a shit shot and that it might take all weekend, leading to Javier to grumble under his breath and you to laugh.

They'd hugged despite initial hesitance from Javier and when he relaxed in Steve's embrace you understood then who they were to each other. Brothers, in every sense of the word but blood.

It only made sense from everything you'd gathered from Javier's father, the town, and later Connie and Steve himself. Colombia had been like a war zone, and war zones forged strong bonds, even unlikely ones. Not that Steve and Javier were all that different, you thought. After all, they'd shared the same goals while working together as DEA agents, they'd shared a similar capacity to do what needed to be done to reach those goals, and they'd both come back home with enough nightmares and regrets to last more than a lifetime. Connie had told you about nights where Steve startled from his sleep and didn't return to bed until morning and you'd shared with her that you'd caught Javier doing the same many times while you'd been dating, wandering outside in the middle of the night clearly in an attempt to empty his head of whatever was bothering him. Some nights he still smoked a cigarette or two before returning, the bad habit sometimes the only thing that helped calm him down at first, until he'd made some real progress with his therapist.

It was safe to say your first time meeting Connie and Steve had been eye-opening. It had helped you understand your boyfriend all the more, and you were grateful to them. Not just for the insight, but also for them having been there for Javier before you could be, and for them still wanting to be.

The second time they'd visited the ranch you and Javier were getting married and naturally Steve had been Javier's best man. Connie had also kindly accepted your offer to be maid of honor, since you hadn't had any real friends after you'd graduated college. Besides, after the first day you'd spent around her, you could've easily called her your best friend over all of your past friends. Connie was a very nice person.

You all had briefly seen each other once more when you and Javier had stopped by their house for a meal before heading out to the Keys for your honeymoon and that visit had been just as pleasant, ending with goodbyes and promises for future visits. You planned to make sure the Murphy family would always be a part of your lives.

And so they were back on the ranch the following November, Steve reaching out for Javier even as he roasted him once again. "Have to keep coming back until Javi is finally able to hit a bird. Any bird at this rate will do."

"Shut up, Murphy," Javier growled, though he couldn't hide the smile pulling at the edges of his lips. That made you grin, and it only grew broader when they hugged once more. You loved that your husband had a friend who understood him; who knew him from his darkest days.

"Let's get you all inside," you eventually said, herding them all towards the house, little Olivia tugging on your shirt sleeve as you followed them, looking up at you all adorably with her big brown eyes and wavy dark hair. "Food soon?"

You beamed down at her. "Soon. I'll have it ready in a half hour sweetie." You ruffled her hair a bit and she smiled up at you pleasantly before running ahead of everyone to fall to her knees before Trix, your red and white Basenji. Trix started licking her face like crazy and the little girl's giggles in reaction made your heart soar.

Once in the ranch house, Steve and Connie dragged their suitcases upstairs, into Chucho's old room. Chucho had moved out into a smaller, remodeled house on the south side of the property after you and Javier had married in June, on the day that marked the first year anniversary of your first meeting and date. It had once been a house for employees to stay during peak ranching days, but he'd claimed it was the right size for an old man of his age. You knew the real reason was because he wanted you and Javier to have your own space, because, though he hadn't said the words, you were pretty certain like most parents, he was hoping to become a grandfather.

While Steve And Connie were upstairs with Olivia settling in, you and Javier worked in the kitchen to finish chomping up fresh vegetables for the tossed salad you'd wanted alongside the main course of grilled chicken tacos which you were careful to monitor as the meat cooked.

They had just turned up at the kitchen table with Olivia when Chucho walked in, dressed in the cleanest white button down shirt and pair of blue jeans you'd seen him in since your wedding day. Everyone was in their best casual clothes. It wasn't every day they all got to gather together, after all. And it was almost Thanksgiving.

"Afternoon everyone," Chucho said cheerfully, snatching his cream colored cowboy hat off his head to hang on a hook by the main door. "Ya waiting on me?"

"You are just in time," you told him, smiling. You loved Chucho. He was as much of a father to you as your own, though you'd never admit it for your father's sake.

He settled at the table with Steve and Olivia while you, Javier, and Connie started to set the food out on it. You were feeling great physically and emotionally until you seemed to spin around too fast with the salad and barely managed to hold onto it, getting dizzy with the movement. Javier noticed your sway and pressed a palm to the middle of your back to steady you, concern evident in his expression. "Are you alright?" he inquired, frowning.

You nodded quickly. "I'm good." You weren't sure what had come over you, not being the type of person to easily get light headed, but you were feeling fine again as soon as the moment had passed so it was easy to brush off.

"Maybe you should see a doctor," Javier said lowly, only loud enough for you and a close by Connie to hear. Her eyes darted towards you both, and you could see the curiosity his words had peaked in her.

"You've been getting dizzy a lot lately," he continued.

"I'll set one up after the weekend," you promised him, more so he wouldn't draw the attention of any of your other guests. Whether you actually would or not was still up for debate. To you a little dizziness here and there wasn't enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. It was probably just a consequence of you being tired. You'd done some overtime at work recently and it had worn you down. You'd been going to bed early the previous four or five nights yet still hadn't made up for it. "But I feel fine, Javi. I swear."

He seemed satisfied with that for the time being, though he did insist on guiding you to the table to sit and had Connie finish helping him lay everything out.

The rest of dinner was pretty normal, filled with general chit chat about things like how Chucho and Javier were getting the cattle ready for winter, though it never got too cold in Texas, and how Olivia was adjusting to being in kindergarten.

Connie of all people seemed distracted the entire time, pondering, like she had something on her mind but wasn't sure how to say it. You were so concerned with her distant look that you almost didn't catch Javier sneaking a piece of chicken to Trix. Almost.

"Javi!" you exclaimed, dismayed, even though you'd suspected for a while that he'd been doing it. "No wonder she begs for food now!"

He gave you a sheepish look and Steve grinned from his seat on the other side of him. "Going soft in your old age, Jav."

Javier huffed and you giggled. You knew it wasn't because of his age though. He and his father had both always had a soft spot for dogs.

After that you forgot about how odd Connie was acting until you both cleared the dishes from the table and began washing them in the sink.

"I don't want to be nosy," she whispered to you just loud enough to hear over the background noise of everyone else still talking at the table, "But I can't help it. Do you think you could be pregnant?"

Her question caught you off guard and you starred at her, frozen in place with a soapy dripping plate still in your hands. "You think I could be?"

"Javi said you've been light headed a lot lately," Connie stated, "And you told me just the other day you've been tired. And you also mentioned eating something that hadn't agreed with you. You said you almost threw up."

The cheeseburger you'd had Wednesday night. You hadn't thought about it since.

You glanced around to make sure no one had gotten up from the table. "Are you suggesting it wasn't bad meat?"

"Might not have been," she replied. "I've been around enough pregnant mothers in my nursing career to know greasy foods can trigger morning sickness in them, especially at night."

"Ironic," you quipped. Calling that pregnancy symptom morning sickness was very misleading.

Connie gave you a stern look and waited.

"I shouldn't be," you told her eventually, leaning back against the counter. "I mean, we're not using as much protection as we used to, but I'm still on birth control."

"Any chance you missed a pill or two?" she inquired.

You pursed your lips as you thought about it and bit down on your bottom one after. "It's possible," you admitted. "I do get forgetful sometimes. Usually I'm pretty good about taking prescriptions, but..."

"Are you late?" she interrupted.

You didn't have to think about the answer for that one since your birth control pills always warned you when it was coming. "I might be a few days late. It's not outside the norm for me, but it's also not really inside it either since the pills are really good at keeping me on a strict schedule."

She nodded. "You have any tests here?"

"I have a few in the master bathroom," you told her.

She craned her head towards the table. "Mind finishing the clean up boys?" she called out. Javier and Steve gave you both puzzled looks but when she explained you wanted to show her something upstairs they agreed to do so with Olivia's help.

You watched briefly from the bottom of the stairs as Steve hoisted her up to sit on the countertop and Javier said something to her that wasn't quite loud enough for you to hear before booping her nose with a soap sudded finger, making her giggle, and your heart swelled.

He was so good with her.

Minutes later, Connie sat patiently on the bench in front of your bed while you took three pregnancy tests in the attached bathroom, to be extra sure, and took your hand in hers when you joined her to wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down.

"Have you and Javi talked about having kids before?" she asked gently.

"Of course we have," you answered with a sigh. "But we also agreed to wait a year before I got off the pill."

You weren't sure if you were quite prepared for it yet, but you knew you could ultimately handle whatever the results were, adapt your plans. What made you nervous was Javier. He was only just starting to find his peace, his healing, as much as anyone who'd been through what he had could. You weren't sure he'd be ready yet.

"I'm sure he'll be okay," Connie said knowingly, giving your hand a squeeze. "He's a good man and he loves you. I've never seen that man look at anyone like he does you."

The timer you'd set on your watch started beeping obnoxiously and you bolted for the sink where you'd placed the tests, anxiously scanning their result windows. There were two lines in each, which meant that they were all positive.

Without a doubt, you were pregnant.

Despite your concerns over how Javier would handle the news in that moment you were joyful, tears immediately flooding your eyes. Before meeting Javier you had lost all hope you'd ever get the chance to be a mother, but there you were, staring at three sticks that confirmed you would be one. You beamed at Connie when you walked back into the bedroom and she smiled back at you. "Congratulations."

You pitched into her arms and she squeezed you a little. "You're going to be a great mom. And if you need any advice, I'm one call away. Not that you can't call your mom too."

You chuckled as you also held onto her a little tighter. "I'm sure I'll need all the advice I can get."

You were fully aware that while you had wanted to be a mom for as long as you could remember, you hadn't had lots of interactions with babies. Olivia had hardly been a toddler anymore when you'd first met the Murphy family and you'd been an only child with an uncle and aunt who hadn’t had any kids.

"You'll do great," Connie assured you as you pulled away and wiped at your tear stained cheeks with the backs of your hands.

You nodded. It was comforting to know she believed in you and that she'd be there if you needed her help. She may have not known what it was like to be pregnant because she and Steve had adopted Olivia while in Colombia, but you knew her advice would always be solid because she was an amazing mother. Everything you hoped you would be.

You glanced towards the hallway. "Should I tell him now?"

"Delaying it won't make it easier," she told you wisely, grasping your elbow. "Do you want me to send him up here?"

"That would be great, thanks," you said gratefully.

She smiled sweetly at you. "No problem."

With that she left the room and you paced as you waited for Javier to show up. You couldn't remember a time you'd ever been more nervous - and you'd had major anxiety every time you'd taken exams in college.

"Connie said you wanted to see me?" he questioned as he strolled into your shared bedroom less than a minute later. When he saw the stress on your face his expression grew concerned once more. "What happened? Are you feeling okay? Did you get light headed again?"

You shook your head furiously. "No. No, Javi." You approached him and cupped his face. "I'm fine. I promise. I just know why I've been off now."

"What is it?" he inquired, stance still tense with worry. He searched your eyes with his dark ones as if they could answer for you.

"We're going to be parents," you told him, barely above a whisper.

He jerked his head away from your hand and blinked at you, stunned. "You're pregnant?"

You gave him a single nod to confirm and he gaped at you before wrapping you up in his arms and burying his face in your hair. "Oh, mi amor."

You melted in his hold after his initial reaction and hugged him back. "You're not upset?"

He pulled away from you and frowned. "You thought I'd be upset?"

You folded your arms over your chest, slightly ashamed of your assumption. "I wasn't sure. You said you wanted to wait a year, and I agreed to it. I had every intention of waiting, but I think I might have forgotten a pill at some point. It was a mistake."

He shook his head and leaned forward to kiss your temple tenderly, then your lips, letting his forehead rest against yours after. "However this happened, any child of ours could never be a mistake, hermosa."

You felt the love in his words bloom in your chest, warming it, and you beamed up at him. "So you're happy?"

"Of course I am," he assured you, brushing his nose against yours.

You grinned wider and kissed him again. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that."

He smiled back at you, though it didn't reach his eyes.

You were too excited to retell the story of how Connie got you to take the three tests to see that it was a front.

x

Once you'd told him the whole story, you'd lead Javi downstairs to announce your news to Steve and Chucho as well, and they'd pulled you both in for hugs after giving their cheerful congratulations.

"I'm going to be a grandfather," Chucho had boasted proudly and you'd smiled at him fondly. "You sure are."

Javier had been overwhelmed with how happy everyone was for you both, and a part of him was undeniably happy too, but another part, the part that sat in the darkest corner of his mind, said he didn't deserve it. He'd barely accepted that he was good enough for you, he didn't think that could extend to an innocent baby who had no say in who their father was.

He put on a show until his father left for his house, then excused himself to go hang out on the front porch alone, watching as clouds rolled in for an evening rain. It was fitting for his mood.

He should have known Steve would follow him out, handing a beer to him like it was some kind of peace offering.

He popped off the lid of his own bottle and took a sip before leaning on a beam at the front of the porch, across from him.

"Javier Peña, father," he said with a smile playing on his lips. "I'm honestly surprised." He quirked his brows. "Not that you are going to be one, but rather that it took so long, considering your reputation back in Bogotá."

Javier tilted his head, giving it to him. He couldn't say he wasn't surprised that a woman hadn't come forward to tell him she was pregnant while he was in Colombia. It wasn't like he'd been totally irresponsible, but the odds had to have been stacked against it not happening just by pure numbers. He'd had casual sex as a form of stress relief while he was there, just like smoking, and he couldn't deny he'd been very stressed during those years, especially since he hadn't always been able to keep his heart out of some of those said casual relations.

"I don't know if I'm ready yet," he admitted to his friend. "We just got married not that long ago. It took me months of therapy to work up to proposing to her and then going through with it. She kept insisting I was enough for her, that as long as I loved her that was enough, but I always still had that doubt at the back of my head. A part of me telling me she could do better."

"She could," Steve stated plainly, taking another sip of his drink. "And what about Connie? You think I deserved her?"

Javier snorted. "No."

"Exactly!" Steve exclaimed, pointing the lip of his bottle at his shoulder and grinning. "But that's not the point! Something Connie and several sessions of couples therapy when I got back to Miami taught me is that marriage isn't about what anyone deserves. It's about what you're willing to do for your partner. Who you're willing to be for them. And it's the same with being a father. I was a mess when we found Olivia. I didn't know what I was doing. And I'm not going to lie, it wasn't easy, but I did eventually learn how to be the dad she deserves. If you want to be, chances are you will be. It's as simple as that."

Javier glanced down at the bottle in his hands and swished the liquid inside, trying to find his words. "I do...want to be," he told him quietly.

Steve nodded. "That's good to hear. Because the one thing your wife definitely does not deserve is you running out on her now."

Javier clenched his jaw. "I'd never do that to her!" he hissed, outraged at the mere idea of it. "Lorraine was different. I was different. Back then I had the thought that marrying her would hold me back from my dreams of seeing the world and making a difference. Now I know better." He adjusted his stance and met his friend's eyes before continuing, "And I know being a parent can be tough, whether or not you're as fucked up as I am, but I do want this, more than I ever imagined I would."

"Shit, Jav," Steve said, the edges of his mouth pulling up, "Don't tell me that. Tell her."

He was right. Though Javier was sure you hadn't noticed, he still needed to tell you all of it. To assure you that he loved you and that he was going to be there for you, the both of you.

He chuckled and Steve raised a brow at him, uncertain of what was so funny.

"You ever consider a side job as a shrink?" Javier smirked and Steve huffed at him. "Depends, you ever gonna hit a bird?"

"Fuck you. You distracted me last time!"

Steve nodded at him as an amused gleam sparked in his pale blue eyes. "Sure. Whatever you say, Jav."

He patted his shoulder. "See ya in the mornin'."

Javier grunted a goodnight to him and entered the house to find you waiting in the kitchen, a broad smile on your face. He realized then that the screen door's window had been open.

"How much of that did you hear?" he asked.

You strolled over to him and kissed him softly on the mouth. "Enough to know you're going to be a great father, whether you believe it or not."

"Say that again," he murmured against your lips, his heart feeling like it wanted to burst out of his chest.

You understood, you always did. You placed a hand over his heart. "You're going to be a father, Javi."

He grinned at you and scooped you up into his arms. "Thank you for that."

"I couldn't imagine having a baby with anyone else," you told him honestly, and the love in your eyes left no room for him to doubt it, so he didn't.

You spent the rest of the night in each other's arms.

xxx

Tagged: @angelofsmalldeath-codeine​ @yoursoulsunbreakable @harriedandharassed

xxx

Sweet Summer Series

New Year's Promise

Main Masterlist

xxx

[mongen]

I’m 3 episodes into Hazbin Hotel

It’s a lot better than I was expecting, but I have some criticisms:

1. The cast needs to stop acting like Angel is disgusting for being into what he’s into. Literally everybody they come across seems to comment on how gross they think it is, and it kind of clashes with how popular he supposedly is.

2. The songs need more breathing room. There’s 0.2 second of lead-in to some of them. I get that the snappy, overly energetic animation and editing is a rollover from the pilot, but it’s strangling the songs and preventing them from having the gravity they should have.

3. The plot progression feels like a list of bullet points. I’m not going to spoil it, but there’s a major mystery brought up in episode 1 that is answered in episode 3 very unceremoniously and with very little time for the mystery to stew. There’s potentially a very interesting intrigue plot going on, but it’s impact is damped by the fact that it’s delivered very matter-of-fairly by a bunch of supposedly very powerful characters who we haven’t seen before.

4. The spider dude who speaks in pseudo-Shakespearian English is very difficult to understand, and I couldn’t catch his many any of the three or so times it was said because I was trying to process the last thing he’d said. A lot of characters’ voice lines are mixed strangely, but his prose makes it almost impossible.

5. The animation and character designs are much better than in the pilot, but some of the steps they took to simplify the visuals backfired a bit. They cut back on the excess detail and over-animating just enough to make the style still distinctive, but ended up with some 3/4 perspectives that look real wonky. There are also a few shots where characters are forced into a perspective view and it shows.

6. Adam shouldn’t be the leader of the angels. Based on my (limited) knowledge of the worldbuilding, it’s based on 14th century occult appropriation of Jewish spiritual myths like Goetia (as described in the Lesser Key of Solomon) and concepts like the seven deadly sins, so by that token, the leader of the army of angels should be the angels whose name literally means “The Sword of God”: Gabriel. They could also have used the angels of death, Justice, light, or any number of other aspects. I get that they’re not being super strictly literal to those old times (and that’s for the best, Crowley, Aleister, and co were foundational to many modern antisemitic conspiracy theories), but Adam is a weird choice a leader of armies.

All that to say, I’m really excited to watch the rest of the series, but I’m not going to keep my expectations somewhat low.

[doctorqueue]

I don’t wanna spend too much time on this 2day but I absolutely want to try and make a full post about this theory at a later time. So if I come off weird it’s cuz I’m tired hsbcrvg, I’m gonna forget if I don’t write it out now tho.

I’m also not at all an expert, just autistic 😎. To quote Raph, “I’m not a scientist but this is absolutely your guilt glands, excreting guiltzimes into your guiltis system☝️😌.”

But basically I, as I’ve said before, am now incredulously familiar with the different Rise turtle species’ anatomy. And over the last month or two I’m becoming increasingly sure of the theory that they aren’t just blood related through Lou Jitsu, but have a little of each others turtle DNA too.

⭐️The biggest undeniable signifier of this is Donnie’s plastron and bridge. It’s of course important that there’s a lot that doesn’t have to be accurate in a stylised completely fictional show like Rise, and especially with mutants.

But man it’s a pretty big plot hole to have this character who’s design and character (as well as story at times) be known as having a softshell because of his species, but give him these key/obvious turtle attributes that said species definitely doesn’t have, he certainly didn’t get a hard and external plastron + bridge from his human side. /nm /gen

Turtles have tons of bones inside their bodies like most animals do, but the shell, bridge and plastron bones are more external, and covered scutes. The skin connects around the two gaps in the front and back.

Softshells still have a hard plate with their spinal cord and [shorter] ribs, but it’s under a leathery “shell” of skin, and they don’t have a solid bridge connection like other turtles. Their bones are absolutely wack bro /pos. Their plastron and the closest thing they have to a bridge are still equivalent to our front ribs, but even more so in that they’re still behind skin [but I don’t think muscle?], and that skin more or less is around their entire body [kind of].

[it’s worth mentioning that in other species they do have lots of nerves and stuff in their shells, they ARE still sensitive, though most likely less. Not too relevant to this but I feel like people have the assumption that their shells are super numb or they can’t feel stuff touching them. They love those shell brushes yo!]

Then there may be extra little details that COULD support this theory as well.

-Donnie being seen going inside his shell twice, once in the lair games and then once in the purple jacket (in the basket of Aprils bike). I’ve always preferred to retcon these, as Softshells cannot go inside their shells at all. But with a harder plastron and bridge ‘outside’ of his skin that connects to where his shell sticks out, it isn’t as impossible as a normal softshell, and of course Mikey and Leo absolutely can and have completely gone in their shells. [tba examples?]

Also snapping turts can’t go inside theirs either, though considering how massive Raph’s limbs are he probably can’t even with Mike and Lee’s DNA influence, not that it’s realistic for any of the ninja turtles to be able to go in their shells LOL.

-Donnie looking like he has small spines/spikes across his spine, even though Spiny softshells don’t have any there, but rather at the top lip of their softshell. Some do on occasion have their spine make bumps visible on their ‘shell’.

Rise, like many 2D handrawn animated things, has quite a few design inconsistencies, but you can usually surmise the most common version of something once you collect enough references. Though ngl I’ve seen a lot of both spiny looking bumps and just wobbly bumps, some with no bumps. But my point is this could be a minor feature from Raph’s Alligator Snapper DNA, unlikely but worth mentioning, plus super cute. [tba example images]

-Raph’s fear stink? I need to do more research on this, but I know that Softshells are actually known to release an odor to scare off others, if I’m remembering correctly. [tba info?]

-Mikey’s shell patterns, when studying Red-eared slider shells, I was so stoked to see the inspiration of Leo’s shell markings, and it looked like Mikey’s also matched his species. That is, until I realised Mike matched with COMMON/EASTERN box turtle shells. Ornate box turtles almost always have these radiating stripes. I’ve personally made my own kind of in between for how I draw him, but it made me realise how maybe it was influenced by Leo’s slider DNA? [tba example images]

-The same Plastron + Bridge argument as Donnie but with Raph. Alligator Snappers def have em, but they cover waaaay less than most turtles do, their bridges are very narrow and their plastron don’t even stick out, or are that thick, it’s pretty interesting. [tba example images]

TURTLE EXPERTS PLEASE CORRECT ME WHERE I’M WRONG AND/OR OFF /POS

I want to add credits for the sources/photos, and more images to this post as I have tooons of reference images, but I’ll just stick to the simple plastron one cuz it’s past midnight and am eepy

[jacksprostate]

Was just wondering how you manage to replicate palahniuk’s style so well and also obviously write his characters?

Love your blog btw!

There's a few things that go into it!

Firstly, I have the advantage of, according to my friends, before I read any of his stuff my style was already kind of Chuck adjacent. I tend to be very rhythmic in my writing, I do like to have little repetitions, I like fun descriptions — similar to how he focuses on things reading aloud well, and favoring offbeat descriptions, his little ritual words, etc. That's my biggest secret, I just already wrote pretty close to it without knowing, so I didn't have a whole lot to change. Similar dog learning new tricks sort of deal. That said, there IS stuff I actively think about, especially with regard to character voice:

There's some things I'd call window dressing — minor changes that make it more recognizable. This would be things such as: the narrator does not get put in quotes, slips into 2nd person, using a rhythm where the dialogue tag goes in front (generally Tyler says, blah, not blah, Tyler says). That also makes it feel more active and present. I also like to outright include the occasional line from the book as a referential repetition, or a spoof on a line, I think that's the fun of fanfiction. But if those lines stand out glaringly it can be a sign you either need to change your style or maybe you're just trying to stick it somewhere it doesn't belong.

There's some bigger things: sentence variation is another thing I've invested pretty heavily in on my own and something I highly recommend any writer get in the habit of, but in trying to match his character voice I do consciously feel for when something is getting too long, specifically. The key with Chuck is he can have long sentences, but they're made out of short ideas. Long sentences often become grammatically incorrect as they're separate ideas jammed together for rhythm and sense.

He also shies away from adjectives; I kind of ignore this because I love a good adjective, but I've learned from it by making sure each one is impactful in its own way. Avoid superfluousness, keep things moving. He also shies away from stereotypical descriptions, I enjoyed building my confidence making weird ones. It's something I'm keeping going forward.

Another thing with his style is he loves fun facts. Fortunately I also love fun facts. To do those you have to keep it relevant, symbolic/metaphorical, purposeful, and simple. You can totally get complex, but only using simple building blocks. It's not to show everyone you know something, it's to build a little cliff to push the narrator off of. People don't need the detailed rockwork.

He often has little... almost like an aside? The narrator will ramble or think about something else for a little bit before getting back to the present. That shaky hold on the Now contrasts with how action focused everything is and allows moments of rest even if its still action.

As for character voice, the narrator; by following the above, you can get most of it, and then remembering his general view of the world to keep things in theme. He shouldn't be happy. He should have a lot of surpressed rage. Etc. Good character writing starts with a good understanding of the character, and that's real important for whoever your pov is. Always important to check if stuff passes the "he wouldn't fucking say that" test. When I have dialogue for him, it's almost an extension of his thoughts. I mentally read it to myself with the dull affect Ed Norton used for the movie monologue, really that shit was perfect. I usually can't keep a voice in my head like that but that one... yeah.

Tyler on the other hand I have to be pretty conscious about, sometimes I'll go back through the book and read some of his lines. He tends to be very direct. Very rarely uses names, it's tempting to use psycho boy or ikea boy all the time but it's the devil speaking. Tyler is direct, always serious even when he's laughing, his statements are not mitigated at all, if he is saying a pet name it is for its own impact not to soften any sort of statement. Rhythmically I find this directness difficult sometimes, but the 'Tyler says' dialogue tag makes it feel like a religious call and response on the narrators part and serves to soften things — but have that be the narrator's perspective and choice, not Tyler's. It's pretty heavily repeated in the book. Tyler also requires a "He would not fucking say that" test and I think I've gotten better at his dialogue over time (ex: retroactively, Tyler's dialogue in my psychoactive fish story s u c k s. I mean, it works, but I didn't really have a strong grasp on him at the time and while the actions sound like him, the words and delivery don't. Now though I think my snippets and the dildo fic are pretty strong!) A lot of it is just practice and tuning your ear. Reference the original material and try to dissect it.

Hope this makes sense :) if there's anything specific where you're like "how'd you write that" I can try to answer. Glad you enjoy my blog!

[fictionadventurer]

Ages ago, I talked about a portal fantasy idea I had, titled Lily Between Worlds. The premise was that a girl fell into a portal fantasy world, but didn't fall into any adventures. She just had to settle into ordinary life there and wait for a portal to open up to take her home. Except no portal ever showed up, and it's not likely one ever will. She's getting older, and the family she's staying with can't support her forever. So she has to consider settling down--namely, marriage. Which is a huge deal because starting an adult life here means she's giving up on any chance of going home. Plus trying to find someone to marry when you're literally from different worlds is difficult.

It never moved much beyond that initial premise, because I couldn't develop the world or the characters. But it's been coming to mind again, and I have some ideas for worldbuilding that would offer some more detailed plot possibilities, and I want to talk about it before I lose it completely.

The first breakthrough came with the idea that I could adapt an idea from my Lost Library universe as the basis of the worldbuilding. Centuries ago, some calamity caused large hunks of land to break off and float in the sky. This broke up societies and left the people on these landmasses isolated from each other for a long time, and they're only recently coming back into contact with each other. It's useful for Lily's story, because we can say the calamity that fractured their world also opened up fissures to other worlds, and some people here are aware that people sometimes fall through from our Earth.

The other key idea is that this world is dangerous. The calamity that broke the world also caused a population explosion of various chimera-ish beasts, many of which attack humans. Society is built around the fact that we need to be able to protect people from these beasts. Women and children need to be protected, because the monsters go after the weak. Men are expendable and need to defend women and children--but women also need battle skills because it's dumb not to know how to defend yourself. There is also a lot of competition over resources--I'm not sure what, but maybe one of them is the same energy that caused the fracturing and can be used to power technologies. Things have settled down in recent centuries and they've come to a level of civilization (I'm thinking Regency-ish) where you can have classes and trades not totally devoted to survival--but those survival skills are still highly valuable.

Lily is not adventurous. She's a very quiet artistic type who heard about all the dangers of this world and decided she was never going to step outside alone. She's spent the last few years in the household of a scholar who's fascinated with Earth. He's got a few kids several years younger than her, and she settled in among the children, focusing on learning the language and the basics of this world. But now she's come of age and has to enter the adult world. Even though she's been in this world for years, we still get the portal fantasy sense of discovery because she's learning all the details of the culture surrounding courtship and adult responsibilities. This is a domestic fantasy, focused on the interpersonal relationships and the culture of this specific place. No world-changing quests, just characters interacting. At most, a few monster attacks to liven things up.

The story would focus on Lily's attempt to find a husband. She works with a young matchmaker-in-training (who thinks she's from some distant floating island rather than another world) to find good candidates. It's tough because Lily has no family ties here and outsiders are suspect. She's got a lot of the feminine skills this society values, but has zero combat ability--a major handicap when a good wife has to be able to protect the children from monsters. This world values beauty, social status, and strength. Lily's got the first and needs a husband who can provide the other two (and is willing to overlook her lack).

We can use the suitors to explore different facets of this world and Lily's personality. A good partner needs to be similar enough that they can connect, but different enough to draw Lily out of her comfort zone; he needs to draw out her good qualities without reinforcing her flaws. She could interact with a lot of different men, but four types are coming to the forefront as potential husband material.

The scholar: A young man who works with the scholar who houses Lily. Fascinated by Earth, knows Lily's true history. He and Lily casually get along, but don't quite gel. (He treats her a bit like a science experiment, for one thing). He doesn't have much strength to protect Lily, but he's got a decent status (enough that his family would want him to marry better than Lily). He would be the safe choice, allowing Lily to more-or-less remain the same woman she is now.

The warrior: An ideal catch by this world's standards. Very high status, excellent combat ability. Already has several heroic achievements. Socially awkward enough to need the help of a matchmaker to attract a wife. He and Lily share almost no interests, but her dynamic with him would force her to confront her own prejudices about this world--just because he's a fighter, it doesn't mean he's brainless or has no feelings. Could really draw Lily outside her comfort zone, but maybe too much so.

The explorer: A man who has spent the last several years exploring far-flung floating isles and has only recently returned home--to a lot of rumors and distrust. He's got strength, but almost no status; he's scandalous to this neighborhood. Lily likes his travel stories, and he believes her tale of being from another world--he's seen portals before. They get along well enough, but he's as adventurous as Lily is cautious. He says he wants to settle down, but he's not the type to be happy with an ordinary life. A life with him would be either a life here under the cloud of scandal, or a life of dangerous travel. But he would draw out Lily's adventurous side and introduce her (and us) to more details of this world.

The artist: A man who's working on some project for a high-status person in the neighborhood. He and Lily connect most on a personal level, sharing a love of art. He's got a middling sort of status, and is a weakling. Perhaps he's disabled from some monster attack; it would explain why he'd been allowed to take up a sedentary (and frivolous) trade (though if that's the case and she *doesn't* choose him, it could look like we're reinforcing this society's idea that he doesn't deserve to marry). He would be sort of like the male version of Lily; they would connect very easily, but he wouldn't push her to grow.

At the moment, the explorer is most compelling as endgame, though I can see potential in the warrior and artist as well. The interactions with all four can shape her character. There'd also be subplots of other monster attacks and political/social conflicts happening in the background of this courtship.

I'd probably have to end the story with Lily and her chosen guy teaming up to defeat some kind of dangerous beast--showing that Lily has developed the courage to face this world's dangers and has found a partner capable of facing them with her.

If anyone's read all that--decent ideas, or too many holes? Interesting or the dullest thing you've ever heard? I'm treating this as a worldbuilding game for the moment, so you can play along if you like.

[princeescaluswords]

I've been thinking about Munroe and wondering what about season 6 could have been different if her supernatural trauma was related to the nogitsune and the oni instead like in the hospital attack. I think it would be make her hatred of the pack a bit more compelling because they, especially Scott, actually did choose to save and protect Stiles regardless of the danger to other people and they could do something interesting with Scott and Stiles' guilt over it all. I also feel like it would be more believable for her to have supporters if they were other survivors who saw what they thought was the sheriff's son do something terrible and then have it completely covered up.

Do you think that's something that would have worked? How do you think it would have played out?

I think that your musings are inadvertently neglecting a very key part of Tamora Monroe's story. Unless I am mistaken (and feel free to correct me if I am) you're arguing that if her trauma had been directly connected to something the pack chose to do rather than something that they failed to stop, it would have made more of an impact. I agree that it would have certainly made her hostility toward the pack more personal.

However, I consider the fact that it wasn't due to a specific decision is vitally important dimension to her story. As usual, I'm going to preface my remarks by making it clear that Monroe is a villain, and my exploration of her motivations should not be taken as approval of her actions in any way.

To me, the central premise to Tamora Monroe's story isn't that she experienced trauma. A lot of people in the show experienced trauma and reacted to it in ways both good and bad. No, Monroe's fury arises from the way the main characters reacted to her trauma. She may have completely recovered from the damage the Beast did to her. She may have mourned the friends she lost on that school bus. What she can't accept is how unimportant the reaction made her seem. Something terrible happened to her but it was a side effect, a background detail to a trap made by a monster for others she saw as monsters.

In a bit of clever meta-narrative (with a bit of clear social commentary thrown in), Monroe existed as a minor victim, an extra designed, as T. S. Eliot put it, "to swell a scene or two." Her words to Corey in Said the Spider to the Fly (6x11) establish not only things about Corey's character but also hers.

Tamora: Look, I understand the need to keep up, to be recognized or noticed. Everybody feels invisible sometimes.

What Monroe went through wasn't given any importance. The bodies in the school bus were bait and afterwards, they were carted away never to be mentioned or dealt with again. If she hadn't survived, no one would have given her a second thought.

But she did survive, and even though she did, she still wasn't given enough importance -- enough value -- to be told what really happened to her. She figured it out on her own, and that is where her anger comes from. Her life didn't matter. That type of dismissal can be enraging, and she takes out that rage on those who she sees as acting that way in Raw Talent (6x12).

Monroe: I'm sorry. I should've told you. It's wolfsbane.

When I first heard that line, I was confused. Why would she say that to a werewolf she was hunting? However, it's clear on reflection that this line speaks directly to her motivation. Wolfsbane is dangerous to werewolves, so she should have told Brett that there was wolfsbane in the lacrosse ball, just as the Beast was dangerous to her, and she should have been told about the Beast. She is claiming an eye for an eye.

Her speech to the Sheriff in Werewolves of London (6x17) is also worth analyzing.

Monroe: Understand each other. Do you wanna know what I understand, Sheriff? Do you wanna know what I see in your little show and tell?

She speaks passionately because this is what should have happened way back after she survived the Beast. She should have been allowed to understand what was happening. She should have been listened to, but she didn't have any power. Only now, when she has power, are the people responsible willing to talk. She'll say that exact thing to Scott in After Images (6x13). Now that they're listening, she's going to do the talking.

Monroe: I see a sheriff unable to control the violence in his own county. A county he's sworn to protect. I see the same sheriff in way over his head. And not ready to believe the truth that's been staring him in the face for years.

It's clear that she thought she feels that people like the Sheriff were operating under false premises. They were supposed to keep the monsters away from people who couldn't protect themselves.

Monroe: I was told I was the victim of a wild animal attack. A bear. I was lied to. You lied to protect them over us.

The attack itself doesn't matter as much as the disregard. She was treated as a second-class citizen as opposed to monsters who can heal from stab wounds in a matter of minutes and grow claws and fangs at will. She was made to feel invisible, powerless, and unimportant.

Until she wasn't. Until she had enough power and enough followers to make them treat her differently.

So, what pushed her into become the woman who callously ordered Edgar the Werecoyote disposed of as trash? Well, she wouldn't be the first woman in Teen Wolf manipulated and used by a particularly selfish man to further his own ends.

Gerard: Someone who has been doing this a lot longer than you, but also someone who recognizes raw talent when he sees it.

Gerard had obviously been studying Monroe and figured out what I argue up above. It's not the wounds, it's the lies. It's the ignorance. Notice how many times during Season 6B Gerard emphasizes Monroe's importance or emphasizes how much she needs to learn, or emphasizes that this is what happens when the supernatural is unchecked. He's honed in on her psychology and uses her as a tactical advantage, one he's more than willing to discard once she's outlived her usefulness. Just as he did with Kate. Just as he did with Allison back in Season 2. It's the same thing -- take their feelings and twist them into action.

Monroe fit into Teen Wolf perfectly.