#what I mean is it’s odd to push a character deemed one of their generals to the side sometimes even seeming to forget he’s in the story

[za-baransu]

CHARACTER STATISTICS

TAGGED BY : i have huge ass memes stored away on my other blogs

TAGGING : love you all 💕 so suffer :)

@quirofiliac ; @chernozemic ; @pwophet | @thusspoke ; @humificates | @determinazione | @kuraikyu | @ichigokurosaki | @biskael | @cinghialefedele | @despairforme ; @ksaru | @imagend | @killershinigami | @yasuhtora ; @inouehs | @baishouqijia | @gyakusama ; @owabisuru | @kcibumi | @jinjahime | @bornhollow | @kamitakes | @midnightactual | @neonbitch | @soulxfragments ; @x-vandrelyst-x | @deivorous ; @amaranthineoni | @hxbiris | @keikakudori [ and whoever wants to otherwise i make this just as long as the rest! ]

——   PHYSICAL STATS;

RUNNING SPEED   —   10 / 10.

RUNNING ENDURANCE   —   10 / 10.

JUMPING ABILITY   —   10 / 10.  ||  Bleach Characters can will the air, so

THROWING STRENGTH   —   10 / 10.

HUNTING   —   10 / 10.

STEALTH ABILITY   —   4 / 10. || he doesn’t care.

PAIN TOLERANCE   —   10 / 10.

SWIMMING SPEED   —   7 / 10.

SWIMMING ENDURANCE   —   7 / 10.

DANCING ABILITY   —   7 / 10.

CLIMBING ABILITY   —   10 / 10.

TOUCH SENSITIVITY  ( PLATONIC )   —   1 / 10.

TOUCH SENSITIVITY  ( INTIMATE )   —   7 / 10.

GENERAL REFLEXES   —   10 / 10.

OVERALL PHYSICAL CONDITION   —    10 / 10. 

HAKUDA   —   8 / 10.

KIDŌ   —   0 / 10. || Quincy don't use kidō

SWORD ART   —   10 / 10.

SPIRITUAL PRESSURE   —   10 / 10.

SIDE NOTE: Due to the fact that he is a part of the Elite Unit of Yhwach Bach's army, meaning the Sternritter, his stats are pretty much 'off the charts' so to say. Aside from the abilities he would deem unnecessary if questioned, Jugram excels in all of them by sheer force of his upbringing and personal physical skill. He is trained to be the Leader, to be the successor of Yhwach Bach [ point aside that the canon dictates that Uryu was destined to inherit that place later as bait ], Jugram's training regime would have been brutal and all-encompassing, similar to what one would want to associate with a young Prince or High-Class Noble, the idealised picture that they have to be 'perfect' in whatever they are doing. That they have to have the skill to fulfil whatever is expected of them, without showing weaknesses, fear or uncertainty.

Additionally for him comes the fact that he stands even above the Sternritter as their Grandmaster and is, not only by words alone, Yhwach's second half, so one might want to not only assume that the Emperor would insist that whatever he can do, Jugram would be able to do as well.

Some things are, in fact, easier for him: like anything that has to do with pure physical strength. Some things took a bit longer or he just didn't care all that much, like any form of stealth ability, so the possibility was, ultimately, lost on him. Whatever he doesn't see as 'necessary' in the ways he serves his King, will be pushed aside as a ballast and skill unworthy to pursue.

——   MENTAL STATS;

ADVANCED MATHEMATICS   —   8 / 10.

SIMPLE MATHEMATICS   —   9 / 10.

SPATIAL AWARENESS   —   10 / 10.

CHEMISTRY UNDERSTANDING   —   9 / 10.

BIOLOGICAL UNDERSTANDING   —   10 / 10.

NATURE SCIENCES UNDERSTANDING   —   10 / 10.

CREATIVE INTELLIGENCE   —   10 / 10.

ARTISTIC ABILITY   —   8 / 10.

MUSICAL PROWESS   —   8 / 10.

MIMICKING ABILITY  ( AUDITORY )   —   8 / 10.

ODD PROBLEM-SOLVING —   10 / 10.

COMPREHENSION  ( SPOKEN WORD )   —   10 / 10.

COMPREHENSION  ( WRITTEN WORD )   —   10 / 10.

COMEDIC ABILITY   —   4 / 10.

COMEDIC TIMING   —   7 / 10.

OVERALL MENTAL PROWESS   —   10 / 10. 

SIDE NOTE: Everything in here can be seen similarly to the physical statistics. Jugram very much differentiates between whatever he 'needs' and whatever he 'doesn't need', making some of his things a rather weird mix and mash of oddities [ like everything related to comedy, he doesn't care about it, but he's so blunt and down to the point that his timing in particular, with his dark and dry remarks, can truly catch people off guard ].

A lot listed above is general education, keeping in mind that Jugram was taken into Yhwach's court at an age around of 15/16 and when we see him again as the Commander/General of the new Sternritter, he was 18/19, so he would have gone through a very quick, court-related education that involves base level understanding of 'how the world works' and, given his place in line, for him in particular also the knowledge of "how a royal court should and would get managed". That being said, he went out of his way to learn more than maybe 'need be', given his forced education on more or less physicalities, but Yhwach is not someone who would stop his men from gathering more knowledge. He is a brilliant writer and has quite a bit of artistic skill, mostly self-taught because he didn't like the teachers that were assigned to him and a lot of his sword art is also, past the minimum requirements, taken out of books and incorporated in whatever he fancied by the moment.

——   EMOTIONAL STATS;

INTERPERSONAL INSTINCT   —   9 / 10. 

INTRAPERSONAL INSTINCT   —   4 / 10. 

EXTROVERSION   —   5 / 10.

MORAL COMPASS   —   5 / 10. || it's very screwed

EMPATHY   —   7 / 10.

EXTRASENSORY ABILITY  ( PSYCHIC )   —   8 / 10.

EMOTIONAL ENDURANCE   —   10 / 10.

COPING ABILITY   —    2 / 10.

TENDENCY TOWARDS ABUSIVE BEHAVIOUR   —   8 / 10.

TENDENCY TOWARDS VICTIM BEHAVIOUR   —   0 / 10.

LEVEL OF DENIAL   —    8 / 10

PROTECTOR COMPLEX   —   5 / 10. || also kind of screwed because he will let people die but there's a select few people where he will take anything to have them survive

DAMSEL COMPLEX   —   0 / 10.

EMOTIONAL INTIMACY  ( WITH PARTNER )   —   7 / 10.

EMOTIONAL INTIMACY  ( WITH FRIENDS )   —   3 / 10.

EMOTIONAL COMPREHENSION   —    5 / 10.

TENDENCY TOWARDS PANIC   —    0 / 10.  

GENERAL EMOTIONAL STABILITY   —    2 / 10.

SIDE NOTE: Emotions in general are exceptionally complicated with someone like him. There's only two-sided extremes, either he will react with force to what is shown to him or he will not react at all [ the latter being more likely ]. Watching people die in front of him is something that he considers the losses of the war and it does not matter how far/when/what is happening in this war, as long as it is an ongoing preparation and will be considered as a fact pursued in the future, he will consider any 'losses' a necessity.

His awareness when it coms to how someone should behave is very low. He has some loose knowledge how people act and react towards given situations [ also due to the fact that Bazz is a very explosive person, and watching the Femritter also does its part ] and he can, if he really wants to, copy and mimic it to blend in better, but in itself? One would be hard pressed to say that he would truly bother with something as futile as that, his rank is too high, his position too powerful, his goal in life literally too important to consider what everybody else around him thinks, making him a particularly dangerous man to be around, as he will turn on whoever is threatening His Majesty's goals without a second thought.

That doesn't mean he is a bad conversational partner when it comes to emotional matters. People just need to keep in mind that his answers will be blunt to a point that they can be downright hurtful. Questioning someone's place in the Wandenreich, for example, will in a very high likelihood draw a smidgen of his ire, but will he leave the person and not help them get through that 'slump' they are in? No, he won't, but he will make his displeasure known. Obviously not the best idea when it comes to emotionally vulnerable people, but quite frankly, he rather believes that someone needs to have a honest opinion than things being packed up in cotton and silk, because the whole 'facade' that someone will build for themselves will, very surely, break down again.

They are inside of a war-era, Jugram in particular has been stuck there for 1000 years, to say that he is emotionally numb, would be an understatement.

[orc-apologist]

for the tav companion asks: General 4, Story Specific 17, Romance 1, 12. for either or both, i give you the freedom to talk as much as you want about em.

General 4: What sort of actions generally raise or lower their approval?

For Kulshedra, he will generally approve of helping people, but occasionally there'll be that odd disapproval you get. At some point, you'd start to notice a pattern and it's that whenever you help someone at the detriment to yourself or at the loss of something powerful and useful, Kulshedra disagrees. For example, he would approve of making a pact with Auntie Gretel. He would approve of getting the brand in the goblin camp. He would disapprove of freeing the artist by paying, not because y'know slave trade but that much money can certainly buy more useful things, but approve of freeing him through other means.

Vengeance overall approves of helping the innocent, especially the tieflings as one himself. However, he cares even more about retribution and seeing those guilty of crimes brought to justice, especially the crime of treason. He would disapprove of cruel actions, unless those are against those he deems traitors. For example, he would disapprove of redeeming Kagha but approve of finding her out and subsequently killing her and the shadow druids. He would heavily disapprove in general of siding with the goblins and killing Halsin, but first agreeing to help the tieflings and druids with them and THEN betraying that agreement might make him disagree so much that he may leave the party.

Story Specific 17: If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

Like this probably because they're both dark urges too

dbshjavdja no, for real, Kulshedra would be really weird about it, because Kulshedra would encourage a dark urge to indulge in them. Not because he wants to see slaughter, but because he knows that Bhaalspawns are very powerful and he is convinced that they will need that power and that justifies it all to him. Granted, a friend that powerful would also be very useful. Romancing Kulshedra as dark urge probably means you don't get this scene. It probably means you killed your target in act 2 and, upon seeing your 2nd gift, Kulshedra would reassure you that you did the right thing. Three or so dozen innocents now will save thousands of innocents later, or so he'd say.

Vengeance would approve of you asking him to kill you. He would stop you, he would not kill you right there, but he would become much more cautious throughout the rest of the romance and he would reassure the dark urge that he will not hesitate to strike them down, no matter how much they love each other. But he'd say it like real niceys, like "When the urges make you forget yourself, I will spare you from becoming a monster". If the dark urge does not eventually reject their destiny, at the end of the quest line, Vengeance would probably attack. Especially if romanced.

Romance 1: Is your Tav a romanceable character? Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Kulshedra is romanceable, but there would be really specific requirements. He would romance a PC!Gale and PC!Astarion always and ultimately push them to pursue their very lofty goals. Since he enjoys power so much, no matter how much he says he only sees it as a tool to destroy the Netherbrain, he would probably only romance Tavs that are warlocks and wizards.

Vengeance is absolutely romanceable, but there are certain actions that will completely lock you out of the romance: siding with Kagha, making a deal with Auntie Gretle, killing the tiefling refugees at any point, siding with the Absolute (would most likely make him leave anyway) and so on. Idek if this is actually a thing you can do in the story, but if you actually side with Orin he will become hostile, regardless of if you've romanced him but also ESPECIALLY if you've romanced him.

[ukyuo]

hoping the anime continues to give extra detail/ insight into characters’ backstories because the manga felt rushed n they prob had a lot of issues with page count considering the things left unexplained

[toastandjamie]

I have- so many feelings. I’ve been trying to write an analysis since last night but everything I wrote is incomprehensible so this is an attempt: advanced apologies. Originally I wanted to make a post about C!Quackity and C!Tommy’s relationship but then it got me thinking of talking about what makes Tommy so vulnerable to manipulation even incidentally which brought me to Wilbur and Techno. So I’ve decided to just make a mishmash comparing Tommy’s relationships to these three complicated people.

Starting with Quackity I think we can all agree, Quackity GETS Tommy. In a way others on the server(like Fundy or Foolish) just straight up don’t. Quackity treats Tommy a lot like he treats Slime, with this understanding that Tommy isn’t like everyone else and won’t respond to things like others would. Because Tommy in spite of everything really does act like a kid. He acts out because of boredom or frustration especially when he’s ignored. Often others get frustrated when dealing with Tommy, but Quackity has this odd level of patience different from say Sam, Puffy or even Foolish in that he puts himself at Tommy’s level. At the start I think this was just a genuine attempt at having fun with our chaos raccoon but at the moment it’s almost patronizing(a reoccurring theme). Quackity understands that pushing Tommy will only result in property damage, but he also knows that he can’t let him run around unsupervised(because property damage). When Quackity is unaware that Tommy is listening he sounds more than a little frustrated at his antics, but then Tommy throws on a pair of pants claiming to be called Trousers and insists that he is not in fact Tommyinnit. Quackity plays along, he doesn’t try and force Tommy to stop, he humors him. This is something Quackity does a lot with Tommy, and it’s why Tommy still seems to have positive feelings towards him. Quackity humors him the way adults will humor a child who’s insisting that they are a wizard. Through this lense(which I think Quackity is fully aware of) he’s able to get Tommy into a less aggressive state and get information out him. Like why he’s working with Wilbur, and Tommy’s feelings about it. Which also unfortunately makes him super easy to use. I think in the future as Quackity slowly succumbs to the inevitable power hungry corruption that’ll bury whatever soft spot he has for Tommy, we’ll see Quackity take advantage of Tommy’s blatant abandonment issues using the trust he’s built through these small appeasement based interactions.

Moving on; C!Wilbur Soot! This is a land mine let me tell you. Because Listen, Wilbur is obviously, severely traumatized and mentally ill. I don’t think Wilbur necessarily has any malicious intentions towards Tommy. But unfortunately this bad boy is backing a fuck load of unhealthy coping mechanisms and behaviors. Such as his possessive streak! We saw with L’manburg the whole “if I can’t have you no one can!” Mentality, which has now been transferred to Tommy. It’s a move to assert his control over a situation and unfortunately for Tommy he’s a prime vessel for this behavior because he has absolutely no concept of healthy boundaries! Since his backstory and relationships are a bit blurry we can’t make any definitive explanation for where this came from but for the sake of argument let’s say Tommy has known Wilbur since he was young, and Wilbur was always someone with a possessive personality(albeit less obvious due to the fact that he wasn’t traumatized yet). Being raised by or around someone who never sets boundaries with you can lead to a person growing up not able to do so themselves. And wouldn’t you know it Tommy has clearly never had a stable healthy relationship because all of them have been transactional or codependent. Which is, bad.(shout out to Tubbo and Ranboo though for trying to enforce healthy boundaries sadly though the timing of this separation couldn’t have been worse). Currently I think it’s safe to say Wilbur and Tommy have a codependent relationship. One with a very clear imbalance of power, comparable to a codependent parent-child relationship. In which Tommy excuses Wilbur’s bad behaviors out of a sense of responsibility, this feeling that because they’re “family” he owes it to Wilbur to stay by his side. Not to mention how Tommy obviously craves guidance and leadership from paternal/fraternal figures, which he originally found in Wilbur(later in Dream, Techno and Sam afterwards). Tommy very clearly desires a family structure in which he is loved and protected no matter what, and Wilbur fills that role easily and willingly. Wilbur wants someone who’ll be loyal to him and will never leave or betray him, and Tommy wants someone who’ll protect and care for and, say it with me boys, will never leave or betray him. There isn’t anything wrong with wanting someone to be there for you, but because of their complexes and traumas these feelings of fraternal affection are twisted into a relationship lacking boundaries and for Tommy, complete absence of autonomy. Only doing things because Wilbur wants him to me, because he wants Wilbur to be happy and Wilbur is never wrong. Not a good mindset to have when dealing with someone like Wilbur who is destructive as a means of coping.

Lastly another landmine, in the form of Technoblade! Ah yes, bedrock bros. We love them and miss them. But newsflash guys they ALSO had an unhealthy transactional relationship! But here’s the thing about unhealthy relationships, sometimes people are just not good for eachother. There’s no bad guy or good guy. No ones in the right or wrong. They just, weren’t good for eachother. Now whether this was situational or not can only be answered if they reconnect with healthier mindsets but for now we’ll say it’s situational. Obviously, Tommy was clearly in a bad place. Just barely managing to escape exile after a narrowly thwarted suicide attempt: now packing a whole slew of issues, from paranoia, depression, fear of abandonment, low self worth, and just general debilitating stress. Techno was ALSO in a bad place, he just hides it under a sense of self righteous justice: like guys, his only friend was put under house arrest because of him associating with him, and he was then executed under the threat of death of his faithful horse companion. Techno was angry and blinded by revenge. A bad mix when you toss in a traumatized codependent teenager desperately searching for someone to fill the empty void of fraternal leadership left by Wilbur’s death. Tommy really just wants someone to tell him what to do, like let’s not kid ourselves here. Techno offered Tommy protection from Dream, which yay! But also creates an unbalanced power dynamic(bringing that one back!). I genuinely believe that it wasn’t Techno’s intention, but the thing is, the relationship became transactional: a “I’ll protect you and take care of you if you do what I say and help me.” Type scenario. It was impossible for Tommy to really comfortably say no, at risk of being tossed out of straight up given to Dream to face whatever horrible consequences running away had. BESIDES that, they are just two very different people who had very different priorities. Techno wanted vengeance against L’manburg, Tommy wanted to be protected but always had the intention of returning to L’manburg one day(clearly believing getting the discs would be a catch all problem solver). These two priorities are in direct conflict with eachother; as a result they’re partnership would never have worked in the long term. Here’s the kicker to what makes this relationship so unhealthy though, because those things in isolation don’t make an unhealthy relationship but the fact that Tommy’s poor mental state fueled by Techno’s blood seeking revenge made him act in ways HE deemed wrong, makes it unhealthy. Tommy wasn’t lying, being with Techno made him become a person he didn’t want to be, and it’s NOT Techno’s fault. It was the unfortunate consequence of their opposing view points and unhealthy mental states. Perhaps in a world where the Butcher Army never existed the Bedrock Bro’s team up could have been a moment of healing for both characters; but alas that was not the world we are privy to in canon.

Yeah so that’s it for now I guess

[englass]

Hello ❤ hope you have a nice day 💖 can i request #14 from the dark prompts please?

Heya hun!!! Honestly, the day has been hot, but we push on. I hope your day has been good!! 💖 Hope you don't mind, but I went for a Fantasy AU for this one; I was super struggling with the prompt and the only thing I could think of was, "oooh, John as a mage..." so we kinda get that. The whole thing is more set up then anything else, but I didn't want to delete anything...

14. “You’re too sweet, darling. What type of monster would I be without you?”

- - -

There had been tales, whispers amongst the women and men of people going missing; of them being snatched off darkened paths and empty roads. Some reckoned it was a beast, spoke of a monster that was stealing people away to fuel their wicked appetite. Others thought it to be bandits, or other unscrupulous groups looking to profit off of the lives of inconspicuous civilians. But there were a handful, the few like yourself, that felt the shift in the air; that could feel the remnants of something foul and forbidden coiled around the scenes.

It had worried you greatly, the thought of such dark magic set loose in the town you had made a home of. Often you found yourself lost in your own mounting anxieties as the reports grew more and more frequent, and rumours gradianted into a much dreaded possibility. Even though you were no stranger to the darker arts, proficient as you are in the art of Summoning, you had never delved too far into its catalogue. In fact, Summoning was about all you ever touched and even then, amongst some other magically inclined individuals, it was considered somewhat of a lesser art; not as destructive and therefore not as notable as others.

However, just because you never strayed into more questionable arts doesn’t mean you know not of them. You’re aware that there are some dark arts that are a bit more accepted amongst the magically inclined than others, used for educational purposes and approved of as a means to protect oneself. Really dark arts are just offensive abilities, so no matter what there is always an element of wariness when it comes to the potential of such arts. As long as you utilise them in an acceptable manner there will be no questioning, no inquiries into your character.

For those not accepted though it is typically because they cross some form of moral or ethical line, taking an individual down a path that alters them irremediably. Stains the core of their aura with the makings of something dreadful, corrupts them until they lose all that makes them as they are.

Admittedly, if not studied correctly or the thirst for knowledge becomes too consuming, then any art can destroy a person; can set them down that very smart path. And sometimes a person can destroy the values of the art and stretch it into something it is not designed to be. There are many stories of Healers’ playing Maker, of a Conjurers’ calling going terribly wrong, of Astrologians’ going insane from their divinations. Once you were almost entranced by your own Summon; a rookie mistake, terribly embarrassing to recall.

Magic in general is a dangerous art and care will always need to be taken. But there are some arts where that danger is part of the art, and those are forbidden. They will always cross the line, and they will never fail to destroy a person; and that person will never fail to destroy others.

That’s what scared you so much about the recent happenings of the town. To think that such a person was lurching about the place, taking people off the street for who knows what nefarious reasons, terrified you. The idea that you could be next, that the stability of your own aura could be at risk because of this rogue caster sickened you. It tore you apart.

And John saw that.

It was a relatively small town, filled with all types of people coming in and out from across the region and the different towns within it. For a long time though the only people you knew that did magic was a spirited Pyromancer called Sharky and some eccentric Apothecary who lived on the outskirts called Larry (you were convinced the man tested his own potions on himself). The first you met when you had summoned a Kelpie to help you put out a fire he had accidentally caused a bit too close to your home, while the latter you had met by chance while looking for ingredients.

That had changed once the Seed brothers had moved in close to the town. They were surprisingly open about their magical inclinations and while the town wasn’t outrightly hostile they were openly suspicious of the three. You had even been a little suspicious of the three, not understanding their reasons for being so forward to a none magically inclined town; it could be dangerous to do so. Ultimately though they suffered little consequence of their reveal, other than strange looks and quiet gossip made of them. You had been envious of that freedom, to be forthright about what you were, but thought better of it. To reveal such a truth after so long would spell disaster for you.

Not even a full lunar cycle had passed before Joseph, the middle brother of the three, had made a point to come seek you out, introducing himself and his brothers to you. It had been a wholly uncomfortable encounter, especially the instance where he had suddenly questioned what arts you had studied. Desperately you had tried to deny it but thankfully the oldest brother, Jacob, had merely sighed and apologised on Joseph’s behalf. As an ex-Paladin turned Enchanter he had fully understood your need for secrecy and had been your saving grace during the whole thing. From then on the brothers become quick acquaintances to you, whether you wanted them to be or not.

Joseph was… okay. He made for interesting conversation no doubt and oftentimes his words gave you pause to think on things, but he could be a touch preachy at times, especially about his beliefs and divinations. Jacob on the other hand had become a confidante of sorts. You didn’t often talk, but when you did the conversation held well enough and his advice was always sound. He was also honest about his thoughts and opinions on a matter, and while you didn’t like being called out when you messed up you did respect his outlook. Your relationship with the youngest brother, John, however was a special one.

It had taken him a few days after the initial introduction to strike up a conversation with you, and for the most part he had purely asked you about yourself. But somewhere between admitting how long you’ve lived here and him nervously revealing himself to be a Conjurer, you had developed a fast trust of the man. It was unexplainable, completely foolish of you, but there was just something about him that you thought was pleasant; a believability to him. He was the first you deliberately told about your darker studies and thankfully, being of similar arts, he had taken it exceedingly well. You had even bonded over the differences and similarities between your chosen studies. He had become a dear friend, and only became dearer as the years went by.

So John noticing when your worries began to eat at you didn’t surprise you. He knew you extraordinarily well, sometimes it was even a little spooky how well he knew you, but it was also an odd comfort. He knew just what to say to put you at ease, to assure you that you would be safe and even going so far as promising that he himself would protect you from such a fate as those missing. You still had doubts, but his care was touching.

If only you had learned the truth sooner.

“My friend, please,” you cry, wrists shackled uncomfortably above you, the metal cutting into your skin, “I beg of thee, stop this! Such practises are a blight to the soul, you will doom yourself if you continue. I know not what it is you wish to accomplish, but please spare them this torture! Spare yourself! Surely there has to be another way, John; surely!”

John merely chuckles quietly, slowly shaking his head as he does so. “Oh, you’re too sweet, darling. Even now, as you are, you still think of me and my well being before yourself. Not to imply you have anything to fear, of course; you know I would never hurt you. I merely mean it as an observation. It is a charming trait, that sweetness of yours. It’s part of why I fell for you so.” He turns to you then, up to his elbows covered in blood. The person before him is still alive, but barely, their breaths shallow and their skin a deathly pallor. To think he was a Hemomancer this whole time…

“But why waste words on their behalf when they would never deign to do the same for you? You had to hide yourself, deny what you truly are just to be accepted by these lowly worms for years. Tell me, where is the fairness in that? In what world should we sequest ourselves away from those weaker than us, those deemed less worthy by the Maker themselves?”

Crossing the space in a few long strides he stops before you, bloody hands cupping your cheeks gently even as you try to turn away from him, bringing you back to stare helplessly into his sparkling eyes, “Don’t you see, sweet one? You are beautiful, in every part, as you are. We were blessed by the Maker, but they will never see that, blinded as they are. They will never appreciate our arts, our gifts, or even us as people, no matter what we may do or sacrifice for them. If I need to subject myself to risk to show them their place, to create a world that you need not hide in any longer, then I’ll do so gladly and without hesitation.”

Shaking your head softly, face still captured within his hands, a tear slips unbidden down your cheek. “But it will consume you. You’ll become a monster.”

“Maybe,” he admits, tone oddly calm as he carefully brushes beneath your eye with his thumb, smearing blood through the track of your tear, “but I wonder, what type of monster would I be without you, do you think?”

Perhaps it is vain of you, but something tells you that he would be another beast entirely without you chained to him as you now are…

[m-y-fandoms]

Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Ultimate Monster Hunter reader - Part 1 (Supernatural AU)

Request: Can I get some vampire Komaeda x reader? I loved the Kokichi one and Komaeda is my absolute fave :3 thanks <3

This will be a full series with multiple chapters, not a head-canon or short imagine. Nagito is my favorite Danganronpa character, even ahead of Kokichi.

Part 2 here

Also this will be set in the DR3 anime universe, when they are all just Ultimates at Hope’s Peak before the Tragedy

- Admin Kokichi

     “When are they coming out?!” You could hear a girl roar from the crowd before you. It was your first day at Hope’s Peak Academy, and already you could tell that at least some of the crazy rumors about the school’s eccentricities were true. You’d only been walking around campus, getting your bearings before you moved into the Main Course dorms later that evening.

     It was a bit odd to see a group of nearly a dozen girls from the Reserve Course waiting at the entrance to the Main Course building, waiting to watch some of the Ultimates walk to the cafeteria. I mean, being an Ultimate didn’t make one worth fan-girling over, right? But maybe you’d have seen their side of it if you weren’t an Ultimate yourself.

~

     Jin Kirigiri, the school’s headmaster, was a very close childhood friend of your father’s, as was the school’s recruiter, Koichi Kizakura. It was only natural that they both insisted you go there, especially with your talent. You were the Ultimate Hunter... or... that’s what your official transcripts said anyway. Your real talent was a little more… complicated to explain to a normal society.

     Your real and extended title was that of the Ultimate Monster Hunter, just like your father before you decades ago. That was your passion, your focus, but since you were also prodigious in the normal hunting of animals, that was the title Headmaster Kirigiri assigned you. Of course, Kizakura and Kirigiri knew of your family’s hunter lineage and the existence of supernatural beings, most of the higher-ups at Hopes Peak did, what with all the connections and respect the academy had garnered.

     Most governments, large corporations and upper-class citizens were privy to the existence of monsters, and those sworn to protect all humans from them, so of course Kirigiri knew of such things, however, he couldn’t exactly have you honing your skills in his classrooms and training yards. The general public would either think he’d gone mad for allowing such activities - training to kill beings that did not exist - or worse, they’d wise up and take notice, revealing the secret of supernatural creatures to the world.

     No, no, that couldn’t be allowed to happen, and so Kizakura and Kirigiri had you practicing your crossbow aim on animal-shaped dummies, had you doing general agility and reflex training. Your firearms were used in a high-tech shooting arena that doubled as a dojo when martial arts students arrived for their allotted lesson time.

     Honestly, you didn’t even want to attend Hope’s Peak, seeing as Headmaster Kirigiri had made it very clear that you couldn’t use any of your true talent anywhere on campus or even while in uniform off-campus. You also had to hide your face with a helmet or mask of some type while hunting from now on. You couldn’t be associated with or traced back to the academy in any way, should someone see you engaged with a monster and spread word of it before being apprehended by law enforcement. This rule was only made more severe by the fact that some of your fellow students were of the very species you made a living annihilating.

     That’s right, Hope’s Peak itself was host to the very rare vampire, werewolf, demon, shapeshifter or other manner of beast. Not all of them chose to be hostile or stuck out like a sore thumb, and hey, if you had the talent, you had the talent. It made you question why you should even give the academy a second thought. It felt like they were mocking you, letting inhuman creatures attend a school they personally invited you to, but your father all but forced you to enroll. He insisted it would be the best for your future, and that there’s no one he trusted more than Kirigiri and Kizakura.

     “But if anything… anything at all happens to (Y/N), Jin, I swear on our friendship, I will handle it myself,” he’d said. Your father’s words rung through your mind like a constant reminder. He meant it, too. Your father was the hunter of all hunters, a king of sorts in his circle. Kirigiri knew very well that letting him down was not an option.

~ 

     You stood on the very edge of the group, as far from the doors as possible but still near enough to the others that you wouldn’t look like some weird loner. You sighed, chuckling under your breath at their chittering. It was all so silly.

     “Here they come!” You were startled out of your trance when one out of the whole gaggle of girls before you squealed loudly. You walked toward the front of their group, fascinated by how excited they all were. You were merely curious to see what all the fuss was about. How could they possibly be this worked up about other students their age, just walking to lunch after class? Then again, you hadn’t met any of your fellow Ultimates. Was there some kind of beauty requirement to become one? Huh, wouldn’t surprise me, you thought rather cynically to yourself. This place loves to flaunt its students and reputation.

     “Look~ it’s Fuyuhiko!” One of the girls pushed roughly past you, grazing your shoulder. You could practically see hearts in her eyes as she passed.

     “Jeez, okay...” you muttered sheepishly and leaned back again. You may be a monster killer, but that only worked out because of the adrenaline rush and the lack of attachment and value placed on your targets. In normal life and social situations, it felt like you were the one being killed.

     Great! Now I can’t see anything! You mentally snapped at the fan-girls bumping and shuffling into you with every sporadic movement they made. You couldn't see anything, but you could certainly hear the girls get louder and louder by the second. You were now completely pushed to the side of the group as the girls grunted and hissed like rabid animals.

     “And that’s the lucky one! Komaeda, I think! Man, he’s so hot…” A random brunette drooled. 

Nagito Komaeda: Vampire

Status: Protected/Neutral

Classification: B

Unique Talents and Powers: A cycle of good and bad luck. All other unique traits under review.

Age: Unknown

Coven or Clan: None

     You mechanically recalled little bits and details from your dad’s casework and journals on the most famous vampires in the country. Nagito... yes… you were going to stay away from this one.

     The supernatural beings that could pass as human and were deemed not to be a danger to society signed contracts and treaties that allowed them to live out their lives like normal and protected them legally from hunters (much to your kind’s chagrin). They had strict rules to follow, however, and those who broke said rules were prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law and taken off the protection list, making them fair game to hunters. 

     You really didn’t understand why they kept giving the feral savages chances. Erasing the memories of witnesses, victims (if they survived), and their families after each attack or incident was costly and just unfair to mankind.

     The girls continued to shout and vie for the boys’ attention. Fuyuhiko huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance at the fuss they were making. This only served to rile them up further, however. It seemed the tough, flippant, bad-boy yakuza persona is exactly what they wanted. They loved the way he gave them the cold shoulder.

     Nagito, on the other hand, was a different case entirely. He didn’t just ignore the girls, he made an obvious show of his disgust for them. He was practically snarling, nose scrunched up as he leaned away from the crowd of them. It wasn’t annoyance at their mewling and squawking, it was something far different. Something like pure revulsion mixed with condescension. But why? It didn’t really matter, as the girls clearly didn’t pick up on his cues, shooting rapid-fire questions his way and reaching out for his sleeves. You scoffed. It was so shallow of them to only like him for his looks and title of Ultimate he held. They knew nothing about him. 

     What he could do to them if they got them alone. How him could kill them in an instant, and even possibly enjoy that kill.

     While you were lost in the abhorrence of your thoughts, Nagito’s eyes had honed in on you, noticed that you were wearing the same uniform as him, and promptly glided over in front of you.

     “Why, hello there!” Komaeda stopped right in front of you. You took a startled step back, but he grasped your hand, preventing you from moving any further away. You did everything you could to repress your fear and repugnance, but your hand still shook slightly in his cold, dead one, and you were sure he could tell. He giggled, obviously enamored with your very presence. “I don’t believe I've seen you before, but you must be in the Main Course as well! What’s your name, if I might ask? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna...” Nagito grinned widely, flashing a set of pearly white teeth. The girls swooned beside you. It seemed you were the only one afraid of what those teeth could do. He was deceivingly beautiful on the outside: tall, pale, doe-eyed, and dangerous. His Class B ranking put him just below the most dangerous of vampires, the elite, the royal clans.

     “(Y-Y/N). It’s my first day.” Your voice shook as you jerked your hand away roughly. It was hard to feel confident without your weapons on you, knowing there was nothing you could do to defend yourself here. Damn you, Kirigiri.

      Your father would be enraged if he knew you had just touched a vampire’s hand so casually. Nagito frowned slightly. He could sense it, the way you didn't trust him, the way you didn't like him down deep inside. He knew you knew something you shouldn't, knew more than the other humans attending Hope’s Peak, and he didn't like it. His brow furrowed in a display of frustration, but that quickly melted away, and he smiled kindly, eyes crinkling at the corners. He would figure out what made you special, even among the Ultimates he revered so passionately. Something was off, and it would kill him if he didn’t figure out why.

     “Well, (Y/N)” He leaned down to your height, his face inches from yours, breathing deeply. Almost as soon as he’d inhaled, he snapped back up, his spine stiff and straight. “Oh!” A look of almost painful surprise and confusion crossed his countenance.

     “What?” You panicked, looking him up and down.

     “Oh, uh, nothing… you smell really good, heh. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. That’s weird, huh? Wow, I’m really the worst...” he chuckled awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a display of innocence. Your mouth hung open, appalled. How could he be so bold about his nature in public? You knew exactly what he was smelling. The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood up in fear and vexation. Your reaction told him all he needed to know, and in that instant, he decided he wanted to know more. Nagito was the obsessive type, and you were going to be his new fixation. Why did you know? Who told you of his... condition? “Anyway, welcome to Hope’s Peak Academy. I hope I have the honor of seeing you again.” You could hear the wave of extreme jealousy behind you. The heat of anger and envy for you was thick in the air.

     “Enough, Komaeda, ya big creep…” the small but feisty boy cleared his throat before continuing.  “C’mon, if you wanna have time for lunch it’s now or never!” You sighed in relief. Fuyuhiko placed his hand on Nagito's shoulder, pulling him gently away from you. 

     “Sorry, sorry!” Nagito offered a warm smile to his shorter friend. “I’m coming! I apologize, Fuyuhiko” He turned to you,“See you in class, (Y/N)” He simpered, and continued to trail along behind his friend.

     Not if you had anything to say about it…

     You were going to avoid that boy like the plague. Just because you couldn’t kill him, doesn’t mean you had to be best friends.

[monabela]

hello! it seems to be @aphrarepairweek2021 and I'm not one to ignore that! here's some... domestic denfin stuff for day 1, language. I've gone for a pretty liberal approach to the prompts this year, but that's mostly so that all my fics will fit into the same universe :> (it is also the same universe as two of last year's rarepairweek fics! I'll make a tag for it) (that is also the reason I had to call sve berwald and not torbjörn like I usually do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) they will all be standalone little fics but take place in the same au, over the same sort of time period!

--

in major scale

pairings/characters: Denmark (Søren)/Finland (Tuomi), Estonia (Eduard), Sweden (Berwald), Hungary (Erzsébet) + past SuFin mentioned word count: 2219 summary: Tuomi admires how much Søren cares about other people. It inspires him to do the same.

--

A series of thumps and clomps heralds Søren’s arrival home. Tuomi looks up with amusement when the door of his little home studio in the back of their house bursts open.

“Tuomi!” Søren shouts. He brings with him the smell of recent rain and early spring blossoms.

Eduard, who is sitting behind Tuomi at his keyboard and wearing headphones, very nearly tumbles off his stool in shock.

“Søren!” Tuomi just returns, while his brother rights himself and glares. “You seem unusually excited.”

Eduard snorts, which makes Søren grin. ‘Unusually excited’ means something different when applied to him than most other people.

“Guess what!” he says, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. His socked feet are both tapping on the ground, with no rhythm to it. Tuomi is sure he couldn’t say what’s got into him; as far as he knows, Søren was just looking after his young nephews for the afternoon.

“Your brother didn’t hide the sugar well enough,” he guesses.

“No, that’s—well, he didn’t, but that’s not my point. Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Now, he waves his arms around wildly. “My brother’s gettin’ married, Tuomi! I’m so proud of him.”

Turning slightly, Tuomi exchanges an amused look with his own brother, who has taken his headphones off and is leaning forward over his keyboard, elbows planted over the keys.

“Now, Søren,” Eduard starts, using his haughtiest voice, which is very haughty. It’s an odd talent.

“Don’t you dare,” he interrupts, though he’s still grinning, “bring up the time he and Tuomi were plannin’ on gettin’ hitched, ‘cause that was ages ago and ain’t relevant anymore.”

“Alright, alright.” Eduard holds up his hands placatingly, and Tuomi just snickers. Søren’s right, he thinks; it’s been over fifteen years since then, and although the whole thing where he took up with the brother of the man who was nearly his husband was awkward at first, for all that it happened several years later, he’s since become good friends with Berwald again. It’s probably better this way.

“That’s great, Søren!” he just says. “And you’re gonna be the best man, I assume?”

“Of course!” His dark blue eyes crinkle at the corners, scrunching up his many freckles in laugh lines and dimples. Tuomi really admires how much Søren cares about other people, even if sometimes it comes at the expense of himself. Tuomi can always remedy that, after all.

“That means you’re gonna have to help with a bunch of organizing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t sound do skeptical of me, Eduard!” Pushing away from the door, Søren lightly strums the strings of an uncovered acoustic guitar sitting in its stand before taking a large step towards Tuomi and bending down to kiss him over the microphone between them, Tuomi angling his own electric guitar out of the way. He smells like sea wind and hair gel, and does taste distinctly sugary behind the smile his lips are still curved into.

Tuomi mutters, “I think you’ll do great. Berwald’s lucky to have you.”

“I hope so. Y’know, the boys are excited as anythin’.” Now, he practically melts, draping his long limbs over Tuomi and his guitar. He always does this when he as much as thinks about his nephews, Berwald’s young sons. Tuomi and Søren are very much the fun uncles. It is a title they both wear with pride.

Patting his jeans-clad ass affectionately, Tuomi pushes his nose into Søren’s wild coppery hair.

“Yeah? They’ve given their blessing, then?”

“Already fightin’ over who gets to be ringbearer.”

“Cute.”

The door of the studio opens.

“Whoa! Am I interrupting?” shouts Tuomi’s half-sister, bursting in.

Eduard, now leaning his head in his hands, says, “Please save me.”

“Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Søren shouts, into Tuomi’s ear. He gets along with Erzsébet far too well.

“Tuomi’s ex?” she yells back, and Eduard promptly loses it. He doubles over his keyboard in hiccupping laughter, shaking and pressing almost all the keys in a horrifyingly discordant tone. Søren looks betrayed in a very comical way. He crosses his arms as he turns to Erzsébet, folding his hands into the sleeves of his red knit sweater. Berwald made that one.

“She not wrong,” Tuomi tells him, holding back laughter of his own. Now even more comically betrayed, Søren turns back to him, with his dark eyebrows raised high and ready to deliver a quasi-outraged speech, but Erzsébet forestalls him.

“You need to make a song for the wedding!”

“Yes!” Tuomi perks up, almost poking Søren in the hip with the neck of his guitar.

“A song?” the man echoes, looking between all three of them. Eduard is now only playing a couple of notes at the same time, thankfully, and he straightens up fully to explain their family tradition.

“We always do it for weddings. It has to be something they’d like, and something the couple can dance to.”

“And then we give it funny lyrics,” Tuomi finishes, “about the person getting married. But we always make sure it’s good.”

“Well, I ain’t surprised about that part, ya snobs.” Søren shakes his head affectionately. He has absolutely no feel for music, but that just means that he appreciates things that most other people wouldn’t give their time of day.

It also means that he somehow considers Tuomi’s very musically inclined family to be elitist about music, which Tuomi thinks is dumb, but he’s not one to argue. He’ll leave that to his brother; it’s very amusing. As a matter of fact, Eduard is already narrowing his eyes at Søren, but doesn’t say anything before he continues.

“I don’t know if Berwald would like that, honestly. It’s not really something we do.”

“Come on, everyone likes music!” Erzsébet enthuses, walking further inside and skirting around Søren and Tuomi in the small space to lean an elbow on Eduard’s shoulder.

“Sure, he likes it, but, I mean—we ain’t like you guys, is all.”

No one is quite like his family, Tuomi thinks, but he appreciates that all the more these days. Søren is the most generous, openminded person he knows, and has broadened his worldview amazingly in the time they’ve been together. Not that his family isn’t openminded; they’re just less inclined to explore than Søren is.

Still, “Music is a universal language, isn’t it?” Tuomi asks him, bumping his shoulder into Søren’s upper arm. He inclines his head in agreement. “It doesn’t even have to have lyrics if you think Berwald wouldn’t like it. Or his fiancé, of course,” he adds, because he doesn’t know the man that well but knows he, like Berwald, doesn’t really appreciate being made fun of, even in good humor.

This is, again, unlike Søren, which is probably why it didn’t work out with his brother and does work with him.

Well, it’s part of it.

Erzsébet, the lyricist of the family, gasps dramatically at the mention of not having lyrics to go with the song, and coughs. She should really quit smoking. Eduard pats her back awkwardly, getting a face full of long brown hair for his efforts.

“And then?” Søren’s asking, but his head is still tilted thoughtfully, as if he’s considering it.

“Well, then it can be for a dance! Consider it a wedding gift from me.”

“His ex,” Erzsébet murmurs, recovered, and Eduard starts giggling again.

“His brother-in-law.” Tuomi blindly throws a guitar pick at her over his shoulder, which, going by the plink and following yelp, hits Eduard’s glasses instead.

Huh. That’s pretty impressive.

“Well, someone will have to teach him how to dance first—”

They all look away.

“—but that sounds awesome, actually! Would you guys be willing to play it?” In his excitement, Søren has leaned very close to Tuomi again, vision filling with his grin and his many, many freckles, and Tuomi can’t help but kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I’d love to.”

His siblings make agreeing noises.

“Right! Well, should I—what’re you guys workin’ on, actually?” Søren gazes around the small space as if hoping to glean clues. Which clues, Tuomi is not sure. He can’t really read music, after all.

“Just tinkering a bit,” Tuomi says. Eduard plays the first few chords of the most recent wedding song they’d written, several years ago already. Erzsébet slaps the cymbal of her drum set in apparent agreement, reaching behind her.

“Hey, I wrote some lyrics, actually,” she says. “I think they’re pretty good.”

It’s been years since they actually made original music that they deemed good enough to send out into the world, but their songs are still getting decent amounts of listeners on Spotify, which is nice; it’s mostly a hobby for all three of them, after all. Lately, though, Eduard and Tuomi have started seriously considering making some new material, and Erzsébet seems to be on board. She promises to send the lyrics to both of them. Although she, like both of her half-brothers and much to Søren’s amazement, plays several instruments, she doesn’t have much talent for composing.

Tuomi tried to teach Søren guitar once. It was fun, but very unsuccessful. He does like the drums.

That’s probably why he gets along with Erzsébet so well.

Deciding that today is probably not going to be very productive, all four of them go into the house instead, and Tuomi makes coffee while Søren hands out some cupcakes that he made yesterday, because Søren very much believes that food is a universal language. He isn’t wrong, if you ask Tuomi, but that’s mostly because Søren is very good at making food, unlike Tuomi.

They’ve all got their talents, he supposes, and it’s how they use them in combination that matters. Even if he’s been banned from using the oven for anything more than frozen pizza.

Eduard, of course, asks for the recipe, because Eduard didn’t get that memo about talents and has too many of them.

Tuomi’s siblings don’t actually stay around for very long after that, both promising to think about the wedding song for Berwald. It is mostly an empty promise on Erzsébet’s part, but that’s okay. Eduard walks away while muttering about waltzes, which Tuomi appreciates, because Berwald seems like a man—is a man, he knows this—who appreciates a bit of tradition, and he’s never tried to compose an instrumental, mostly classical song before.

“You’re adorable, you know,” he tells Søren, who’s standing behind him in the hallway of their house after having seen his siblings off. Søren just grins, rocking back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back and looking much younger than he is.

“I’m just happy for my brother.”

“I know.” Tuomi reaches up to flick some errant hair out of the way. “It’s really cute.”

He gets excited about the smallest things, Søren. Random dogs on the street and odd world records and warm coats and almost everything that’s even a little bit nice. It’d get annoying, Tuomi’s sure, if he weren’t so sincere about it all the time. He got very excited about their civil union as well, which was honestly mostly practical. Tuomi had almost wanted to get married, just to see his reaction to it, but he’d decided years before that marriage wasn’t for him, and remains glad that he stuck by that belief, in the end.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Søren suddenly asks, blue eyes searching Tuomi’s face.

“What? Oh, no, of course not. Berwald’s a good man, and he deserves to be happy.” He shrugs. “I know he’s always wanted the whole… Domestic thing.”

“Guy’s had a plan for a wedding since he was twelve or something,” Søren confirms, grinning. “Only took him thirty years and a couple kids.”

Tuomi knows; he was shown the plan, sixteen years ago, but he decides not to mention that. It’d been quite intimidating at the time; he’d only been 22 and much more interested in… Well, practically anything besides marriage.

Søren slings an arm across his shoulders, squeezing him tightly to his lanky form, and starts walking them both back to the kitchen.

“You’d know, I guess,” he muses, then pulls a face. Tuomi laughs.

“That one was your fault!”

“I know, I know. Don’t remind me.”

Tuomi stops walking, tilting his head up at Søren.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asks. Turning back, Søren blinks at him.

“Obviously not,” he says, but he bites the inside of his cheek and furrows his dark brows, so there’s evidently something more there.

There’s another thing Tuomi had to be taught by Søren; reading body language. It’s not his fault his family is so unexpressive!

“But?” he prompts.

“I just hope I can do well for him.” Søren shrugs. “He’s my big brother, y’know, and I do kinda feel like I ruined his first chance of marriage sometimes. I know that’s dumb,” he adds hastily.

Tuomi mumbles, “Yeah, that was definitely me.” And then, “Like you say, he’s your big brother. He loves you. Speaking as someone with two older siblings, they might razz you a bit—”

“That’s just your siblings, Tuomi,” Søren interrupts, but the grin is back on his face and just as bright as before. “But I get what you’re saying. Thanks.”

Tuomi boots him with his shoulder, and he laughs, clomping ahead. Tuomi follows, quickly.

Before he eats all the other cupcakes.

[magicstar16]

Invader zim Sitcom au (Part 2)

Okay so this is gonna go over all the other famlies. For characters who’s last names I don’t know I just gave them random last names.

The membranes: AKA The next door neighbors who get a spinoff later or something 

Professor Membrane: Doesn’t change much besides from being actually supportive this time. He’s like how he was in ETF. He’s still a successful scientist, but the “Smartest man in the world” thing is only just a title now. He let’s Gaz and Dib help him during some of his experiments as a fun, family bonding activity. (This does not mean they’re all safe, they can still be pretty chaotic, such as that one time where the house got overrun by gerbils). He still has robotic limbs from the shark incident, the incident actually left him deathly afraid of sharks (Yaaaaayyy PTSD)

Dib Membrane: Still a feral little paranormal investigator, he Zim go on crazy paranormal-hunting adventures together (YAAAYY Zadf), which Gaz joins sometimes. Sometimes it just ends up like a scooby-doo mystery where it turns out nothing supernatural was actually going on, sometimes they actually find some sort of paranormal thing. A lot of they’re hangouts are paranormal investigations. Dib’s still feral but he’s still calmer and more rational than Zim, while ZIm is much more rash and impulsive. Though Dib’s still more of a logical thinker, while Zim is a much more outside-the-box thinker, so they work well together. Sometimes they’ll butt heads and their competitiveness flares up again, but it’s more of a friendly, chaotic rivalry.

Gazlene “Gaz” Membrane: Gaz is a lot like how she was in the comics, still a jerk, but she still cares about her brother. Her care commonly shows in anger born of worry, she’s pretty much 80% of his impulse control.

Clembrane and Foodio 3000: Clembrane was a clone made by membrane so that membrane could get more stuff done, but the cloning didn’t go so well, which is why Clembrane is the way he is. Clembrane just ends up doing housework, and has an odd fixation on pudding. (Professor doesn’t know why, he thinks it might be because that was one of the first thing they taught him to cook that came out edible). Foodio’s pretty much the same, but was instead created as a robo-butler to clean the house and do chores when membrane was to busy.

Skoodge Brians: Zim’s best friend besides Dib, he’s gullible, but he’s got a good heart and he means well. He’s also a strong boy, physically and emotionally. He, Zim, Dib, and Gaz make up a ragtag bunch of misfits and stand up for eachother togther, and go on their own misadventures. Skoodge takes the bullying he receives in stride because he tells himself (Or at least tries to) that they’re just empty insults. He’s usually the shoulder to cry on for the group. He’s the type of friend to just let himself into the house if he’s close enough with whoever lives there (I.e, The Membrane sibs and Zim).

Tak Vessel:  (I wanted her surname to be a reference to her ship in the show. Vessel is an actual surname, albeit rare, and is a synonym for ship). Tak is a transfer student from the UK (Hence her accent) causing occasional culture shock for her (”IT’S NOT CALELD SOCCER! IT’S CALLED FUTBOL!!!” “Tak please it’s just a game). She’s kind of a bully who usually targets Zim, but mostly because he keeps ticking her off. She does have her soft spots for the Membrane siblings and her little sister Mimi. She holds some begrudging respect for Skoodge for putting up with everyone’s BS, her included, she can’t even imagine having that kind of patience. She mellows down if you get on her good side and can be a good friend when she wants to, She’s not much of a bully as she is just able to go from 0 to 100 real easily. 

Minerva “Mimi” Vessel: Tak’s “creepy” little sister around Gir’s age. Tak is really close to her,  which comes as a surprise to most people since Tak is seen as the kind of person who’d bully their little sibling. Mimi is a creepy little Satan child, at least at surface level. She checks all the boxes on the creepy little kid list. She doesn’t talk, she has big ole eyes that stares into your soul, she usually plays or sits alone, and is into some dark things, like she’s the kid who’d read the original tale after watching a disney movie, and would prefer the original. But deep down she’s just shy. She opens up to Gir later in the series, and usually lets him talk for her (Either by whispering in his ear and having him repeat what she just said, or communicating in sign language and having him translate, Gir’s translations are the same quality as google translate, not entirely accurate but you can get what she’s trying to say if you connect the dots). Mimi only speaks when she deems it necessary, since she has a stutter and a bit of a lisp when she speaks, which she’s really insecure about.

Tennessee “Tenn” Michaels: (I know literally nothing about Tenn please forgive me) A lively girl who’s kind of a ditz, but always tries her best and is quick to know when she’s made a mistake. She’s a friend of Skoodge’s so she knows the main squad just by proximity. She’s much more of a girly girl then Tak and Gaz, but they humor her because it makes her happy. Her parents run a daycare which she helps with sometimes, although “Help” usually means “Be offered as a sacrifice to a bunch of insane toddlers” in her eyes (Kinda like being sent tons of defective sir units in the show, except she’s only stuck with them until they’re parents pick them up). Sometimes she joins the main squad with they’re paranormal investigations or general shenanigans, but usually she can’t because she’s busy helping her parents at the daycare. She’s pretty much the only main character who’s not unpopular and has more then 4 or 5 friends.

Floog Gregor: Floog is a shy boy who’s also friends with Skoodge. He’s timid but he tries to be a good leader, and he’s even vice president of the student council at Skool. He looks up to his Dad, Theen, who’s a commander serving in the navy seals. Floog doesn’t get to see his dad very often, at least not in person (They do things like phone calls and video chat, but it’s not the same) Floog knows that his dad’s very busy, and that he has to sacrifice family time for his job. But since Theen’s a navy seal (I’ll keep it vague where Theen is serving specifically because I don’t want to offend anyone) Floog feels selfish for wanting his dad to come home, because of this, Floog has a tendacy to put others before himself. Like Tenn, Floog sometimes joins the main gang in their misadventures, but he’s usually too scared. When he does join them, he’s the most hesitant to do anything, and pretty much takes orders from the others. He’s pretty much the Shaggy of the group.

Minimoose: The Invaedirs pet cat. (I made him a cat because cats go “Nyah!” like Minimoose) He’s a chubby lil good boi who waddles and causes trouble and cutes his way out of it. Zim found him in a dumpster and named him “Minimoose” because according to Zim, he looks like a miniature moose. Red and purple thought the name was stupid, Gir liked it, Miyuki thought it was hillarious, Spork didn’t really care, so Minimoose got his name via majority vote. Zim’s the closest with him, and Zim even talks to Minimoose sometimes. (”MINIMOOSE! Red pushed me again, how can I get him to stop pushing me?! “Nyah” “Good Idea Minimoose! Putting Red down means I WOULD get pushed less!” “Nyah” “Yes Minimoose, I love you too.”)

[s-creations]

Return the Flames - Chapter 1

All at Dead Bird Studios knew of Amos' (The Conductor's) ability. How the owl could suddenly erupt into flames if angered enough. When the studio first opened, Dominic (DJ Grooves) was told that Amos had his ability under control. Nothing to worry about. No possible loss of anything from an open flame.

A few years later however, and that control seems to have lessened to a dangerous degree.

It should have just been a simple, week long drive to fix the problem. It really should have been.

Dominic should have asked a lot more questions and should have been prepared for a twist ending.

_________________

Fandom: A Hat in Time Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves Warnings: Eventual depictions of violence, slow burn relationship, named characters, attempt of an accent, being hunted down, a race against time (sort of).

 It’s amazing how one outside source could influence an entire planet and change it’s view. Okay, maybe the ‘entire planet’ might be an exaggerated size. But, big key players were involved with the overall growth. So, it felt as if the world shifted when the time wielding child left to race among the stars once more.

 Mustache Girl, discovered to be named Mu when the dust settled, had seemingly disappeared. Her usual hideout had been cleared out. With no signs of her remaining there or found to be anywhere else on Mafia Island. There was a theory that Mu had hopped onto one of the many shipment boats and had left said island as soon as she could. If that was true, it would be nearly impossible to find her. No one could fully tell if this was a good or bad thing.

 The Mafia boss had officially retired when he couldn’t find a new body to use. Apparently the price      was    too high to pay for someone to give up their own. Losing that intimidating edge and just being gross, he announced his leave and traveled to the nearby mainland. There he found his new calling: being the store manager to a small fish market operation. Apparently, no one wanted to argue about prices against a goo of a human being that survived in a jar. Between the harsh words and rather disturbing appearance, people lost their argumentative spark quickly.

 The rest of the Mafia scrambled to figure out what to do with themselves. It took a lot of soul searching and late night conversations for a solution to be found. They reached the conclusion that they all worked better when they’re told what to do and decided to turn the island town into a high end luxury resort. Cooking Cat had taken the chief helm and taught a large team of Mafia members how to be proper cooks. It would be bad if a customer complained about food poisoning.

 Subcon Forest, while still downright terrifying and with Vanessa a heavy threat over the citizens, had seen the number of lost souls consumed by that place dropped. The Snatcher had apparently changed stance on determining which souls were meant to be taken. Namely those who were weighed down by a lot of sins. If asked, he would claim it was due to those being more filing when eaten. No one had the needed bravery to really question the twisted spirit’s reasoning. So, more living beings started leaving the woods. Confused, with their souls still in place, and all at the cost of a high-five.

 But the biggest change came from Dead Bird Studio. If one was interested in movies (which was a good majority of the planet) they knew of the rivalry that ran that place. Or      did     run that place. The Conductor and DJ Grooves announced, shortly after Hat Kid’s departure, that their feud was over. More or less. Everyone knew that years of animosity couldn’t be solved or swept under the rug, to be forgotten about overnight.

 So, it was an difficult uphill battle to learn what it meant to actually work together peacefully. Between Conductor’s anger and Grooves’ rather smug attitude, it was a hard progress. Both directors used a lot of late nights to find even ground. After a few months, they had reached a level of comradery that couldn’t really be qualified as ‘being friends’. Business partners was probably the best title.

 Which was still an achievement to marvel at, if Grooves was completely honest. But the worry of getting into a shouting match with Amos was now at the bottom of Dominic’s list.

 When the studio had been open for the first few months, they gained the title as the ‘studio with the hot headed director’. Dominic seeing first hand how deranged the other could become. The penguin could chalk it up to first time jitters. After all, opening up a business in the same building with someone you deemed as a rival was not the most calming experience. Add on top of that the tense world of film making and Grooves was surprised he didn’t eventually turn to biting off a few heads when things went wrong. But as Amos’ anger seemed to grow, Grooves began to worry that the director was going to have a heart attack from his numerous outbursts.

 What he was not expected was for the owl to suddenly have his ears erupt into      flames    . The only thing that pulled Dominic from his shocked state of mind when the sprinklers suddenly activated. All in attendance having to evacuate until the place was dried out.

 Unable to ask Amos directly (and already knowing the director wouldn’t have answered his questions anyway) Dominic had gone to the Express Owls for answers. He had been told that their director suddenly creating flames was something normal to see. Amos even had occasions where he would actually have smoke rising off of him. The penguin asked how this was even possible. As far as he knew, this was not a normal occurrence, and working with someone who could burst into flames at any time seemed a dangerous factor. Especially if it became a worry they’d lose the studio because of this. But Dominic was assured that Amos had his ability under control. That day was just a build up of bad moments that tore at the owl’s patient until it was just released.

 That didn’t mean Dominic didn’t start carrying around a small fire extinguisher whenever he had to be near Amos.

 Amos, on his part, was not a bird who opened up about anything. So, he never explained to anyone why he had this ability, with the Express Owls just accepting the idea their boss could handle himself. And, true to their word, Dominic didn’t see that many open flames coming from the angry owl. During their early years that was.

 Now, however, the worry had reached a new level of concern. Because Amos’ anger seemed to have suddenly grown. Even after the feud was put away. The control the other director had over the years seeming to have disappeared. Now the owl bursting into flames, full flames covering his body, when his mood was even. With another worry arising when he was around open flames and his anger made those grow dangerously. So much so, Dominic put his foot down on allowing open flame to be anywhere near the studio. Which annoyed Amos as now his movies lost a touch of authenticity. In turn causing the owl’s already short fuse to become shorter.

 It had become a dangerous, endless cycle. One that Dominic had to intervene before things got too out of hand. Something he was going to take care of today. Because he was afraid if he waited too long, they’d lose the studio they’d just started to work together in.

 Recording was done for the day and the studio practically empty as Dominic made his way to the Western-themed portion of the building. Asking a few lingering owls where their director was, he was directed towards Amos’ office. The partially closed door had light emitting from the cracks. Dominic gave his thanks before heading over. Raising his hand up to knock, the penguin paused hearing Amos’ daughter’s name.

 “Amelia...no, listen… Aye, ‘m aware. But you’re in no condition ta take me… I know, I know… No, flyin’ is too dangerous. Ya know know I hate those death machines and there’s no easy exit for me ta take in case of… In case I have an episode.”

  Dominic leaned against the wall, frowning. He probably shouldn’t be listening in.

 “There are no tracks that run there. Besides, the train will be in use. I can’t change that just ta better me. No- no, that’s not what I mean… People rely on the train… I don’t know who ta ask. I don’t know anyone who would want ta travel that far.”

 Amos laughed softly after a pause on his end. “Uh oh, someone sounds fussy… Aye, I'll keep ya up ta date as best I can… No, no, don’t ya fret about this. I’ll figure somethin’ out. Rest well Amelia, I’ll call tomorrow. ...Love ya too.”

 There was the clatter of something heavy hitting the table. Dominic could only assume it was the owl’s phone being dropped. Braving his chance, the penguin pushed the door open. He found Amos, bent over the writing table with a discarded cell phone next to him. The owl looked in complete shambles.

 Feathers were ruffled, randomly sticking out at odd ends. Some were even starting to turn gray. The familiar white button up had its sleeves rolled up over the elbows, the cross suspenders hanging limply from the black pants they were connected to. The similarly colored jacket was pooled at the Conductor’s feet.

 “If ya have somethin’ ta say, come in and get it out.”

 Amos’ growl broke Dominic’s stupor and the penguin closed the door behind him as he entered. “So-”

 “How much did ya hear.”

 “Enough that you know that you need to get somewhere with no reliable way to get there.” Dominic answered, pulling another chair towards the table.

 “Didn’t know ya were one for eavesdroppin’. Hopin’ ta find a usable script for yer movies?”

 “I’m going to ignore that last comment. I came to see if you were okay. Your ability is getting out of control and it’s becoming a concern. More than it’s been previously.”

 “‘M aware of that. That’s what I was tryin’ to fix.”

 “You need a ride to get there? To wherever this ‘fix’ is supposed to be.”

 “Great deductive skills.”

 Dominic let out a heavy sigh, tamping down the slowly rising anger within. “What I’m trying to say is that if you need a ride, I would like to offer my assistance.”

 Amos sat up at that, ears perked up. “...What?”

 “I will offer you a ride.”

 “Ya don’t even know where I’m goin’!”

 “It seems you’re desperate to get where you need to go. With your flares, it would be foolish for you to travel alone or in a confined place that you wouldn’t be able to leave when you needed.. So, let me help you.”

 “...Are we...alright enough with each other ta be stuck in a car? Together? For so long?”

 “How long is this journey?”

 “I need ta get ta Starlight Peak.”

 “I- That’s halfway across the planet!”

 “Ya can see why this is a bit of an issue fer me.”

 “Why do you need to get there?”

 The owl huffed, ruffling his feathers further. “I’ll explain, if ya promise you’ll take me, and ya don’t ask further questions.”

 “Those are pretty high demands.” Dominic crossed his arms.

 “This...is not somethin’ I want a lot of people to know about.”

 Dominic wasn’t ready for that answer. For as long as he’d known Amos, the owl has never been one to share any personal information. It took Dominic almost 8 years to learn he had a daughter and a few more months to know about his grandchildren. Which was really the only thing Dominic knew. Amos was short tempered but closed-lipped. Loud but private.

 So, seeing him here, quiet and withdrawn, ears folded and arms crossed…

 Dominic didn’t like it.

 “I will take you and I will not share with anyone what you’re about to tell me.”

 “And…”

 “And I will not ask further questions.”

 Taking that as an adequate answer, Amos sat up and faced Dominic properly. “I have this… ‘condition’ where I have this… I have fire burning in me.”

 “Ah...I wasn’t ready for that. Wait, like an actual fire?”

 “Aye, where did ya think my fire came from?”

 “To be honest, I’m not really sure. Now that I know however, it kind of makes sense.”

 “Well, that fire is burnin’ brighter everyday. More than what I can contain and control. There’s something at the peak that will help tamper that fire back down.”

 “Tamper the fire down? What does that-”

 “Ah, ya said ya wouldn’t ask questions!”

 “Alright! Alright…” Dominic raised his hands in defense as Amos glared him down. As the owl sat back down, Dominic felt himself relax. “It’ll take us at least a week to get there and back.”

 “Aye, ‘m aware.”

 “We’ll need to shut down the studio for that long.”

 “Ya worried about fallin’ behind on filming.”

 “You wish. I’m more worried about the paparazzi. If they get wind of this, they’ll have a field day wondering where we’re going.”

 Amos groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Peck, I forgot about that. Do ya think we could slip out without the peckin’ buzzards findin’ out?”

 “You’re joking, right? The first day we don’t open, they’ll be hunting us down. If not the day before we depart. Speaking of, when do we need to leave? I’m assuming the sooner the better.”

 “That would be ideal. But I do have a few things ta take care of before we do.”

 “How about the day after tomorrow?”

 Amos nodded to that suggestion. “Sounds like our best idea.”

 “Best get to packing then.”

 “Aye...and leave your peckin’ platform shoes here!”

 “You just don’t care for style.”

 “Do ya really want ta climb a mountain side in those shoes?”

 “...Fair point.”

[bffsoobin]

Windflower

01|02|03|04|05|06

↳ after a heartbreak you find yourself in a small town looking for purpose. you find employment with Choi Soobin and his impressive ancestral home. when you start to fall in love again, there’s no way for you to predict what you find in the depths of the home and Soobin’s mind.

➤ hanahaki au, fluff, angst

Word Count:1,568

Warnings: mentions of food, some swearing, mentions of past relationships/unrequited love, mentions of surgery (not in detail). General warning that its 11 pm here and for me that’s late (old lady alert) and I didn’t proofread as usual.

A/N: Another character building chapter! There is very important info about both Soobin and reader in here, so make sure you pay attention and read well!  

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Dinner was surprisingly good, given the two of you had just thrown a frozen pizza in the oven. He had fussed adorably over adding extra cheese to the meal before popping it into the shiny appliance. It was easy to tell Soobin still felt awkward due to almost seeing you naked because he kept at least 5 feet of distance between your bodies for a long while. His skittish nature made it difficult for you to help set the table, but you let it slide. You don't know much about him; so it felt wrong to pass judgement on the way he couldn’t even keep eye contact for a while. It was okay, though, because his behavior still managed to rustle up glee in your stomach. The pizza was one of the best meals you had eaten in days, and you thanked Soobin profusely for it. He smiled awkwardly, waving you off with a joke about owing him breakfast in the morning. His personality had brightened ten shades with the help of food and his favorite tv show on the big screen television mounted on the wall of the living room. He had a whole pint of Half Baked ice cream open on the coffee table that was just for him. He had offered to share, but you turned him down upon seeing the absolutely ravenous look on his face; worried that he would combust on the spot if you didn’t let him have the pint to himself.  So you settled for watching the show absentmindedly until your mind began to wander. Intrigued by the contrast between the home’s age and the modern interior, you finally decided to ask Soobin. 

“Did someone do renovations here?” You mentally slapped yourself. Well duh, Y/N. Soobin’s ancestors who posed for oil portraits that now hung in ornate golden frames certainly didn’t install the stainless steel refrigerator and pick out the large leather sectional you were currently lounging on. He didn’t seem to catch the poor wording of your question as he nodded from his spot on the couch next to you with his legs tucked underneath him. You couldn’t help but notice how adorable he looked sitting that way.

“Yeah, my cousin did most of that kind of stuff. He’s a few years older than me so he was able to update the house for us when he was still living here. That’s his whole thing,” Soobin wiggled his fingers in the air, “interior design. Consulted at the shop a few towns over and everything.”

“I heard that he moved, why?” The back of your neck grew hot when you realized how insensitive that question really sounded once it was said out loud. “You don’t have to answer me, by the way,” you hoped that the attempt to backtrack would be enough to curb potential awkwardness. God knows the two of you couldn’t afford any more of that. 

“He met a girl online who lives a few states away and fell in love with her. He was wasting all of his money traveling back and forth to see her, so he finally decided to just move. The only things keeping him here were me and taking care of the house. I miss him sometimes, but I can’t blame him. He was starting to grow flowers for her, and she made it very clear that unless he could move to live with her, he would have to get the surgery.” Soobin’s voice had taken on a very odd tone that felt too complicated to unpack at the moment. Besides, your own chest began to burn at the mention of growing flowers. 

The boy must have noticed the way you gently grasped the soft fabric of your t-shirt between your fingers as his eyes widened like a deer in headlights. He made a miniscule scooch over the leather cushions to get a bit closer to you and place a hesitant hand on your shoulder. His voice was extremely soft and quiet even for as close as he was to you. 

“I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I didn’t know that you…” he licked his plump lips as he hesitated, “Did you have surgery? You don’t have to answer me either, by the way.” Of course you had seen the question coming, but hearing it in the softest tone of voice you had ever heard from a human being struck a different chord in your heart. You couldn’t find it in yourself to confess your woes to his face, so you turned to your left to admire the garden from the window view. Earlier, he had happily told you the names of some of them and their meanings. Buttercups signifying innocence, Forget-me-nots representing true love, Marigolds standing for bliss. Flowers; dictating so much of your life. 

“Yeah, I had surgery.” You cursed the shaky edge in your voice. “I was in love with my best friend from college, we were roommates and he was everything I ever wanted from a boyfriend. And I thought he liked me back so,” you swallowed thickly and finally turned your head to see a confused furrow in Soobin’s brow. You knew why he looked so confused, but he would understand your emotions soon enough. “So I thought I had just caught some kind of bug when I started to grow flowers, and he was taking care of me. One day I went to the bathroom to puke and out came little purple petals. It was so confusing. He thought they were for someone else, so he comforted me and I didn’t understand why that only made me cough up more.” A hot tear escaped down your cheek and you cursed at it. Soobin’s whole body was rigid, as if your story was enough to stop all of his bodily functions in their tracks. You supposed your societally unusual show of emotions for a past love would be more than enough to elicit that response. 

“Obviously, I found out that he didn’t love me back so I went for surgery. They deemed it successful and I moved back in with him so we could just live as best friends. No flowers, no icky feelings, right?” The question was obviously rhetorical yet Soobin nodded as if cheering you on. “And everything was great, for close to a year. Until one night I woke up in a coughing fit when he wasn’t home and ended up with another god damn purple petal in my hand.” Your fist clenched at the memory of the disgustingly wet petal that had landed in your palm just to mock you. “So I went back to the hospital and they did all their tests. There’s nothing left for them to remove. No new growths, just. There’s something wrong with me. The doctor said he had read about it before, people who can’t fully move on even after removal. That was just two weeks ago. I couldn’t stay there and pretend the first surgery actually ended my feelings for him. That’s how I ended up here, with you.”

Soobin’s face was unreadable. A horribly timed laugh track blasted from the tv speakers and made you cringe. How awkward could this first day as an employee and roommate be? He had nearly seen you naked and now he knows all about your past heartbreak and medical anomaly. You inhaled a shuddering breath through your nose and busied yourself with watching the sun slowly disappear behind the trees of the property. 

“I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. I can’t even relate with,” he gestured awkwardly toward his own chest, “growing flowers. I never have. That’s why I grow so many in the garden. Well, that and the family traditions. But mostly because I have always wondered what I would grow if I were in your position. And I memorize what they mean because one time I read a story that said your flowers can signify the kind of relationship you have with that person; especially since they change with every relationship. But I guess it’s kind of a blessing I’ve never loved anyone yet, huh?” You scoffed at his confession. 

“You have no idea, Soobin. I’d give everything to fall in love with someone who loves me back and push those stupid purple petals out of my system. Or to just have normal anatomy. But we live in a cruel world sometimes.” The atmosphere of the living room existed in direct opposition to your statement, as warm hues of sunset casted over every surface in a blissful haze.You could see particles of dust falling through the air as if in slow motion. Soobin hummed thoughtfully and got up to stand in front of a window. The light framed the outline of his body like a halo. 

“Lets hope,” his voice sounded just as light and airy as the room looked, “that the only flowers you encounter from now on are just the ones from the garden. No pain included.” You weren’t sure how much stock you should take in his insinuation that being here, with him, wouldn’t end in you growing flowers again. Was that an underhanded confession of attraction? You certainly didn’t have the guts to ask, but the idea made you feel weightless. 

“That would be very nice, Soobin. No pain included at all.” 

[regrettablewritings]

Finn Fluff Meme (I, K, V, & Y)

Because fucka this, it’s my blog and we need more Finn love dammit!

I = Impression (What was their first impression?):

Sweaty. You thought he was incredibly sweaty. And not in the sexy kind of way, but in the “somebody just got caught doing something they probably shouldn’t be doing” kind of way. And given that he appeared to be sneaking around the escape pods, you had every reason to determine that that was exactly the case.

It only got worse when you learned that this sweaty, stuttering mess was actually the same man whose name was traveling fast among the remaining Resistance members. Suffice to say, you had a completely different image built up in your head when you’d first heard about Finn: Strong, courageous, confident, cool . . . You might’ve been setting yourself up for disappointment when you had learned that, well, he was such some kid no older than yourself, just as frazzled as you were about your current circumstances but more willing to show it. Truth be told, you couldn’t exactly blame him, but you also couldn’t let him know that.

Admittedly, Finn didn’t exactly think much of you -- which wasn’t to say he thought lesser of you or that you had no redeeming qualities about you, he just wasn’t in a mindset to think much of you beyond “shorter than him”, “not Rey/unrecognizable”, and so on. To be fair, nearly everyone else he sprinted by had gotten just about the same assessment from him: He was more so focused on what happened, what was happening, where he even was, and where Rey was. Not the most pleasant first impression, where the person who would become your significant other is too busy focusing on another woman.

Thankfully, he got a second chance.

As it turned out, you were correct in your initial expectations of Finn -- to a degree. He was certainly brave, if foolhardy at times; his strength lay in his resilience and loyalty and willingness to help out in the end, even in the face of his own worries and wants; in addition, while there were very few especially unsavory characters you’d come across in the Resistance, Finn was, by far, one of the sweetest. You took back all your previous concerns: Finn was, without a doubt, the hero you’d imagined him to be -- only better.

And yet, the entire while, Finn didn’t see those traits about him. In fact, while you were convinced he was a hero, he was convinced more and more every day that you fit the hero title better. After all, you were competent even at the first sign of danger; you were able to actually compartmentalize and know when to be intense and when to allow your natural sensitivities show. When the two of you talked more, you weren’t too afraid to admit to him that you were actually constantly worried and sometimes even found yourself questioning the sense of it all, if the future held any promise worth fighting for. Yet here you were, a pilot still willing to fly out upon the first command. Not out of blind obedience, thankfully, but to you, it simply made sense: You didn’t know for sure if the Resistance would be victorious in the end, but you had to fight because at least there was a chance; by not fighting, then you already knew what the answer was.

It did well to remind Finn of this from time to time until, eventually, the roles were switched: In the beginning, you thought Finn would be your hero. He still was, though in a much more familial sense. Meanwhile, you had become Finn’s own hero.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?):

First kiss was sudden, excited, and very awkward; almost like a schoolboy’s. But it could be forgiven for two reasons:

For one, it’s not as though Finn had been in the right environment to learn how to properly kiss up until relatively recently. And for two, you were pretty sure he was riding on a high of excitement: A transmission had come in from one of the squadrons that the mission, initially deemed bleak, had turned for the better. Much better, in fact! Clearly, Finn had to ride this as far as he could -- including, apparently, down a path where he asked to take you on a date.

“Or, you know, well,” he stammered, face burning with blush. “As date-like as we can get in a more or less run-down base? Er, that didn’t sound promising . . . But I can promise you, I’ll make it work -- ”

You would’ve been a complete nerf-herder to say no to the Resistance’s “Big Deal”!

In hindsight, he should’ve known better than to be that excited. You hadn’t exactly been secretive about how fond you were of Finn: The two of you had grown rather close in spite of the less-than-promising first impressions. Any spare time he had that wasn’t spent resting or training was spent with you, talking or trying his best to stay awake just to he could enjoy every moment he could with you. And any free time you had, you were more than happy to spend watching him work or train or sharing stories of your life before joining the Resistance.

But then again, just because it wasn’t exactly a secret didn’t mean that neither of you requested a certain decorum about it: You had made many a threat to General Dameron that if he kept referencing your obviously budding feelings, you would “push him down a slope and make it look like an accident.” And while Finn’s attempts at shushing his friend weren’t as violent, he had no qualms attempting to manually shut his mouth. Thankfully, though, Poe wasn’t there to smirk proudly at the sight. And to directly witness what happened next.

In hindsight, Finn wasn’t even sure what possessed him to do it -- maybe he subconsciously saw other partners in the Resistance do it when they reunited or something? Maybe he thought it was just something you were meant to do? Maybe he was just way too high on the excitement of the moment? Well, whatever the hell it was, he sure did go for it: He grabbed you by the waist, picked you up, and went in for the kiss he’d been dreaming about for so long.

In hindsight, he should’ve probably taken it slow. Maybe keep his eyes open for a bit. Long enough to make sure your lips were actually going to connect, maybe. At least he had the decency to place you down gently, despite the sudden pain caused by your heads colliding and teeth bonking against one another.

As he sheepishly ushered you out of mission control and towards the infirmary to treat your now bleeding nose, that was of course when Poe decided to show up.

“The Hell did you do to her, did you headbutt her out of happiness?!” he quipped as he watched his hugely embarrassed companion skitter down the corridor with his new datemate, of whom was currently occupied with looking upwards while pinching their nose.

(After Poe got the story, he had to excuse himself from the room and wheeze himself into an infirmary visit.)

Thankfully, Finn hadn’t broken your nose, and thankfully you were a pretty good sport about it. 

“You were just caught up in the excitement, that’s all. It was cute, if a bit painful,” you smiled weakly. But you had meant it: As bonked up as the attempt had been, the one thing you couldn’t say was that it was forgettable. Though, from then on, you wanted to keep “kisses” like that strictly to that one memory: Any kisses from now on needed to be authorized so that surprises like that wouldn’t wind up with visits to the medical wing like this.

Though, you were more than happy to help him practice that.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?):

His accomplishments. To say that Finn ever saw his life turning out this way would be to tell an outright lie: The only expectations Stormtroopers are allowed to have is to remain loyal, to fire when told, and to be ready to lay down their lives for the First Order. The only hope or dream one could personally have is to live to fight destroy another day. But escape did happen in spite of the odds.

And even in the present, Finn has difficulty entirely believing that it had happened at all: He has a better understanding of the world around him; he has loved ones; he has a purpose where he, as an individual, is valued; he has a life! Ever since he could remember, he’d been taught to be melded with everyone else and to not stand out. So, as one could imagine, the rise from faceless Stormtrooper in sanitation to the general in a resistance organization would be nothing to sniff at or gloss over. And, truth be told, he can’t help but be prideful about it. Not arrogantly so, but enough to joke about it to you.

“Is that any way to speak to a general?” he jokes whenever you call him a goof.

“Come back safe. That’s an order from your superior,” he’ll tell you before you fly off for recon, adding in a clumsy wink.

(Additionally, Finn is actually proud of the fact that he’s Force-sensitive. Not loudly so, mind you, but in a quiet way. He’s not especially prone to showing it off due to his lack of experience with it, but that’s not going to stop this mad lad from trying to use it to pour you a cup of water, or bring him his jacket even though you’re right there. Heck, he’d going to try to use it to bring the jacket because you’re right there. The only problem is that when he does this, there’s a 50-50 chance that the water jog will go careening into a wall or be defenestrated, or that his jacket will collide so hard into his face that it’s accompanied by a slapping sound.)

(If there’s one thing Finn may not be proud of, it may be asking Rey to help him train after one too many Force Incidents.)

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?):

Yes. Eventually. Maybe. Just not now.

Let it be reminded, once more, that Finn’s entire life has been a cluster: He went from serving the First Order to going on the run to winding up with the Resistance and participating on the other side of a war he never wanted anything to do with in the first place. Don’t get the wrong idea, Finn doesn’t regret a bit of it. After all, so many great and amazing things came from this: He got out of a bad environment; he made lifelong friends; he discovered his Force sensitivity; he helped win on the right side of history; and he met you!

But all these happened sort of at once, all things considered. He needs a bit of breathing room. And now, with the war beginning to wind down, it seems he’ll have more opportunities to embrace exactly that.

Not having to stick around to be a general for a resistance group means he can explore his freedoms as never before. It means traversing the galaxy without needing any real reason to besides for enjoyment. The thought is actually almost overwhelming for Finn: There aren’t really any orders left to follow as the dust settles. The temptation to go buck wild is strong, but he does fight it off because alongside that, there’s also the excitement of knowing that he can now focus his time on himself. That is, exploring himself as he explores the galaxy -- with you.

He wants you to be there with him as he learns for the first time in his life what a freer world feels like. He wants to be there with you as you get to experience planets without being covert or on a mission. You both just want to be with each other without any expectations besides where you plan on going.

It is said that love in a time of war can bloom much like a flower in stone slab, and you both would dare to agree that you’re living proof of that. That being said, marriage can wait: For now, you’re both plenty fine with just being yourselves in a new era -- whatever that may mean for the both of you respectively.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Communication Issues (AT:TTSIMBCMEOAYSFIL)- Chapter Two

Ao3,   MasterPost,   Chapter One, Chapter Three

Relationships: (eventual) Romantic Analogince

I’m finally back from my impromptu hiatus!!! My laptop, like, just fuckin broke... but now I’ve got a new one so it’s okay!!! And the first thing I did with it was make these little characters Hurt.

Warnings: Repressing Emotions (k i n d a), food mention, self-isolation/avoiding one’s friends, general angst, cursing, unreliable narrator (maybe??? by that I mean Logan is stupid and has no idea what’s actually going on.) 

Word Count: 5,244

To the best of your knowledge, the three of you are close. To see the facts: you, Roman, and Virgil spend the majority of your time together, partaking in a number of activities that all of you find fun. Comparing your time with them to how much you see, say, a friend like Janus- it becomes apparent that the three of you ought to be considered ‘best friends’. 

However, you had preferred to be 100% certain of this, as you like to be with all things. It was a few weeks after Roman’s New Idea when you finally gave in to this preference (more of a need, really). You asked outright the nature of your dynamic with them.

Roman laughed at you. The abashment you felt was, unfortunately, a very familiar thing.

‘Is the idea of us being best friends really so humorous?’ you challenged, masking the sting you felt with indignation. Virgil had elbowed Roman sharply, explaining to him that you were seriously asking. His laughter stopped at once. ‘Of course we are,’ he’d said. ‘I thought you were kidding, because it seemed so obvious,’ he’d continued. 

All you could manage was a small ‘Oh’. 

So, yes, you’ve determined that your bond is more meaningful than on average. That hardly irks you; it’s a positive thing, in fact. It’s been good for you to have some kind of affection, even if the thought still makes you want to roll your eyes. It’s what’s just beyond that affection that’s causing an itching beneath your skin when the three of you ‘hang out’, as you so often do. That itching, those crawling little mites figuratively burrowed under your skin- it’s all been prevalent in your interactions over the past weeks.

Go over the facts, then, Logan. 

Fact one: You aren’t used to intimate friendships.

Fact two: You have established an intimate friendship with Roman and Virgil

Fact(?) three: Roman and Virgil’s intimacy with each other is quickly turning away from ‘friendship’.

This brings you to the evidence, which gets a little fuzzier; some conclusions might have been jumped to, but you find that irrelevant.

Evidence (?): They share these Looks. A Look when Roman says something abhorrently stupid, but when Virgil jumps to insult him he sounds nothing but adoring. A Look when Virgil comes up with a particularly creative biting remark, and while Roman is just as quick to fire back with a playful tease of his own, there’s that obvious elated expression of pride that he holds just for the anxious trait. 

That on it’s own wouldn’t amount to much, you’ll admit, but you’ve always been a careful observer of body language (out of necessity, given how words fail you when there’s subtext to be found). Their hands brush frequently, to the point where it cannot possibly be incidental. They not-so-subtly lean into each other when they probably think you aren’t looking- though perhaps you shouldn’t be looking anyway. While you are well-accustomed to platonic physical affection in not only your relationships with the two of them, but with all of your ‘coworkers’ (the bulk of it coming from Patton and Remus, predictably), Virgil and Roman’s physical affection exudes such romantic tension that you’re surprised Roman himself isn’t going haywire, because of the overload of feelings that fall into his area of expertise.

Your third piece of evidence comes from just last night. You’d returned from the kitchen, arms loaded with snacks for you all to share, only to find Roman threading his fingers through Virgil’s hair while the embodiment of anxiety carefully sketched on a folded sheet of paper. Virgil’s eyes had flicked up briefly, widening when he saw you as though you hadn’t only left the room for seven minutes and twenty-three seconds.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted with a tiny wave. Something odd and envious and just a bit bitter simmered in your chest, but you denied it whatever it seemed to be hissing for. You gave your friend a nod, setting down the food you’d brought onto the coffee table and seating yourself a good few feet from him and Roman on the couch. 

“V and I got bored waiting,” Roman explained, “So we’re doing a little art collaboration. The rule is that we aren’t allowed to see what the other one draws until it’s done!” He seemed enthusiastic about the game, and Virgil was clearly invested in his work. You saw no reason to interrupt them, quietly deeming your original plan to watch blue planet together defunct. But you could still contribute to this new activity! You knew plenty of art history, thankfully.

“There’s actually a name for that- it’s called Exquisite Corpse. The term was coined by surrealist artists in 1925.”

Roman waved his hand, almost dismissive, and your heart- figuratively- sank. 

“Yeah, yeah, in Paris, I already know. Yves Tanguy, Marcel Duchamp, et cetera et cetera. Art’s my whole thing, remember? Do you wanna play or not?”

“Oh, I- I don’t care for drawing,” you have never understood and will likely never understand most forms of visual art. 

Roman shrugged, but before he could respond Virgil was folding up the piece of paper and handing it to him, blank side up. The vigilant trait pushed his bangs back and shook out his shaggy hair, which stuck up at odd angles due to Roman’s tangling.

“Whatever you want, L. You can put on that documentary you were talking about now,” Virgil said, reaching for the food piled up on the table. Your first instinct had been to agree, of course, and get back to the original plan for the day. As you took the remote, however, you couldn’t help but notice just how close they sat, plenty apart from you. It felt like a fitting analogy- and you’ve always had distaste for analogies.

“That’s alright,” a lie, “I’m feeling rather restless now- I think it would be best if I got some work done with this energy,” a half-truth. 

You’d left before they could respond, trying to ignore the envy seething under your skin. It didn’t even make sense- you hated having your hair touched! While the history was interesting, Surrealist art did nothing but frustrate you! You don’t like drawing games, or people’s hands on your face, for goodness’ sake. 

Presently, you stare up at your ceiling and reflect on your friendship, feeling it all start to click. You do not want it to click. You push your glasses up on your forehead and press the heels of your hands against your eyelids, soaking in the ache that results from the pressure. You’re so fucking sick of thinking, thinking, thinking- but the other option is leaving your room- which you’ll have to do very soon anyway- and interacting with other people.

It’s easier to handle with everyone else around to distract you, rather than just Virgil and Roman. Easier, but not easy. You groan, pushing yourself into a sitting position and letting your glasses fall back into place. You cannot just stew here forever, much as you’d like to.

Yet- It doesn’t make sense. You don’t want to see Virgil and Roman, sitting as close as they do now, dancing around each other so frustratingly. But you want to be around them so much that you feel you can’t help it, desperate to be caught between them like usual. But, no, you don’t!

You wish they could figure themselves out and actually get together, to save everyone the headache- but is that even really what you want? For them to officially be romantically involved, thereby distancing themselves from you even further? And then you’ll truly be the ‘third wheel’, as it were? 

What do you want, you ask yourself repeatedly.

  For things to go back to normal, you answer yourself. 

You shake your head, no, because what does that even mean? Do you want them to not have feelings for each other, just so they’ll pay more attention to you? Now that doesn’t add up at all, because first and foremost you want them to be happy. Happy, and also spending time with you as much as each other. Yes, that’s closer to the point, you think. You want that closeness to be equal between the three of you, that makes perfect sense. So, logically, it follows that what you want is-

What you want is… 

God, no, God, your eyes widen and your fists clench and, fuck, you almost shake as you try to hold back the encroaching realization.

You want-

There’s a knock at the door. 

You breathe shakily, your hands tensing and untensing. There’s a knock at the door. The door of your room, because you are in your room, sitting on your bed. You’re here, and now, and you can breathe.

Dazedly, you stand, moving as though you’re wading through honey. You swallow back whatever feelings had been building in you only for the moment. You aren't willing to actually harm yourself by repressing them, merely holding them at the reigns in order to actually function enough to talk to whoever’s come knocking.

You click the door open, pulling it back to see a worried Patton. You are immeasurably relieved that it is him specifically.

“Heya, Kiddo. It’s been a while since any of us saw you today. I was just coming by to let you know we’re about to start picking a movie for tonight. Do ya feel up to joining us?”

That’s something you appreciate about Patton: he keeps in tune with others’ emotions with almost supernatural accuracy. Remarkably high-empathy being a power granted to him by his aspect, he knew when things were off, and he knew when someone did or did not want to talk about it. He didn’t barge up to your room and throw the door open with the enthusiasm he might usually express if he saw how you were uneasy, knowing that such an action could be overwhelming. Rather, he was checking in, quietly offering you an out if you needed it. 

But you’re about to directly contradict yourself about that appreciation! Because this means that you have to decide what you do; because you maybe kind of want to be forced to see your friends, rather than forcing yourself to avoid them. You aren’t exactly sure you have the strength to be around them on your own, but you can’t imagine a fate worse than isolation in the wake of this emotional discovery that you totally aren’t focusing on right now dammit answer Patton.

“Yes, I must have been a tad preoccupied today. I’ll be down in a moment,” the answer’s out before you think about it. You regret it, and also you don’t. 

Patton grins warmly at you, obviously relieved, and promises to wait for you to head down before they start. He disappears back through the hall and down the staircase in an instant, humming tunelessly as he walks.

It’s only after arriving downstairs that you become entirely sure that you’ve made the wrong choice. Roman is practically in Virgil’s lap, his head tilted into the facet’s neck while they playfully bicker with each other. When he spots you, his head shoots up, and he waves you over. In an amazing example of self-control, you sit one cushion away from the pair.

Throughout the night, you keep your eyes trained to the screen, trying to ignore however sappy Roman and Virgil get. You need space to think about this issue and find a way to solve it, and they need more space from their little tricycle anyway. 

The movies pass in a blur. You think Virgil tries to say something to you before you go upstairs, but you don’t catch it. Your ears are ringing.

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

It’s predictable as hell, considering his semi-self-isolation before The Incident, that Roman is desperate for attention. He’s, in the simplest terms, clingy as fucking fuck. Something that’s mildly less expected than that is just how little you mind it. If you’re honest, with all the hugs and brushes and small comforts, it kinda rocks. Which might be an odd way to describe emotionally and physically intimate friendship, but hey. Shut up. 

You and Roman’ve become a little attached at the hip because of this- though you hold tightly onto the excuse that it’s just cuz you want Roman to get the attention he needs, and totally not because you actually like the affection, too. You know the truth, though. The truth that it all… fulfills something in you, something that’s been craving attention that you didn’t even know about. It’s weird. Not bad, just weird.

You digress; the point is that you and Roman have a Thing With Touching, and that’s not exactly a shocker. Something you’re only recently coming to notice, however, is that this preference is one shared by your other closest friend, Logan. You could’ve sworn he’d be touch averse, and while he definitely has very specific boundaries (he wouldn’t tolerate touches to his hair, neck, or most parts of his legs), he’s exactly the opposite of averse, he’s just way too stubborn to initiate anything or admit it.

Who knew that only knowing a grand total of six other beings for your entire life- most of said beings disliking each other for a good portion of that life- would leave everyone involved more than a little touch-starved? 

Oh well. No time like the present to fix that, you figure. This is all just your long-winded way of saying that whenever you’re in the room with Logic or Creativity, you’re 99% guaranteed to have at least one point of contact with them. 

Which totally wouldn’t be a problem, if you weren’t falling irrevocably in love with both of them. But, unfortunately, you totally are. 

When everything started, it was just Logan. He was too considerate and too goddamn caring not to make you feel things, the bastard. He understands you, almost perfectly, all the time- even though people understanding you completely goes against your aesthetic- and you feel like you get him all the same. In a way, your love for him makes sense. It always has, really, all the way back when he gave you that first glimpse of friendship. It’s always been Logan.

And that all would be horrible enough on its own, but then Roman blind-sided you with his teary eyes and deeply-rooted insecurity. Neither of these are technically ‘attractive’ traits, but dammit if you didn’t find yourself sympathizing to a painful extent. You not only comprehended his (gradually lessening) pain, you’re also surprised to note just how badly you want to help him through it, if only because you knew that you really could help. You can’t bear to watch Roman suffer, because the both of you, despite all the differences, are exactly alike. You find sympathy in his sadness, and affection in his joy. 

It’s disgusting.

The plan was simple; you’d keep all the feelings inside, and then one day you’d die. You’d hold them all at bay and let the infatuation fade to a dull ache against your ribcage, settling into a bittersweet friendship with the two temperamental traits. It’s easy to push down when all six of you spend family time together, hell, you hardly break a sweat when it’s just the three of you, because you can just use one to deflect off the other! You are a fucking pro at ignoring your emotions.

Then movie night happened. You have no clue what specifically did happen, but you’ve managed to track the weird behavior back to that evening. Logan was stiff as a board all night, sitting as far as he could from you and Ro. He didn’t even look back at you when you tried to talk to him before he left. He didn’t answer the door when you tried to check on him later. 

To say that Logan hadn’t left his room since would be a gross oversimplification. Oh, he’s venturing out, alright, but strategically. He comes down for meals. He comes down when Patton, Remus, or occasionally Janus ask for him, indulging them without complaint. Sure, he’s conveniently busy whenever it’s you or Roman knocking, but he’s already done so much with everybody else that day. No one could be concerned, because clearly Logan wasn’t avoiding anything.

Yeah, bullshit. He’s just diverting everybody else’s suspicions, but you know him too well for that.

He doesn’t work in the commons anymore. He doesn’t rise up in the living room, accompanied with a laptop or a kindle or what have you, just to have the quiet company of someone else while he works. He doesn’t seek you out to explain something he read on Tumblr, and from the looks of it, he doesn’t attempt to infodump about poetry with Roman anymore. And the nail in this coffin is this: when you attempt to confront him, he plays dumb. Logan plays dumb.

Logan avoiding you means two things: 1. one of your most trusted friends who you’re absolutely besotted with won’t talk to you, which is its own special kind of agony- and 2. you spend the majority of your time totally alone with the other friend that you are in love with, which is obviously not ideal.

By this point, you are well-acquainted with the various personal problems of your ‘co-workers’. Statistically, at any given point at least one side is having some kind of an emotional crisis. You figure that it’s best to get a headstart on solving this one, before you can talk yourself out of it. 

But obviously you can’t do it alone.

“Roman.”

The side in question shrieks, spinning around hastily with wide eyes. You don’t even blink, staring him down from the kitchen doorway until he has the sense to stop screaming. He cuts himself off with a cough, clearing his throat and returning to whatever it was that he was doing. After an appropriate awkward silence, he shoots you a sheepish smile. 

“Oh, ha- I- I didn’t see you there, Virgil,” he huffs a tiny laugh, his mouth twitching. It’s such a soft little expression, a bit embarrassed but mostly- Dammit, Virgil, you’re here for a reason! Keep it together, you useless homosexual.

“I guessed that, yeah,” you trudge into the room, lifting yourself up onto the counter beside the stove. “How are you?”

He pauses for a moment. It’s a simple question, but the both of you understand its true significance. You’re expecting an honest, no-nonsense answer as to how he’s been feeling. It’s sort of a system, to help prevent all that bottling up of emotions that you’re all so used to. 

“I suppose I’m… a little out of it. I got rather caught up in sculpting for a good few hours,” as he explains, you notice him absently digging clay out from under his nails, “So I figured it was time for a lunch break.”

“Good,” you tell him, because it’s important that he hears things like that. He’s staring vacantly into the water that’s beginning to bubble on the stove, but you know he will return the check-in question to you in his own time. Technically, you could have just walked in and began with what you really wanted to talk about, but this method gives the conversation a more clear-cut structure. Greeting, followed by question-response, followed by question-response; it’s properly outlined. 

“What’s going on with you, then?”

“I feel like garbage,” you see him blink in surprise, but he waits politely for you to continue. “I’m worried. I mean- I'm usually worried, but in this specific circumstance, I’m worried about-”

“Logan?” He looks up when he says it, his gaze searching. 

“Yeah- um, yes. You noticed it, too?”

“Oh, please,” there's an obnoxious clanging as Roman idly swings around a slotted spoon, “I may not be as observant as you nerds, but you could stand to give me some credit.”

You settle him with A Look. He huffs.

“Okay fine! I only caught on when he… ugh, it's embarrassing, but we like to write. Together. On Wednesdays. But he’s been ditching.”

You already had a hunch about your friends’ little poetry sessions, as neither are particularly subtle about anything, at all, ever. It's super dorky, but it’s a very them thing to do. This development is concerning, to say the least.

“Wait, then why haven’t you brought it up?” 

Roman squirms a bit, clinking his slotted ladle against the stovetop repetitively. You regret the interrogative tone that found its way into your voice.

“I didn't want to be, you know, needy. He said he was busy- and like, it was a little sketchy when he was only busy when I wanted to hang out- but- I just assumed he’d maybe gotten bored with it. I didn’t want him to get even more distant with me, so I didn’t say anything.”

Well, okay, you totally fail at not being distracted by that. Scooching a little further down the counter, you bump Roman's hip with the side of your foot.

“Hey.”

He doesn't look up. 

“Roman.”

He groans, throwing his head back and glaring up at the cabinets.

“I know! Saying it out loud, alright, I know he wouldn't do something like that- it's just- I forget sometimes, Virge.”

You don't ask him to elaborate. He doesn't need to. He shifts away from the stove and drops his head onto your shoulder, leaning against you. 

“But if you've noticed it too, then something must really be wrong, huh?”

You give a short laugh.

“Yeah. He's upset about something, I can tell. It’s fuzzy, though, that’s the weirdest thing. It's like, I can feel the anxiety from, but it's being overpowered by something else in there. I have no idea what, so it's gotta be out of my jurisdiction.”

He hums curiously. 

“What’s the plan then? Drag him out of his room and make him hang out with us?” Roman's voice rumbles against your shoulder, and it's so comforting that you can't help but hook a leg around his waist to keep him near you.

“Great idea, I'm sure that he’ll really appreciate that,” your sarcasm (hopefully) takes the impact out of your downright cuddly nature. Roman is unfazed.

“That is literally what the both of you did to me mere months ago. I'd say that turned out pretty well, hmm?”

He tilts his head to the side, dragging out the hum with his face pressed against your neck. It's a concerted effort to snark at him instead of purring from the feeling. 

“I doubt that L would appreciate something like that, just because you- Jesus,” you cut yourself off when Roman fucking nuzzles you, ew gross- “Oh my fucking God, can you- prrr- can you st- prrrrr- stop for one second? You're- re- rerrrrrr- distracting me!” You push him off of you, feigning disgust. You don’t want to, but you have to at least try to stay on track.

He just chuckles, dropping away from you if only to take his food off the stove. 

“Sorry, sorry, it's just so hard to resist. You’re a kitten!”

“I know you're God-awful at genuine conversations, so I guess I'll let it slide this time.”

You see the offended look spread across his face, and hastily hold a hand up to interrupt.

“Logan.”

“Right, yes. Logan.”

“I mean, what would he say?” you drag your hand down your face, wracking your brain for any of his advice that you could apply to the situation. “He’d be all ‘the logical course of action would simply be to confront me, Virgil, because I am a stubborn little bitch and I will dance around the issue indefinitely,’” You nod, satisfied with both your impression and the conclusion it brought you to. Roman shoots you a comically wide grin.

“That was scary, how much you sounded like him.”

You shrug, offering a hum.

“So we should just… what? Walk up to his door, knock knock,‘what’s going on with you, man?’, and see what happens?”

“As crazy as it sounds, maybe this would be easier if we didn't prolong it for three weeks and complicate it like we do with everything else?”

There's a clatter as Roman struggles to reach the top cabinet for a bowl. You drop down from the counter, reach over his head, and hand it to him. 

“When you phrase it like that, I suppose it sounds obvious,” he takes the ceramic and fills it up- without a thanks, the bitch.

“Okay. We do that, then.”

“Okay.”

You hover in the kitchen, watching him grab his meal and begin to walk away. He tosses his head over his shoulder, giving you a look that you can't quite place. 

“Are you just going to wait there while I eat my lunch? We’ll go up in a few minutes, but I'd rather not pass out from lack of blood sugar in the middle of what's sure to be a whole production.”

“Oh- right.”

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

At your knock, there is absolutely no response from the other side of Logan’s door. You knock again- not so much as a footstep! You push down your immediate frustration at the nerve of him, knowing that you must keep your cool (but you also know that he has everyone’s knocks memorized; he knows it’s you!). 

You spare a glance to Virgil. He stares back at you, lip worried between his fangs, hands twisting themselves at his sleeves. He’s slouching so much that he looks nearly as short as you. 

“Is it… is it that bad?” your knuckles are still barely pressing against the inky-blue door, lingering. He nods. 

“Fuck, dude, whatever he’s feeling is intense. But, I can’t figure out what the hell it is,” he makes an attempt at whispering, but it sounds more like screeching TV static than anything. 

He’s in there, and Virgil isn’t the only one who can sense it. It’s electric; whatever Virgil isn’t picking up on seems to have fallen into your domain. Unfortunately, it must be one of your non-primary side functions, because you have no idea what the specifics are. You curse the fact that you aren’t nearly as in tune with these things as he, by design, is. 

“We gotta get in there, Roman.”

The use of your proper name startles you. You grind your teeth, turning his suggestion over in your mind a few times before shaking your head sharply.

“You were the one that said we needed a subtle approach, you- Virgil,” you catch yourself before a nickname slips out, trying to share in his sincerity for the moment.

He gives a shaky sigh.

“I- I know what I said, but- Fuck, Ro, it’s bad.”

Now, it may be just because you’re a contrary bitch, but you have flipped on your original stance as well, leaving the both of you at odds. The worse this feels, the more you need to hesitate. If he’s avoiding you- both of you, the mini-him in your head reminds you, mind your mental filtering- then there's a reason for it. A reason to do with anxiety and you, which could easily be the ‘passion’ part of you, and that gives the strong implication that he’s deeply angry and hurt. In which case, you know that you could easily do something to make it much worse. You are very good at saying the wrong thing.

And so. You stare blankly at his door. Immobile.

Virgil elbows you.

You wrap your knuckles against the door and send him a glare. He groans, ramming his shoulder into yours.

“Okay, Roman, out of the way-”

“I’m getting some bad vibes-”

“Yeah, me too, that's kind of the point!”

“Well, there’s no reason to get snippy!”

“I don’t need a reason anyway, now move-” 

At a light shuffling from behind the door, you both snap your mouths shut. It’s dead silent as you wait, more patient than you've ever been before, as the muffled footsteps draw closer to the door. They stop just short of it, and for a moment you don't breathe.

“I can hear you,” came a muffled, barely-audible rasp. 

You fall against the door at once, pressing the side of your face into its cool surface. Virgil appears beside you, his claws suspended just above the knob. They hover like he’d be burned if he touched it. His voice is carefully measured, and he nearly sounds normal when he speaks.

“L, buddy, can you let us in? Can we talk?” 

You nod along, realize that he cannot see you, and then enthusiastically proclaim your agreement with the statement instead.

There's a long pause. You fear that Logan’s left again.

“Is this… necessary?”

“I’d really like to know why you aren't talking to us, so yeah,” you try not to snap, you really do, but you can tell that you’ve failed as soon as the words leave your mouth. You hope he'll understand how you really meant it. 

There's a sigh, and yet another silence. Virgil makes eye-contact with you, face twisted up with concern.

“It was not my intention for you to think me angry with you, if that's what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not it, Lo,” well, Virgil can speak for himself, because you were kind of worried about that. “I know something's going on. I know you.”

“Virgil,” his voice sounds much clearer, closer, as though he's pressed against the doorframe like yourself, “Virgil, your voice.”

“Don't know if you can tell, man, but I'm pretty anxious right now. And I know that not all of it is mine.”

At the next lapse, you don't wait for Logan to speak.

“Specs, hey, listen to me: I don't have a clue what's going on-” you let yourself smile, knowing that he can hear it in your voice, “Which is kind of my usual state, really- but the point is, it doesn't matter. We're here for you, no matter what. The three of us- best friends, right? Bee-eff-effs.”

“Best friends forever,” he mutters.

“Ah! I’m glad you agree!”

“No- it’s- I was correcting you, abbreviations have no place in verbal conversation- especially in place of simple phrases such as that one.”

“There he is,” Virgil chuckles, the distortion finally edging out of his throat. 

Logan sighs. You hear a bump.

“I suppose, if you two are really so concerned,” the lock clicks, “Then it would only be hypocritical of me to refuse to speak with you on this matter, given how I encourage you to do the opposite almost constantly,” the knob twists, pushes forwards an inch, halts abruptly, “Although… I can’t promise you full transparency. I don’t- I don’t think I’m quite ready for that conversation.”

Well that is ominous. But, then again, progress is progress.

You step back, and the door swings open. 

You fail to stifle your gasp.

Logan stands in the doorway, his head up, spine straight, and his hands behind his back- his usual stance. The posturing does nothing, however, to hide just how bloodshot his eyes are behind his glasses. He trembles, almost, when he looks from you to Virgil, and then back again. As soon as you meet his gaze, he glances down to the carpet, tapping his foot on the floor compulsively. It’s a state you’ve seen him in plenty of times, but the knowledge that this time you were somehow responsible for it pushes daggers under your skin. 

“Well,” he falters, “Come in, I suppose.”

[fictionalcharactermbti]

2018 Follower Favorite ENFJ Winner:

1. Dominant Extraverted Feeling [Fe]

If there is one thing that everyone can agree on about Princess Diana, is that she is focused on people. She cares deeply and always leads with diplomacy. Diana cares for people which is a clear F trait, but what makes her a dominant Fe user is her need to represent and protect all people and communities. She is invested in her role as Wonder Woman. She does this because she knows others need her. She understands that Wonder Woman represents ideals to others and strives to uphold the role.

Roles in society are very important to Fe dominants. Everyone must do their duty in their societal role. This is why we typically don’t see her try to leave her role as Wonder Woman in order to have a private life. She, unlike many other superheros doesn’t seem to need to have too much invested in a false identity. She is Wonder Woman in almost all facets of her life. Princess Diana and Wonder Woman are the same person. She isn’t putting on a costume to be Wonder Woman. Whether in her typical armor or in a leather jacket, she is the same person who takes on the same responsibilities. She rarely struggles with the idea of running away and having her own life like her fellow justice league co-workers. Her individual identity is intrinsically attached to being Wonder Woman and that role in the world.

We see how her Fe further manifests itself interacting with the rest of her functions.

2. Secondary Introverted iNtuition [Ni]

Diana is not necessarily a guardian of her people. This may seem odd as her shield and general role seems to be a guardian role. Which it is, but not the kind of guardian I am referring to here in the case of Ni vs Si use. The ESFJ often protects the hierarchy as is, not to say they cannot question it, but this is the typical role an ESFJ character plays. Diana uses her secondary introverted intuition to understand the cultures and ways of other peoples and individuals.

Diana strives for understanding of others, especially in an emotional sense. A great example of this is in Rebirth where we see her solve the conflict of the God of War with love and acceptance. She bestows this same love on Hades in New 52. Her lasso has sometimes become her Fe-Ni personified, as she discovers the true motivations of others. Her Ni gets directed back at her Fe when she is functioning properly; she uses the motivations she discovers to help others find their place within a community.

Wonder Woman is a great demonstration of Ni secondary synthesizing ideals. This brings us directly back to the guardian term I threw out. First I had to demonstrate the understanding, now we can get to how that effects the guardian role. Diana is not a guardian of the traditions and ways of purely her people. She pushes to unite all people. As she ventures into the world she wants to combine what it best for all people throughout her journeys. No matter the iteration, she does not hold one world above the other or as a direct threat to her way of life. She wants to find a way for all peoples to get along, to find what unites them. In this sense she is a guardian of all people, but not of her specific way of the life. This is the difference have how ESFJs and ENFJs protect people with their Fe.

3. Tertiary Extraverted Sensation [Se]

Now, this all sounds great and all, but how do we address Diana’s more violent tendencies? First, being an F type by no means naturally makes a character less likely to be violent. No function leads anyone to be more or less violent. Functions help us analyze how someone uses violence and gets to the point of violence.

Obviously, we get that Diana is a protector, but it gets confusing that a protector of truth and love doesn’t have reservations at times to kill those she deems bad or evil. Although she tries to resolve conflict with love, we also see a Diana who when talking with Batman gives him guff for not killing his enemies like she does. That way they don’t come back like Batman’s Joker. How does the INTJ Batman show mercy to criminals, while in this moment Wonder Woman, the ENFJ, does not?

This is what happens when Diana uses he Se to support her Fe rather than her Ni. In order to impose the justice and order she sees needs to happen, she can get headstrong and revert to an impulsive nature. She will be trapped in the moment and unlike dominant and secondary users of Se more comfortable with this mode of perception, she can quickly become the judge, jury, and executioner in a heartbeat. She feels justified with her Fe and reacts quickly with Se. As an ENFJ she can become impatient with systems in order to get what she sees as the ideal done. Part of this is being a Judging dominant type; reaching the ends is important and the ambiguity of it all can be tiresome. Her Se feels like it better supports her Fe in order to reach these goals sometimes.

Se is not always her enemy though. When she is using her Ni properly, we see Diana engage in her Se through how she de-stresses. She isn’t afraid to go out and enjoy the human way of life. Being in the moment as a “human” often liberates Diana from her life as Wonder Woman. She can let her hair down and have a good time with the rest of them.

4. Inferior Introverted Thinking [Ti]

Having an inferior thinking function does not make someone unable to use logic. Everyone’s judging functions has a logic to it.

For Diana, her inferior function means she can be uncomfortable with specifically situational logic. This means looking at the logic of exceptions to the rule. This runs opposite to her main judgment function of Fe. She doesn’t like the holes pointed out in how she tries to help all people. There are issues in universalizing all peoples and in how she wields her power in order to do so. She can be quite idealistic and in her sweeping philosophy, there are those and situations in which her idealism can be problematic, these moments are uncomfortable for her and hard for her to address.

[agentsokka]

Nott’s Conflicting Narratives

[[Spoilers for Campaign 2 up to Episode 75]]

Man. D’you ever get the need to talk about how much you love your favorite character? Because I am feeling PASSIONATE for a specific little goblin girl right now.

I love Nott. She’s the peanut butter to my jam, the sugar to my spice, the awkward green butterball mushing around in my heart. She’s my absolute FAVORITE character of the cast and one of my all-time favorite characters in general. So, of course, I feel the need to bend over backwards, snap my spine into a pretzel, and projectile vomit my absolute love for this woman all over your dashes.

In this piece, I wanted to talk about her personal growth over the story and how she’s evolved from what viewers believed was merely a skittish, oddball of a green powder monkey klepto into an equally odd but emotionally resonant mother desperate to reclaim her life and family.

In my opinion, Nott’s overarching story revolves around a mother attempting to recapture her personal narrative from a world that has tried to tear it away from her.

Let’s first establish Nott’s position as the “mother” of the Mighty Nein.

Time for a recap.

As we discover in episode 49, Nott is a little goblin girl, who was once a young halfling woman, who was once a halfling child. In her desperate dash to protect her family from goblin kidnappers, the halfling woman known as Veth Brenatto is recaptured and put to death. Her corpse is then reanimated into the flesh puppet goblin suit we know and love today. In this process, her skin, body, and even mind are reconstructed to be more goblin-esque – a situation which Veth vehemently despises. To put distance between herself and her former life, she renames herself “Nott the Brave,” an anagram of Veth Brenatto.

“They made me everything… that I thought I was. Not pretty…not good. Just not.”

This event is significant for a multitude of reasons, primarily of which revolve around Nott’s relationship with motherhood.

In her essay The Symbolic Annihilation of Mothers in Popular Culture, Berit Astrӧm (2015) observes that mother characters are routinely devalued in popular culture via what she terms “symbolic annihilation.” Gaye Tuchman (1978) originally coined the phrase to describe the way in which media trivializes, condemns, or outright excludes mothers, but Astrӧm extends it to include the removal of mothers from narratives entirely.

We’ve seen this play out time and time again: for example, how many times have we questioned “what happened to the mother” in Disney movies? Often, we see that their exclusions leave little impact on the story and characters, with many media franchises unceremoniously minimizing the mother’s very existence as if it held no more meaning than an ironically titled paperweight.

Now, how does this apply to Nott?

Nott’s character is an inversion of this trope. Although she is killed by the goblins as per the trope’s wont, the narrative does not revolve around her son or husband trying to cope with her loss. Instead, the narrative remains centered on she the mother as this little goblin girl punches a fist through the earth and screams NOT TODAY SATAN. Her story revolves around her identity as a mother, and it takes shape in a plethora of different ways.

Nott exhibits many atypical characteristics that are not commonly associated with the idealized form of “motherhood.” She’s loud, she’s boisterous, she’s mischievous. She’s self-admittedly “strange” and eccentric. She saw it suit to dump a pitcher of cucumbers and proceed to eat them off the ground. Absolutely no one can convince me that this a goblin-specific trait and not just Nott being her weird little self.

And yet, Nott exhibits many typically feminine/motherly traits as well. In spite of her vulgarities, she’s gentle and kind towards Caleb, and it takes some time for their relationship to evolve beyond that. She likes dresses! She likes feeling pretty even though the situation rarely allows her to be. She likes to collect buttons and baubles and cutesy trinkets. And most of all, Nott expresses love. Beau’s the first person in the group to say it to someone else, but Nott is the first of anyone to emphatically express her love for this ragtag group of misfits they’ve wrangled together.

“I know we have things to do, and I want to do them, but the reason I want to find these people and rescue them is not to use them, or not because we’ve invested time in them. But it’s because… I love them.”

Nott is very much “the Heart” of the Mighty Nein, in spite of her idiosyncrasies and eccentricities. In this sense, she views herself as their mother – not just as Caleb’s parental figure, but the entirety of the group. It’s not just a meme, with adoption papers scrawled across a series of barbeque-stained napkins in chicken scratch. Over time, she’s genuinely adopted the M9 as her own, welcoming them under her stubby wings. Nott has said as much several times, but most significantly in episode 76, when she told Caleb that she wanted to protect everyone on their own individual quests.

“I protected you so that you could go on your journey and find yourself and fulfill your quest. I feel like I’ve got to do that for everyone now because, I don’t know, deep down inside it feels like my quest might not be done till everyone else has figured out who they are and what they want in this world. Everyone’s seeking something, you know?”

This protection – this overwhelming need to shield, to safeguard, to provide security and aegis – is crucial to recognizing what Nott is as a parent. A protector. A defender. Nott firmly believes that protection is representative of parenthood, its indistinguishable mirror image.

How do I know this? Nott confirmed it word-for-word in episode 13, when she explained her relationship with Caleb to the rest of the M9.

“Caleb and I have a very special…relationship. And it’s that of a parent and a child. But I am the parent, you do understand that, correct? I protect him. He’s my boy, and I keep him safe. … It’s my job to protect him, because I love him, and I am his protector.”

Nott clearly associates parenthood with protection. She reiterates it again and again. If you fall under her protection, you are her child. It doesn’t matter how old you are, how strong you are, how quick you are – she will protect you to the very last inch of her life. And over the course of the campaign, many, many times over, she’s nearly given said life to ensure the protection of others. An early example is when Nott threw her body over Caleb’s to shield him from attack. In 45, she drew the blue dragon’s attack to save Jester, shaving her hit points down to 1.

Nott again establishes this in 76.

“So I feel like, I need to be there to protect you all. To rescue you when there’s a dragon about to kill you and use my body as a shield; or to pull Beauregard out of the mouth of a worm; or to catch you when someone falls with a feather fall spell.”

This is a fundamental aspect of her character, and explains the majority of her actions. Even though she’s anxious and scared, Nott powers through her fears to protect her loved ones at any cost necessary – with a few nips to soothe her nerves, of course.

And as sweet as this gremlin of a goblin is, she doesn’t extend her protection to everyone she meets – she’s self-sacrificial, but only to her proverbial children, after they’ve spent more than enough time becoming comfortable with one another. In episode 75, for example, Nott suggested that Reani was expendable and thus should go first when facing the dragon. She likes Reani, sure, but if it came down to her and the M9? The outsider would be the first to go.

This further lends itself to the idea that Nott perceives protection as parenthood, self-sacrifice as motherly duty – she’s not just a nice gal throwing down her life in order to ensure the welfare of others, but only for the select few she deems in need of her protection.

However, Nott isn’t just a mother, which comes to the crux of this post. For the majority of the campaign, Nott has primarily identified as a mother figure – to Luc, to Caleb, to the M9 at large. But over time, she’s steadily developed into wanting to be more than just a mother. At the very least, she’s expressed her desires more openly over the course of the show as time has gone on. This development intersects with her identity issues as Nott struggles to reconcile two conflicting lives.

Throughout her short life – and I do mean short, she’s only about 25 (I’m turning 25 this month and the extent to which this little goblin has pushed herself through sends me into anxiety just by association) – Nott’s life has followed a very, shall we say, standard route. She’s always been someone’s daughter – someone’s wife – someone’s mother. Veth Brenatto grew up the small town of Felderwin with very few expectations of their people beyond the usual sort, assuming that said small town followed real-world small-town culture. As such, Veth traversed domestic paths in life, not straying far from those expectations. In spite of her intelligence and capabilities, Veth remained a housewife essentially, assisting Yeza when need be and taking care of Luc. This narrative held steady for some time.

And everything changed when the Fire Nation goblins attacked.

Veth’s narrative as a mother, as a wife, as a little halfling from the little hovel hole of Felderwin, was abruptly disrupted when she became Nott. Her narrative was stolen from her, manipulated and perverted into something she deemed grotesque. Forced to co-exist with the tribe, Nott becomes the torturer’s assistant – the absolute antithesis to motherhood in the representative forebearer of violence, depravity, and death. Her desire to nurture and protect is met with oppression and bloodshed.  

It’s no wonder Nott detests the narrative the goblins thrust upon her. Her goblin exterior fundamentally represents a life forced upon her, a narrative chosen without her consent.

“I just don't like how I feel when I see my hands or my feet. They just feel wrong. I want to be different.”

“I'll be honest. I've started forgetting what it feels like to be a halfling, to be me. I don't remember everything any more. I feel like every day I'm more and more goblin. I don't like it at all. I don't like myself at all.”

“There's still something that's not right about this. This is not my body. It's just not me. And people liking you is nice, and people accepting you is nice. But if you feel wrong inside your own skin, then, well, you can't be a good mother or a good wife, or a good anything, really.”

Upon escaping, her narrative again changes: she’s no longer anyone’s assistant, but existing for herself. And only herself. Before she meets Caleb, she’s alone, unwanted by the populace at large and unable to return to Felderwin. She’s no longer a mother – just detested vermin looking to steal and connive, so people would believe.

That is partially why, in my opinion, she adopts Caleb as her own so quickly. Of course, Nott sees him as a means to an end in the beginning, as does he. They both admit that they had ‘other intentions’ in staying together than purely out of goodness of their hearts. However, it is evident that well before the campaign started, these two forged a bond that went beyond that of convenience. Nott fills the hole in her heart, the hole in her very narrative, by becoming Caleb’s adoptive mother, assisting him in his ventures and protecting him whenever need be. By doing this, she is able to choose for herself, to differentiate herself from the goblin’s narrative of pain and misery. She is no longer just “not,” she is Nott, Nott the Brave.

As was aforementioned, Nott’s motherhood narrative grows to include the rest of the M9. However, with time, she reaches a conflict within herself: while she hates being a goblin, she enjoys her new lifestyle. Is she afraid? She’s fucking petrified. Yet like the rest of the group, she’s fallen in love with adventuring, the highs and lows that demonstrate the extent of her capabilities. Nott isn’t just an assistant anymore – she can do magic! She can fight, she can pick locks, she can adapt firearms and create explosive weaponry. Hell, she can wield a crossbow with the dexterity of an Olympic gymnast and liquidate giant spiders into bloody pastes on the wall. With the M9, she’s seeing the world, far beyond the borders of Felderwin and her small-town life.

And suddenly, Veth’s narrative as a stay-at-home mom isn’t so appealing anymore.

Is there a problem inherent to existing as a housewife and full-time mother? No, of course not. Nevertheless, Nott has found herself in a strange position – she longs for her old life and family, ripped away from her by the gnarled claws of fate, yet remains enthralled by the wonders this new narrative can offer her.

In 36, Nott reveals to Cadeuceus that she believes the M9 could be representative of a new life for her – a new narrative.

“I’m not a religious lady, but I will tell you that, for me, this journey with the group has been a bit of a sign. … A sign that there could be, for all of us, another chapter.”

It’s a new chapter, a new narrative, a new life for Nott. One she could never have imagined possible for her in the confines of her small town. And by god, does she want to live it. Nott expressed this desire to live this life to its fullest, to live this new narrative to its fullest, in 27 after Molly’s death.

“Mollymauk was a rainbow man who represented life at its fullest. And. That’s what I want, even more than… even more than what we’re going for before. Together, we’re sort of living life now, aren’t we? And before, we were… in the darkness, so. … I want to find them so we don’t go back to the way it was, when we were hiding in the shadows and, and ducking into alleys to get away from people. We were safe, but we weren’t really alive, right? With these people, we’re having fun and winning contests. And. And killing bad guys, and rescuing children…it’s amazing.”

I’m of the opinion that Nott’s speech is reflective of both her experiences with Caleb as well as her own in Felderwin. She was living before – and she enjoyed it, yes! She obviously loves Yeza and Luc. But now, she’s seeing what life can be like when lived to its fullest, seeing what life can be like when she spearheads her own narrative. She gleans inspiration from Mollymauk, who decided to head his own narrative and remain unrepentantly unconcerned with what his past might have been like. With his death, Nott becomes convinced that she needs to truly lead this life, lead this newfound narrative with this family she’s amassed.

But with that realization comes conflict once the dredges of Nott’s previous life begin seeping into her narrative. This is especially once Nott reunites with Yeza in Xhorhas.

“Caleb, I’m feeling uneasy. … I, because. What the fuck am I doing here? I just was reunited with my husband, and I’ve – I -- we were given a chance to go on an adventure and I jumped at it like that. Am I a bad person? I just left him, I ditched my husband in a den of monsters to go adventuring with you.”

Rather than hold down the fort with her newly reunited husband, Nott instinctively leaps at the chance for adventure, the chance to go out and see more of the world. She doesn’t even think about it, it’s just oh? A side quest? Well fuck me rosy, time to knock my crossbow. Because that’s what Nott would do, not Veth. And once she realizes what she’s done, Nott begins wondering if she’s a terrible person for living her life. She begins questioning her intentions, wondering whether her actions are the ploy of some subconscious desire to remain free, remain independent of her responsibilities. 

“You don’t think I’m just…delaying the inevitable? Scared of going back to my old life, or anything?”

Nott further recognizes the disparity between her two lives and how wide the gulf between them yawns. 

“It’s just, I just don’t know like. Is he gonna…even like me anymore, I’m so different. Not just physically, I do different things now. … Will I like it? I’ve gotten a taste of adventure and, and seeing the world, and now I’ve gotta go back and be a…a housewife again?”

Nott doesn’t even know if she wants to be called Veth anymore. Not by people who have come into her life since Veth’s apparent demise. When Caleb asks her in 59, she dismisses the question and asserts that they should just go with Nott for now.

She asks Caleb to tell her what she should do, in a desperate plea for someone else to give her direction in life. Because driving your own narrative is hard. It’s a painful, painful process, full of ups and downs and mistakes and setbacks. But Caleb fundamentally cannot decide her narrative for her -- it’s Nott’s narrative, not his. He can help her along and support her, but he will never be able to direct it. She has to do it for herself. 

(As a side note: I love, love, love how far Nott and Caleb’s relationship has come. Prior to the Xhorhas arc, Nott never bothered him with her problems, drudging on ahead as she didn’t want to “distract” him from his personal quest. She’s exactly like a mother, masking her insecurities and fears from her young child so that they won’t worry about what they can’t control. And now, as her child has grown up and become more aware of his mother’s struggles, she’s leaning on him more and more for support. It truly mirrors parent-child relationships and is representative of how far these characters have grown over time.)

With these conversations, it becomes evident that Nott is seeking more than family, more than the life of a housewife. And yet, simultaneously, she embodies the narrative of a mother, loves being a mother, and loves the people in both her immediate and found families. To merge these narratives will be an almost insurmountable task, from her perspective -- how can you raise a family when you’re constantly adventuring? You can’t endanger their lives. Conversely, is it responsible of a parent to endanger their own life, potentially risking everything for adventure’s sake? To widow your husband and orphan your child if something goes horribly wrong? If she becomes a housewife again, how long can she keep up the charade pretending she’s a halfling? If she stays, will she forever remain uncomfortable in her own skin? How long will she even live? Nott is juggling so many plates, and dropping even one could result in the partial devastation of these narratives she’s cultivated.

And she’s scared. She’s really, really scared. Nott is petrified of what comes next -- she knows it’s inevitable that she’s going to have to face these conflicting narratives in the future. She knows she can’t ignore it forever. And that prospect terrifies her. She says this explicitly in episode 69.

“I'm just scared, that's all. I'm scared of...I'm scared of what happens next. You know? I don't know what's going to happen after this. I found my husband. I found my son. And I want to go back with them so much. ... But I'm worried that if I go back, that'll be it.”

This overwhelming, paralyzing sense of fear has driven Nott to drink. Even more so than usual. Over the course of the show, Nott has made no secret of her drinking habits. She’s a drunkard -- she knows it, the M9 knows it. You, me, and the NSA agent watching you behind the screen know it. But it’s no accident the M9 has begun commenting more and more on her habitual intoxication. She simply is more intoxicated than usual. She’s depending more and more on her alcoholism to get through each day.  

Nott is of course afraid of enemies, of secret dangers lurking behind every corner. She’s a perpetually anxious person, constantly filled with frenetic energy. But these anxieties have worsened ten-fold with the inclusion of her intersecting narratives and responsibilities. And honestly? With all that going on in her brain, Nott just flat out doesn’t want to think about it. She wants to live in the moment -- not in the past, not in the future, but the present.

“I'm thinking about things. And I don't want to think about things. I don't want to think about anything. I just want to be on an adventure with you guys and that's all I want and I don't want to think about anything else past that.” 

And so, she turns to drinking. As she tells Caleb, drinking is her own form of self-care. While she may protect others, she herself needs protection too -- from her own thoughts, fears, and inner demons. From the physical dangers that manifest in front of her very person. 

“I know you all have my back, I know you all care for me, but no one has my front. So this flask that I drink from, it’s not for fun, I’m not taking nips because I’m looking for fun. If I wanted fun I’d be in Nicodranus with my family. This flask is my shield. It allows me to do these things, to go forward and to protect all of you.”

Nott needs to shield herself from fears that she may not come back to her family. She needs to shield herself from fears that she won’t find a remedy to her situation, that she won’t ever be Veth again. She needs to shield herself from fears that these conflicting narratives will never reconcile, thereby isolating her from either family she’s come to love as her own. 

All in all, Nott is currently torn between two lives -- one whose existence is linked to traditional motherhood, and another whose fate is yet undecided. And yet, by continuing with the M9, Nott has found herself on the path towards potential self-realization. This route she treads has the potential to shed the narrative the goblins thrust upon her and totally make one anew, one that is her own. In that sense, it’s representative of what this narrative means as a whole: Nott is more than just a mother. She’s a mother with autonomy. A mother with hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Unlike Berit Astrӧm’s (2015) analysis of symbolic annihilation, she is more than just a paper cutout of idealized motherhood left to be abandoned.

Indeed, Nott can be a mother without being the mother archetype.

Nott will certainly struggle to reconcile these narratives. She loves being a mother, but she clearly wants to love herself too. She wants to be more than just a mother, and thus she quests to recapture her personal narrative -- one where she can be both a mother and retain her personal autonomy. 

I love the nuance and complexity Sam has demonstrated with this character, and I’m sure we’re only going to see more in the future.

[anthropologicalhands]

fic: (un)acceptable losses ii

title: (un)acceptable losses characters: Hiei/Kurama summary:  What’s an acceptable loss? Hiei and Kurama have different definitions, even if they can’t quite pin them down. chapters: 2/2 Ao3 Link

~

Sometimes, the best strategy really was to just think less.

Not that it helped that much, as Kurama still got thoroughly thrashed--though thankfully, no gut wounds that Hiei could harass him about. Mukuro didn’t know the meaning of holding back. And she liked Kurama. Then again, no one in their right mind could argue that she didn’t care for Hiei, and look what she’d done to him in the first Makai Tournament. 

Speaking of Hiei…

Kurama had woken up to the sight of Hiei perched on a stool by his bed, looking like a rather large, miffed owl, apparently annoyed at Kurama for having the audacity to be hospitalized. Not that he said it in so many words. But even after Kurama’s injuries are deemed noncritical, Hiei doesn’t vanish, instead holding bandages and updating Kurama on the status of the other fighters. 

From Hiei’s brief, colorful summations, Kurama learns that Kuwabara is in the middle of slugging it out with Jin and, though the odds are against him, continues to hold his own with great style. Meanwhile, Yusuke is still tearing through his opponents, though current bets put him on track to go against Enki, and it’s an open question of who would win that fight. 

“That’s good to hear,” says Kurama. He’s still disappointed that he passed out after his fight with Mukuro--unconscious, he couldn’t persuade anyone that he was, in fact, fine and please bring him to the observation deck. “Thank you for checking up on me. You don’t have to stay if you want to return to watch the fights.”

“Like I have anywhere else to be,” Hiei balances on the soles of his feet on the stool’s improbable seat, arms crossed, staying upright against physics. He adds, “We can go watch the screens once you can actually move around. And you’re much better company than anyone in the stands.”

Hiei, unfortunately, had gotten knocked out in the first elimination block, after having the misfortune of drawing the same lot as Yomi and another one of Raizen’s old cohort. Not that Hiei didn’t put up a good fight; his dragon inflicted enough damage on Yomi to make him lose in his next round.

Kurama probably finds that whole situation much funnier than it should be. He might need to avoid Yomi for a little while, if he wants to keep a straight face during their next conversation. He’s sympathetic to Hiei’s annoyance at being finished so early in the tournament, but can’t say he regrets it.

“As you like.” Kurama is hardly going to complain about getting Hiei’s undivided attention to himself for a little longer, even if just looking at how he’s sitting on that stool makes Kurama’s back twinge in sympathy.

Besides, now that his head isn’t throbbing, Kurama has a couple of questions.

“Mukuro said something interesting to me at the end of our match,” he begins, casually, as if Mukuro had simply commented on the weather. Hiei’s head swivels to fix his eyes on Kurama, which really does no favors with the whole owl comparison, and Kurama has to bite his lip to avoid laughing too hard and potentially pulling his stitches.

“That better not be an euphemism,” drawls Hiei, his eyes narrowing. “What did you discuss?”

“I wouldn’t say we ‘discussed’ anything,” says Kurama, gingerly turning onto his less injured side to better face Hiei. “I was hardly coherent enough for that. It’s a pity, really--I would’ve thought my stamina was better than that.”

Hiei snorts. “Don’t write yourself off so quickly. You fought well--you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

High praise, coming from Hiei. Kurama can’t help smiling a little, charmed.

“I know, I meant it more as a statement of just what a remarkable opponent Mukuro is. I believe I told her so. I don’t remember my exact words--something along the lines that fighting her was an honor. She agreed, as I expected.”

She’d laughed at him, actually, not that Kurama particularly minded, as unconsciousness started to claim him. He had a vague sense that she moved forward, then, to catch him and sling his arm over her shoulder, keeping him upright until the medical team reached them.

“She would’ve liked that,” agrees Hiei.

“She also said that after fighting me, she was even more interested in witnessing a fight between the two of us. But then she said something odd.”

Hiei goes very still for a moment, and then immediately scoffs and looks away, which means he doesn’t want Kurama to comment on his stillness. So instead, Kurama waits patiently.

“And what was that?” Hiei asks, addressing the foot of the bed rather than Kurama himself.

“She seemed to indicate that you did not feel as positively about the prospect.”

“Mukuro said that?” Pure disbelief colors Hiei’s voice.

“Not exactly, but I was losing consciousness at that point, so I can’t recall the precise phrasing she used." It was probably much ruder. "Which is why I’m asking you now.”

“Asking what?”

So Hiei was going to be stubborn about this. Very well.

Kurama sighs. “Mukuro made it sound like you didn’t want to fight me. Is that true?”

“What does it matter?”

“It’s not. What I’m asking is if you’re interested in a fight with me, the way you are with Mukuro, or Yusuke. I’m certainly not as strong as either of them, but I’m sure I could give a good showing.”

“I’m not--” Hiei rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Kurama. I know just how powerful you are.”

“That soothes my pride, at least. But you still don’t want to fight me?”

Hiei remains silent, which is an answer in and of itself. Ah, well. Kurama is not entirely surprised.

“...I don’t think a real fight is possible between us.”

The words sound like they are being dragged out of Hiei, and he shuffles on his stool, looking caught, like when Kurama or Yusuke tease him over Yukina. Except Kurama didn’t mean to set any traps.

“What do you mean?” he asks, sitting up more fully, wincing at how the fingers of bruising across his ribs abruptly grip tight, stealing his breath. Hiei is standing next to him, hands reach out and take his shoulders to help him lower back into the bed. He allows Hiei to do so, watching the other demon and how he avoids Kurama’s gaze as he returns to his stool.

“I know your strategies. You know mine.” Hiei tugs hard at his scarf, loosening it where it winds snugly around his neck. A nervous gesture, of sorts.

“Indeed.”

“Against a true opponent, I fight to my full strength.” He holds up his bandaged arm, and Kurama can feel the dragon pulse beneath the wards. Idly, he wonders how it would feel, to face the full force of its power; a beautiful and terrifying thing to witness as a spectator, how much more would it be, to face down the dragon as it descended upon him?

“Of course; I expect nothing less.” Kurama thinks he sees where this train of thought is going. He raises his eyebrows at Hiei in question, not that Hiei is looking at him to appreciate it. “You think I wouldn’t take you seriously as an opponent, Hiei? I wouldn’t disrespect your abilities like that.”

“Not that ,” says Hiei, irritated. “You take all of your fights seriously. You, in fact, have a very bad habit of taking most opponents too seriously, when one strike would be enough to finish them.”

“I don’t understand.”

Hiei looks like he would like to melt through the floor or self-combust rather than keep elaborating on this point. Kurama idly considers reminding Hiei that between the two of them, he’s the actual telepath, but doesn’t. Hiei is at least trying to put words to his feelings, and Kurama is interested to see where he goes. 

“I don’t like to see you lose when you shouldn’t,” says Hiei, as if that explains everything. He’s blinking, eyes a little too bright.

“I know better than to fake anything with you,” says Kurama, a little sly, looking to break the mood. Predictably, Hiei goes bright pink.

“Now you are being ridiculous,” he snarls, and he really looks like an angry owl now, and Kurama cannot point out the resemblance or there’s a very probable chance that he will be dumped unceremoniously out of the bed. Instead, Kurama chews his tongue and waits until Hiei collects himself enough to continue.

“When you fight seriously, I don’t know what you’ll do yourself to win. You could finish the fight before it begins, if you were inclined to it.”

Kurama meets Hiei’s gaze evenly, and nods slowly, to show his attention. “And you think I would do that to you.”

Hiei shakes his head quickly. “No. I know you would meet me in the arena. But if you knew I wouldn’t hold back, I don’t know what you would do.” Frustration seeps through. “I never know what you’re willing to do to yourself to win.”

Kurama doesn’t offer an immediate response. Hiei’s demonstrations of affection are not and will never be calibrated at human levels. Kurama knows that because Hiei generally demonstrates something close to affection toward him. And, by Hiei levels, this is a lot.

And now, even though Hiei is putting on a show of very determinedly glaring at the foot of Kurama’s bed as though it offends him, he’s already stolen a few glances toward Kurama, trying to gauge his response. It’s almost painfully endearing.

“I think I understand,” continues Kurama thoughtfully. “You don’t think we can truly fight all out without one of us actually dying.”

Hiei just hunches in on himself, now resembling a vulture more than an owl, and crosses his arms tightly over his chest. Kurama doesn’t expect any more--considering how repressed Hiei usually is, he’s made himself clear.

What he hasn’t said, but Kurama very much suspects, is that Hiei isn’t sure of his own reaction to such a fight, how, if he saw Kurama on the verge of death, but still preparing for a final push, that he might not pull back. For Hiei, who lives to test his limits, pushing himself beyond the limits of the possible, the idea of holding back against a worthy opponent is anathema.

“Then, if I don’t want to win, you might reconsider?”

Hiei, again predictably, flares up. “If you even think of implying--”

“All I am implying,” Kurama raises his voice slightly, flattening Hiei’s protests to a mutter, “is that I could find a very clever way to lose to you and keep at least half of my blood in my body. I think those could be acceptable terms, don’t you?”

Hiei’s glare communicates, very efficiently, that I know you’re fucking with me right now, and I don’t appreciate it.

“That is not how a fighter should think,” grumbles Hiei.

“Perhaps not.” For all his teasing, Kurama does see Hiei’s point. A proper fight should be a zero-sum game: one victor, one defeated. “But partners do. They set rules, a few boundaries...I think we could find a way.”

“It would be an interesting training exercise, fox, but it’s not a true fight.”

“It’s not,” admits Kurama. “In that case, I’d have to say that I wouldn’t want to fight you, either. Thank you for helping me understand.”The surge of affection he feels for Hiei, in fact, is enough to make him reach over, and hook his fingers into Hiei’s cloak, and start pulling.

“Kurama!” Hiei flails, trying not to lose his balance. “What are you doing --”

“You’re making my back hurt, the way you’ve been sitting there. No one else is in the room--just sit on the bed.” He grasps Hiei’s shoulder with his other hand, seeking a better leverage.

“Kurama, this is not dignified--”

“Hiei, stop clawing at me, or you’ll reopen my wounds.”

It’s a low blow, but it works.

Hiei, cheeks still burning, allows himself to be maneuvered onto the bed. Kurama wasn’t kidding that he mostly wanted Hiei to stop looking so uncomfortable, but when he starts to shift away, Hiei throws out his opposite arm and lets it drape around Kurama, effectively trapping him where he is. Blinking, Kurama looks down at Hiei, whose face is still a brilliant pink.

“You win this time,” Hiei mutters, settling back against the pillows grudgingly, but lacking the tension that had been so prominent before.

Kurama laughs, and accepts his victory.

[nicodigiovanni]

DOMENICO DI GIOVANNI ( CODY CHRISTIAN ) is a 17 year old JUNIOR student at Broadripple Academy. HE is originally from LOS ANGELES but moved to Broadripple A YEAR ago. HE is DRIVEN and RESOURCEFUL but can also be ENVIOUS and DECEITFUL.

BASICS

Name: Domenico Di Giovanni

Age: 17

Grade: Junior

House: Malleray

Cabin Room: 2, Junior Cabin

How long have they been at Broadripple: a bit more than a year

Where are they from originally: Los Angeles

Extra curricular: Soccer Team Captain, Swim Team member, Buddy Program

CHARACTER AESTHETICS

Untucked shirts and loose ties, worn sneakers, board shorts and athletic shirts, hair that are ‘fashionably’ messy, a fake rolex, sunglasses to hide bloodshot eyes, sundown on the ocean, an eagle as a coat of arm, a whisper in your ears, an old camera, handwriting that looks a lot more like hieroglyphs than actual English, the sweet exhaustion after intense training, an adrenaline rush, the roar of a Ducati, the tension of sneaking out at night, a golden cross necklace, a swiss-army knife as a keychain, a bonfire on the beach, a room that looks like a tornado has just been there, a tangle of athletic medals, a stack of movie posters, a zippo lighter because, come on everyone knows they are cool.

TRAITS

Positive Personality Traits: ambitious, driven, resourceful, playful, friendly, brave, loyal to his friends, passionate, open minded,

Neutral Personality Traits: competitive, nostalgic, emotional, stubborn, guarded, prideful, materialistic

Negative Personality Traits: envious, jealous, deceitful, selfish, vulnerable to peer pressure, reckless, boastful

FACTS

Domenico is the firstborn scion of an impoverished Italo-american family, he actually has some noble blood in his veins and is proud of his ancestry. His family migrated to the states after WW2 and had actually enjoyed a luxurious existence for a few generations, when Nico himself was a little kid they still had money, but a string of misfortune and bad business deals had left them with little

His parents are obsessed with the idea of social status and have drilled its importance into him, to the point that Domenico dedicates his life in its pursuit. No matter the cost, personal or otherwise.

Failure is not an option.

He grew up with the expectation of royalty and the wealth of a lower middle class kid

He has always lived on the periphery of wealth though, frequently doing odd jobs from rich family friends and looking for afar at the glamorous life of movie stars and socialites in his native Los Angeles. Craving for the ability to join him himself. Unable to see that hanging around with the friends he actually had made him way happier. In fact he has a lot of fond memories of the time spent back home, but pretends to himself that he had moved on and doesn’t care anymore.

He had pushed himself hard during high school to get an athletic scholarship and finally earned his ticket to Broadripple. The young man is legacy, but his family could definitely no longer afford to send him there.

While Domenico is extremely loyal to his friends, he has a very ‘the end justifies the means’ mentality, he plays dirty when he believes that his strength alone is not enough to ‘win’ and lies to get what he wants or just to make himself look more ‘important’ in the eyes of others.

He loves the spotlight and does what he can to get noticed. After his first year at Broadripple he had started to take up more responsibility at the school, mostly to increase his own standing

He is always on the lookout for college recruiters and will definitely use whatever trick he can in the books to up his chances of being selected

He constantly puts up a show of confidence.

He is passionate, he falls in love very quickly, but he is also pretty jealous and his pride tends to get in the way of things

He craves for true companionship, but so far he had been too blinded by his desire to ‘climb’ up.

Truth is, the pressure of his lifestyle is starting to get to him, but Nico is pretty good at lying to himself and is pretending that ‘everything is fine’ even as he keeps daydreaming about just dropping everything and go follow his passions

HEADCANONS

He has two younger siblings, Alessandra, a spirited 11 years old, that is very much loved by her big brother and Gabriele, who is only eight years old. Despite considering the latter annoying, he actually misses both of them. He dreads when his little sis will start dating

He is a huge horror movie buff and dreams to direct one eventually, but of course, his life has a more ‘serious’ path ahead so…

He loves the ocean and is very nostalgic about his home in California. 

He is a bit of an adrenaline junkie, but he tries to stay focused

He actually enjoys playing sports and if he wasn’t as focused on his endgame he would much likely derive much more pleasure from them

He had sneaked out at the pool during the night for a swim more than once

He is pretty handy, had done a lot of odd jobs in his life and knows among other things how to pick a lock.

He is very boastful and is prone to hugely exaggerate his skills and wealth.

His best subject is history, math is meh… 

He worships his Ducati and constantly tinkers with it, the motorbike is a birthday present from a family friend that greatly helped Nico while he was in LA. The two had spent the year before Nico went to Broadripple fixing it and it has an huge sentimental value to him. Nico doesn’t drive after drinking mostly out of fear of ruining it (rather than himself) in case of an accident. He had brought it straight from California driving halfway through the states and he would do it again

He has a family signet ring, but pretty much never wears it in public

He own a lot of expensive looking stuff that are actually knock off 

He wears his shirts religiously ‘half-tucked’

He enjoys playing board games (but deem them too nerdy) and is a very competitive player

He is proud of his legacy status

He isn’t proud of being a scholarship student and keeps that detail for himself

He deals MJ among the students to boost his income, but himself he doesn’t smoke frequently

Domenico is fully bilingual English\Italian and he swears (and thinks) in his family native language despite never having been in Italy himself

He has a small youtube channel where he comments the Italian soccer championship and other soccer trivia, he is not however a regular poster of content and keeps it mostly as an hobby (and an extra space to advertise himself to potential recruiters)

He isn’t bad in the kitchen and can make a few Italian dishes

Espresso for life (and made in the ‘right way’) the rest isn’t real coffee.

Sport = religion. To skip training is sin.

He jogs very early every morning

A previous roommate of his has left the school last year, Nico kinda believe that he had scared him off

He loves the Rolling Stones (coincidentally his dad is more of a Beatles type) 

He dreams about taking a sabbatical and making a road trip after graduation

Has ran from home a couple of times as a kid.

While he keeps it very well buried, Domenico has a bit of a playful, goofy side that emerges when he feels like he is free to be himself

He is also a bit of a prankster

QUESTIONS ABOUT THE RETREAT

What do they think about The Retreat?

“This is supposed to be an exclusive and expensive academy right?” Turns to check if no one else is listening and then lowers his voice. “On the other side… thanks God right? At least they haven’t sent us back home…” 

Domenico doesn’t care about the retreat per-se, but he is worried that all the strange events might tarnish the school reputation, putting his own college future in jeopardy, or worse, ending up shutting down the Academy as he doesn’t exactly have many alternatives. He does miss a bit of privacy though and the lack of wi-fi frustrates him. While outwardly he pretends that he cares about the lack of amenities, it’s more of a show.

Do they have any previous experience with camping or other outdoors?

“Of course I do.”

Domenico is outdoorsy, but has never gone camping in his life, plus he is accustomed to a much warmer climate than Massachusetts and while he does his best to soldier through it, the experience definitely sucks. While he has no idea about how to build a tent or anything on the like at least he knows how to light a fire and can make a decent grilled meat if the need arises. 

What does their cabin bunk look like? How will they decorate their space?

“It’s not my room and let’s leave it at that.”

Domenico’s dorm room was adorned with movie posters (mostly horror B-movies), some of them hiding pictures underneath that a catholic school might not exactly approve (but that strike the fancy of a seventeen years old boy), piled up trophies, a small basketball hoop, random sport gear and clothes scattered here and there. He couldn’t bring much to his bunk and had packed most of his things in cardboard boxes to pick up for later. He keeps a picture of his siblings cheering at his birthday before he left for Broadripple and one with his former high-school team celebrating after a match.

Do they believe in the supernatural? To what degree?

“Nah... That’s all crap. It makes for a good movie though.”

Nico is fascinated by the supernatural, but he is not a believer, they are cool stories though and he likes the dash of adrenaline of a well told tale of horror. Besides, Broadripple might be a good subject for a movie right? In theory Domenico is Catholic and was kinda of observant as a kid, by now though, religion isn’t in his mind.

Are they easily spooked?

“Nop. Ehi what is that noise?”

Domenico likes to think of himself as brave and tends to worry about more mundane problems rather than supernatural or existential one. That said, sometimes the aerie atmosphere of the Academy actually gets to him and strikes the darkest corners of his imagination. Showing fear though, is embarrassing and Domenico keeps the feeling for himself, doing his best to crack a joke or put up a mask of courage.

AND FINALLY, 

A very dumb but (hopefully) fun quiz made by your admins, please share what result you got

you're the real danger

everyone talks about what they hear and see out in the woods but what about what's in the room with them? if everyone already thinks they're hearing things, it wouldn't be that hard to cover everything up

I must admit that I cheated a bit to get there, but Nico would definitely have done that himself, so I’m not ashamed to admit it. Besides, it’s kinda fitting of him :p