#(He will not say that. But he might think it and the possibility is worth the effort)

[pamwritessometimes]

Loving Soldier Boy…

Soldier Boy x reader (drabble)

Summary: Just a short n’ (bitter)sweet drabble about what it’s like to love Ben.

Warnings: language, innuendos (c’mon, it’s Ben), mention of violence

Song inspo: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) by Taylor Swift.

Loving Soldier Boy isn’t easy.

You knew Soldier Boy was a handful. Hell, he knows he’s a handful. And you know Ben has never been handled before. Not properly. Not by someone who knows when to push and when to pull, when to hold steady and when to let go.

But you?

You thought you had him figured out.

He’s bad news — at least that’s what everyone keeps telling you.

“That man is not safe” MM says, arms crossed.

“He’s straightdown psychotic” Annie agrees, looking at you like she’s waiting for the spell Ben must have put on you to break.

Hughie just grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you sure about this? Like, really sure?”

Frenchie sighs. “I have seen many dangerous men, mon coeur, but that one?” He shakes his head. “That one is the iceberg that sinks the ship.”

Even Kimiko seems to eye you with pity.

And Butcher — he just tsked.

“That’s a bloody dangerous game you’re about to play, luv.”

But all that didn’t matter.

Not when Ben flashes you that cocky, wolfish grin. Not when he pulls you in with that fiery gaze that makes your pulse stutter. Not when he touches you like you’re the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely.

He’s a walking contradiction.

He can be crude and crass and violent, but his hands that are scarred and calloused from years of supposed war and bloodshed, are so uncharacteristically gentle when they touch you like he’s terrified of breaking something he doesn’t know how to stitch back together.

And you love it.

You love that you make him hesitate.

That you make him stay.

"Fuck, you’ve ruined me" he murmurs one night, pressing his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips. “You made me a goddamn pussy.”

Loving Soldier Boy is mastering the skill of interpreting nonverbal communication.

You see, Ben isn’t good with words. Not the important ones, anyway.

But he’s fluent in actions.

Like how he always, always keeps a hand on you — your waist, your back, the nape of your neck — like he needs the physical contact to remind himself you’re real and still with him.

Or how, when you’re pissed at him, he won’t apologize outright, but he will fix your coffee just the way you like it, set it down in front of you with a grunt and a pointed look, like There. Happy now?

Or the way he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking. Like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you because no matter how much of a dick he is sometimes, the thought of him possibly outliving you haunts him.

He’s an asshole. A menace. A walking disaster.

And yet, when he pulls you into his lap, his fingers threading through your hair, his lips ghosting over yours—

You think maybe he’s worth the trouble.

Loving Soldier Boy is a delicate art.

It’s catching the flicker of rage in his eyes before he explodes, steering him away from the fire instead of into it.

It’s letting him run his mouth, knowing that half the shit he says is just to get a rise out of people, and the other half—

Well.

“Because it was fucking beeping” he answers when you find bullet holes in your microwave.

Ben’s not stupid.

But when he came back from the dead, or, you know, from 40 years of being locked up, you’re starting to realize… he might not be as up to date as he thinks.

You blink. “Because it was beeping?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, leaning back against the counter like he didn’t just pull some absolute batshit nonsense. “Wouldn’t shut the hell up.”

“That’s… literally its job, Ben.”

“Well, now it’s unemployed.” He smirks. “Like half the people I’ve worked with.

Loving Soldier Boy is like wrestling with a live grenade.

Violence isn’t just second nature to Ben — it’s first.

He doesn’t do restraint.

Like the time some guy got a little too close to you at a club and ended up with a broken jaw — because Ben doesn’t do warnings either.

Or the time he punched a cop without even thinking about the consequences.

“To be fair, he was being a dick.”

“He was giving you a parking ticket.”

Ben scoffs. “Exactly.”

“Oh my God.”

“What?” He throws his hands up, all mock innocence. “I told him not to touch my car.”

Loving Soldier Boy is fighting for feminism while actively losing the war.

There’s something infuriating about Ben’s shameless, unapologetic brand of horniness.

His jokes are always just a little too loud, just a little too offensive, making you cringe even as he smirks, because he knows damn well what he’s doing.

And yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

And he knows it.

No matter how many times you glare at him, no matter how often you mutter “Ben, we are in public”, he sees the way your breath hitches, the way your thighs press together when he leans in too close, and he can practically smell the forming pool in your panties.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” His voice is low, dripping with amusement. “Don’t act like you don’t love it when I talk dirty to you.”

You glare at him. “You literally just told the bartender that I needed something ‘to keep my mouth occupied.’”

Ben grins. “And I stand by that.”

You fight the urge to groan. “You are insufferable.”

He leans in, his lips just barely brushing against your ear. “But you like me insufferable.”

And fuck.

Maybe you do.

Loving Soldier Boy is realizing you’re the one really losing the fight.

When the team calls you out on his bullshit, you just sit there and listen.

You have no defense.

Because what are you even supposed to say?

He’s trying? (He’s not.)

He didn’t mean to? (He absolutely did.)

He’s a work in progress? (Is he?)

And despite what everyone says — despite the fact that he probably won’t ever change — you can’t seem to stop yourself from diving headfirst into the madness.

Maybe you can’t fix him.

But damn if he doesn’t make it worth trying.

The chokehold this man has on me is insane — help

Also… This sat in my drafts for months, but I gave it a reread and didn’t completely hate it — so here you go. Hope you enjoyed!🤍

xx Pam

[harmonysanreads]

Yandere Mydei is THE definition of Scary dog privileges

You are so right nonnie.

It's comical to witness if you're an uninvolved observer because Mydei doesn't even bother hiding it in the slightest. Well, it would be more appropriate to say he doesn't care about what specific label he's going to get as a result. So long as it gets the job done i.e. your safety is ensured, it matters little how the public perceives him. Mortals have the unfortunate habit of not shutting up about other people's businesses anyway, why waste energy thinking of what will inevitably be buried in the Web?

Of course, that is all his inner workings. In broad daylight, his intentions are a bit more glossed over, dressed abstractly so as to make it as difficult as possible to deduce his deal. Although not a brainless brute, his ability to process and express emotions could definitely see improvements. Limerence only further obscures this function, leaving him pent-up. His heart may urge him to take those emotions out on you but his soul interjects, his brain reasons why he shouldn't.

But projecting that frustration on the act of getting rid of the buzzing pests that bother you, fabricated with some ruse of a Hero's duty perhaps? That is far safer. Evidently, the Crown Prince is rather tiresome to get a hold of whenever you please, even if it seems like he's somehow breathing down your neck quite often. So, he's unable to ‘swat away’ every insect. But if you happened to be the one making that request, or hinted at a recent nuisance in a casual conversation — Mydei would not respond immediately.

Well, for the former case, you might hear a bark of how audacious you are for requesting the Prince of Castrum Kremnos to carry out a guard's job ; depending on his mood. Speaking of his mood, if the aforementioned response is what you got, then that means you've made him significantly pleased. The fact that you come to him, despite his aloof countenance, trust him to rid you of your worries — that is honey to his soul. He'll treasure that and make it worth it, just don't expect him to be transparent.

[mysterialistic]

Inconsistencies between the Yingdu timeline and the season 1 & 2 timeline

Okay, so the final episode of Yingdu is right around the corner, which means this will probably be my last analysis of this arc. I’ve made some posts before discussing the discrepancies between what has happened in Yingdu and what we’ve seen in seasons 1 and 2 (which I’m going to refer to as the current timeline), but I decided to write everything down in a single post.

1. Cheng Xiaoshi's parents

One thing I’ve noticed is that, throughout season 1, Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t seem to know anything about his parents’ whereabouts. The only thing we do know is that he believes they disappeared one day without explanation. At one point, he even considered the possibility that they had died in the earthquake. He has no idea where they are or any clue as to what happened to them.

On the other hand, in Yingdu, he has an important lead about his father’s whereabouts. He knows where his father went after abandoning him, he saw and spoke to him (even if it was through someone else’s body), but he interacted with him nonetheless. Now, Cheng Xiaoshi believes his father may have died in that fire—something he seems completely unaware of in the current timeline.

2. The basketball game

This is a smaller detail, but I think it’s worth pointing out: the way Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi met during their basketball game in Yingdu is not the same as the flashback we saw in season 1. This could be explained by saying that the flashback was from Lu Guang’s perspective, meaning it was his memory of the first/original timeline.

3. Cheng Xiaoshi’s death scene

Another significant change is Cheng Xiaoshi’s death scene. The flashback at the end of season 2 differs from what we saw in Yingdu. In the flashback, they were in some sort of forest(?), their positions were different, Lu Guang had his hand underneath Cheng Xiaoshi’s head, and only one of his hands was stained with blood—quite different from how it played out in Yingdu.

4. Liu Xiao and the Quede Games card

Another interesting detail is Liu Xiao and the card he gives them with the Quede Games name on it. Yes, Cheng Xiaoshi is the one who receives the card, and he might forget about this small detail in the future, but I find it really curious that the creators chose to include this here. We know that the Quede Games case is the first one in Link Click, and it’s not just any case—it’s the one that started the entire conflict of seasons 1 and 2. It’s a bit strange that Lu Guang doesn’t seem to connect LIU Xiao with LIU Min and the Quede Games incident, but this might just be a plot hole.

5. Cheng Xiaoshi awakening his powers

Now, the most significant detail, in my opinion, is the way Cheng Xiaoshi awakens his powers. In season 1 episode 8, we got a small flashback of Lu Guang explaining how their abilities work together. This happened at the studio—not in a hotel in Yingdu.

And, of course, there’s the fact that Cheng Xiaoshi has already discovered that he can dive on his own—something he didn’t seem aware of in the current timeline until after the Emma case, when he attempted to enter a photo on his own and succeeded. There’s no way he just forgot he could do this. He’s not that dense, come on.

Conclusion

Now, I don’t know if Yingdu is going to be another failed timeline, but honestly, I hope it is. Otherwise, there will be a bunch of inconsistencies and plot holes that won’t make much sense. If they confirm Yingdu as another failed timeline, it would actually reinforce Lu Guang’s dialogue from season 2: “I want to use this LAST chance”—implying that he has already repeated this several times. I guess we’ll just have to wait a few more hours to find out.

[giggle-guru]

BOO! Hehe I’m back~

Sorry for leaving you all high and dry but I’m excited to say that I’m feeling better! And to celebrate my immune system successfully recovering I thought I’d bless you all with some playful Radioapple tickles. I hope you all enjoy the listen, and thank you all for your lovely messages! I’m happy to be back and feeding you the audios you crave 🥰 The only sad thing is that my roommates were in my living room during the recording so I had to be a little quiet.

@anxious-lee it’s an honour to fulfill your request 🧎🏼‍♀️

Script is below the cut for you darlings!

[Visual Note: Late at night, Alastor returns from hosting his radio show. He is expecting his King to be relaxing in bed and waiting for him, but instead, Lucifer is busy working away at his desk.]

[Audio Note: Alastor humming, footsteps]

Alastor: [talking to himself] My, what a splendid evening. The screams have been particularly satisfying to the ears, the spirits are restless, and the broadcast was, as always, electrifying. Now then, where might my darling Lucifer be? Relaxing in bed, waiting for his ever-loving companion no doubt.

[Audio Note: door opening, footsteps, faint noise of writing]

[Visual Note: Lucifer is at his desk, writing away and dealing with paperwork]

Alastor: [curious, slightly amused] Oh, what’s this? Quite the surprise to see you awake at such an hour. Hard at work are we my dear Lucifer?

Lucifer: [grumbling slightly, focused] Eh? Oh, Alastor. Back already? I woulda thought you’d be on the air longer. Somethin’ happen?

Alastor: [more amused] No, nothing out of the ordinary kept me later than expected. Though I find it amusing that you assume I’ve only be gone a short while. Enlighten me, sweetheart, what time do you think it is?

Lucifer: [half-paying attention] I dunno. Around mid-day?

Alastor: [chuckling] Oh dear, I’m almost nervous to ask how long you’ve been slaving away with this paperwork. It is in fact well past midday. Late evening is more accurate.

Lucifer: [tired, exasperated] Past evening? Ugh, damn it... I’ve been at this desk since—[pauses, mutters to himself]—well, since this morning, I guess.

[Visual Note: Lucifer rubs his temples, looking visibly drained. Papers and files are scattered across the desk, a half-empty cup of coffee nearby]

Alastor: [lightly scolding, with an edge of concern] Tsk tsk tsk, what a dreadful habit, my King. Burning the midnight oil and then some? Honestly, this is no way to treat yourself. What could possibly demand such ceaseless attention?

Lucifer: [gruffly] You’d think ruling Hell was a vacation, wouldn’t ya? Endless disputes to settle, contracts to review, souls to process. It never ends, Al. Not unless I make it stop.

Alastor: [playful, yet pointed] And here I thought the King of Hell knew the meaning of delegation. Is this truly necessary, or are you simply indulging your penchant for control?

Lucifer: [shoots a glare] Don’t start with me tonight, Alastor. Not in the mood.

[Audio Note: Chair creaking, footsteps approaching]

Alastor: [softening] Oh, come now, my darling Lucifer. I only jest because I care. You look positively dreadful—and I mean that as an observation, not a compliment. Perhaps you might consider taking a reprieve?

[Visual Note: Alastor moves gracefully to Lucifer’s side, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.]

Lucifer: [sighs, leaning into the touch slightly] I’ll rest when this is done. Can’t leave these things to fester.

Alastor: [smooth, persuasive] Rest first, work later. You’re no good to anyone—least of all yourself—in this state. Besides, wouldn’t you rather enjoy my company than waste away at this dreary desk?

Lucifer: [grumbles] Always so damn pushy, aren’t you?

Alastor: [smirking] Only when it’s for your own good, my dear. Now, why don’t you step away from this chaos and join me for a little relaxation? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.

[Visual Note: Lucifer glances at the papers reluctantly but finally pushes his chair back with a resigned sigh.]

Lucifer: [reluctant, but softening] Fine, you win. But don’t think this means you’re off the hook for distracting me.

Alastor: [grinning] Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Come now, let’s leave these dull concerns behind and remind you what it’s like to truly unwind.

Lucifer: [hum] And enlighten me. What exactly do you have planned?

Alastor: [grinning] Well, at first I pondered simply reading to you. But just by a simple touch I could feel the tension within your shoulder, so I’m thinking a simple massage would fair well.

[Audio Note: The sound of papers being shuffled aside, chair scraping, footsteps]

[Visual Note: Alastor leads Lucifer towards their shared king-sized bed, dimly lit by a soft, warm glow from a nearby lamp]

Lucifer: [arching a brow, curious] A massage, huh? Didn’t peg you for the hands-on type.

Alastor: [chuckling] Oh, my dear Lucifer, you underestimate me. I am a man of many talents, most of which you’ve yet to fully appreciate. Now, sit back, relax, and allow me to work my magic.

Lucifer: [chuckling] Fine, fine. I’m entrusting you with my life,

Alastor: [eye-roll] And you say I’m the one for dramatics. Now then, I believe that I would be able to more effectively relax your muscles if I have full access…

Lucifer: [grinning] Is that you insinuating you want me to strip for you?

Alastor: [smirking, feigning innocence] Insinuating? Oh no, my darling Lucifer, I’m outright suggesting it. After all, why do anything halfway when perfection is within reach? It’s far more practical anyway.

[Audio Note: fabric rustling, bed squeaking]

[Visual Note: Lucifer moves onto the bed laying on his stomach in nothing but his pyjama bottoms.]

Lucifer: Yes, yes, continue making excuses for yourself. You’re just looking forward to seeing my toned abs.

Alastor: [laughing lightly, amused] Oh, Lucifer, as if I haven’t already committed every inch of you to memory. No, this is purely for therapeutic purposes—though I won’t deny it’s a delightful bonus.

Lucifer: [smirking] Therapeutic, huh? I’m starting to think you’re the one who needs to unwind. All this pent-up energy—are you sure this massage isn’t more for your sake than mine?

Alastor: [grinning, rolling up his sleeves further] My darling, if I needed to unwind, you’d know it. Now hush and let me do what I do best—aside from broadcasting, tormenting souls, and, well, being a vision of charm, of course.

[Visual Note: Alastor sits on Lucifer’s lower back, placing his hands gently on his shoulders. He begins to knead the tension away with expert precision.]

Lucifer: [sighing, eyes fluttering shut] Mmm… I’ll admit, you’re not half bad at this.

Alastor: [smirking, ever the tease] Not half bad? My, what high praise!

Lucifer: [murmuring, voice soft] Don’t let it go to your head… you’re doing a damn good job though…

[Audio Note: Gentle rhythmic sounds of hands massaging]

Alastor: [leaning closer, voice low and teasing] Oh, Lucifer, you’re positively melting under my touch. Please continue to act as if this isn’t having an effect on you.

Lucifer: [half-asleep, muttering] You’re insufferable… just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.

Alastor: [softly, with a hint of mischief] Oh, Lucifer, you’re practically purring. Should I be concerned you might take a page from Husker’s book and sprout whiskers any moment now?

Lucifer: [muffled, relaxed] Don’t push your luck, Alastor.

[Visual Note: Alastor’s hands trail lower, kneading into the muscles along Lucifer’s spine. Lucifer suddenly tenses, his body flinching ever so slightly.]

Alastor: [pausing, puzzled] Hmm? Did I hurt you? That wasn’t too much pressure, was it?

Lucifer: [quickly, shaking his head] No, it’s fine. Keep going.

Alastor: [narrowing his eyes, intrigued] Fine, you say? Then why, pray tell, did you just flinch like I’d struck a nerve?

Lucifer: [gruffly, brushing it off] I didn’t flinch. You’re imagining things.

[Audio Note: The faint squeak of Alastor shifting his weight slightly as he resumes.]

Alastor: [teasing] Oh, my dear Lucifer, I assure you my eyesight is impeccable. You did flinch. Care to explain?

Lucifer: [growing defensive] It was nothing. A… muscle spasm. Now stop prying and focus.

Alastor: [knowingly] A muscle spasm, you say? Curious. It happened precisely when I brushed over this spot right… here.

[Visual Note: Alastor presses gently into the small of Lucifer’s back again, watching as Lucifer’s body jerks slightly, a sharp intake of breath escaping him.]

Lucifer: [hissing through his teeth] Alastor.

Alastor: [mock-innocence] What? I’m merely being thorough. Relax, my dear.

[Audio Note: Lucifer exhales sharply, trying to suppress a reaction, but his body stiffens.]

Alastor: [grinning wider, realization dawning] Oh. Oh-ho-ho. Don’t tell me… Lucifer Morningstar, the proud and imposing King of Hell, is—how shall I put this—ticklish?

Lucifer: [snapping, face flushed] Don’t be ridiculous!

Alastor: [delighted, laughing softly] Oh, but I think I’ve struck gold! You flinched again! How utterly fascinating!

Lucifer: [turning his head to glare at him] Drop it, Alastor. I mean it.

Alastor: [ignoring the warning, leaning closer with a devilish grin] My, my. This is precious. What other secrets are you hiding from me, hmm? Shall we test a few theories?

Lucifer: [growing alarmed, trying to sit up] Alastor, don’t you dare—

[Visual Note: Sudden laughter erupts as Alastor’s fingers dart to Lucifer’s sides, experimentally pressing and wiggling. Lucifer’s restrained demeanor shatters as he tries to twist away, laughter spilling out despite his efforts to suppress it]

Lucifer: [gasping, laughing] Alastor! Stop it this instant!

Alastor: [laughing triumphantly] Oh, this is delightful! Look at you squirm! The mighty Lucifer, brought low by something as simple as this. Who would have thought?

Lucifer: [through laughter, growling] I swear, if you don’t stop, I’ll— hah!—make you regret it!

Alastor: [gleeful, unfazed] Regret it? Oh, darling, this is worth any consequence. You’re positively adorable like this!

Lucifer: [through laughter, trying to sound authoritative] A-Alastor! Stop this—now! I… I command you!

Alastor: [mockingly, between chuckles] Oh, you command me? Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I seem to be in a rather rebellious mood tonight!

[Visual Note: Lucifer’s laughter grows louder as Alastor suddenly flips him over onto his back, pinning him down effortlessly.]

Lucifer: [gasping, still laughing] A-Alastor, no-! Nonono! Let’s talk about this-!

Alastor: [smirking devilishly, leaning over him] Oh, my dear Lucifer, it’s far too late for that. Let’s see what happens when I explore a bit further, shall we?

[Visual Note: Alastor’s fingers dance across Lucifer’s ribs, eliciting sharp bursts of laughter as Lucifer arches his back and tries to bat his hands away.]

Lucifer: [laughing uncontrollably] No! Alastor, s-stop it! I—I’m warning you!

Alastor: [mock innocence, thoroughly enjoying himself] Warning me? Oh, but this is far too entertaining to stop now! And what’s this? Your ribs seem particularly sensitive. Fascinating! It appears you are simply just a ball of sensitivity now, aren’t you?

[Visual Note: Alastor moves to Lucifer’s stomach, gently clawing his fingers along the toned muscles there. Lucifer squeals, his laughter reaching new heights]

Lucifer: [squealing, breathless] Alastor! Please!

Alastor: [grinning triumphantly] Oh, please, you say? I never thought I’d hear the King of Hell beg. Music to my ears! It is quite unfortunate for you, my love, as I am just getting started. Let’s see… perhaps under these arms of yours?

Lucifer: [gasping and laughing hysterically] Stop it! You—hah!—you insufferable jerk! Shit, it tickles! It tickles so bad!

Alastor: [teasing, fully enjoying himself] Well, I certainly hope it would. That is the point of this little game we have going on, isn’t it?

[Visual Note: Lucifer manages to slip one hand free and grabs Alastor’s side, tickling him in retaliation. Alastor jolts, letting out a startled laugh.]

Alastor: [laughing, startled] Oh! You cheeky little–! What do you think you’re doing?

Lucifer: [grinning mischievously despite his breathlessness] Turning the tables, dear. Two can play this game as you called it. Let’s see how you like it!

Alastor: [laughing, trying to squirm away] Hah! Lucifer! That’s—hah!—quite enough! Oh, you’re far more devious than I gave you credit for!

Lucifer: [smirking, relentless] Oh, what’s the matter? Can’t handle a little harmless fun?

[Visual Note: Lucifer’s victorious grin doesn’t last long as Alastor recovers quickly, grabbing both of Lucifer’s wrists and pinning them above his head effortlessly.]

Alastor: [grinning wickedly, voice low and smooth] A valiant effort, my dear, but I’m afraid you shouldn’t have done that. Now, you’ve left yourself completely at my mercy.

Lucifer: [eyes widening, trying to pull free] Oh, shit–! Wait, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Alastor don’t–!

[Visual Note: Alastor launches a full assault, tickling Lucifer’s hips and sides mercilessly. Lucifer’s laughter becomes uncontrollable, high-pitched squeals escaping him as he thrashes helplessly beneath Alastor.]

Lucifer: [squealing, breathless] A-Alastor! I—hah!—I give up! I give up! Oh fuck–! I can’t breathe!

Alastor: [pausing, smirking triumphantly] Oh, what’s this? The great Lucifer admitting defeat? How delightful! Say it again, louder this time.

Lucifer: [laughing hysterically] I said I give! Please! Please, please, Al! I You win–! You win, you were right!

Alastor: [grinning, releasing him and sitting suppose Very well. I supposed I’ve had my fun. For now.

[Audio Note: The sound of Lucifer catching his breath, still chuckling weakly.]

Lucifer: [panting, muttering] You are such a menace aren’t you?

Alastor: [pleasantly, patting his leg] And yet, you tolerate me so well. Now, shall we get back to that massage? I promise to behave… unless you tempt me, of course.

Lucifer: [grumbling, flipping back onto his stomach] If you so much as twitch the wrong way, I’ll throw you out a window.

Alastor: [grinning, his tone light] Empty threats as always, my King.

[Visual Note: Alastor resumes the massage, his hands moving gently along Lucifer’s back. The room falls into a calm quiet, broken only by Lucifer’s occasional hum of relaxation.]

[siri-ike]

DP X DC: empty

Chapter 8

Chapter 1 chapter 7

"I think she's me." He said after a long silence.

"She can't be you. You're you." Johnny responded slowly.

He stalled a moment, "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. of course, you're right. That would be impossible. " There's no way. She can't be him, and he can't be her. But there's something about her. Something so familiar they can't possibly be separate. "I need to see her again."

Having a spirit around that can punch your father's lights out seemed like a sweet deal at first. But just like Scrooge, Johnny was quickly learning how persuasive ghosts can be. And by the time their lease was up, his bags had mysteriously been packed already.

Dani's house was pretty normal looking. She had cleared some hangers for his outdoor clothes, and there was a bedroom ready for him, too. Although it was decorated like an observatory. Does she think he's an alien or something? The ghost seems to like it.

Did he glow like that before?

"Johnny!" Dani shouted from the kitchen. "I got some takeaways from West End Burgers. Yours is on the table, I'll be in my office.

She is the weirdest woman John has ever met. For starters, she's a detective, so she carries a gun. She wears pants instead of a skirt. She doesn't even curl her hair. Or cook dinner, apparently. Then there was the whole violence thing.

When he got to the kitchen, he was surprised to see three hamburgers on a plate, still wrapped in foil. He checked the receipt to see if she actually bought 6 hamburgers for the two of them.

"You seem distraught."

"I'm perfectly traught." Johnny insisted. "I'm probably just supposed to take one, right?"

"They're on a plate together."

Johnny picked one up. "I can't eat 3 burgers." He paused for a moment, then offered it to the other boy.

He hesitated to reach forward. Concentrate, be tangible. He carefully held it with both hands. He watched as Johnny took a bite and followed suit.

"You're supposed to take the wrapper off."

"Huh?" He chewed through the third of a hamburger he had stuffed in his mouth. And without a thought, swallowed it, wrapper and all.

"Never mind, here." Johnny handed the third one over as the first disappeared into a snake like jaw while taking a normal sized bite out of his own food. The sight alone was enough to give him a stomach ache. But not enough to make him not eat.

Come to think of it. Johnny had never seen the, ghost? Eat before. Maybe that's why he's so spaced out all the time. Johnny sure wouldn't like to skip months' worth of meals. "Are you still hungry?"

"I don't understand." His voice was less of a whisper than it was, this clearer version sounded, lively. He sounded like someone. It was a voice Johnny had heard before.

Just then, the door behind them opened, and detective Dani walked in with three empty hamburger wrappers on her plate. She really eats like this!? She threw them in the trash under the sink and got three large glasses from an upper cabinet. "Compleatly forgot water." She smiled at him, filled her's with water, and went back to wence she came.

"You two freaks are cut from the same cloth." Johnny addressed the air beside him.

"Yes... we are, " a nearby whisper follows her.

The room was an office. She sat at a desk covered in Manila folders and paper. The moment he stepped through the wall, she looked up. Directly at him.

She can't see him. No one can see him! How can she see him?

She exhaled a small fog of white breath. "Are you here?" She asked, looking around the room. She can't see him. But she knows.

"I've been looking for you." She paused longingly. "That's OK. You don't have to say anything. Clockwork said you might forget some things." Her smile lacked any emotion. It was like she wanted to be happy but couldn't overcome the hollowness. "I met some of our friends. Walker's still alive... Sydney isn't. I've been working on a way back to the ghost zone, but it's proven difficult without hurting the timeline." She looked so worn out. She looked wrong. This wasn't the person he had recognized. It's someone else. "Danny, please. Just show yourself, let me know you're alright."

He stepped back out. Johnny had left, probably went back to his room. He started in the direction, pretending not to hear the quiet whimpers from the office.

~~~~~~~

"Is it true you're taking the Crane boy?" Asked Commissioner Reynolds.

"Yes, sir. Picking him up after work." Dani glanced at the clock on the wall. One more hour.

"It's a big commitment, Nightingale. Are you sure you're up for it." It was less a question and more of an accusation.

"That's the beauty of teenagers, commissioner, they don't need 24-hour surveillance, just food and guidelines. And, you know, attention obviously."

"That's not what I meant. Are you ready for this?"

The air went stale.

"I read your transfer reports. I know about Pointdexter."

"Sydney was a good boy" Dani defended.

Dani didn't answer. She couldn't.

"Doesn't mean he was good for you."

One more hour.

[nilsavatar]

DAY 23 - BITING part 2

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!human

Genre/Warnings: fluff, ANGST, introspective, delicate themes (hibrid pregnacy). All characters are AGED-UP. This the sequel of the @layla2-49 request used to fullfil the promp day 23 of lunakinktober 2023

Summary: Following the unexpected pairing that occurred at the Tree of Souls, after connecting as only two Na'vi normally could, Celeste and Neteyam entertain a clandestine relationship. Several times they have discussed coming out, but the girl is too prey to her insecurities as a human to do so. It is Eywa who will decide for both of them with a disconcerting revelation: they have conceived a hybrid child.

Word Count: 4,3k

Masterlist - Request a fic

Celeste had been... different ever since Neteyam had brought her back to the human compound after collecting panopyra samples in the forest. Brighter, in a way. She visited Hometree more willingly and more often, interacting with the village women who now welcomed her with smiles and involved her in their activities whenever possible; she had discovered a particular talent for dyeing accessories the Omatikaya used to adorn their bodies with.

A soft half-smile spread across Spider’s lips as he watched her playing with a group of children on a nearby platform. They were about Tuk’s age, more or less, but already as tall as the girl, who wasn’t exactly towering herself compared to her twin brother. A genetic joke between heterozygotes. He would have lingered longer on seeing his sister finally out of the lab, out of her shell—he would have even laughed at the odd hairstyle the kids were braiding into her hair—but his gaze was drawn elsewhere. Specifically, to the Sully brothers, who were descending with long strides down the path carved into the massive tree trunk that served as a home for the entire clan, each carrying a yerik carcass over their shoulders. Another successful hunt, he thought with a twinge of envy.

How much he would have loved to prove his worth by helping sustain the People, but Spider was just a human. Not to mention Nash and Mary would have killed him if he even tried. And Celeste, especially Celeste!

Following the instructions of an elder hunter, the two young men carried their prey to a tent, where it would be skinned and butchered. When they reemerged, the brothers were playfully shoving each other and exchanging teasing remarks. Neteyam was already cleaning his arrows checking them for any damage. Amidst an “I did a cleaner kill” and a “My shot was more precise”, Spider joined the conversation with his typical warm greeting. “Back already?” “Missed us?” “Nah, I could’ve done without that skxawng face of yours.” The jab was meant as a joke, but Spider couldn’t quite hide the unease—and the faint irritation—from his tone. At least when it came to Lo’ak, they knew each other far too well. That irrational sense of protective older-brother energy was definitely misplaced.

“You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?” “Depends on what we’re talking about.” “Teyam’s been acting strange lately.” That phrase was music to his ears, the confirmation that it wasn’t all in his head. But he decided to let his friend elaborate before sharing his concerns. He wanted evidence, not just vague conjectures. “Like what?” “I don’t know, bro. He doesn’t scold me like he usually does. He’s less uptight, whether we’re hunting or training. He smiles more, but he seems distracted a lot of the time. It’s like…” “He’s in love,” Spider finished for him. “Yeah. But you know how private he is. No one can get him to say who the girl is.” “Any idea who it might be?” “Nothing solid. Mom thinks it could be Nirat. Like her mother, she’s an excellent singer, but I don’t think that’s the kind of thing that would sway him enough to choose her as a mate.” “Mm, I agree. He’s not the type to be won over so easily. Singing is a beautiful talent, but just because it’s been decided that the next generation of leaders will be a brother-sister duo doesn’t mean Teyam’s standards for finding a strong mate to support the clan would change.” “Yeah, it can’t be Nirat, even though she’d kill for it to be her.”

Spider’s eyes drifted back to the person in question, who wasn’t even trying to hide how intently he was watching the human girl. The expression on his face was that of someone who had just put all the pieces together. “You know who it is?” “Let’s just say I have an idea. But I need confirmation.” As if some higher power had decided to fulfill his words, the decisive proof appeared before their incredulous eyes.

Nirat, dressed to the nines, with a flower tucked into her loose hair—a clear sign of her availability for courtship—made her way through the hunters to reach the future olo’eyktan. The beads adorning her ankles and wrists jingled with every step as she swayed her hips and fluttered her thick black lashes. At another time, Spider would have enjoyed the show, complete with boisterous chuckles and suggestive elbow nudges to Lo’ak, not holding back his commentary on the assertiveness of certain Na’vi women. Instead, his attention instinctively shifted back to his sister, whose expression spoke volumes.

Her lips were pressed into a deep pout, her wide, furious eyes fixed in a murderous glare at the eldest Sully. Her chest rose and fell in quick, frantic breaths, the intensity of which fogged up her mask. And then, the moment of drama. Mumbling some excuse, she got up despite the children’s protests. With a stormy expression, she left the clearing and returned to her refuge of experiments and disinfectants. But even with her head bowed, she couldn’t hide from her brother the fact that she was about to burst into tears—or from Neteyam.

The warrior brushed off the would-be suitor and moved to run after her, but Spider stopped him just in time, a hand on his torso to hold him in place. “Let her cool off. Talking to her now won’t do any good.” Neteyam opened his mouth to argue, to defend himself, but he knew his friend was right. In her current state, the girl would only push him away and retreat further into herself, buried in her stupid sense of inferiority and not belonging—even though the Great Mother herself had shown her otherwise. Gritting his teeth, his ears pinned back against his head, he looked for a moment past the human in the direction where Spider’s sister had disappeared. Then, with a sigh that deepened his already gloomy expression, he met his glare again and nodded. But before he could turn on his heel and retreat into his own bubble of frustration, Spider stopped him again. “What are your intentions with my sister?” It was pointless to evade the question, and in any case, Neteyam wasn’t the type.

Once she returned to the cold walls of the compound, Celeste did what she did best: locked herself in the lab, where the only sources of light were the plexiglass tanks and the computer monitors. One, to be precise, was on at that moment: hers. She sat there as though hiding from something, or rather someone. Someone who knew exactly where to find her. Her nerves were on edge, her suspicious eyes darting at every faint sound her feeble human ears could pick up.

Her irritated gaze flitted from the tablet in her hand to the tall figure that had just stepped across the threshold, the faint screech of the sliding door announcing his presence. Before her, in the dim room, the panopyra tank cast pale violet lights onto the young scientist’s face. Inside, the curious zooplantae drifted gracefully and hypnotically. Its presence seemingly consuming all of Celeste Socorro’s time and energy.

The supporting roots had intertwined to form a stem now, firmly anchored to the tank’s lid. From its core, several ends branched out to hold up the wide, inverted dome. Small, symmetrical dots outlined its surface, converging at the center, from which luminous tentacles extended. They now reacted to the insistent probing of mechanical fingers. At the ends of these, ultra-thin needles penetrated various points of the lively tentacles, immediately recording the data collected in the computerized system that Celeste held in her hands. Her goal? Entirely ignoring him.

The Na'vi couldn’t bring himself to break the silence immediately. He stood still, observing the scene for several long moments, trying to figure out how to approach her without making things worse. The way she moved—mechanical, precise, almost frantic—told him more than any words could. She was shaken. Hurt. She turned her back to him when Neteyam didn’t take the silent cue to leave. “I’m busy.” She was still mad. Fair enough. The warrior armed himself with his best smile, hoping to ease the tension. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said, setting the tray he had been carrying onto the table. “You’ve been in here for hours.”

Celeste felt a warm blush flood her cheeks. She bit the inside of her cheek until that familiar metallic taste of blood spread on her tongue. She wanted to set down the data pad, hug him, thank him for the thoughtful gesture, and tell him how sweet he was, but she was too angry to give in. If anything, seeing him only irritated her more. She could still picture Nirat wrapping herself around him like a jellyfish. Like the panopyra she was studying. So she asked, caustically, if he was stalking her, turning just in time to catch the hurt and disappointed look on his face.

“Yawne,” he said, all his regret poured into that single affectionate word, and guilt hit her like a punch to the gut. She knew Neteyam—his sense of loyalty, his serious and honorable nature. He wasn’t a playboy, nor someone who toyed with women for amusement. It wasn’t fitting for a leader, and more importantly, it wasn’t in his character. But she let her insecurities take over. Deep down, Celeste knew no one would approve of their relationship. It didn’t matter that the current olo’eyktan was human: Jake had an avatar; physically, he had more in common with a Na’vi than humans. And he was Toruk Makto. She had nothing to offer the clan… or Neteyam. She couldn’t become a member of the Omatikaya, and despite the tsahìk question being resolved by Kiri, young Socorro couldn’t promise him anything, least of all a family. What had been happening for months at the Tree of Souls—those strange tubular growths the roots formed at the base of her neck when they made love—meant nothing.

“Share your thoughts with me, Cel. Please.” She pressed her lips together, her shoulders rigid. “You should court Nirat,” she said curtly, trying to keep her composure. It felt like a stab to the heart. “… What?” “She’ll make an excellent mate. She’s beautiful, well-liked, and has a lovely voice that lifts spirits.” Well-liked? He wanted to ask sarcastically—Nirat was a snake. “We should tell the truth about us,” he answered instead, with that infuriatingly calm tone he knew drove her mad, though it masked a deep inner turmoil: the fear of what she might say next, words that could break his heart. “Everyone will know, and Nirat will get over it. I’m taken.” His response made the girl falter, her breathing slowed almost imperceptibly, but the fire in her eyes didn’t entirely die. “You just don’t get it, do you? I’m human, Teyam. I’ll always be out of place. Always… less. No matter what I do, I’ll never be like you. Never enough to truly belong in this world.” Neteyam took a step forward, slowly, cautiously. “You don’t need to be like us, Cel. You need to be yourself—that’s what makes you special. That’s what makes me see you, even when I look at everything else.”

Her eyes widened, startled by those loving words, which seemed to slip out before the young Na’vi could stop them. For a moment, she was speechless, her heart pounding in her chest, and he stepped closer, now only a breath away. He looked her directly in the eyes, unwavering. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding foolish,” he murmured. “I see you, Celeste. I have for a long time. When I whisper what I feel to you at the Tree of Souls, those aren’t just words said in the heat of the moment. I felt your spirit bond with mine. You’re a part of me. And when you hurt, I hurt too.”

She met his gaze, her expression pained. “But at what cost? You’re destined to lead your people. How can you do that with someone like me by your side? Even if the clan has learned to tolerate me, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m human.” The prince shook his head, his tone softening with a faint smile. “I’m not Eywa, tìyawn. I don’t know all her plans. But I know one thing. She wouldn’t have united us if our love was wrong.” Celeste swallowed, the words caught in her throat. She felt vulnerable, exposed, as though Neteyam had just torn down all the walls she had built around herself. “I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “You don’t have to say anything,” he replied with a small smile. “Just don’t run away from me anymore. Please.”

A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the faint hum of the machinery. Celeste lowered her gaze, biting her lip. Then, with hesitation that spoke of years of insecurity, she gave a small nod. “We’ll explain to them that Eywa chose you for me. We are mated before the Great Mother.” “Sure, we’ll tell them how that plant intoxicated us, and while we were… you know… the roots of the Tree of Voices somehow created a temporary kuru so we could connect. Nothing weird about that!” “Yawne,” he whispered, kneeling to press his forehead against hers, a gesture that felt more comforting than anything else. “Don’t underestimate our families. They’ll understand. Deep down, they probably always suspected this would happen—it was only a matter of time.” The scientist let out a tired smile, though doubt still flickered in her eyes. “I wish I could believe it’s that simple.” “You know you’re sexy when you’re jealous?” “Stop it, moron.” She blushed, shy but unable to suppress the warm laugh that finally broke the tension that had built up over weeks of secret moments and arguments. With that open confrontation, they accepted the challenges and joys their union would bring. Neteyam gently cupped her face, his fingers strong yet tender, brushing over her human skin with the reverence reserved for something sacred. They seemed suspended in perfect calm, and just as they were about to seal everything with a kiss, a strange sound escaped her lips. An unexpected spasm interrupted the moment as Celeste doubled over, one hand to her mouth, the other clutching her stomach. She rushed to the sink as violent retching overtook her. The young Na’vi steadied her firmly, his face etched with concern. “It must’ve been something I ate. It’s nothing,” she said between ragged breaths, trying to downplay it, but it wasn’t nothing.

In the following days, the girl continued to suffer from nausea and growing weakness. Despite her reluctance, Neteyam insisted she get visited. “I don’t want to alarm the clan or make them think there’s a problem, especially now that we’ve decided to go public,” she argued, trying to pacify him. “We need to figure out what’s happening. This has to be serious to leave you like this,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. Celeste sighed, resting a hand on her forehead. “Maybe it’s just stress. There’s no need to panic.” He shook his head, determined. “It’s not normal for you to be like this. Please, get checked out. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me—for Spider.” His golden eyes were filled with worry.

When her symptoms worsened, she had no choice.

The infirmary was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of lamps—a bubble of technological modernity nestled within Pandora's untamed beauty. Norm and Max worked with the scanning equipment while the girl lay on the exam table, her face pale and marked by exhaustion. For days, she had suffered from dizziness and an inexplicable heaviness. As the machine hummed softly, scanning her body, she sought comfort in Neteyam’s gaze. He knelt by her side, his fingers fidgeting nervously. Behind them stood Spider, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Though they tried to appear calm, their eyes betrayed a growing unease.

After what felt like an eternity, Max’s eyes widened, glued to the screen in disbelief and a hint of fear. “This… this isn’t possible,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. Celeste sat up, alarmed. “What isn’t possible?” The doctor double-checked the readings, frowning. “There’s no sign of infection or poisoning. Your vital signs are stable, but…” He hesitated, glancing at Norm. “What?” she whispered. Max took a deep breath and pointed at the screen. “There’s an unusual reading��� Though maybe calling it unusual isn’t accurate.” “What do you mean?” Neteyam leaned forward, his golden eyes fixed on the monitor, staring at the dark speck on the display. With another sigh, Max activated a 3D image showing a tiny, pulsating structure, barely perceptible. “You’re pregnant.”

The room fell into an oppressive, deafening silence. The patient stared at the dark speck on the monitor, unable to form a response. Her heart pounding louder than the sound of the equipment, she finally whispered, “There must be a mistake. Neteyam and I… we’re biologically incompatible.” Norm nodded slowly. “In theory, you’re right. But I’ve checked the parameters once again. There’s no mistake. All the signs are there: elevated hormones, physiological changes, and an embryonic presence. Sweetheart, it’s happened—you’re truly pregnant.”

Despite feeling her grip on his fingers tighten, Neteyam couldn’t tear his eyes away from the medical terminal. The voices around him faded into a distant echo, as though he couldn’t fully process what he was hearing and seeing. This was news no one had ever anticipated—something no one had ever considered as it was supposed to be impossible. Behind them, Spider paced back and forth, his hands buried in his dreadlocks. “No, no, no.” He shook his head, unable to accept what they were saying. “There has to be another explanation. Maybe some genetic mutation, or…” He trailed off, his voice trembling.

A whirlwind of thoughts spun through the mind of the Omatikaya prince, visions of a hazy future, each scenario more terrifying than the last, all culminating in the absence of the woman he loved. “What are we supposed to do now?” Cel… the baby. Everything felt so… uncertain. “It all depends on what you decide to do,” Norm suggested, a clear implication hanging in the air. “Terminate the pregnancy?” “… it’s the simplest option.”

Celeste’s eyes filled with tears. As much as her rational side whispered that this was the most logical and risk-free solution, she already felt a deep connection to the being growing inside her. As though she sensed there was something larger at play than just motherhood, a bond with… “Eywa,” she murmured simply. “The effect of the panopyra, our union at the Tree of Voice, this,” she wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach. “The Great Mother united us for a reason, but this child… it’s a hybrid, yawne. We don’t know what that entails, or what will happen to your health. And no one here can help us. Your technology isn’t equipped to handle these kinds of… anomalies.” His heart pounded, his mind clashing with every possibility. How could he protect his mate and their child from a fate that seemed so dangerous? “Are you asking me to—?” “No! Eywa, no. I would never ask you to do that. But… I’m terrified, okay? You’re my person. It’s my job to protect you from harm, but how can I when I don’t understand what’s happening? I had come to terms with the fact that we wouldn’t have a family of our own. And being just us was enough for me, 'cause as long as I had you, nothing else mattered. But now… the most beautiful, incredible thing in the world has happened, and I can’t even celebrate it because it might…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

The tension between them grew, and at that moment, another voice broke into the room. Spider, who had been silently sitting in the corner, sprang to his feet as if struck by lightning. His face was pale and strained, his eyes swollen with horror. The news had overwhelmed him. “This… this is too much! It’s not possible!” he shouted, his voice trembling. “You… Neteyam! How the hell did this happen?! How could you let this happen?!” Her brother's words, loaded with rage and panic, hit Neteyam like a punch. His face twisted. “This is all your fault! You’re Na’vi! This child…” Celeste stood up, frightened by her brother’s outburst, and took a step forward to intervene. “Spider, calm down… it’s no one’s fault. It’s not what you think.”

But Spider couldn’t contain his anxiety. His fear drove him to act without thinking. “You don’t understand! Do you know what you’re risking? This… this baby isn’t just a symbol of an impossible union—it’s a danger to you!” he shouted, his eyes filled with terror and disillusionment. “What will carrying a Na’vi-human hybrid do to your body? How much energy will it drain from you? Have you thought about how big the fetus will get before it’s born? How will you deliver it?”

Neteyam glared back at him with equal fury, his heart pounding, his posture stiff, his face tense. But there was also a sense of helplessness constricting him because, deep down, he didn’t know how to handle the situation either. The weight of responsibility and dread was crushing him. “I didn’t choose this, Spider. But it’s happened, and we have to face it together,” he said at last, trying to keep his voice steady. Spider, crushed, looked at the future olo’eyktan with eyes filled with both anger and anguish. “I can’t accept this,” he finally said, his voice reduced to a whisper.

It was at that moment that Kiri entered the room, sensing the intensity of the argument. When she saw him so agitated, she approached him calmly. “Monkey boy,” she said, her voice soothing. “This isn’t a threat. It’s proof of how great Eywa’s power is. This child… it’s not just a mistake. It’s a sign, something that goes beyond our fears.” Spider seemed shaken but couldn’t put aside the distress gnawing at him. Neteyam, though hearing the weight of Kiri’s words, still couldn’t let go of his worry. His need to protect Celeste was all-consuming, and the idea that she might be at such great risk devastated him.

Kiri’s face was calm yet resolute. “Brother, don’t be afraid. This is the path the Great Mother has chosen for you. Her decisions are always wise, even when we cannot fully understand them.” Her voice carried the gravity of an ancient truth, and silence filled the room. Then she approached Celeste gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t just your life at stake. This creature is a manifestation of the union of two opposite worlds, worlds that have been at odds until now. It’s the beginning of something new, a path forward together. We’ve seen signs of this connection. Your child is a blessing.”

Neteyam looked at his sister with eyes full of questions, but at last, a small glimmer of hope began to grow within him. Perhaps, despite all his fears, this child had a purpose beyond what he could see. Spider, though still harboring doubts, lowered his gaze. The consternation remained, but Kiri’s intervention seemed to have, at least, partially soothed his anxieties.

“We’ll do this together,” Celeste said, extending one hand toward her mate and the other toward her twin, her look locking with theirs, filled with an intensity they had never seen before. “We’ll face this future, whatever it may bring.” Neteyam took a deep breath, gathering the courage he needed. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but deep down, he knew he would stand by her side. And maybe, in time, he could learn to embrace this destiny that seemed impossible to comprehend.

“You can’t do this alone,” Kiri concluded. “Maybe it’s time to speak with Mo’at.”

[hold-him-down]

For the five-sentence fics:

"Do you think I don't know that?"

“It might help him if you’d visit him.”

River’s quick to drag his attention away from Felix’s door, but it’s too late. In the days leading up to this moment, River has never been far from Felix’s room. When he thinks no one is paying attention, he’s less discrete about it. Lincoln clocked it in a matter of hours, the first time River parked himself on this chair. He’s careful not to insert himself too far into places he doesn’t belong, but he thinks, maybe, it might help River, too. River, caught off guard, or maybe too tired to attack, studies his face instead. “He’s suffering, River,” Lincoln says gently.   

Almost instantly, River goes rigid. "Do you think I don't know that?" he asks with all the bite that Lincoln has come to expect from him. He won’t be able to talk him down from here, but he thinks, maybe, if he slowly chips away at the armour he’s surrounded himself with, River will surprise him one day.

He crouches in front of him. “River,” Lincoln says, his voice soft. He’s acutely aware of the other residents and volunteers watching. He takes a breath, searching for the words, and in his hesitation, River shuts down entirely.

“I know that he’s suffering,” River says. He searches Lincoln’s face. “And I know the role I played in that.”

From behind him, Ethan flinches. There’s a lesson here, somewhere, about the dynamics of this group that Lincoln hasn’t even scratched the surface of. Before he has a chance to compartmentalize it, River says,  “It is not your job to fix whatever is broken in me, even if someone has convinced you that it is. This has nothing to do with you.”

LIncoln stands, opens his mouth to find the retort he knows he needs to find, but River plows ahead. “If Felix wants to see me, he will ask. Until then, I don’t want to talk about this.”

His face, his body language, the whole of River London closes off. Lincoln takes one more stab at it, anyway.

“River,” he says. “He’s not going to ask.” 

River stands, too, wraps his arms around his stomach, and waits for Lincoln to finish. For all the posturing, he still waits. It’s worth something. “He can’t ask,” he says. “I think it’s important that you understand that.”

In a blink-and-you-miss-it moment, River’s face softens, and he passes one more glance at Felix’s door, before he retreats back to his room.

✥ ✥ ✥ 

It has taken River an almost embarrassing amount of time for him to get this far. He wasn’t prepared for how difficult this would be, for the sharp stabs of anxiety in which every step so far has resulted. His discomfort, though, is the cost of the debt that he carries; he was selfish to wait this long. He knows, he’s known, that this was the only possible outcome, and he’s delayed, day after day, because the idea of seeing Felix when he’s sick, when he’s really sick, when he can't speak or defend himself or... it makes his stomach churn. Whatever this feeling is, though, River knows that he has it coming. And that if the director is right, if the closure of seeing him might help Felix, then he owes it to him to see it through.

He lets his fingers rest against the door. The building is quiet now. It has been for hours. Prescott has left for the night, the other residents have all set up camp wherever they can find any traces of comfort. Three volunteers will be around somewhere, but they are careful not to patrol the halls. Or at least, not to be obvious about it. 

River takes a breath as deep as he can and holds it as long as he can, and tries to remind himself, again, that things are different. Even if they don’t feel different, they are. 

He raises his hand to knock and hesitates, letting the pads of his fingers once more rest on the door. He can’t ask, Prescott said. 

In a shockingly decisive moment, he makes up his mind, and he pushes the door open as quietly as he can. He slips inside; it’s pitch black in here, lit by nothing but a sliver of moonlight. River is instantly aware of Felix’s presence, a mere meter away from him, but walks to the window first to open the curtain. He can hear each of Felix’s breaths, each gasp. It doesn’t feel real. 

He delays it, as long as he can. It’s been months, maybe longer, since he’s been in this room. He turns from the window and orients toward the bed. He wars over a relentless urge to run away as his feet carry him way over to Felix’s bedside. He can’t be here, he thinks, again and again, but he has to be. He knows it as well as he knows anything. He has to be here. 

He lowers himself into the chair that’s been set up. Prescott comes in here sometimes, spends hours in here sometimes. The first two nights, he slept in here, probably on this chair. River feels a rush of anger at the fact that someone else has spent this time with Felix, and he was too scared to do anything about it. 

He wraps his arms around his stomach as hard as he can. He doesn’t touch Felix; as his eyes adjust, as Felix’s form comes into view, he watches him breathe. He takes in his body, frail from the constant abuse. He takes in the IV bag that hangs in the corner, his eyes follow the tube down to Felix’s body, to where it disappears under the blanket. 

God, he would give anything–

He sucks in a breath, locking his jaw, and lifts the blanket enough to slip his hand under it. He finds Felix’s fingers, cold and clammy and too skinny and too still, and he leans forward, squeezing them softly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, two, three, four times. Felix takes a ragged breath then settles back into sleep.

River, for his part, can feel himself shaking. He doesn't know if it's fear or adrenaline or something else, but he knows he needs to be careful. He knows that Felix's hand in his, and that even though nothing is good, and nothing will ever be good again, this is the best he could possibly hope for. He draws in a long, steadying breath, and blinks back what he thinks might be the start of tears.

“I don’t know if you want me to be here,” he whispers. “But I’m here. And I’m so, so sorry.” 

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[markantonys]

the tanchico pictures seem to mostly just show off the ambience rather than reveal anything in particular about the storyline, so not much speculation from me this week! but a couple of things:

i really do strongly believe we will get Surprise Tuon in tanchico this season. i will be more surprised if we don't see her than if we do! every single major character is in their TSR book locations in s3..........EXCEPT mat and min, who have BOTH been transported into a western coastal city for a storyline neither has anything to do with in the books. there HAS to be a reason for moving them and only them into a different storyline & location, and i can't think of one except having them both meet the character their series endgame fates are tied to who might currently be found on the western coast near falme. plus, these pictures confirm that Tanchico Veil Fashion is being kept (as hinted in that shot of liandrin in the trailer), and that would tie in extremely neatly with tuon's whole veil motif when we first meet her - too neatly for it not to be connected, i say!

the nerdist article confirms that some tanchico stuff (exterior port scenes) was filmed in south africa, which wotseries had previously speculated but not confirmed. interior scenes were filmed at the prague studio. so, it's very possible that donal's seemingly-brief stint in south africa was only for tanchico scenes after all, and not for getting yeeted into rhuidean for cauthor CPR in 3x08. but it's also possible they could have had him do both; who knows how long he was truly filming there or how much of that time was taken up exclusively by tanchico exterior port scenes? either way, elayne and min and nynaeve all need to meet up with rand and aviendha and lan soon for romantic developments, so i'd still feel fairly confident in mat meeting up with rand for s4 even if no rhuidean-yeeting happens and he's still in tanchico with the girls at the end of s3. but i will not give up hope on cauthor CPR until and unless it is definitively disproven! narratively, i'd say the only character whose right to give mat CPR might outweigh rand's would be tuon, so if mat does receive CPR in tanchico, i would somewhat expect her to be the one administering it. (nynaeve, elayne, or min administering it would make sense logistically, but tuon would be the better choice narratively because it would set up a little ship-tease and give them a meaningful emotional beat early on, plus once mat and the audience have learned tuon's true identity (if they haven't already) the memory of this incident would tell them that she must have some kind of humanity and empathy underneath the seanchan high blood mask, if she went out of her way to save the life of a guy she barely knew, and therefore that it might be worth trying to look underneath the mask and see if there's a person there.)

finally, the big statue in that one picture. related to the choedan kal or some other kind of magical stuff, or just decor? we shall see! ooh, that made me think of the book tanchico plot of tracking down the male a'dam - if that's included in the show, then having tuon in tanchico and maybe even (disguised) semirhage accompanying her could be a nice easy way to get the male a'dam into semirhage's hands For Later. the books introduce tuon and semirhage together but then they basically have completely separate storylines for the rest of the series, so it could be super interesting for the show to keep them narratively joined for longer (and giving tuon a chance to find out onscreen that her truthspeaker is actually a forsaken and to reject and condemn her for it would show us firsthand that she opposes the shadow; selling the "enemy of my enemy is my friend" thing well is essential in making the overall seanchan storyline work, and giving tuon a brave and heroic moment of holding firm against a forsaken would be a great way to back up book!mat's claims that she's better than other seanchan and will make a good empress, though of course she'd have a lot of other work to do too to fully back up those claims!)

sorry to egeanin fans, but the more i think about it, the more i just don't think she should exist in showverse (at least not more than in a minor cameo-like role like bayle domon had in s2). if anyone is to get an "unlearning seanchan conditioning" storyline, it HAS to be tuon. that storyline is too important to leave in the hands of a secondary character, and tuon desperately needs a strong, impactful long-term growth arc if the audience is to accept her as a viable love interest for mat. not to say we couldn't see both characters in the show both experiencing this storyline, but the show tends to prefer to have one character do one storyline in a big way than to have multiple characters do similar storylines in smaller capacities (like just focusing on alanna for all things related to non-con bonding rather than also including myrelle). tuon befriending elayne and nynaeve would be soooo fascinating, and it would help her character immensely to be connected to more mains than just mat!

[salty-scars01]

Lap Pillow • Kaiju no 8 Boys

These are just some headcanons for how I think the boys would react to using your lap as a pillow.

I've noticed a distinct lack of fluffy stuffs of the Kn8 characters so I'm taking matters into my own hands.

Context: The boys have had a rough day at work one way or another, and when they get back home/to the dorms, they just want to relax. Little do they know that you were there waiting for them.

※ Kafka Hibino

Kafka would be pleased to find you waiting on him after he gets back from his sparring sessions with Hoshina.

He'd settle in just like any other day, but when he gets around to the bed that you're sitting on the edge of, his first thought would be to put his head right there on your lap.

If you have plush thighs, he might honestly just plop himself down on you, but he'd never be so rough that he'd hurt you.

If you have smaller thighs, he'd be very careful that he doesn't hurt you.

Either way, this man would NEVER harm you.

He'd absolutely love it if you were to play with his hair or lean down to kiss his face.

He'd give his signature goofy smile and might even fall asleep there if it's late enough.

※ Reno Ichikawa

Ichikawa said himself that being an introvert doesn't mean that you're shy, but he would not willingly put his head on your thighs of his own volition the first time.

Out of respect for you though

He would return looking tired after his long day, and you offered to let him lay in your lap.

At first, he was a little reluctant, but only because he didn't want to overstep any boundaries

Once he was settled in though, he just melted into your warmth and was instantly relaxed

From then on out, if he had a rough day, he'd seek you out and he made sure to always ask first if he could rest with you.

※ Iharu Furuhashi

You can't tell me he's not a puppy lover, I won't believe you.

Ever.

He would come home to find you waiting for him and any signs of tiredness would be instantly replaced by a wave of joy upon seeing you there.

He'd pretty much toss his belongings to the side and sit with you as soon as physically possible.

He'd tell you about his day and how exhausted he was after his training, and that's when you offered to let him lay on you.

You didn't have to tell him twice.

He positioned himself promptly and rested his head on your legs and looked up at you with a beaming smile on his face.

If you scratch his head while he's lying on you like that, you might get to see his eyes roll back into his head in satisfaction.

Also please hold his hand and give him face kisses while he's lying like that to ensure maximum happiness from your dog- I mean, boyfriend

※ Aoi Kaguragi

This big boy would come back, and you'd never know by his face that he'd had it rough that day.

Your only signs would be his mannerisms and the way he carried himself.

He'd be oddly sluggish and perhaps a bit clumsy as he moved about.

Only when he came to sit with you did he lie down and just perch himself upon your lap with closed eyes and a sigh through his nose.

Please pet his hair like this to get him to look up at you, I promise it's worth it.

He might even roll over to face your stomach and hide his face in your clothes.

It's not your lap he's after; it's you <3

※ Haruichi Izumo

He sighs a lot when he's stressed or tired. He just does

So when he returns and is clearly exhausted, one of the first things he does is turn you and smile with a soft sigh.

He'd ask first if he could lay on you and once you say yes, he's out.

He loves to look up at you while feeling the warmth of your legs.

He'd tell you about his day while he continues to sigh through his stories

But once your hands find their way to his hair, he quiets down and just closes his eyes.

Whenever you decide to stop playing with his hair, he just looks up at you and won't say anything until you resume your ministrations.

You might be stuck there for a while not that you're complaining

He'd also absolutely fall asleep.

※ Soshiro Hoshina

You had to seek him out in his office or private room later. Whether you were waiting for him, or he was already there is up to you

Whenever you see him, he starts with a sigh before going off on a short rant.

He would eventually just collapse into your lap and continue his spewing.

You could pet his hair, kiss him, any form of touch would make him stop his rant.

Once he's calmed down though, he'd start to doze off.

[dammit-tazmuir]

For what it's worth the Sixth IS very big on medical science, specifically. And while yes that absolutely means some parts of it likely have Med School Energy, i.e. soul-sucking and not in the Eighth way, I do think they value the physical body overall. Like the House as a whole is still using that knowledge for someone within the same House. Pal and Cam are the type of people who see Harrowhark pushing herself to exhaustion and dehydration and groan, because they would know better (or at least have the awareness to pull back before that level of extreme), and they know how to help her.

The pressure on Palamedes might be higher than most, as House heir, but I imagine he and Cam were also encouraged to be Like That in a sense of like... Her making sure he's eating and staying hydrated while in a hyperfocus pit studying. Him forcing her to take breaks and let her body recover and to hold back on fights she's only mostly sure she could handle. A kind of mutual nurturing that if anything allows them to be a bit worse in their own obsessions because they can count on the other (and probably others around them, until Canaan) to wrangle them in when needed, so they don't have to stop and think as much about their own needs.

Pal also seemed to care a lot about his mom, who in turn was apparently very friendly with the people around them, Juno Zeta is described as "cheerful as a child", and Cam didn't want to bother getting most of her family before Paul but did want her sister there, with Kiki having been mentioned prior as someone important to her. Like I'm NOT saying the Academia Environment wasn't overall cold-leaning or emotionally-stunting by any means, I imagine that was a big factor, it just wasn't a frigid void where they were the other's only support.

But honestly I think the main thing it boils down to is just being like that. Just adoring each other so deeply and wanting to give each other anything and everything because they think the other is the most amazing person ever, and the service they offer each other only makes the other think even more highly of them, and it grows and grows.

There are other factors, sure. They're both super protective in general and worse about each other. They have a strong sense of Justice that comes with Truth Over Solace In Lies, which is very much a House sentiment ingrained in them. And every bit of trauma they endure makes them rely on and protect each other more fiercely. And Pal's rank probably adds a lot! Cam has extra pressure to be so protective and never lose sight of him because he's a high profile target, and Pal has extra reason to be protective of her because she's the one putting herself in danger about his being a high profile target.

But ultimately I think even in a different environment they'd still be deeply close. They'd still be each other's favorite person, platonic soulmates, and possibly have some codependent tendencies. They're the same degree of "love makes you stupid and crazy" as most the characters in these books, it's just a different flavor of love than most, so the ways it manifests and focuses are different, too. The circumstances exacerbated everything, but I think as long as they were remotely similar people and still grew up close, the base for it would still be there.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how cam and pal got to be Like That. obviously the necro/cav dynamic encourages a relationship that a lot of us would consider some type of unhealthy if it happened irl, so that’s contributing. regardless, I realized I hadn’t really considered what growing up in the sixth house would do to human beings. academia is brutal and while I would love to visit the mercury librarians I think their society probably neglects a lot of fundamental human needs, particularly emotional ones. assigning value to people solely based on the quality of their scholarship is not going to create well adjusted people.

(aside: developing chronic illness in college made me *slightly* disillusioned with academia. it’s extremely difficult to take care of your physical and mental health in that setting. seems like it would be hell on necromancers given their proximity to disability but that’s another rant.)

maybe the sixth house found a way to do academia better but considering what we see of cam and pal, I don’t think so. I think they were raised in a system that values intellect over everything else and probably subscribes to the fallacy that the mind and body are separate entities (cultivate the mind, sometimes at the cost of neglecting the body). camilla pushes back against these assumptions by choosing to become an incredible cavalier, but it makes her an outsider by sixth house standards. palamedes is theoretically the perfect product of the system, but despite his scholarly success he craves and desperately seeks emotional intimacy from someone outside of his house who he’s never met in person (and I don’t think he can fully separate those romantic feelings from his desire to solve a medical puzzle). the assumption that the intelligent mind can overcome the need for physical and emotional care is not working.

tldr: cam and pal feel like two people who desire more than their emotionally cold environment could give them, so they ended up providing that for each other.

[itspileofgoodthings]

my romantic self-esteem is just absolutely rock-solid. for whatever reason!

[teyrnacousland]

I have no idea why but when my other Rooks smile they look sweet and happy and precious, and when Asha smiles she looks like an alien trying out a human face for the first time

And when she's not doing that, she looks like this:

My Rook was assigned Resting Bitch Face by the character creator

[umemiyan]

oh btw since i didn’t get to add him in the post earlier because i literally ran out of room: kaiser’s stability levels noticeably decrease even further when he misses me. he’s exponentially cuntier but also has moments where he’s so silent that people are like... afraid lmfao

he tries to throw himself into plays so extra hard until he’s overdoing it and/or having a meltdown because he screwed up until noa or someone calls me like “how quickly can we arrange to get you here???”

[scramble-crossing]

SHO IS 18??? I THOUGHT HE WAS LIKE 25… never played the game, the only stuff i’ve seen of him was him getting crushed under a vending machine and screenshots of him saying numbers. i thought he was an ex-math teacher or something

ANON THIS IS EXTREMELY FUNNY BUT ALSO DW I THOUGHT THE EXACT SAME THING WHEN I FIRST SAW HIM TOO

Playing the sequel for the first time I had him pegged at like 25-26. And tbh even knowing what I do now I still get where you're coming from 100%. It's the outfit. Literally out of all his beta designs they went for the one with the most mid-20s depression drip possible. It's fantastic.

For his first game design...I think I had too much of an impression of him already so I looked at him and went "Oh yeah that's a stupid teenager". But NEO Sho is like. Weathered. Still fucked up but with a slightly more haunted look about him. So if you don't know about the timeline of the series and are just going off of screenshots and fan stuff, yeah I can see it being easy to heap a few more years onto him than he actually has, even in the first game when he's throwing temper tantrums after someone (i.e Josh) insults his sculptures or fist-fighting 15 year olds on a roof or exploding himself to death. You know, typical 18 year old things.

But also he's only 18 in the first game! And even then chronology-wise he's probably closer to 19. I don't care how "gifted" he is at being a Reaper, he had to have been in the UG for at least a year to become an Officer. So in the sequel, which is three years later but also sort of fourteen years later, he's around 21-22. So I mean...you're close!

Except on the math teacher thing. He wishes.

[washed-up-wurmcoil]

I swear to god, they need to get somebody capable of staying on mission to the crit role table. It's so painful watching them debate and ultimately decide to contact a woman who has done nothing to warrant any trust whatsoever when their entire mission is to find ruidian allies and doing so straight up fucks over those very people. Like nobody even brought it up after opening remarks.

[29121996]

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