#starting to think it’s not a coincidence-

[sacredsorceress]

Scars / Logan Howlett

pairing: dofp!logan howlett x mutant!reader summary: every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him. word count: 3.2k a/n: good ol'fashioned soulmate AU. this is the first actual fic i've written in a long time so please have some grace. reblogs and replies are super appreciated! warnings: general mentions of logan's past, scars, self-doubt, alcoholism, reader smokes a cigar, mentions of razors, scars, wounds, two uses of y/n

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It had been a week since Logan woke up in his healed timeline.

For most people, the change would have been dramatic. But Logan was far unlike most people. The initial dreamlike state he was in when he first walked through the mansion- seeing the ghosts he had once known returned to the flesh, unscathed- quickly subsided. Logan had always been a man thrown onto a new path- how he lived life constantly changing to best fit his interests. Now, with his newfound peace he found the most complicated mission of all: what to do with the life he was now free to live?

Even before the sentinels, the battles, the wars- he had always been a man on the run. He was solo, strategic, concise. For a man who was gifted with infinite regeneration, he had solely concerned himself with staying alive. He ate for sustenance, sought shelter for safety, and nursed a bottle to find enough peace of mind to sleep at night.

The professor had once told him that for a person to reach self-actualization they first had to have all of their needs met. Logan had scoffed at the time, assuring the professor that he knew himself just fine. But now, with his problems so solved that they had ceased to ever exist, he wondered if maybe the professor was right.

Who was he? Where did he go from here?

The answer was found in the form of a scar on his hand.

"Well, everything seems to be just fine."

Logan scoffed at the blue man in front of him

"Well it's not." Logan said. "Check again."

Two days after he had come back, a large, circular scar had appeared on the palms of each of his hands. When they hadn't disappeared after two minutes, he rushed to the bathroom and nicked himself with his razor, watching as the wound healed with only blood dripping down his scruff as a remanent of it. Thirty minutes after that he found himself in the lab with Hank, Jean, and the Professor hypothesizing his miraculous marks.

"Logan, the tests came back clear." Jean assured him, leaning against the wall. "Maybe it's time to consider that it's something else."

Logan quirked his head towards her.

"I haven't had a scar in over two hundred years," he reminded her, his voice laced with irony. "I get not one, but two and you... what? Think it's a coincidence?"

Before Jean had a chance at rebuttal, the professor moved to face Logan.

"That's not what Jean's inferring, Logan." Charles reminded him. "We're simply asking that you consider other options. Less... dire options. It could, after all, be a good thing."

"Yeah?" Logan scoffed. "Like what?"

A silence hung in the air.

When Logan had first come to them with news of his scar, the thought had been on all three of their minds. Still, there were a plethora of things that could have caused that. Though, when the tests came back clear and his skin continued to heal from all sorts of abrasions, it felt as if there was only one answer for his seemingly magical scars.

However, none of them were keen on sharing this diagnosis with Logan. One wondered whether he'd handle the idea of his body failing him over fated love.

Hank was the first to speak up.

"Like a soulmate."

Oh that was rich, Logan thought.

Logan wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of soulmates.

Around the time that two fated lovers were destined to meet, there would be a sign for each of them. In some cases they were eyes changing colors, feeling the other's pain, finding their names everywhere they looked. In other cases they were new birthmarks, tattoos, scars.

In some way, the two were inextricably connected.

In his long life he had seen others experience it dozens if not hundreds of times. When the first thirty years of his life rolled around with no one, Logan accepted that he was one of the outliers. He considered it for the best and by now, with everything that he had gone through, the concept of soulmates almost seemed like an old wives' tale.

Logan glanced at their faces. When he realized they were serious, a deep laugh escaped from his gut. There was a lack of light in his eyes that admitted his insincerity.

"So I disappear for a few decades and you all start believing in fairytales?" Logan pulled the needles from his arm, the heart rate monitor going flat as he did. "What a bunch of bullshit."

Jean laid her hand against his chest, urging him back into the seat.

"Logan." She soothed him. "This is a good thing. Scott and I-"

Oh this was real rich.

"Scott and you are... what, huh?" Logan urged. "Soulmates?"

Logan scoffed, swiping Jean's hand from his chest.

"Bet you're so happy with your 'soulmate' and that's why you lead me on, huh? That it? You're happy?" He taunted, a dark laugh escaping him once more. "Spare me-"

"Logan, that's enough!"

The professor's voice echoed against the linoleum walls of the lab, reverberating off of the medical equipment throughout.

"If you want to wallow in your own self-deprivation, be my guest, but spare the rest of us your grief." Charles continued. "I think it would be best if you go back to your quarters and consider the future the universe has offered you."

The energy in the air was thick.

Jean and Hank avoided Logan’s eye contact while the professor’s nearly burned a whole through him.

Accepting defeat, Logan threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself out of his metal chair.

“Fine.”

Soulmates. Logan thought. Who would believe in a thing like that?

-

"It's a pleasure to see you again."

The atmosphere in the mansion was a stark contrast to the lab Charles had been in days before.

Now the school day had commenced: children skipping from class to class, students chatting with their friends in the hallway, teachers grabbing coffee between lessons. Amidst the organized chaos, Charles had arranged to meet you in the foyer: the replacement history teacher for Logan's class.

"You too, professor." You smiled, reaching out your hand. "I was so glad to hear from you."

Your hand hung in the air briefly, awaiting his return. Charles examined it for a moment- a twinkle in his eye- before taking it. His thumbs brushed against the newfound scars between your knuckles as he did.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't always have these scars, did you, Y/n?" Charles asked.

You had not.

You had woken with them a few days before. Despite your powers rooted in chaos magic, it wasn't uncommon for blemishes or wounds to etch themselves into your skin. However, you often knew why. These marks, scars, were not faint, but instead quite profound. Three thick, healed over wounds patched together like a stitch on the back of each of your hands.

"No professor."

He closed his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. Though you knew he wished to ask more questions, the moment was broken by Logan.

"Ah, the man himself." Charles beamed. "Logan, I'd like you to meet Y/n. She'll be covering your class."

You had seen your fair share of news stories about the Wolverine. Who hadn't? Though the television had never prepared you for just how tall, or broad he was.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan."

"You too." He nodded, taking your hand.

His hand lingered in yours for a moment. Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just discussing the most peculiar scar on Y/n's hand." Charles said. "Appeared just a few days ago out of nowhere."

Charles nodded his head in the direction of your hand, leading Logan to squint. As if a light bulb had gone off over his head, Logan glanced between Charles and yourself and with your hand still in his, he turned it examine the back.

Three scars between your knuckles. Right where his own claws would be.

Though he liked to imagine himself as the patron of remaining suave, Logan's eyebrows shot up at the recognition. He traced his view from your hands, up your torso, to your face where you eyed him questioningly.

He thought back to the way that he woke up in the seventies, wrapped in the arms of another woman. If times had been different and Logan hadn't undergone all the so-called character development in the last forty years, he was sure that a face like yours would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. You were beautiful, and your demeanor highlighted your strength.

Your face radiated kindness, warmth and most of all, sincerity- a trait that was difficult to come by in a trade such as his.

But then Logan recalled that this wasn't the seventies and you weren't at some bar leading him on the entire night: your hand was in his and, according to everyone else, he was yours.

The idea almost couldn't register in Logan's brain.

"Interesting, isn't it, Logan?" Charles asked, breaking the silence. "Almost identical to where your claws are, hmm?"

Oh the professor thought he was quite funny.

Logan pulled his hand back from your grasp and shook his head.

"Not that easy, Charles." Logan commented before turning to you, a spiteful tone in his voice. "See you around, bub."

Before you had the chance to open your mouth, you watched as Logan stomped down the nearest hallway, his boots squeaking against the floorboards as he did. His fists clenched and released at his sides as he disappeared from view.

His reaction had come so far from left field that if it hadn't given you whiplash, it would have hurt your ego. Instead you turned back to the professor.

"Was it something I said?" You asked.

The professor shook his head, patting your hand gently.

"Logan's quite a complicated man." He assured you. "I'm sure you'll come to know that more than the rest of us. Now, to your classroom..."

Glancing over your shoulder to the void-like hallway that Logan went down, you considered the professor's words.

-

A storm had taken over the mansion by nightfall.

As you padded down the wood panelled hallways, the lightbulbs shook in their glass with each thunder clap- wind swatting at the window panes every few seconds. The pitter patter of the raindrops, although harsh, was comforting. It was almost as if the mansion had been engulfed by the storm, trapping everyone inside, while consequently making the outside world feel a thousand miles away.

When you found Logan's door, tucked in at the end of the hallway, you knocked.

"Yep."

The weight of the door fell against the palm of your hands as you pushed it open.

Logan's room was dark. The only light in the space had been from the embers of the cigar that hung in his mouth, cradled between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the darkness, you could make out his figure sitting at his desk chair by the window, feet kicked up on the sill.

Logan only gave you a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the view.

"What d'you want?"

His voice was thick and rough around the edges.

"I came for your textbooks." You replied, tiptoeing against his floorboards. "The professor said you'd have them."

The hand of his that held the cigar waved around. Minuscule ashes fell to the floor as your eyes remained trained on the light and the faint glow of the moon that illuminated the side of his face.

"Be my guest," he said. "Don’t have a clue where they are."

The professor had given you the lowdown when he saw your scars.

Charles told you that despite everything that you had learned- the history that you had known- the Wolverine you'd meet was not the same person. He was a man from a different time with far different, darker memories and enough baggage to weigh down dozens.

Amidst the silence, you cleared your throat.

"Must be hard to wake up in someone else's life."

By now you had reached his desk, your fingertips tracing the lines in the dark, lacquered wood.

You could smell him and the cigar from this distance- aftershave mixed with smoke.

"The professor tell you that?"

"Mhm."

The chair creaked as Logan flicked his hand towards the window, ushering you to come closer.

Watching your step in the dark, you maneuvered around the furniture and sat beside Logan on his desk- pushing loose papers to the side.

"He give you his whole spiel on soulmates too?" He asked, eyes trained on the rain outside.

Soulmates.

Now that was the last thing you expected to come from the Wolverine's mouth.

You'd heard of them more times than you could count. You once wondered whether every repetitive coincidence was a sign that your person was coming. But, when that never happened, you lost hope.

Who got to tell you who you belonged to anyway?

Leaning over, you gingerly took the cigar from his grasp and replaced it with your own fingers. Sitting back into the desk as lightening struck a tree in the distance, you took a puff.

"So that's what the scars on my hands were all about," You thought aloud.

The window fogged as you let the smoke leave from your mouth in a breathy sigh.

Logan tapped his fingers on his thighs, counting the seconds between a lightening strike and its consecutive rumble of thunder.

"Listen, I'm no prince charming if that's what you came here looking for."

Logan's chair creaked again as he leaned back in his seat. His arm draped against the desk as he met your gaze.

You chuckled and held out his cigar, offering it back to him.

"I came here looking for textbooks." You laughed. "You're the one who keeps talking about soulmates. I think you're more of a romantic than you let on.”

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cigar back into his own hand. Another lightning strike met the ground in the distance, a clap of thunder following moments afterwards.

"You don't buy it?" Logan quirked his eyebrow. It was a teasing question, one he was curious to hear your answer to.

You shrugged.

"I don't think the universe gets to tell me who to love," you said. "If I fall in love with you it's because I love you, Logan. Not because some mark told me to. I just think of it as... a little shove in the right direction.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile for the first time.

"A shove?"

"Like a... blind date." You finished. "Ever been on one of those?"

A congested laugh escaped him.

"Sweetheart, do I look like the type of guy to go on a blind date?"

You bit the inside of your cheek at the name.

Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his arm. You wouldn't admit how much it hurt your knuckles to do so. You'd have to make a mental note to remember his adamantium skeleton.

"Gosh, you're cocky!"

Logan shrugged, "You're the one who likes it apparently."

You felt yourself grow hot at his accusation.

Even though he had a mark signalling his future affection for you, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by Logan's knowledge of yours. You felt like a child who's crush had just been exposed to the whole class. Was he noting ever glance that you gave him? The way you didn't move when his arm brushed against yours?

A brief pause hung in the air until another thunder clap reverberated against the walls.

"So what's your mark?" You asked.

Logan shoved the cigar into the corner of his mouth. The biting motion forced him to flex his jaw in a way that you would refuse to admit made you start to realize that maybe the universe was right.

And that maybe his cockiness was justified.

He laid out his hands for you. The room was still dark, making the ability to discern the details of his scar impossible. Taking Logan's hands in yours, you summoned your magic into your hands, watching as they glowed gold.

Logan had two large, circular scars imprinted into his palms. It was a clear indicator of your own magical power that surged from your hands.

It left a feeling you couldn't describe in your chest to know that someone else was marked for you. They were destined for you. To be with you. You had a future written together before the two of you had met. Even if he rejected you, there was a sign etched into his skin that bound the two of you together in some fateful way.

Gently, you traced your fingertips against the mark, feeling the warmth that radiated from his palms.

When your eyes flicked upwards, you noticed how close the two of you were now sitting. You could feel his warm breath against your lips as the lingering smell of the cigar drifted up your nose.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, Logan was enchanted by the energy radiating from you. Whether people hated or loved him, his ability got a lot of talk. In his mind though, he would never be a hero. He was just some guy who got lucky.

You, though? He didn’t need you to tell him that you were an Omega level mutant. Logan had heard about you from the professor: you could cast spells, read minds, reconfigure reality- to name a few. You didn't need a reason to fight for what's right, you just did. Again, and again, and again. Even here, now, you were picking up Logan's history class when he knew very well you could be on the other side of the world sipping pina coladas if you wanted.

What the hell was the universe thinking putting you with him?

Logan admired the reflection of the magic on your cheeks and the way your eyes stayed trained on his palms. Your touch was so gentle he could have sworn he was in a distant dream until your eyes met his.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, gaze locked.

Then another clap of thunder shook the mansion.

You quickly leaned back, pulling your hands from Logan's touch.

"I should... I should go." You said, pushing yourself off of Logan's desk. "It's getting late and I have my first class in the morning."

Logan leaned back in his seat. He said nothing but eyes remained fixed on your form as you made your way towards the door.

Looking back at him with your hand on the knob you made a mental note to remember the image of him with his feet kicked back on the window as he smoked his cigar.

A soft smile remained.

"Good night, Logan."

When you didn't leave immediately, he nodded.

"Night, sweetheart."

Mustering up the courage to shoot him one last smile, you pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Now, Logan didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he could be inclined to consider that it was one good wingman.

Leaning back in his seat, Logan sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drown out his worries with the sound of the rain.

a/n: my inbox is open for more requests! thank you for the request @welcometochilis585

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Guardian Angel

CW: Stalking, people breaking into your apartment (Arkham Knight and others), people brushing off an obvious issue, and violence. Be warned, there are no angels in Gotham. ~2.2k words

You have a stalker. Probably. Maybe. If you do, they're so good at covering their tracks that you're starting to believe you're just paranoid.

But it's the odd events, the trinkets moved slightly out of place, that have you checking over your shoulder.

There wasn't even any evidence at first. Your day had been completely normal. All you were doing was cooking dinner, when your nerves went on end, and goosebumps rose on your skin. The feeling of being watched, of being prey set in.

It didn't make sense, didn't have a reason, but you closed your curtains and triple checked your locks nonetheless. (The bat you keep by your bed slept next to you that night)

You would have forgotten about the incident entirely if, a week later, the same feeling crept up your spine while you walked home. You'd never walked faster to get to your building. You'd practically sprinted up the stairs to your apartment, and slammed to the door behind you.

Even within your home, it took almost the whole night for the feeling to fade.

Two times could be a coincidence, but then things started getting stranger.

You could have sworn you left your keys on the counter the night before, so why, why did you find them on the coffee table?

It makes you uneasy, almost sick, but you're already late to work. So you do the only thing you can, you brush it off.

Until it happens. A thing you can't brush off.

You knew you had used the last of the sugar yesterday. Knew it because you had made a mental note to pick some up the next time you went to the store.

But there's sugar. It's not a lot. Just enough to get you through a few days. Enough to make you think you might have just missed the last of it.

You know you're right. You know you were out of sugar and even if your coworkers laugh and tell you to get more sleep, that having an angel that refills your sugar can't be that bad, you know someone's been in your apartment.

You set traps, set cameras, get your locks changed, take note of everything. You don't get any evidence.

But you notice that your window doesn't squeak anymore when you open it. Your shower doesn't rattle when you go to start it. Your oven actually heats up to the temperature you set it to.

It's been like this for months now. And you're starting to believe that Gotham does have its own set of angels that go around trying to make your life a little easier.

That is until, you meet him.

You'd been unlucky. Gotten grabbed and dragged into the alley by your apartment by some haggard looking man waving a gun. It wasn't the first time you'd been mugged in Gotham, and you doubted it would be the last.

You had reluctantly pulled your wallet and phone out of your pockets and handed them off when an armored-clad person dropped between the gun and you.

At first, it was a relief. Being saved by Batman or Nightwing is practically a rite of passage in Gotham.

But then you watched the would-be mugger hit the ground with a sickening crunch of his arm. Then you watched your savior turn to face you, and you knew it was him.

You didn't have an explanation, you didn't have proof. You'd never even seen a glimpse of the helmet that hid his face before. But you knew. He's the one that's been following you. He's the one that's been in your home.

No amount of good deeds can overshadow how violating it feels, to know he's been watching you, observing you, doing things for you. You instinctively step back.

He only matches the distance you tried to create with a step of his own.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap, sounding braver than you feel.

He doesn't answer at first, just tilts his head like he's studying you. You think it might be because he's never seen you think close before.

"I saved you," he says instead, completely avoiding your question. You wonder if he's expecting to be treated like a hero, if he's looking for your praise. It makes your stomach churn.

"You've been following you. You're the one who's been in my apartment," You protest, eyes darting.

You half expect someone to come help you. With the way he's dressed, with how he's carrying himself, he has to be some kind of new villian you missed on the news.

He straightens out at your accusation, "Have I?"

You almost falter, almost do chalk it up to paranoia, but you just knew. Every fiber of your being knows, "Yes," You breathe out instead, "You have."

He nods slowly, then turns his back to you. A part of you wants to run, to try and escape and scream and get as far away from the man who feels like he could make you disappear without a trace.

He bends down and scoops up your phone and wallet before turning back to you. You freeze when he walks closer, each step steady and measured, then extends your belongings to you. Your hand shakes when you snatch at them.

You half expect him to yank them away, to make you beg, but he doesn't. He only keeps his grip tight on them, forcing you to be connected while you tug helpless at your things.

He watches you with his head slightly cocked before speaking again, "And if I have?"

He's easy, robotic cadence makes your blood grow cold, "Then you should stop," You retort, voice as cold as your veins.

"And if I won't," he prompts, finally releasing his hold on your things.

"I'll go to the police," You threaten, stuffing your wallet and phone back into your pockets.

"They can't help you," he warns. It makes you uneasy, that he makes no attempt to keep space between you. Even if his body language doesn't seem dangerous, everything else about him does.

"They can contact Batman," You try instead.

He laughs. It sounds humorless, empty, "He can't help you either."

You lose your nerve then, when he pats your cheek, and the guns holstered to his side seem to glint at you. "Get home," he tells you, and it makes you feel like you're some kind of pet.

And then he's gone, leaving you to an alley empty of anything, save for you and the mugger crumpled to the ground. All you can do is go home. Sleep doesn't come for you that night.

He's sloppy, now that he knows you know. You can tell it's on purpose.

Flashes of glowing blue outside your window, your things carelessly shifted about your apartment, the broken fan that hasn't worked since you moved in left on and spinning when you come home from work.

The only place he hasn't seemed to touch is your bedroom. You're not sure if it's because he's showing some slightest form of respect or if he's simply too good at hiding his tracks for you to notice.

Both options make you feel anxious, and you constantly comb over your things for proof of his presence.

You rack your brain over it, lose sleep over it, but you can't come up with one idea of who he is and why he's doing this.

There's nothing on him in the news, nothing on the internet, not even a whisper on the streets.

It feels like it's all one big, sick game to him when your favorite flowers start showing up at your door, when your gas tank fills itself.

When you tell your coworkers, in a near panic, about your rent being mysteriously paid, they tell you it's harmless, it's kind of sweet, really.

Shouldn't you just be grateful that someone's doing all that for you? Shouldn't you be thankful to have an angel looking out for you in this city?

But you know it's not harmless. You know he's capable of so much more. You know he's no angel.

The sound of the mugger's arm snapping still haunts you.

But you don't know what to do. You're stuck, on edge, and slowly coming to terms with having to live like this forever.

That is, until your bad luck seems to get even worse. You were in your pajamas, already half asleep as you're lounging on your couch, when your world gets thrown into chaos.

There's a click in your apartment door's lock, and you have the terrifying realization that tonight's the one night you'd forgotten to throw the deadbolt.

"I told ya I could get the keys to this floor. And barely anybody lives in this building afta what happen ta Murphy," the heavy Gotham accent fills your apartment and three men file into your living room like they own it.

They freeze when they see you, and you don't hesitate to sprint for your fire escape.

You've just managed to throw your window open when one of them grabs you around the middle and hauls you back, throwing you to the floor. Your head knocks against the ground, and everything spins.

You think you whimper as they start bickering. "You said no one would be here!"

"They weren't supposed ta be! It's all supposed ta be empty," one of them snaps back. It only makes your head pound and your vision swim.

You try to push yourself off the floor, but a boot lands at the center of your back and forces you back to the ground, "We have to kill them."

Murmurs of reluctance fill the room, and for a second, you think you'll get to live.

"They saw our faces," You hear the telltale sound of a gun clicking off its safety, "I'll do it."

You flinch with the shot sounds, but no more pain comes. The weight comes off your back, and a body collapses to the floor next to you.

You lift your head just enough to see a familiar blur of blue charge at the remaining two men.

It's not so much of a fight as it is an execution. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but anything you can't see you can hear.

There's no mercy in his actions, all wrath and fury, and you want to laugh because, in a way, he is your guardian angel. An avenging angel, pummeling the people who threatened you into something unrecognizable.

You're sure how long it lasts, how long you hear his fists connect to their flesh. But eventually, your apartment goes quiet. The sound of fabric shuffling reaches your ears, and calloused hands carefully help you move until you're sitting up.

Warm palms press to your face you realize he's taken his gloves off. You force your eyes to open, morbidly curious if he's removed his helmet, too. You're not sure why you're disappointed he hasn't.

"Saved me again," You mumble, words almost slurring.

"You're not safe here," he says softly, and his thumb runs over your cheek like he's trying to comfort you.

"They didn't think anyone lived here," You supply, but he apparently doesn't find that very reassuring.

"Let's get you out here," he says instead, and you blame it on your head injury for being impressed at how he doesn't show any signs of struggling when he picks you up and cradles you to his chest.

"Don't have anywhere to go," you say weakly, mentally trying to do the math on how much a safe hotel would cost at this time of night.

The moonlight seems to give his helmet an odd shine as you stare hazily at him. It almost looks like a halo.

"I have a place," he tells you, already carrying you out of your apartment window.

That snaps you out of your thoughts. It makes you frown, even in your dazed state, you know you don't want to go with him. That even with the trick of the light, he's no angel.

You start to squirm, "No– no, wait–"

"You need somewhere safe to recover," he says, and he doesn't seem to notice your fidgeting. Your heart leaps to your throat, at how securely he's holding you. With anyone else, it would have felt like a promise of protection.

"I don't trust you, you're not safe," You stumble out, head growing heavy with each step he takes from your apartment.

"No one's safe. But I don't have any plans on hurting you," he murmurs, seemingly more occupied with getting you to wherever he's planning to take you.

"But you could," You exhale out, and your voice sounds weak even to yourself.

That makes him pause, and his helmet tips as if he's focusing on you, "Maybe, but I wouldn't like it."

You want to argue more, demand he set you down. But your brain feels so foggy, and you're so tired and drained that your head just kind of finds itself on his shoulder.

"You can sleep," he says, and your eyes fall shut at how soft he sounds, "I'll keep watch."

You really do want to protest, but his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable. You can't help but think, as you drift off, that your angel might have fallen far lower than you can handle.

[kanmom51]

I didn't know this

*p.s. - She was his gf then and his wife now, why the need to say "his first girlfriend"? First gf we knew about more like it.

OK, so here's the thing... those are JK's eyes, sue me. And the timing of that billboard falling and the keep going..

I have a draft way back from July, me talking about JM's Who MV shoot sketch. I started writing it and found that I couldn't complete it. And now with this - I didn't know this little ever so important piece of information - maybe I can talk about it a little more (bring up some of the things I was thinking about back then).

Basically a few things stood out to me while watching the BTB.

JM being JM as usual. Beautiful, talented, shrewd.

It's quite obvious that JM is involved in the direction of the MV (we were saying...), and this is one thing that stood out to me:

3 things stood out to me. First was his use of the word people. "...people walk past me...". The second was "for now", as in the MV's "for now". And third was "that's what I'm trying to show". So yes, this was part of JM's vision. The song's meaning chasing that muse, but also the song's MV, which is more about finding that "someone", that "who" in a more understandable language to us, being romantic love.

Song is about the intangible, MV is about corporeal, if you wish.

Watching this had me also go back to the MV itself and notice a few more things I didn't notice first times around, and with that new piece of information about Taeyung and his then girlfriend now wife, and knowing just how huge ENL was back in the day and JM's close friendship now days with Taeyung, well, it just fits so so well.

Just bringing this back for a sec before moving on:

Back to Who MV and me trying to connect some of the dots.

The scene JM is talking about, with the people, men and women, passing him by and none of them are the person he is looking for, it comes right after this:

NO QUESTION MARK ON THERE!!!

I also noticed that before this screen falls JM's interactions, the 'people' passing him by are only women, where as after the screen falls and tells him to keep going, well, then it's not only women passing him by. Now he's not limiting himself only to finding "her"? Maybe now he's looking for "him" too? Maybe "him" is the "who" he's looking for and not "her"?

But we know that the billboard has a specific "him" on it. And even though the hers and hims are crossing his path, at this point he isn't interacting with them, they aren't the who he's looking for.

Another interesting thing I found was that when it comes to those one on one's they are only with women. We have them before the screen falling, and after it fell and he is walking down the street people walking him by, even then, the only ones he interacts with are women. But as he is doing that, this appears on the screen as well:

This is also right after the huge screen falls from the sky. Is this again someone or something telling him to go back, rewind, that the screen he just walked away from has the answer he's looking for?

That he missed something, or someone...

And we know NOTHING is a coincidence when it comes to these two, especially in their artistic decisions.

This either:

We weren't sure at the time what it all meant.

What was JM hinting to?

What were the editors of AYS hinting to?

I know not everything about their art is about them as a couple. I've said that multiple times. Not every song is about one or the other or them and their love for each other. Not at all.

But...

That doesn't mean we should ALWAYS dismiss the possibility that it may just be about them. That some of their lyrics do have to do with each other, that some of their songs (even if they did not write the lyrics themselves) do have representation of their relationship in them, that some of their artistic decisions are about them showing their true selves and their love for each other.

We have seen songs that we just KNOW are written for the other, about the other, about their love for each other, about a moment they shared with one another, about what the other means to them. And sometimes when the song isn't there are things surrounding them that are. It can be photoshoot concepts or hints within their artistry that pay homage to the other, or that they are agreed upon hints to what they mean to each other. We have seen this with both of them during their solo journey as well.

And now with this new piece of information, which I was not aware of, coming to light I'm thinking that this isn't about a collab or a song (although I would love for there to be a Jikook song). I'm thinking that our first knee jerk reaction to this could have been the right one. That this was all about the Who. That the eyes on that screen, the one JM doesn't get to see in the MV, those are the eyes of his "Who". In the MV, but more so, you know, in real life.

*Another p.s. - I know I've been silent since the last AYS episode has dropped. It's been a hectic week, but more so it's been hard for me to even try and put into words how I felt coming out (pun most definitley intended) on the other side of this episode. I am working on my post at the moment. The words are not coming easy, I can tell you that much. But it will come. Eventually.💜💜

[tinseltina]

trying to make fanart of leona from @kiame-sama's humans are extinct twst au (warning it is a yandere au and 18+ so minors DNI)

[suiana]

(yandere! zombie x gn! survivor reader) (im such a youtube shorts kid bruh this idea came to me because of a video i watched)

did you know that zombies retain their habits from when they were humans?

well you sure as hell do now, because why is your annoying neighbour still following you around?? he's literally fucking rotting???

"shoo! go away!"

you hiss at him, shooting a rubber band at him before quickly climbing up a tree. phew, you wouldn't be bothered by him from here. it's been like this for a few days now, your undead neighbour following you around as you did your best to survive in this ruined world.

you never really liked him, your neighbour that is. he's always been that one weird guy that keeps annoying you ever since he moved in. constantly knocking on your door and asking to have meals together, to getting to and from work at the same times as you... you're so sure that he was stalking you. how could it ever be a coincidence that he just somehow knew when you were going out and coming back from work?

but now you wouldn't ever know and it's not like you wanted to know anyway. ignorance is bliss after all. oh! he's also very stubborn and it's quite apparent in his zombie form.

"bweh."

"go away!"

the zombie hits at the tree you were sitting down on as he looks up at you with what seemed to be puppydog eyes. you could only grimace at the sight before checking through your supplies. shit, you're running out of stuff.

"ugh... i'll need to scavenge for food-"

"guh!"

you raise an eyebrow at your undead admirer before humming. right, you suppose it isn't that bad that you have him around... he gives you stuff that's useful and scares away other mobs (you think he eats them if they get too close to you). you would've actually coddled him like a dog if he wasn't trying to get into your pants or kiss you every second.

"thanks."

you lean forward and snatch the bad of chips from his rotting hands before stuffing it into your bag. mn, you could probably have that for your lunch and dinner tomorrow.

"let's see... i need to find a good place to sleep tonight."

"bwa! buh beh!"

your zombie immediately starts scratching at the tree bark before jutting his lower lip. huh...

"no, i'm not sleeping in your apartment."

"gah!"

you think you're starting to understand zombie language because why are you holding full on conversations with him??

"don't give me that face. you know our apartment complex is riddled with zombies. i don't want to be turned."

"kh... gur! rh..."

"you think i'm trusting you? i swear i saw our old neighbour lurking around there and he was an olympic sprinter."

you shake your finger at the zombie before sighing softly. why did this apocalypse have to happen? things were going great for you before this. you just had a raise and you were so close to landing a date with your hot boss!

if you didn't know any better you'd have thought that your little zombie admirer was the one who kickstarted this zombie apocalypse because of his jealousy. what did he work as before he turned? a scientist?

"tn... jhn... ngh..."

"don't act all sassy with me right now. it's not like i want to sleep in your place to begin with. you'd probably lock me in there with you and i'd be trapped."

"bah!"

rolling your eyes at the sassy undead man, you rest against the trunk of the tree and shut your eyes. might as well get some rest before setting off again.

"i'm going to rest now. help me keep an eye out."

"kah kah. jah?"

"no, i won't kiss you. and no, i most certainly won't reward you with myself. you're rotting, damnit! how many times do i have to tell you that?"

"ui..."

what in the sassy zombie apocalypse have you gotten yourself into?

[laughingfcx]

3+1: THREE TIMES MEGUMI GIVES YOU SOMETHING, AND ONE TIME YOU RETURN THE FAVOUR.

megumi, water :: it's hot — thirty-five degrees, to be exact, and of course you've forgotten to bring water, and the only canteen nearby only takes cash, no change. in short: you're melting.

you're draped over a lunch table, cheek pressed against the cool (but rapidly warming) metal. oh, what you'd do for a drink right now—

suddenly, you can hear footsteps behind you, coming closer with each passing second.

hi, megumi. you can tell it's him without even looking.

hi yourself, he replies, slipping into the chair next to you. a small bottle of water is slid your way; he does not look at you, but the gesture speaks for itself.

thank you.

don't.

don't what?

don't thank me.

you've had this conversation a million times before.

just because we're best friends doesn't mean you have to—

i do it cause i want to, okay? he turns to you, annoyed. all you can think about is how pretty he is.

megumi, company :: frat parties are scary. you don't know why you're here; nobara and maki have already disappeared too. it's packed, sweaty, scary. you squeeze through the crowds to climb out of a window and escape the heat. you know you can't leave until you find your friends, though, so for now, sitting on the dewy grass in the backyard will have to suffice.

megumi was right, you think.

don't go, he'd said, sprawled out on your bed, arms around one of the plush animals on your bed. it's tucked under his chin, and he looks adorable.

why not? you'd asked him.

it's not worth it, he scoffed. couldn't pay me a billion yen to go.

you should've listened—

can i say i told you so?

megumi?

he ignores you; or are you gonna start crying? you definitely—

you launch yourself up from the ground into his arms, laughing. i thought you said you weren't gonna come!

i had a feeling this'd happen. the slightest hint of a smile graces his lips. couldn't leave my favourite alone now, could i?

what? say it again, i think i heard wrong.

his smile widens; he shakes his head.

megumi, power bank, his heart ? :: my phone's dying, you sigh.

no response.

my phone's dying, you repeat, louder.

say please. he's desperately fighting a losing battle, the corners of his lips twitching.

please, megumi, give me the power bank!

you snatch it greedily from his hands, connecting it to your phone.

no thanks?

thank you, megumi! you throw your arms around his neck suddenly, and he is glad that you cannot see the blush on his face.

megumi always carries power banks with him. it's a known fact by now; he always has one on him. meanwhile, your phone is always dying. what a coincidence!

or not.

because one day, you overhear him talking to yuji. you're not really listening, scrolling on your phone when you hear your own name.

it's only because of y/n that i need a backpack in the first place, megumi grumbles. otherwise, everything else fits on my pockets.

then don't? to yuji, the problem is easy to fix.

but they need it.

so?

megumi makes a grumbly noise in his throat; so cute, you think.

oh yeah, says yuji. i forgot you're horribly in love with them and everything you do is somehow connected to them.

oh.

they're here, by the way, he adds.

what? did they hear?

i don't know, yuji replies unhelpfully.

you barely manage to get your earphones in before they walk in.

you, flowers, chocolates, your heart ? :: today is the day. to say you're nervous is a huge understatement. your hands are shaking, palms sweaty, and you're shivering, even though it's not that cold. the flowers and chocolate wait patiently for you on your desk.

megumi, you say aloud to the empty room. megumi, i like you and—

fuck.

megumi, you begin again. i've liked you for a long time and—

who've you liked 'for a long time'? megumi looks mildly interested as he walks in. you always get kind of lonely around this time so i thought i'd come to hang out.

his voice is even, but you amidst the normal calm, you sense something controlled. like he's actually sad, or something.

no one!

yeah? he hums. i'm not buying it, but i won't push you.

fuck him! why does he always have to be this respectful? if he asked you, you wouldn't not have answered!

who gave you the flowers?

i bought them myself! you squeak.

he raises a brow at how high-pitched your voice is. for?

um.

you see the way he stiffens visibly, hand tightening around your doorknob. he swallows, and then, sorry for overstepping, y/n.

no!

what?

you're not overstepping, you tell him. you have every right to know. we're best friends, right?

... right, he responds, but there's something missing; he's clammed up, retracted into himself. his voice is forced into not showing any emotion, and he's backed away a little bit from you.

your heart breaks at the sight.

megumi, i like you!

you're shitting me, he replies.

no, really! also, i hope you don't mind, but a few weeks ago i heard yuji and you talking, and he said something, and—

stop talking, he murmurs. i want to kiss you.

megumi has never been greedy. be selfish, gojo's told him. he's never listened — he's had no reason to, after all. yet... right now, he understands. it's all he can think about — getting something he wants, getting it now.

when he makes his way back to you, all he can think of is how kissing you will feel. when he is kissing you, he realises that he wants this forever. so he lets himself be a little selfish, and tells you he loves you, and asks for the one thing he'd thought he'd never have — you.

new freaky writing style LOL only for this one though... also 3+1 because im lazy and sad and unmotivated. also grammatical errors highkey & im sorry.

[aithusarosekiller]

Regulus slowly grew to hate Sirius' joking remarks

It started when he was 10, on the night of the 31st of August, when they were having a sleepover in Sirius' room and talking about school the next day

Sirius, joking: when you come up to Scotland next year, you better stay away from my friends, I don't need you tarnishing my name haha

Regulus: good luck when you have to share the Slytherin common room with me then

Sirius: unless I get into gryffindor out of spite, wouldn't that be funny?

Regulus: don't be ridiculous

Naturally, the next day, that is precisely what happens. Of course it wasn't truly out of spite but that doesn't mean a bitter 10 year old won't take it that way.

A few months later at Christmas he harmlessly jokes about how he's going to make sure he's at the top in the subjects Regulus is excited for in order to set him some competition and guess where his top grades are that year? Given they both studied the same things growing up, they have a few talents in the same place, but it doesn't look that way to Regulus. He's a kid, he doesn't know it's all coincidence, he doesn't know that Sirius isn't choosing to be mean and just wants to joke around with him.

From there on out, he learns to associate Sirius' jokes with a big scheme to humiliate him despite that never being the plan. He thinks it's jealousy. Sirius thinks he's a stupid fool but can't put his finger on why his mood switched; besides him clearly just being a crazy mummy's boy who's too late to help now obviously.

[demigod-shenanigans]

Anyway have some Leo and Esperanza thoughts set in a universe where she’s alive:

-Definitely knew Leo was bi before he told her. This kid is not able to be subtle about his crushes ever 

-She was the first person Leo ever came out to. Just hugged him for ages and kissed his head and told him he’s perfect exactly how he is and she’s always going to love him no matter what 

-They Iris message almost daily when Leo first gets to camp. He’s so excited when he makes his first friend and gets to introduce her to Piper. Leo and Piper met in this universe because they were the oldest out of the kids claimed right after the Titan war and arrived at camp at the same time and they just clicked immediately 

-Let’s say in this universe Gaia doesn’t wake and Leo and Piper just sort of find an injured Jason on a mission by coincidence (make that “coincidence” because someone (Juno) decided it was time to mend the rift between camps and having CHB nurse one of the Camp Jupiter praetors then return him to his own camp unharmed was a good starting point)

-Jason stays at CHB for a while for diplomatic reasons and they properly become friends

-Esperanza definitely side-eyes Jason when he visits them for the first time because at first glance he gives off similar vibes to some of the football player kids who’ve bullied Leo before and she is Concerned but Jason withers so fast under her gaze that she ends up concerned for a completely different reason 

-Jason scrambles to try and tell her all the reasons why he thinks Leo is the most incredible person ever actually and yeah it turns out she really likes this kid (though she’s starting to get increasingly worried about what his home life looks like if some light glaring has him this rattled)

-He loves her cooking (but not as much as Leo’s. He’d never tell her that though)

-She doesn’t push Jason to talk about his home life or family but makes it very clear that he’s free to stay over whenever he wants. Fundamental mom instinct to wrap that boy in a blanket and make him hot cocoa.

-Esperanza is Jason’s first encounter with an adult that’s genuinely kind and caring towards him and he’s really really shocked about it. Like worrying amounts. He needs her to like him or he Will Die actually, especially because that’s Leo’s mom

-Esperanza definitely picks up on the vibes between Jason and Leo before Jason and Leo do. This isn’t even her being especially perceptive they’re just incredibly obvious and also idiots (I say this with affection)

-One summer Leo Iris messages his mom randomly in the middle of the day beaming but will not tell her what’s up. For like fifteen minutes he’s just smiling and fidgeting away talking about a whole bunch of nothing at all until she grins and asks “did you finally ask Jason out” and Leo just looks at her gobsmacked because he has no idea how she could have possibly figured that one out

-Jason tries to learn Spanish in parts to impress her and he is So Bad At It at first. She thinks it’s really sweet and is very encouraging (unlike Leo who just makes fun of his boyfriend for his shit pronunciation)

[tommystummy]

Don’t wanna be rude but I’m always struck when people talk about Buddie as if it’s imminent in season 8 as if Eddie’s main storyline isn’t going to be his son and his faith like I get that Eddie can have a relationship while also exploring those things but Buck coming into his own as a bisexual man with Tommy seems to be the over arching story for him in season 8 and for Eddie it’s going to be Chris and finally coming to terms with Shannon’s loss. If Buddie does happen, if it is in the cards, it won’t be for another season at least and I think too many people are setting themselves up for disappointment that’s only going to feed into the toxicity of this fandom once they realize that. After all, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the biggest explosion in anger from Buddie fans came the night of the finale after it was confirmed Buck and Tommy would be a couple into the next season. I’m afraid that if BuckTommy go strong into 8x18 there will be a large crowd of people who will start drama and go berserk in an even worse way during the 8 to 9 hiatus

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up Anniversary challenge.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Prompt: Anniversary | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Future Fic, Eddie Munson Lives, Or Did He?, He Definitely Did Right?, A Glitch in the Matrix, Shifted Timelines, Parallel Universes, Sliding Doors

"What are you doing?" Eddie asks sleepily. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the familiar shape of Steve crossing along the foot of bed, heading towards the window. 

That isn't unusual. If Steve hears a siren, or a dog barking, anything, he crawls out of bed and heads to the window to look. But tonight, Eddie hadn't heard anything. 

"Huh?" Steve responds, from bed, next to Eddie.

Eddie looks again, expecting to see Steve bent over at the waist, looking out the window, but there's nothing there. Instead, Steve's in bed, and has clearly been asleep.

Eddie swallows. Maybe he was dreaming, "Sorry. I think I was dreaming," he says, hoping he can convince himself of that. He looks at the alarm clock on the nightstand, and it's just after three.

Steve chuckles, voice rough with sleep, and pulls the comforter up over his shoulder.

Eddie thinks, weird. 

But then it continues happening. 

All day, he's felt like there's someone just out of his line of sight, and that person seems a whole lot like Steve. Eddie isn't scared, per se. He's unnerved, for sure, but it feels like Steve. Not a ghost or a demon, or anything sinister. 

It's just like a second version of Steve is moving around the house, dancing along his peripheral vision, and Eddie is forced to only observe. 

It's not until later that he realizes the date: March 27th, 2006. 

It's the anniversary of his near death in the Upside Down. That can't be a coincidence. That's the day he was sure he was dying, if not already dead, and then he suddenly wasn't. The bites weren't that bad. All superficial. He barely even needed any medical attention at all.

Dustin had overreacted.

And, yeah, it felt hazy at first, but they all just blamed it on the stress and adrenaline he'd been pumped full of. Blamed it on the near death experience that wasn't actually that near death at all.

And now, he's seeing an echo, a ghost, of someone very much alive. 

There's a glitch in the matrix. 

Like when you see two people, strangers, on public transportation wearing the exact same shirt, sitting one row in front of the other. Only, Eddie's seeing Steve. A different version of Steve.

Eddie does a deep dive on the internet. Decides it's not a glitch in the matrix at all. Instead, he's pretty damn sure he's shifted timelines from the one where he died, to this new one where he didn't, and now they're bleeding together. All these years later.

Steve listens, patiently, and then kisses him on the top of the head, "Honey, I was there. You lived. I promise. 'Twas barely a scratch."

Eddie nods. 

Of course. Of course that's true. 

But he thinks maybe the other outcome was true, too.

Shadow Steve is getting more vibrant, and now Eddie can follow him around the house. Not really able to look at him straight on, but if he keeps the corner of his eye trained in his direction, he can see him for longer stretches.

He's the same, but different. 

Quieter, sadder. More alone. 

And there's no Eddie there. Eddie is 100% sure of that. 

He's gotta do something about this.

Eddie's sitting outside of Nancy's office when she comes out of the door.

"Eddie!" she says, surprised, but happy to see him. He's about to rain all over her parade.

"I'm dead. I'm in the wrong timeline," he says, and her face falls. She reaches out, and puts her hand on his forearm.

"C'mon," she says, and he gets in her car, and looks down at his hands.

"What's going on?" she finally asks.

"I'm seeing Steve, in the house," he explains, and she raises an eyebrow, and he laughs, "Not that Steve. Not my Steve. But he's there, too. He's good," he promises. Because he knows she'll worry.

"Start from the beginning," she urges, and he does. Telling her everything.

"It's just a glitch in the matrix," she assesses, and he shakes his head.

"It's not. It's too frequent. It wasn't a one and done deal. It wasn't a trick of the light, or a shadow. He's there. Just outta my sight. Like he's in a parallel universe."

"And you're sure it's Steve? Not something Upside Down-related?"

"It's Steve. I'm not scared of him. Because it's Steve."

Nancy follows him all the way back to Hawkins, then sits on the bed beside him. 

"Eddie," she says, and he shushes her. Taking her cheeks, forcing her to look in the direction he wants. It doesn't take long.

"There!" Eddie says, and Nancy gasps. 

Fuck. He was kinda hoping he was just losing his mind.

"You can see him?" he asks.

"I can see him. Barely. Out of the corner of my eye. It's definitely Steve."

Eddie sighs, "Told you. What the fuck do I do now?"

Steve can't see him. Eddie can. Nancy can. Robin can. Dustin can.

But, Steve? He just can't.

Nancy thinks it's because it is Steve. The same Steve. Just minding his own business in another timeline, that's now somehow bleeding into theirs. 

"Do you think this is lingering weirdness from the Upside Down?" Eddie asks.

"If it is, we should get El," Dustin suggests, and they all agree.

El takes one look at him, "That is Steve."

"Yes, we're aware," Eddie says, "how do we merge the two?"

"You cannot."

"Can we at least close the damn curtains?" Eddie doesn't want to keep seeing this Steve.

El thinks about that, "Maybe."

She forces Steve to hold her hands, and while reluctant, he's willing. For Eddie.

It's quiet, then Steve says, "Oh, whoa. That's me." Then, "Tingly."

And Shadow Steve fades away. Disappearing, like he'd never been there.

"Is he okay?" Eddie asks. He doesn't want any version of Steve to disappear. 

"Yes. Now you cannot see him. Not gone, just invisible again."

"Out of sight, out of mind?" Eddie asks. 

She nods, "Exactly."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

[frangipanilove]

Thoughts on Isabelle as a Beth proxy

(Beware of potentially unpleasant romance-related spoilers below)

@bethgreeneprevails I hope you have recovered from your traumatic morning the other day (hopefully this won't traumatize you further). As promised, here are a few of my thoughts on why I’m not terribly distressed by the prospect of potential hints of romance between Daryl and Isabelle. I typed this out the other week, then of course yesterday THOSE spoilers came out (under the cut, to save lives), then all hell broke loose, and here we are.

Yes, they are unpleasent spoilers for sure! I’ll address them briefly in here, but they actually don’t really significantly change how I already feel.

And honestly there’s not really anything new and groundbreaking in here in terms of analysis, just a few thoughts I’ve been having about Isabelle as a Beth proxy.

So to get it out of the way, the recent spoilers report that apparently Daryl and Isabelle will share a kiss. I know, I know. I wasn’t thrilled to hear that either. But I’m still not terribly concerned about it, and I’ll try to explain why.

First of all, I don’t know if these are credible spoilers or not. It’s my understanding that they originated from DearTV, but I haven’t been able to confirm that, so keep that in mind.

But at a certain point last night they seemed to be all over the internet:

And while I reserve the right to be moderately grumpy about it, I don’t think we’re in for a porno here. I expect it to be fairly harmless and innocent. I think we’ll survive. Unlike poor Isabelle.

I originally wanted to write this post because I feel strongly that Isabelle has so much Beth-proxyness (totally a word) about her, and anything that happens between Isabelle and Daryl, on some level says something about his relationship to Beth. While it was subtle during season 1, it was definitely noticeable, and I believe it’s going to become a lot more obvious during season 2.

First a few words on why I originally came to see Isabelle as a Beth proxy. It actually started long before season 1 aired, and it has to do with their names:

As you can see, the French “Isabelle” (and Spanish “Isabel”), originally derived from the medieval French /Spanish version of the name Elizabeth. And “Beth” is an established short-form of the name Elizabeth. So “Isabelle” is etymologically directly linked to the name Elizabeth, and “Beth” is an established short-form of the name Elizabeth.

I was curious about this connection even before the show had aired, because it seemed like such an unlikely coincidence. The two names basically share the same origin! That’s earns a major side-eye from me, why would TPTB do that if not for establishing a subtle connection between the two characters? Keep in mind that this was an impression that was formed before the show had aired, solely based on the name etymology. I wondered if Isabelle was there to function as a Beth proxy, and I wondered how this would carry over to the show.

Then episode 1 was released, and we saw this:

Yup, Isabelle has a wrist scar, just like Beth does. She’s definitely a Beth proxy. Because the wrist scar, that’s undeniably a Beth callback. That’s something that was a topic in 4x12 Still when Daryl and Beth had the fight at the moonshine shack, it was something Dawn used against her at Grady etc. The wrist scar has become something that’s tied to Beth, not anyone else.

And it’s significant that this is one of the very first things we learn about Isabelle. It’s quite literally the first glimpse we get into her character that goes beyond the superficial stuff such as her appearance, that she’s a nun etc.

It’s a defining moment for Isabelle, we learn that there’s more to her than just being a pious nun, and it’s something that ties her character directly to Beth.

And as the season went by, there were other things, dialogue callbacks etc. I don’t even remember. But that wrist scar was the main reason I could never unsee the parallels to Beth.

And towards the end of the season we could definitely see some sort of connection forming between Isabelle and Daryl, a connection that wasn’t necessarily strictly about platonic friendship. I expect us to see more of that in season 2, and no, it’s not going to be delightful to witness. But we’ll survive.

I'm not going to lie, we’ve had reports suggesting that Isabelle will die, and it’s likely that my anxiety would be higher if we didn’t already know that.

But if Daryl starts falling for her, he’s falling for a Beth proxy, because that’s how she was introduced to the show. Obviously that’s not all she is, she’s a character in her own right, but she definitely carries traits that are supposed to remind us of Beth.

Her presence makes room for Daryl’s memories about Beth. Again, it was subtle and understated in season 1, but I expect it to increase in season 2. For instance, I do believe we’ll see a conversation between them about Beth prior to the hallucination scene in the Euro tunnel where Daryl eventually instructs her to tell Merle, Beth and Glenn he tried, which I discussed briefly here and here.

Another thing; I might be in the minority here but I interpret Isabelle’s lying and manipulation differently than many others. I’m fully expecting pushback on this but hear me out:

Isabelle is Laurent’s de facto mother figure. She’s his only remaining family, and she’s protecting him as though he’s her own child. There’s a parallel to Beth here, in that she’s also been a parent figure (to Judith and others), she’s fiercely protective of children and has been surrounded by parent/child symbolism.

And while in isolation, Isabelle’s behavior towards Daryl is indeed manipulative, I interpret it as a mother’s (or mother’s figure’s) desperate attempts to ensure her child’s safety. I don’t think her behavior comes from a place of malicious intent, I see it as a testament of the lengths to which a mother will go to protect her child. She perceives Daryl as Laurent’s best chance of survival, and she goes all in, unapologetically. I can’t hold that against her, I would probably also lie and manipulate to protect my child. I think that’s human nature.

And we see how Daryl, while reluctant at first, slowly start to develop a bond with Laurent. That scene of them on the riverbank when Laurent let the boat go is stellar. First we see Daryl give into his anger, lashing out at Laurent, likely following the pattern he learned from his own father growing up.

But then we watch him reach a moment of clarity, where he sees himself from the outside, replicating the dysfunctional parenting style of his father. He manages to regulate his emotions and get control over himself. He then sincerely apologizes to Laurent and chooses a different path, a different parenting style, one of love, patience and tolerance. That’s an incredible moment of character development for Daryl, and it shows that whatever manipulation he’s been subjected to by Isabelle has in fact made him a better person. Maybe Isabelle knows what he needs better that he knows himself. Much like Beth did.

We see a similar moment of real, healthy parenting in the trailer, where Daryl talks to Laurent about the three of them going to the US.

Obviously, I haven’t watched this scene yet, so for all I know my analysis could be completely wrong. That’s a problem for future me. For now, I’m loving this shot. I’ve never seen Daryl this paternal, and quite frankly it’s HOT! This, to me, looks like solid, healthy parenting, by someone who’s come a long way, emotionally speaking. He excels when he gets to be a parent.

And he has Isabelle’s manipulation to thank for that. Her “manipulation” unlocked something good in him. I actually don’t see it as manipulation. She’s surviving and making sure Laurent survives too.

I think you could actually argue that Beth would have responded to the situation in a similar way, which is another reason I’m side-eying Isabelle’s character. I 100% believe Beth would lie and manipulate in order to protect her child, or any child. We’ve already seen her do that to protect her loved ones, in 5x4 Slabtown, before her escape attempt with Noah.

We saw her, ice cold and lying through her teeth, telling Dawn that she saw Gorman go into her office. Her steady gaze and cool calm demeanor as she lied to Dawn’s face, seconds after having fed Gorman to walker-Joan, just so that she and Noah could escape from Grady, that’s imo the same impulse Isabelle is following to protect Laurent. Do whatever it takes to protect your loved ones. Lie, manipulate, steal…

And she later does the same in order to save Carol’s life, when it’s decided that Carol isn’t worth the resources it would take to save her.

I don’t see it as manipulative as much as I see it as being fiercely protective and ruthless on behalf of your loved ones and your children. I don’t see it as an inherently “bad” quality, I see it as “doing whatever it takes” to protect your family. Both Beth and Isabelle have that same ruthlessness when it comes to protecting their loved ones. And I’m excited about that because it’s yet another parallel between them.

And Isabelle, just like Beth, sacrificed herself. She returned to her abusive ex boyfriend because she thought that would be Laurent’s best chance of getting to safety at the Nest. Beth sacrificed herself for Noah, twice. And stopped at nothing to save Carol’s life.

So yeah, I think all of this is just a long way of saying that I believe we’ll see even more similarities and parallels between Beth and Isabelle in season 2. We probably will see Daryl develop some sort of feelings for Isabelle. Yes, it will be difficult to watch, but I think it’s a part of the process Daryl needs to evolve. I think there’s a reward for us at the end of it. And ultimately it might even be good for Daryl to have a little taste of those feelings. He might open up about Beth, I fully believe we’ll see them talk about Beth, and I do believe it will be thoroughly communicated how important Beth was to him, either explicitly through dialogue, or alternatively more subtly, through symbolism. And Isabelle will most likely die, while Beth will hopefully “resurrect”.

I believe the budding romance (or whatever) will make space for so much Beth symbolism, if we can just tolerate watching it for long enough to get a good grasp on the symbolism surrounding it. I do believe it will mostly be fairly innocent, at least that’s what I’m going to tell myself for now. And Beth will always be lurking in the symbolic shadows. In the narrative it will be about Daryl and Isabelle, but beneath the surface it will also address Daryl’s feelings towards Beth.

I think my main message with all of the above is that I expect to see the Beth-proxyness of Isabelle turned up a notch this season, and that it will function as a primer for bringing Beth back. I think we’ll see it both in terms of more subtle, between-the-lines symbolism, but also increasingly by having her explicitly talked about, for example in conversations between Daryl and Isabelle, such as we saw from the leaked script pages the other week.

[like-yknow-nyah]

you know what isn't appreciated enough? the ways in which tsukishima takes after sugawara senpai~

it's not really emphasized by the framing of the anime like other character dynamics, but there are some pretty consistent tell-tale throughlines that hint at how much tsukki respects him. the obvious start is that tsukki never sasses or talks back to suga - sure, this is generally pretty true of all the third years, but i think he seems especially yielding to suga. suga even gets to hit him and mess up his hair, and tsukki will respond to him with reserved frustration but none of his usual irony - at worst, a very earnest "could you please stop?" he certainly has thoughts about it, but he actually exhibits resraint with that sharp tongue of his lolol i have to wonder if he holds back because suga somewhat reminds him of akiteru, who plays a similar role of being supportive, guiding, and sincere.

as for volleyball, we see from the get-go whenever he steps on the court that suga is actually a very intellectual player. he keeps a keen eye on where everyone is on the court, measuring where their strengths and weaknesses are, so that even if he doesn't have hinata's attack speed, kageyama's precision, or tsukki's high blocks, he can pinpoint the exact weak spot that only needs that little push to come apart. and then he tugs on that thread to see how much of the enemy team's formation he can unravel. his strategy is consistently on point, not unlike the play style we see tsukishima adopt as he grows out of his shell.

and i'm sure that's partially just because they happen to have a natural inclination toward the mental game of volleyball. but there are also very specific on-court habits that appear to be directly modeled after suga. the first time we get to really see suga's strength in action in s1, he's running all over his team's side of the court saying "hey you, come here, i have an idea," integrating each and every member of the team in the way that best suits their abilities. the play suga specifically asked tsukki to try is the strategic blocker switch. tsukki even tries to give him his due credit for a well-called play, but suga explains it like it's actually a really easy call to make. it's not really shown, but i do genuinely think something clicked into place for tsukki that expanded the ways he can read the court.

by season 2, tsukki is using a very similar thought process to predict where kyotani will hit and do the blocker switch with tanaka. and i don't think it's a coincidence that this is during their rematch with seijoh, the team against whom suga originally deployed this strategy.

we see tsukishima further mirror suga's play style (albeit adapted to the position of a blocker) in s3 as he becomes more confident and comfortable with his role in the team and on the court. he begins to take the initiative to conceptualize plays to share with his teammates, walking up to them individually like "ちょっと..." and asking if the team would trust him to make certain calls.

it's these little moments of behavior borrowed from suga that open tsukishima up to his teammates, especially his fellow first-years, and become that first cornerstone upon which they build up to a near-blind trust in each other throughout s4. the only one on karasuno aside from tsukki and suga who even sometimes makes these kinds of plays is kageyama, who is more directly suga's mentee by position, but arguably takes after him less than tsukishima does.

[sweetpinkchampagne]

take me back to the start

pairing: simon riley x fem reader

synopsis: simon is deployed to fight in a proxy war in lebanon, with christmas nearing - its weird you get a 2am call from him when he’s supposed to be fighting.

warnings: mentions of war, guns, violence, cliche meet cute, elf being named as the best christmas movie :), major character death :(

note: so im actually sick in the head, angst for a tuesday night felt right though. love you all, we can pretend this is a hea or maybe i can rewrite it as one? stay safe pumpkins! for ultimate angst play the scientist by coldplay. https://open.spotify.com/track/75JFxkI2RXiU7L9VXzMkle?si=DJVMJFadQ3-ixAJjib3i6w

a meet cute is what they call it in those cheesy romance movies: “(in a film or television programme) an amusing or charming first encounter between two characters that leads to the development of a romantic relationship between them.” it was too cliche to be a coincidence. you had a gun in your hands, pointed at your target, focus in your open eye as you shot and missed.

the laughing clown on the carnival stand wall. the loud sound of metal clinking as you hit a tin can instead rang in your ears and you sighed softly. you felt a presence next to you, confidence exuding from him. embarrassment flushed your cheeks, expecting a chuckle or a tongue in cheek phrase. but he spoke softly to you, despite his gruff manchester accent.

“first time handling a gun?” the man asked and you turned to look up at him. 6’5. holy shit?

“is it that obvious..?” you sighed softly, laughing and covering your face in shame.

“not a bad thing love, you wanna learn how to shoot one properly? i can help ya.”

“you shoot guns? are you even qualified to do that?”

“you’d be surprised.”

“yes please..” you smiled softly, laughing at your attempts as he nodded, walking behind you and putting his hands on your hips, lining you up properly.

“this okay?”

“mhm” you said softly, focused on the task at hand, not his huge hands on your hips. you looked back up to meet the eyes of the teenager behind the jump, i mean obviously this was a scam but you thought it would be fun. he looked about 15, can of coke in hand, gaze elsewhere clearly not wanting to work at the carnival of all places.

simon’s foot moved between the small gap between your ankles and kicked one of them to the side slightly and you yelped, but he braced you in his grip, a chuff escaping his lips.

“now dont be gettin skittish when you’re holdin a gun, not a good look, huh?” you nodded laughing softly as he lined your hands up.

“uh-uh, bend this one.” he tapped your left up softly and you bent it, the other one straight.

“atta girlll, lookin like a sharp shooter now. m’kay, need ya to pretend you’re cutting a slice of pie, one arm bent, one straight, focus on the target and adjust your aim by moving your arm softly up and down across to the target like you’re cutting pie.” you smiled to yourself at the sweet analogy and you complied.

“slow- slow..” he added softly and you slowed your pace.

“shoot.” he spoke softly and you hesitated

“i really dont think im gonna get it-”

“shoot for me love.” this time you didnt hesitate, but you yelped as a loud “YOU WON!” automated winning message rung out through the speakers of the carnival machine.

“gosh!” you sighed, clutching your heart and laughing, shocked from the sudden noise. he laughed with you. the rest of that night was spent on the beach pier, long after dark where numbers were exchanged and names were shared. a year later he put a ring on it. mrs. riley.

it was the first snow of the month. 23 days and counting until christmas, and you could not contain the excitement. tucked up in your king sized bed, covered in blankets, bedsocks, flannel pajamas and the weighted blanket you used when simon was on deployment. it was comforting, made you feel like he was right there beside you: waking up next to his blonde stubble pressed against your neck as he rested on your shoulder. it was 2am, you had just stayed up to watch elf, because its a fact that's the best christmas movie to exist, and those idiots who say home alone clearly suck the fun out of things. because m&m spaghetti? yes please. 11 more days until you could run into his sweaty grimy arms, being poked by his tactical gear and not giving two shits, because your husband would be home. christmas could finally come. you tossed and turned thinking about holding your husbands cheeks in your hands, he was probably beyond exhausted, deployed in lebanon, you weren’t allowed to know, so you didn’t ask, but he called you when he could: always during the late hours into the night for him, so he wouldnt wake you in the middle of the night. a gentleman. time zone differences sucked.

you huffed as you flipped your pillow over to the cool side and laid your head down annoyed at your inability to fall asleep. your phone’s screen lit up the room, your lockscreen making you smile, a photo of simon teaching you how to chop wood in your backyard, your head was back, laughing as you wore a typical ‘lumberjack’ flannel because you thought they were sexy, simon refused much to your demise to wearing one as well. the lockscreen was replaced with his name, an incoming call. your eyebrows furrowed, it was late. but you supposed it had been 3 days since he last called, this was probably because he just got access to reception. you lazily reached over, hitting click and closing your eyes, falling back onto the pillow and smiling when you heard his voice.

“didn’t think you’d answer, you should be asleep, baby.” he spoke into the phone.

“always answer for you, si. what, late night booty call?” you giggled into the phone, you were joking of course, but you wanted to hear him laugh. and he did.

“hilarious one, you are.” he shook his head, laughing heartily.

“mhmm thats why you married me.”

“thats why i married you.” he parroted back to you, softer this time.

“i missed you, its been 3 days.”

“i know baby, im sorry- it’s been tight here.” you sat up softly, leaning up against the pillows

“is everything alright?” you asked a little concerned.

“yeah. uh-” you heard him wince softly, hearing shuffling in the background.

“si? what’s- are you hurt? where’s johnny?” you said seriously, eyebrows furrowed.

“baby..need you to listen to me, can ya do that fr’ me?” he said pained.

“simon?” you choked out, out of bed, pacing out the bedroom.

“mission went south. i uh-..” he paused and you held onto your phone for dear life. “i don’t think im gonna make it back to you sweetheart.” he almost whispered. you didnt respond for a moment, choked sobs filling the room, and his end of the call.

he was pressed up against a sandstone wall, his men were killed in action, he avenged them, but at what cost? he lay there, shot in the abodmen, cuts all over him, laboured breathing as he held his stomach.

“nono- no.. baby, i dont- we cant- .. i dont.. we’re running outta time, yeah? cant have my last time hearing ya be hearing your sobs.” he began to break down, his voice shaky. you wailed.

“you cant do this! you cant- how, i dont- im not even going to be able to bury you! this isnt fair, we were.. this wasnt supposed to happen.”

“sweetha’rt- please listen to me. dont have time. we dont have time” his voice pitched as he winced in pain. “fuck.” he choked out, head thrown back. “i love you, you know that? more than anything in this fucked up little world. you’re keeping me going here.” he said softly into the phone.

your hands were cradling your head, ear pressed to the phone as you accepted this fucked reality that the cards dealt you with. you finally found it. safety, love all for it to be ripped out from underneath you for some fucking proxy war he had been tasked to fight in. his stocking hung up by the fireplace next to yours, already filled with new cologne and underwear.

“i love you- iloveyou more than i could even put into words. please simon, please dont do this to me.”

“i dont have a choice lovie. you’re my strong girl, you can be brave for me, yeah?” you didnt speak into the phone, too pained.

“honey.” he said sternly.

“i promise i will be, of course i will be.” you responded breathing erratically.

“tell me about today.” he said sternly.

“what? no, simon.. thats”

“please. need to hear you speak to me.”

“i-.. i um, i got the oil changed today for the car, and i know you said you wanted to do it because i get ripped off at the mechanics but i couldnt wait… i made gingerbread today, and i gave some to the next door neighbours because im used to you eating what i bake within seconds, and it was too much for one.” he smiled softly into the phone, you could hear it in his voice.

“what i would give for some of your fuckin gingerbread right now.” you sniffled softly, nodding.

“it snowed. it snowed today, a whole foot. i thought of you.” you smiled into the phone, your nose dripping and your cheeks streaked as you blubbered.

“you’re in the snow, im in a desert.” he laughed weakly at the irony.

“simon i cant do this, pretend this is a normal conversation, i cant let you die. dont die, dont leave me here.” you wailed loudly, clutching at your heart.

you could hear him sigh, not out of frustration but out of defeat, he cursed the fucking suicide mission he had been sent on. what about this shit fight was honorable? this wasn’t war, this was just killing for the sake of killing.

“yes you can. you coulda been a fuckin soldier, stubborn as one. you’re so strong baby, so strong. you can do it, for me you can.” he said sternly. “baby i-.. i gotta.. i gotta go soon..getting cold.” he added.

“close your eyes” you whispered into the phone softly. “close your eyes and pretend you’re with me, its okay honey. you can rest now.” you tried to be strong for him, even though your voice was shaking.

“mm.. beside you. does the house still smell like gingerbread?”

“yes” you breathed

“i can smell it. when i close my eyes and imagine… i betcha the kitchens covered in icing sugar and gumdrops.” you laughed, hiccuping as you tastes your own tears.

“i love you baby. im sorry i brought you into this. not how i wanted to go. you know that.”

“i know, dont apologise. its okay. you cold?”

“colder.” blood loss.

“i know. its okay. rest, you can.. you can let go.”

“dont hang up.”

“of course i wont. not leaving you si. you’re stuck with me.” he laughed weakly, and went quiet.

“still with me honey?” you asked, fear in your voice. a grunt of approval rung through the phone. running out of time.

“i love you simon riley. more than anything in this fucked up little world.”

the line went quiet. he died peacefully, hearing your sweet words, phone cradled into his chest as he drew his final breath.

p.s. while you did never get to bury his body (it was never found), you were given his badges from the base and his spare dog tags.

“S. RILEY”

[galadrieljones]

"Bet on Hope": More Thoughts on Isabelle

This is a response to @frangipanilove's post about Isabelle as a Beth Proxy. I agree 100% with everything frangi says and had to type up this quick follow-up, regarding Isabelle as a "proxy" for Beth.

I want to add that this may feel a little out of left field, but I believe that Beth and Isabelle are connected even in the hard wiring of some of the symbols we've seen over the years. What I want to talk about here is one of the last things it seems we will hear Isabelle say in the series, which is: "Bet on hope." She can be heard saying it in the trailer, and it also appears in the *leaked* script from episode 2.6.

The language "Bet on hope" is unique and uses gambling rhetoric and essentially conjures an underdog situation. To bet on hope is to call the enemy's bluff, and to hold out "hope" that you can win, even against all odds. The opposite of betting on hope would be to fold, to give into your fate, even if you still have a chance to win, or if your chances are, essentially, no worse off than your enemy's.

First, I have to wonder, what "hope" they are betting on here. I maintain there's a connection to the actual character Hope Bennett from The World Beyond, who, as a distiller and a scientist currently hiding out with T.B. Ellis, I think will be instrumental in curing Wildfire or finding a remedy for it. I think we should literally "Bet on Hope" (capital H).If you rewatch the WB coda to season 2, you'll notice that the French scientist (who has a folder full of T.B. Ellis papers on her laptop) uses the word "hope" multiple times, mainly in iterations of the phrase: "Hope beyond hope." She is "hoping beyond hope" that the Primrose Team will return to France and "end all of this."

We also see in episode 1.4 of The Ones Who Live, at the "Greenwood" laboratory where Rick and Michonne find themselves after exiting the helicopter, a poster that urges residents to "Keep Hope Alive!" None of this is coincidence!

Hope Bennett aside, when thinking of the phrase "Bet on hope," I am also reminded of episode 10.19 "One More," which TD pounced on long ago as containing a huge number of "Still" callbacks, including alcohol consumption, drinking games, golf, color parallelism, and cards. The episode revolves largely around Father Gabriel's slow loss of faith, a conflict which he will confront in season 11, and Aaron's struggle to believe in himself as a survivor. Their dynamic mirrors that of Daryl and Beth in "Still."

In "One More," FG and Aaron play a game of poker while drinking whiskey. At the end of the scene, FG bluffs his way to a win, because, instead of calling his bluff, Aaron folds. Episode 10.19 is all about foreshadowing and setting up characterization for the future, just like so many of the episodes in 10c. It is also the episode that comes directly after "Find Me."

What's so interesting about their poker game is not JUST that Aaron folds in the face of adversity, but the way that the hand goes down. Mind you that they're not playing for money. They're playing for bottle caps, so essentially, there's nothing at stake. Aaron, in a very Beth-esque "bullshit" moment, accuses FG of bluffing, so FG urges him to call his bluff.

Aaron, however, is afraid. He "doesn't have enough" to call. In a game with no cash pot, FG, however, realizes one has to be creative. He tells Aaron to bet his whiskey.

At this point, Aaron considers it. He even starts to push his cup toward the pot, but then at the last moment, he folds. You can see in his hand that he has a jack, just before he throws his cards down. It doesn't mean he has a better hand than FG, but it does mean he could have something, and that it's worth soldiering forth. He will not "bet on hope" here, so to speak. He gives up.

After FG wins, Aaron then demands that FG show him his hand, and what are the cards that FG holds? An 8 and a 2.

In the shot above, you can see in the background of FG's hand a mini-golf set. Apparently a game of mini-golf was among deleted scenes for this episode. The 8 and 2 here, which is a terrible hand, and which beat Aaron (who was too afraid to call FG's bluff), is yet another callback to Engine 82, the firetruck that mysteriously disappears without any explanation after "Coda." The firetruck that Abraham's group previously fights tooth and nail to defend from walkers. Where did it go?

Whatever happened to the firetruck may explain what happened to Beth. After "Coda," both Beth's body AND the firetruck disappear without a trace, and we never learn what happened or why.

"Bet on hope" could mean, essentially, hold out for the long odds. You could still find the one thing that's been missing all these years, which could solve all of your problems and deficiencies. Even if it is hidden behind a major, major "bluff." You must see through it and be brave enough to call it out. You may have to be creative, to bet everything. And to do this, you need all the hope you can muster. Unsurprisingly, Isabelle, a woman of faith, just like Father Gabriel, gets it.

It could also be important, especially as this is in response to a frangipanilove post and contains the reference to "Hope" Bennett, that in "One More," Aaron considers betting his alcohol to call FG's bluff. Alcohol, we are all pretty sure, has some connection to the "cure" for Wildfire, as the "Staff of Life" (quoted by Jim, the beer brewer from Fear season 4). I've also written a post comparing the French herbal liqueur Chartreuse to the potential cure for Wildfire. Essentially, I think "Bet on Hope" also means "Bet on a Cure." It also just means, "Don't give up. To get the happy ending you desire, you have to take the long odds."

Alcohol, Engine 82, and golf all in one shot. Both a nun and a priest encouraging a doubter to bet on hope. Idk if it means what I think it means but I'm going to "bet on hope" a little longer.

[cakerybakery]

Mmm how good would Adam look as a 23 year old orphan caring for his ten year old sister in a post world war three world where the divide between classes is so prominent that the lowest class live in the outer ring of a city and often drop out of school to apprentice at a job due to the lack of money to pay for it. But Adam’s parents worked hard to try and keep him in school only for his mother to fall ill and die, leaving them with a baby that needed tending to and his father to fall to the depression and drink.

So for three years, prime apprenticeship age for a boy of his class, Adam is the sole caregiver of his baby sister and does odd jobs when he can to make extra money to pay for her milk. Then there’s an accident on the job site and they loose their father too. At least their one bedroom tiny apartment is paid for, thanks to their parents scraping by for years and doing everything they could to prevent having more than Adam for as long as they could, but now Adam doesn’t have the job training to find proper work, he has no education to join a middle class profession and instead must do odd jobs, steal, and when times are truly tough he dons his mother’s dress, one last thing he has of her that he can’t pawn or sell for scraps, and goes down to the docks. Trading himself for a bit of coin or fish to the early morning sailors.

His sister wants to stop going to school to start as an apprentice to help pay for things. She doesn’t know if she believes that Adam is only doing honest work. His friend is a thief after all. Adam earns just enough to keep paying for her schooling though and he’s going to do anything he can to ensure she gets a high enough education to get a job in the second ring and move her up in life so her children never have to worry about food or education, so he won’t let her.

To assure her that he has enough saved that if anything happened she would have the money for school he decides to listen to a friend and go to the first ring and pickpocket the rich bastards there.

The train needs a ticket to let him past the first ring though. He plans on hiding in the bathroom.

On the train, coming in to do business in the first ring, is Lucifer. He is young, Adam’s age, but head’s his family’s company. His grandfather built it during the war. His father nearly ruined it. Lucifer has the ability to tell what someone’s desires are though and since he was young was able to court his family’s business partners and clients by softening them up with what they desired. The company was ultimately passed to him over his father because of it.

On the train he mainly ignores the desires of the passengers around him, but for one brief moment he feels the desire for him flare up and just as quickly it becomes the desire to provide for his sister. That interests Lucifer. What kind of person sees someone they desire so strongly and immediately stops desiring them as though he was but a passing fancy? Of all the selfish desires he’s ever seen this man about his age thinks mainly of his sister?

Then the desire shifts again to not getting caught as he makes his way to the bathroom. So Lucifer follows, he pushes himself into the bathroom with him, and impulsively gets the guy to take his inner ring ticket. He’s rich and foreign. he can pretend not to understand the laws about the tickets. Which he ends up doing.

Adam doesn’t know why this stranger is helping him or how he knew he needed a ticket. But he was almost caught and as the guy is lead off at the second ring to go buy a ticket to continue on, he’s grateful.

In the inner ring he’s ignored. Most assuming he’s some sort of paid help or delivery boy. They don’t notice their wallets are lighter until it’s much too late.

Until he pick pockets the wrong man. As coincidence has it, Adam runs into Lucifer, who helps him yet again.

Lucifer is finding Adam rather interesting indeed. He helps Adam escape by being able to tell where the police are by their desire to capture Adam. The trains are out and the two of them make their way slowly to the third ring.

The city being so large it takes several hours to get back to Adam’s place on foot. By the time they make it they’ve become friends but Lucifer is rather flirty and Adam is rather interested in being flirted with. Emily, Adam’s sister, was worried sick when he didn’t come home. He assures her, he lies to her, that everything was fine and he simply was out all night with an old friend.

They see her off to school and the two fall into Adam’s bed. He shares the room with his sister but she stopped sharing a bed with him a few years back. Stringing up a cloth divider to have her own space.

Adam thinks of it as a bit of a one night stand. Some fun to be had.

Lucifer finds himself smitten and keeps coming around.

Adam’s friend (going to make him Steve, cause fuck that guy) is jealous. He’s been in love with Adam for years but Adam has never noticed. Steve decides the best way to get the rich prick Lucifer to fuck off and make Adam fall for him is to secretly turn Adam in for theft.

Emily will need a caretaker while Adam is in prison and that’s where Steven comes in and plays the hero. Caring for her while Adam does time. Then when Adam is out he won’t be able to find any work and will have to rely on him! Adam will be all his.

Of course Lucifer steps in instead of flaky when Adam is arrested. He’s rich. Like hiring the best lawyers money can buy rich. Lawyers that point out that they don’t actually know it was Adam and have no proof that it was him beside an anonymous tip. Eyewitnesses saw him on the train? Well, they also saw Lucifer didn’t they? He was also seen in the inner ring with Lucifer. They’re dating, of course they were together for most of the day. Except for when Lucifer misunderstood that he would also need a ticket and had to catch another train.

So he could have been the thief? Lucifer was on the next train and Adam stayed rather close to the station. No one could place him there by they also couldn’t say he wasn’t there. Although as luck would have it they remembered Lucifer and perhaps he was with someone, so hard to remember. Ultimately there was too much doubt that Adam was the pick pocket. Especially since he’d never been in trouble with the law before. Most folks in the neighbourhood had hired him for part time work but didn’t have the income to hire him as an apprentice. Not when they already had apprentices.

Lucifer even stepped in to care for Emily. Steve was rather pissed when he went over to console her and found Lucifer making her breakfast that he had brought the ingredients for. The table had never seen so much food. Lucifer also paid for her schooling for longer than even the second ring jobs required.

When it’s over Lucifer buys a place in the inner ring. He had business to oversee anyways and eventually they marry and live happily ever after.

—-

I always did like that old dream I’d had.

[waterfalls-bunny]

AIGHT DUDE I PROMISED AN ASK HERES AN ASK

In your post I just praised about Kenny cleaning his sister’s bedroom but not his own: I just noticed this staring at the picture, is that a packed bag in Kenny’s room ready to go???

Because if it is then that is the most depressingly realistic element of growing up in a shitty household holy crap

I had to make a double take bc you're right what

So now let's go on a trip over Kenny's bedroom pics to see first if it was an odd coincidence or is a constant element (in which i agree with the way you think)

This is Kenny's bedroom! As I mentioned in my last analysis, it's disorganized, the bed is not even made and the clothing is kinda scattered around. Not the worst state his room has been tho. Another thing to consider is that during the early seasons everything was far more simple so you can find pics like the following

I'd say the key details are his bed, the scrapped curtains, his toy box (chest like), the rat hole and ofc the posters LMAO

I found similar pics of his bedroom but none of them had that exact backpack anywhere so is one episodic thing

Im betting this is the PSP episode so brb

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a quick rewatch later

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OH OK THATS VERY OUT OF CONTEXT LMAO

Ok so long story short Kenny was so obsessed with his PSP that long story short he started neglecting everything INCLUDING his chores so long story short (pls tell me you get it) that bag is full of dirty clothing 😭😭😭

So that shot was from a sequence, the pic below was when he was just starting to play and the other one is when he was 2 weeks in playing non stop wwwww

bonus these pics i liked from the sequence

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more rewatching

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WHAT????

WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE GET AN ACTUAL POST MORTEM KENNY MOMENT EVEN IF IT WAS BRIEF????????

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE STILL HAS A BRIEF CONSCIENCE AFTER DYING I MEAN IT MAKES SENSE IF HE REMEMBERS STYLE'S JOKE OF HIS DEATH BUT WHAT

This is breathtaking bc its from season 9

Im such a fake fan bye

mf is more worried for his PSP than his death 😭(he's cool and chill I remember someone posted smth about that I wonder who /j)