#(which yes . I know is not the Best way to get through stuff blind. but I love it so far)

[derpu-doodles]

may I offer you a Makoto Yuki in these trying times

[whyareyoulookingatmelikethat]

twisted sprout x distractor reader x twisted cosmo?

bonus points if reader's a little overly cocky and gets Got (maybe we get like. kidnapped or something. whatever you think would fit best in the getting got category [: )

...no this isn't inspired by me doing stupid stuff while distracting and getting punished for it. why would you think that noo /j

[20]: In The End

Not much to say right now. Not in the best mood after something happened, but I still hope you enjoy.

You were known as the chaotic one of the group.

Reckless, mischievous, you name it.

Honestly, no one really knew why you were the distractor, but they just went along with it because who else did they have to distract?

So here you were, skipping your way along the dark halls, your mood completely cheerful despite the disturbing sounds of the monsters chasing you.

The smile on your face was as bright as it would be on a sunny day, strangely enough.

You weren't one to strategize either. The instant you found a speed candy on the floor? Eat it in an instant.

Chocolate bars? Sounds good! Bottles of pop? Sure thing! No saving whatsoever.

You were literally the embodiment of idiotic.

And you liked it.

What was wrong about being stupid? Everyone is, so might as well come to terms with it.

You giggled, rounding the corner and making a U-turn around the twisteds.

Some say you’re confusing. Some say you’re drunk. Some say you’re crazy. (Which you are, but focus!)

You had the most positive,(Yes, even more positive than Poppy) yet deranged look on your situation, is what people said.

You didn’t care if there were monsters chasing you. You didn’t care if you were possibly going to die soon. After all, if you're going to go out, might as well have a little fun while doing so!

No you weren’t suicidal, just…you tried to make the best of your situation.

Was this place causing you to go insane? Probably. Who wouldn’t, after seeing their friends die in front of them one by one?

Ah, you remember now. Vee being mauled by Twisted Pebble, Boxten’s bones being crushed by Twisted Goob’s grip, Astro being killed by…well, Twisted Astro. Or who you like to call, the leech.

Their deaths were so traumatizing, you say with absolutely no emotion whatsoever, like you’re being sarcastic, but you’re not.

What reason would you have to be?

You didn’t really hate anyone here, not Vee or Glisten with their pride, Rodger with his nosiness, or even Shrimpo with his yelling. He had good reason to be bitter.

You heard a screech behind you, a warning. With practiced grace, you twirled around the easily avoidable tendril sprouting up from the floor, not even staining your shoes with the black ichor.

As you skipped on, avoiding a swipe of a smaller black claw, you wondered how the twisteds were even dumber than you, to the point they would just run around in circles after you and not even cut through the middle. They also wouldn’t jump or step over obstacles, nor knock them aside. They reminded you of homing missiles, but worse.

They acted as if a bean bag was a brick wall, and it was funny, yet extremely confusing. It bugged you to the point of insanity.(Not really, you're still sane but you know)

So you entertained the thought that maybe they were all blind. Their eyes were blood-red, so it would make sense that their vision is messed up, but that doesn’t explain how the amalgamation that was once a sweet and loving dog could now see you across half the entire floor, but couldn’t see you over a colorful kids table, despite towering over you.

It didn’t make any sense. It was like every single obstacle ever was an invisible wall for them. And you thought you were dumb…

You hummed, breaking out of your train of thought. Your eyes widened as you came face to face with a wall, smacking straight into it.

You could feel a headache beginning to form as you fell backwards towards the ground, hitting your head on the painfully hard concrete. You could hear the slightest crack and you cried out, immediately curling yourself up and hands shooting up to your head.

It…felt warm. Weirdly warm, and sticky.

Oh.

You already knew what it was.

You pressed down hard on your scalp as the twisteds closed in on you. You’d go out quick, at least.

The only thing you saw before it was all gone was two blurry faces staring down at you, hissing and groaning filling the air.

[unknownati]

xi. christmas!

a/n: guys part of this was supposed to be the PROLOGUE to a 12 part sfw and nsfw winter/christmas themed drabbles (mini fics?) but i got too busy 💀 literally had 4 days left to write but then the 12th went by and i was like... damn

its ok tho i might upload the finished days just as separate fics

while we're here why does nle choppa have a christmas song

warnings/tags: none rlly, just fluff, SO corny, SO sappy, no use of y/n, no description of reader's features, gn!reader, decorating w/ ekko 🎉, reader is a THIEF, pre-arcane plotline (choosing happiness)

_______________________________________________

christmas in zaun was nothing close to ideal. it was never if people celebrated, but more if they could afford it, which most of the time was a no. unless people had kids, they weren't going out of their way to make it a whole thing. not only that, but people didn't really care for it, anyway. they had other things to do. sure, maybe you'd see some extra lights around, or maybe a few lopsided wreaths hanging on a weathered door, but it was always the bare minimum.

but ever since you snuck into piltover as a kid right at the tail end of december, your world was absolutely rocked by the blinding lights and stars and bows and garlands and wreaths and the huge tree sitting smack dab in the middle of the city, illuminating the night sky.

after that, you were obsessed with the idea of christmas. you never had the funds, nor the time, nor the energy, nor enough friends or family to make anything happen all by yourself. but the dream stuck to you.

and then came ekko, and with him, a chance. a huge tree? with an abundance of people living there? it gave you the best idea.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

cool november air was giving way to the first hints of winter, the sharp bite of cold nipping at the cheeks of zaunites. warm colored leaves were shriveling into themselves and trembling down onto the concrete, scattering through the town. settled in uneven piles, nestled in corners, where the wind could push them no further. christmas has long began to be advertised in piltover, and your excitement was uncontrollable.

quiet as a mouse, you slipped into ekko's work room. he's sat on his stool, elbows rested on the table with his figure shadowing over his work. your fingers glide across his biceps, chin resting against his right shoulder.

"hey handsome," you chirped, working your digits over the curves of his muscles. your lips curled into a grin you were incapable of withholding. "y'got a minute?"

"for you, always." he turned, hands hoisting the weight of his upper body on his knees. his eyes softened upon looking at you. "what's up?"

you slid on his lap, feet swinging back and forth, pendulum like. "soooo," you begin, leaning back on his shoulder. "i'm sure you know what christmas is."

"yeah, why? want me to get you something?" his fingers twisted at the hem of your sweater. you shake your head—not the goal right now.

"no. well, yes, but not what i'm asking you for right now," ekko's head tilts in response. your voice dropped into a playful yet unsure murmur. "iiiiii wanted to know if you'd maaaybe be willing to decorate the base and celebrate it this year?"

his thoughts stutter, and then he laughed. "baby, you know i'd love to, but i can't. don't have the time or the money."

a pout formed on your face, lips jutting out. "we don't have to spend money, we can use what we have lying around! and i have some extra money on the side. we're not flat broke."

"doesn't solve the whole time thing."

"oookay, make time. we'll have the kids help, too! you won't even have to do much, like—seriously, think about it. we don't even need to get a tree because the firelight tree, duh. we can use big cardboard boxes to look like fake presents, we can steal lights 'n' other stuff from the pilties—"

you rambled on, every idea you've ever had since childhood resurfacing and bubbling out of you in an unstoppable torrent. each thought, each plan, all of it spilled out, an overflowing pot.

"hey, hey—" he interrupted, thumb stroking your thigh. "listen, those ideas are great. but we can't. and you have got to stop stealing from topside."

your smile faltered. "but why!? think about the kids, think about me!" ekko hesitates to speak, eyes darting around the room as your face transitions into a pleading pout. "please? pretty please? i'll do the dishes for a month?"

"fuck," your eyes filled with stars. ekko groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "fine! fine, jeez."

the squeal that exited you entered directly into his ears, lips pressing kisses into his face in rapid succession.

"thankyouthankyouthankyou!!! oh my god, it'll be great, we can have the kids make little snowflakes, we could have a little fucking wish box to get gifts for some of the kids—" you gasped loudly upon a realization, planting your hands onto his shoulders. "—you can be santa!!!"

he scoffs, brushing a loc of white hair out of his face. "don't push your luck."

you sigh in mock defeat. "fine, hiemerdinger's got that. i'll take what i can get."

"isn't he kinda short for santa?"

you shake your head. "don't height shame."

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

ekko rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, a small groan rumbling in his throat as he reached over on the bed to find you.

empty.

his head flipped. you've left a now cool dent in the bed in your wake, blanket left in a wild mess.

he frowned, sitting up and looking around. you're nowhere to be found.

maybe you got up to use the bathroom, he thinks, standing up to search the place for you.

the second his feet hit the floor, his brows furrow.

'...glitter?'

his gaze lifts, and his eyes widen as they follow the specks of glitter scattered across the floor, which caught the faint morning light that bled through the curtains.

he followed the trail, small drops of glitter turning into discarded cardboard scraps, which turned into unfinished rolls of ribbon, which lead him to his workroom, where the door was slightly ajar.

he slowly pushed the door open, finding you hunched over a box that you were decorating to look like presents. you tilt your head up to look at him, a smile spreading ear to ear.

"w'ssup?"

he glanced at the small clock on his desk. "it's...five in the morning, why are you up so early?"

you gestured towards the pile of finished boxes in the corner. "working!" the sound of tape ripping off of the roll fills the air as you took a strip, taping the box shut. "i already collected a bunch of paper for the kids to make snowflakes, borrowed some lights 'nd garlands from topside, aaand i'm almost done making all these boxes."

a lot done considering you had had that conversation just the night before.

ekko crouched down to your level, eyes meeting yours. "but...you're gonna clean all this up, right?"

silence.

"right?" he repeated.

your eyes narrowed. "yes?"

"why is that a question?"

you scoff, pressing an empty roll of wrapping paper into his chest. "why are you asking me so many of 'em? get to work. and i need you to use your hover board to fly around and get those lights up," you nod towards a pile of lights on his desk without looking away from your box. he opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off. "thank you!"

he rolled his eyes and stood, tossing the wrapping paper roll into the recycling bin.

at a more appropriate time in the day, you stood at the top of the firelight tree after capturing everyone's attention. public speaking wasn't exactly your thing, but ekko insisted you do it since everything was your idea.

you cleared your throat as the crowd settled into silence, all eyes on you. you shifted your weight onto your other leg.

"um—wow, okay, hi guys. so, i'm sure you've all...heard of christmas. and i know it's usually kinda lame, but truuust me, this year i'm gonna make sure it's—" you gather your fingers, kissing the tips of them and flaring your hand out. "—chef's kiss."

eyes leave you to glance at other's reactions, the silence lifted by an excited murmur.

"yeah, but i'm gonna need help. i have a bunch of paper that i need to be made into snowflakes, so that by the end of the day this place can look better than it already does."

you shifted their focus to scar, who carried a large bin of scissors, string, and paper of various colors. (earlier, scar questioned how you got all these supplies. you just smiled at him.)

after a quick tutorial, children started racing to gather around him, picking their colors and scissors. within a few minutes, the kids were gathered in groups on the floor, cutting out their best attempts at snowflakes.

pride swelled in your chest and you looked up into the bulk of the tree's leaves, ekko's form flying around in circles with lights being strung along behind him. with fists on your hips, you beam. "i'm amazing," you praise, making your way back inside.

everything came together surprisingly quick. ekko had never seen you that focused—hanging up lights, making paper bows to place at the points where lights held, and placing those big fake presents around the tree. of course, other people helped too, which made the work lighter.

you mostly left the mural alone, only placing a few extra candles and waving to the colorful portraits.

by the time night fell, the project was close to finished. it wasn't perfect, but to you, it was. the entire base was illuminated in warm, white lights, paper snowflakes dangling from the branches and twisting in the wind. the beat in your chest stuttered. it all felt...magical.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

over the next few weeks, you kept adding and adding to the scene. and it was all finished just in time for today, christmas eve.

by now, you'd forced ekko into so many christmas activities, some more enjoyable than the others. he thoroughly enjoyed making matching pajamas with you and drinking cocoa that was overflowing with marshmallows—being constantly tricked into mistletoe kisses, not so much. at least, he acted like he hated it. he secretly adored accidentally walking right into your trap of a hidden mistletoe and being attacked by an onslaught of messy kisses.

ekko finds you at the balcony again, glancing out into the scene below. "hm. not bad." he leans against the railing, hips bumping into yours.

"yeah, cuz it's awesome. i did that, thank you."

warm lips meet your cold cheek. "mhm. you did." he paused, tongue running over his molars. "i-um...got you something."

you perked up at his words, head whipping around to face him. "ooh, you just reminded me that i have to finish making your gift, i—"

as you're speaking, he pulls a little box from his coat pocket, black with a messy red bow.

"it's not perfect, but...y'know," his voice trails off. he pops the box open and offers it to you.

inside rested a delicate necklace, light reflecting off of the silver metal and glimmering into your eyes. the chain was thin, the links very neatly melded together, and a little circular locket hanging off the center.

you take the box and reach in, mouth agape in awe, gently pushing the locket open. inside was a tiny picture of the two of you, laying in bed, with you sound asleep on his shoulder. ekko's eyes were shut as he was in the middle of pressing a kiss to your forehead.

you smile down at the picture, warmth flooding your chest. for a long moment, you're just staring at it, ekko awaiting your reaction. your lips press together, your vision starts to blur, and a tear rolls down your face and into the velvet lining of the box. then they just kept streaming down.

ekko's face drops, immediately reaching to wipe your tears. "hey, it's okay, if you don't like it i can get you something else."

you hiccup, shaking your head. "shut up, i love it so much, this is just everything i've ever wanted for my whole life, and it's so stupid but you've literally made this the best christmas i've ever had a-and this necklace is really cute and this was so worth doing the dishes—"

you could've kept going but your joyful sobs cut you off. it was all too much, all the decorations and all the traditions you once wished for finally coming into fruition. ekko's arms wrap around you and you return the gesture, fingers twisting into his coat.

"i'd do it again in a heartbeat." he whispers, moving to peck your wet cheek. once, twice, three times.

"boo," a voice calls below you. "get a room."

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

[fivewantscoffee]

Thinking about Viktor's book when it came out and what it meant to his siblings, or how they would have reacted to it... because yeah, I'm sure writing Extra-Ordinary was empowering for Viktor, and I don't doubt it felt cathartic, but there's no way that was an easy thing to deal with for the others.

Pre-S1, I don't think Viktor ever fully grasped, especially as a kid, how awful being a member of the Umbrella Academy could be.

A lot of his childhood flashbacks show this clearly: while his siblings were getting their Umbrella Academy tattoos, Viktor drew himself an Umbrella Academy "tattoo" of his own. At the bank, he asked Reginald if he could go "play" with the others. In *shudders* Season 4, he was seen trying on Ben's domino mask and wanting to go on a mission in his stead. Bear in mind, he was seventeen here.

He only wanted to be included, yes (which is understandable!), but I also think this made him at least a little blind to what his siblings were actually going through: he wanted to be one of them so badly, that their realities didn't seem so awful to him. At the very least, it seemed like a fair trade-off.

I think in Viktor's mind, all of the training, all of the missions, it would have been worth it if it meant having powers. Having powers would have meant being a part of the team, belonging.

Now, like I said, I don't think Viktor had the full picture. He was observant and probably knew more than the rest realised, but that's still a far cry from knowing everything that went on, or really understanding what being a child superhero-soldier was like.

To be fair, I doubt Viktor's siblings (with the possible exception of Five) really talked to him about any of it. Even Five, I think, while telling him some things, would have kept a lot of it to himself.

I also don't think it's far-fetched to say at least some of the siblings could actually have been jealous of Viktor at one point or another.

Klaus, for one, would have traded places with him in a heartbeat. I have no doubts about this. He didn't like his powers, and trying to get rid of the ghosts is what pushes him into drugs and addiction in the first place.

Viktor's siblings didn't see his ostracisation. They saw their brother who never had to train, never got hurt on missions (because he never went on one), was never made to jump headfirst into danger. Instead, he was the only one of them able lead even a halfway normal life.

Keeping all this in mind, let's move on to the book.

I'm not sure when Viktor published Extra-Ordinary exactly, but it's safe to say that they were all in their twenties.

By this point in time, all but one of Viktor's siblings are out, the Academy is finally old news, they get to live their lives ... and then the book comes out.

Luther is still loyal to Reginald and that means he's still attached to the Academy by default. Viktor's book registers to him as a betrayal.

Not a personal betrayal necessarily, the two of them weren't close enough for that, but a betrayal to Reginald, the man who raised them.

The Academy does important work, it made a difference out there (is still making a difference, he'd like to think, even it's just him now), so he finds Viktor's book petty at best. He thinks it's immature, a temper tantrum dragging the Academy's name through the mud.

For Diego, it is personal.

He wasn't close to Viktor, but he was definitely the sibling who took Viktor's "betrayal" the hardest.

While growing up, Diego was so caught up in his rivalry with Luther that he ended up being one of the siblings who dismissed Viktor the hardest. He'd say hurtful things in his anger (I'm looking at you, Diego during the funeral flashback), which Viktor was able to unpack eventually, considering he actually went and saw a therapist at some point.

That said, just how much Viktor saw, and how much he actually knew about him, took Diego by surprise.

In writing his book, Viktor revealed a lot of personal stuff about his siblings. It was an insider's look into the academy: he discussed their lives there, and a lot of it was stuff nobody else knew.

Let's be real here, Diego doesn't give a shit about the Academy. He probably wouldn't have minded the book as much as he did, if it hadn't been so personal.

So Diego reads the book and he doesn't feel seen, he feels seen through. He's always pretended to be tough but that shell exists to protect his sensitive core, and reading Viktor's book... there's too much of him on display.

There's too much stuff Viktor shares that Diego didn't want shared, and he takes it personally.

Allison isn't happy with the book either. Again, for different reasons.

Allison left the Academy years ago and she's been trying to put that part of her life behind her ever since. She wants to make something of herself and pretend the Academy never existed.

And she's succeeding. She's doing well for herself. She's finally becoming someone outside of The Rumour, she's Allison Hargreeves, not one child out of a lineup.

Allison's issue with the book lies in the fact that it digs her past back up. She's got a new movie coming up, but suddenly the only thing anyone wants to talk about, the thing that's being brought up again and again, is Viktor's book.

She's the only Hargreeves still living in the public eye, so of course she ends up being the sibling everyone turns to. They want a spectacle, they want a reaction, and for Allison, there's no escaping it.

Ultimately, after the storm dies down, she moves on to the next thing.

Unlike Diego, she doesn't hold a grudge. If she were to start holding grudges every time someone sent a media storm her way, she'd be here all day.

She's a movie star. It comes with the territory.

Klaus... he doesn't act upset when he sees Viktor again, but that doesn't mean reading the book, or rather reading what Viktor had to say about him, wasn't hurtful and just kind of... awful.

Viktor and Klaus weren't close, and while they didn't necessarily get along, they didn't have an antogonistic relationship either. He didn't go out of his way to include Viktor, but if somebody else thought to include him, he didn't really go out of his way to exclude him either.

It's a low bar to clear, but it is what it is.

Anyway, I think Klaus was one of the siblings Viktor would be most critical of. He would have a hard time sympathising with him.

The thing is, the two of them are at odds... they have been at odds for almost their entire lives. Klaus had what Viktor wanted (powers) but desperately didn't want it, while Viktor had what Klaus wanted (no powers) and desperately didn't want it either.

They didn't understand each other growing up, and there were definitely some complicated feelings there about Viktor wanting powers while Klaus was doing everything he could to try and get rid of his.

None of what Viktor writes into his book is a lie, but it definitely isn't the full picture either.

Because I don't think Viktor knew about the mausoleum. I don't think any of his siblings would talk very much about their training (and if Reginald was sticking Klaus in a mausoleum to train his powers, I don't think whatever training he devised for the rest was all that great either).

It also seems unlikely to me that they would talk much about their harder, less glamorous missions. We know Ben killed people, and I doubt he was the only one.

All this to say, Viktor might never once have lied, but he probably still made assumptions. He was a biased storyteller, and it wasn't entirely his fault. He must have been aware of it even:

Viktor never tries to tell the story of the Umbrella Academy. He's telling his story. My Life As Number Seven.

So this is where Ben comes in. Because Ben is similar to Viktor in that he also knew more than he let on. He was perceptive as a kid, and then he died.

As a ghost, there are no more secrets. He knows everything there is to know about Klaus and knows a great deal more about the rest than they realise.

They don't know he is there, so how could they?

Ben understands why Viktor did it. Like Five, Viktor wasn't as critical of him in his book as he was of the rest of their siblings. Ben is dead by then and has been for a few years. Viktor misses him. He wants to honour his memory.

Ben, accepts the book more easily than the rest. He maybe even enjoys parts of it for how daring and, yeah, kind of petty it is while still seeing the flaws in Viktor's logic, the places where there's more to the story than Viktor knows, but no one ever told him.

And then there's Five. Oh boy.

Five finds Extra-Ordinary in the apocalypse and hangs on to it, reads it again and again over the years, so much so that he has the whole thing memorised.

At first, he reads Viktor's book because it's Viktor's. Then because misses his family and Viktor's book is all he's got, his only window into what became of his siblings, what they were like as older teenagers, as adults, where they ended up.

On the good days, as good as any day gets in the apocalypse, rereading Viktor's book is something he does to self-soothe. It comforts him, it's a way to pass time during the long, cold winters, it lets him linger on childhood memories and better times: days when things didn't suck so absolutely, when he wasn't so utterly, crushingly alone.

It reminds him of his family, his siblings, and what he's doing this all for. Why he wakes up in the morning and keeps on trying to survive the apocalypse day after day after day after day.

But that's the good days.

On the bad days, he rereads Viktor's book for the thousandth time, and it's an act of self-harm.

He reads his chapter, Ben's chapter, Viktor's musings on how the Academy slowly but surely broke down over the years, over and over and over again. He reads every bitter word and blames himself, hates himself for skipping out on his family in an act of stubborn, reckless rebellion.

It's his own fault that he's stuck here. It's his own fault that he was too stubborn, too arrogant, too confident by far. It's his own fault that he didn't listen to his father.

Maybe if he hadn't left, if he'd just swallowed his tongue, if he'd just sat back down and never time travelled, Ben wouldn't be dead, things wouldn't have gotten so messed up, and there would have been six of them, instead of four, to try and keep the world from ending.

(And if they hadn't been able to stop the apocalypse anyway, if it had all still ended, then at least he would have died with the rest of his family).

(At least he wouldn't be here).

Then twenty, thirty, forty years down the line, there are fewer good and bad reading days, and more days where he's reading Viktor's book with a new, gut-churning desperation.

It occurs to Five one day, years down the line, that his memories of his siblings aren't as sharp as they used to be. He can't remember what Viktor sounds like, he's starting to doubt if he correctly remembers the colour of Luther’s eyes. He remembers Ben's favourite book, but when he tries to imagine his face, the memory starts getting blurry.

And that terrifies Five.

He's terrified of forgetting. There's so little left of him at this point, so much surrendered to the greater cause of just keeping himslef going, of keeping himself alive, he doesn't know what will be left of him if he no longer has his siblings, the memory of them, to spur him on.

So he talks to Delores, he repeats his siblings' names in his head like a mantra, he rereads Viktor's book, drinking in every letter, word, and detail.

By the time he gets back, he knows Viktor's book better than even Viktor. He knows it inside out, from the front cover to the last page, and it doesn't really matter that it was bitter, that it was angry, that it wasn't a fun book to read even when Viktor did go easy on him.

Five was all alone, and for forty-five years, Viktor's book was all he had. So it didn't matter.

[alpaca-clouds]

Dead Gods in Mythology

Okay, another little write up that has been requested. (Note, yes, you can send me requests for mythological and historical contexts. I love talking about this stuff. Just send a DM or Ask, and I will see to it when I get time.)

This came from a discussion about Sekhmet in season 2 in Nocturne, where someone brought up: "Well, she cannot really have been a goddess if she died." And of course I had to go: "Well, actually..." At this. It ended with me promising a write up on this.

See, this is an idea that is prevasive in western culture, and gets brought up again and again in media: Gods don't bleed, and gods don't die. It has been brought up in The Road to El Dorado, The Epic Musical, and in Kaos. But this idea is actually mainly rooted in - drum roll please - Christianity of course. With the Christian God being a single god, who is supposed to be all mighty and eternal. Polytheistic cultures meanwhile tend to have a couple of gods who within the mythology die. Sure, some of them are revived by some sort of magic - or continue to exist in another plane (in those cases often becoming the guardians of some sort of plane of the dead, where all dead souls go) - but yes, the polytheistic mythologies that we know off tend to have at least one god who dies.

So, let's talk about some of them.

Ra

Given our starting point is Sekhmet, let's start with the Egyptian mythology. Here we have two big examples of gods that prominently die.

One example of this is obviously Ra. Ra's entire thing is that he does not only die in the mythology, but that he dies ONCE A DAY, which was the Egyptian mythology's explanation for why there is night and day. Ra dies at the end of the day, and he moved through the duat during the night. This is in fact part of the reason why we know so many details about the duat, as those are described in several mythological texts about Ra's journey through the world of the dead.

Of course, this might be strange example, because Ra obviously gets revived daily, too, but that does not change the fact that he dies once a day. And for a good chunk of Egyptian history (please keep in mind that Egyptian religion shifted during the 3000 years that Ancient Egypt was around) Ra was one of the most powerful gods in their pantheon so to speak.

Osiris

Then Egyptian mythology has probably one of the best known examples of a god getting killed. And that is Osiris. Like almost all of the old mythologies, the Egyptian deities were a lot into siblings marrying. And in Egyptian mythology there were noticable four siblings: Osiris, Isis, Seth and Nephthys - the latter getting usually ignored by modern audiences for some reason.

Osiris married Isis, Seth married Nephthys. And of course, as it goes with godly siblings, Osiris and Seth had a lot of quarelling and rivalry going. Seth - of course - being a god of the desert and chaos. And eventually Seth manages to trap Osiris and kill him. Now, the details of this have shifted once more throughout Egyptian history. In some variations they aphyxiate him, in others Osiris gets hacked into 26 pieces. One way or another, Isis will look for her dead brother-husband, find his corpse or his corpse parts, revive him, get pregnant with Horus, and then they find out that because he was dead he has to become now the god of the dead, being turned into the god overseeing the souls moving into the afterlife.

Baldr

Then there is of course the myth of Baldr in Norse mythology. Another son of Odin and Frigg. And it was said that Baldr was the most beautiful of all the gods. And Frigg loved him so much, that she went around the world and made everything - every stone, every animal and every plant - promise that they would never hurt him. However, she did not get to ask the mistletoe, and Loki noticed this. And being the trickster that he is, he devised a plan. He tricks the blind god Höðr to shoot a mistletoe arrow at Baldr, which then obviously kills him. In the prose Edda this is the reason for Loki's punishment with the acid spitting serpent.

Baldr of course moves onto Hella - the place, not the goddess - and remains there.

It should be noted of course that in the Edda we also know that most of the gods eventually die during Ragnarök. Though this is also where we should note, that the Edda are of course a source that we should use with some care, given that it is not a first hand account by Norse people, but was written up by Christian monks. (Most notable, a lot of researchers doubt by now that Loki ever was an actual god in Norse mythology, but was invented by Christians to fill the roll of a satan-like figure.)

Zagreus

Where are my Hades peeps at? If you have played Hades, you obviously know that Zagreus has this habit of dying and coming back. And this game mechanic is actually based in mythology.

And this is the moment where we should speak about one important fact: We tend to act as if we know everything there is to know about Greek mythology, but actually we do not know this. We know a lot about the most important gods, because we have several written sources about this - but when it comes to smaller or local gods, we absolutely are loosely informed, given we often only have text fragments. At times several text fragments that are contradictory. Zagreus is one of these.

Zagreus is either an alternative name for Dionysus, the son of Zeus and Persephone, or the son of Hades. The latter aspect has been tried to explain by researchers with the fact that we are not sure if the three big gods (Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades) were always distinct entities or might have been for a long while different aspects of the same god.

One way or another: We have at least two different text fragments, in which Zagreus dies. Once he gets murdered by Titans, once he dies in an accident. One way or another he dies. And in the cases where he is a son of Zeus, this seems to be the explanation why he is bound to the Underworld.

The Hades game kinda mixed and matched with the mythology there xD

Lugh

There I go again, talking about another mythology that we are actually not quite as certain about as some people seem to believe we are: Gaelic mythology. Once more, our issue is that while some of this was written down, it was written down after the region had been Christianized, so there is a lot of Christian bias in those texts. In fact it is even more clear in this example, given that the written down accounts of the Gaelic mythology involve references to biblical events. And of course the Tuatha de Danann are in the written down accounts references more as amazing humans, rather than gods - though we are fairly certain they originally were deities, with Lugh in particilar being a god of justice and war.

In the variations of the story we know, Lugh kills another god named Carmait, as that other god had fucked one of Lugh's wives. And in revenge Carmait's sons end up killing Lugh, by spearing him on his own magic spear and then throwing him into one of the Lochs. So, yes, if you count, this story in fact involves two dead gods. Generally speaking, quite a few of the Tuatha de Danann end up dead, though, again, I will point out, that we are not fully sure how much of this is routed in the fact that these myths were recorded by later Christians, who might have wanted to make sure that everyone understands that the Tuatha de Danann were not actually gods.

Izanami

Technically we actually have a variety of Shinto gods (aka kami) who die. But I will focus maybe on the most widely known story, that pretty much everyone who ever played Persona might be aware of: Izanami. And if I recount the tale, you might in fact feel strangely reminded of other myths.

Izanami and Izanagi were the first kami that were created, and they created the land, and then the world around it, through the act of procreation with one another. Eventually Izanami gives birth to the fire god Kagu-tsuchi and he burns her to death. Her remains are buried, but the grief-stricken Izanagi cannot be without her. So he travels to the underworld, Yomi. Eventually he finds Izanami, but she tells him that she can no longer leave the underworld, as she has already eaten from the food of the underworld. He tries to convince her, but eventually he sees her face and realized that she has the face of death, and flees in terror. She gets angry at this, and curses him and the land of the living, before she remains in Yomi as the goddess of the dead.

Vritra

Vritra in Hindu mythology is one of the danava and serves as the personification of drought. In the mythology he once tries to block a river, of course with this causing a drought. The other gods cannot stand by this, and Indra, who sees Vritra as his nemesis, ends up slaying Vritra to stop the drought.

Note, here, too, that there are a couple of deities in Hinduism - as well as the religions that sprung off of Hinduism - that die at least for a shorter while.

If you have ever had the fun of talking to one of the very annoying atheists, you might have heard someone pointing out that Krishna dies and is resurrected in a way that is quite similar to Jesus. Because, yes, this general mythological concept is assumed to probably go back to the progenitor religion of the Indo-European cultures. While we do not know anything about that religion (because back then nobody wrote anything), anthropologists and comparative mythology researchers are fairly sure that there was a tale of a god dying and returning from the dead in that religion as well, which is why it shows up so often in religions of that cultural sphere.

Innana & Dumuzid

Now let's talk about another really old mythology, about which we know surprisingly much, because they have written a lot down - and we were able to translate it. And that is the ancient Sumerian mythology, in which we have Innana or Ishtar (who in Egyptian mythology later became Isis). Again, due to these also being within the realm of the Indo-European mythologies, you will find some similarities - though in comparison to other goddesses in the same role, Innana is a lot more proactive.

Innana is convinced by her brother to marry the shepard god Dumuzid, though it is fairly clear through the poems we have, that she and her husband never quite saw eye to eye. This makes her death also quite interesting. Because Innana dies by her own volition, because her sister Ereshkigal, who was made the goddess of the dead, misuses her position. So Innana dies to be able to travel to the Underworld and fight Ereshkigal to dethrone her. Enki at this point helps Innana to flee the Underworld and return to the world of the living. However, there needs to be balance in the world. So if she returns to the world of a living, someone else needs to take her place in the Underworld.

As she returns to the world of the living, she sees her servants having mourned her, while her husband, Dumuzid, just instantly went: "I am a widower? Sweet! I can fuck around with servant girls now!" And as we say: Fuck around and find out. So Innana goes: "That asshole has not even the decency to act as if he is mourning me!" So he tells the spirits of the Underworld to take him to take her place. And so they do and kill him.

Good for her!

Quetzacóatl

The very attentive of you might have noticed that all myths I have talked about so far (with the exception of Izanami, where anthropologists and comparative mythology people are still arguing about whether or not there was an influence there - mind you, I land very much on the side of "Yes, obviously, there is an Indo-European influence to Shinto-Myth!") are from the Indo-European influence sphere. So let's lastly talk about one other god, who just so happens to be probably important for Castlevania Nocturne as well: Quetzacóatl. Now, historians researching the Nahua, are fairly certain that this myth has come to be because there once was a Nahua ruler named Quetzacóatl after the deity, and that ruler died, which then in mythology got mixed up with the deity. Never the less: There definitely is written down myths about the death of Quetzacoatl.

The short of it is, that a couple of demons plotted to kill him, but knowing that they could not kill a god, they deviced a plan: They would feed him a beer that would drive him mad. While it took a lot of trickery, they succeeded, and drove the god mad, making him commit suicide by burning himself alive.

Maui

Okay, I know what some might say: "But actually is Maui a god?" I will answer: "That depends who you ask." Maui is a character that shows up throughout almost all the Pacifica cultures. He is always a trickster and a culture hero. At times he is a mortal, at other times he is a demi-god, and at yet other times he is a full god. Because those cultures were distant enough to have the myths shift around. So yes, maybe you will call this cheating. But fuck it, let me talk about Maui, because I kinda think his death is pretty darn cool.

So, if you have watched Moana, you know that Maui is a shape shifter. And he was very fond of humans. So, he decided that he wanted to make humanity immortal. His plan to do so was to go to the goddess of the Underworld and death, Hine-nui-te-pō, and reverse the birth by transforming into a worm and crawl into her vagina. However, she woke, and it turns out that her vagina had teeth - so she crushed him with her vagina teeth. Which is... pretty darn badass, I would say.

Lastly

Let me end this entire thing with the note that there probably are quite a few more gods that die within their respective mythologies. I know at least of two myths from North America in which Coyote dies (a lot of North American cultures have Coyote as a trickster god). And I personally am simply not well informed on South American mythologies or a lot of African mythologies. I do not know stuff about the Indigenous pre-buddhist mythologies of Southeastern Asia, and central Asia. So there is a good chance that there are gods that die - or die and get resurrected in those mythologies - but if there are, I simply do not know enough about them.

Generally speaking though: Gods rarely can be killed by normal mortals. Mortal half-gods might succeed at times. But other gods? Yeah, they sure can kill their fellow deities. And some deities also commit suicide to save other people. It is a common thing throughout mythology.

So, please, can we just stop claiming gods are truly immortal? They will usually not die of old age or anything like that, but they very much can be killed by other gods, magical weapons and such things.

[fatuismooches]

principiis amoris.

synopsis: In other words, five times Dottore swore he hated you and the one time he realized it was the opposite.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: I wanted to try my hand at these 5+1 fics, and Dottore seemed to be the best candidate. Behold, 6k+ words of fluff. Reader and Dottore are complete menaces (and not very good people) and you also throw a book at someone.

I. blindness

Much to anyone’s surprise, Zandik was having what he would call a good day. Today was the last day of all of his especially boring and easy classes, the illegal parts he secretly ordered came in, and he would be able to stay in his dorm for a while before classes started again. A break from these all these so-called scholars would be much appreciated. He was growing rather tired of them and was greatly looking forward to the much-needed retreat of progressing his research. He could feel it already - the sweet sensation of tinkering with the new parts quickened his pace.

What he was not expecting was his door to be open, voices and rustling noises coming from inside. Immediately a frown appeared and his good feeling was lost. Quickly, he entered the room and saw an unknown figure donning the Akademiya’s robes, and an academic counselor he recognized standing in his room. Now he was glad he made sure to put his tools away. Ones that were totally not prohibited.

“What is the meaning of this?” He didn’t try to hide the loathing in his voice.

The counselor shifted in place, clearly not wanting to be here anymore due to his presence. You, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care. In fact, Zandik could see that you were smiling.

“Ah, hello Zandik. Good to see you are doing well,” she lied through her teeth. “This here is [Name], your-”

“Your new roommate!” you chimed in. The counselor shrunk in her place even more, probably regretting all her life choices now as Zandik’s laser gaze was on her now. 

“I thought I made myself clear when I informed you that I did not want anyone in my dorm?”

“Yes, well, as per the rules of the Akademiya, every scholar should try to have a roommate for the purpose of cooperation…” Her voice became progressively smaller as Zandik continued to burn his gaze onto her, “a-and collaboration. Regardless of your thoughts, [Name] has to try to dorm with someone, and that someone happens to be you.” You nodded your head in agreement as the counselor spoke.

“So please, um, try to get along!” She quickly excused herself and scurried out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. You smiled at him yet again, sticking your hand out for a handshake, to which he only spared a glance and turned away.

“Pleased to meet you! I’m excited to live with you!”

“We’ll see about that,” he scoffed. You’d be out of here in less than a week, just like the few other roommates he had. But to think he had to spend his break with a nuisance in his room now? That irritated him to no end. Though what confused him more was your sunny disposition. Quite literally everyone in the Akademiya knew him and acted the complete opposite.

“Hehe, sure. By the way, I call the top bunk bed!”

It was from that moment he knew.

Zandik hated you.

II. relentless

Zandik had been giving you the cold shoulder since the moment you stepped into his (now yours too) dorm. You knew this would be a tough journey, but damn. At least he was good eye candy and wasn’t loud. (If you excused his eerie laughter in the middle of the night.)

On this particular night, Zandik was at his makeshift workbench tinkering with Archon knows what, as usual. Unfortunately, even though you found it to be interesting, you were unfamiliar with all of that mechanical stuff. You always would look at him while he worked, and while he would sometimes snap at you to stop staring, he never actually did anything about it. Today was one of those nights.

“You’ve certainly been at that for a while,” you commented. Zandik showed no sign of reaction.

“You don’t want anything to eat? Or drink?” you continued.

“Don’t have time,” he responded with no hesitation, far too interested in his new play toys, and also wanting to shut down this conversation immediately. But, you didn’t think these were the ones he usually used. You think he kept the deadlier ones hidden away in case you reported him or something.

“To consume something?”

“To make something right now,” he corrected.

“Well, yeah, I know. That’s why I’m going to make it for you,” you clarified, kind of surprised (but also not) that you needed to say it directly. This managed to make your roommate pause.

“So you are offering to cook for me?” he clarified your statement yet again.

“Yes?” This time he freed his hand of items completely and looked you dead in the eye.

“Explain.”

“E-Explain? Well, I mean, we’re roommates and all, habiting the same space. It only makes sense that we do things we each other once in a while.”

“So you expect a transaction.”

“A transaction…? Huh? No! This isn’t some kind of business deal or whatever. No, I do not expect anything back from you. I am doing this for you because I want to. There’s nothing more to it.” There was no response from Zandik, and he was silent as if he was trying to process what you just said, which was rather cute.

“I do not understand.”

You mentally sighed. “That’s fine, for now. I’m gonna whip something up anyway.” Before he could protest further, you disappeared into the tiny kitchen the Akademiya’s dorms provided.

You had to think of a suitable snack. He probably wouldn’t eat it if it was too cumbersome and distracting from whatever he was doing. He needed some kind of finger food… and you had just the idea. You believed that when you were a struggling Akademiya student, it was only natural to have some good recipes up your sleeve.

Samosas. Delicious bite-sized pieces of goodness. Although they would take a bit to make, you didn’t think Zandik would care. He hardly realized the difference between minutes and hours when he was in this kind of scientific state. And you were glad you stocked up the pantry with your own products because you really had no idea how Zandik lived in these conditions.

Soon enough, you had made a portion for him (and secretly snuck a few for yourself) and you had also made a piping hot cup of coffee, a student’s best friend of course. You then plated it and brought it to your roommate, setting it down in front of him wordlessly, to which he seemed surprised.

Zandik did not realize you were even still doing that. He thought you were bluffing. But now that such aromatic food was right in front of him, his stomach came to life and he noticed the dryness of his throat. With squinted eyes, he tentatively picked up one of the samosas and inspected it. (Did he think you poisoned it or something?) But then he popped one into his mouth and began to chew experimentally. His face did not betray his emotions, but your questions were answered by his next actions.

“Hmm,” he said matter-of-factly, before nomming on another samosa. You peered at him from the top bunk bed as he polished off the bowl of samosas rather quickly. Now, he was waiting for the coffee to cool.

“Sooooo, how was my cooking?” you questioned, already internally knowing the answer even if he didn’t admit it.

“It was convenient,” he admitted. Most of the time, Zandik did not cook for himself, as he found the process a waste of time when he could be doing other things. 

“I’m glad. And the taste?”

“It was fine.” Actually, it was far more than fine. The constant consumption of the easiest food to make had dulled his taste buds and made him accustomed to bland food. Though your food was quite tasty, Zandik was not about to let you get a big head now.

“Just fine? Seemed like you scarfed them down pretty quickly,” you teased.

“The quicker I eat, the quicker I am able to devote my full attention to the research,” he corrected you. You pouted but still felt pleased.

“Then I’ll make something for you every day.”

He felt on guard again at your kindness. “Why?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t I already say? ‘Cause we’re roommates and all, and also soon-to-be friends. And friends usually help each other out, yeah? And also because I’m kind of worried how you eat the same thing over and over.” 

He immediately frowned at your proposal. “I am not your friend. And never will be.”

You shrugged your shoulders and moved to lie down instead, pulling the blankets over you. “Ehe, we’ll see. I have a way with words, you know!” You smiled and winked at him, to which you received a deadpan glare. “Good night, Zandik! Oh, and make sure to clean up afterward!”

“Hmph.”

Friend. He toyed with the word and idea in his head, mocking it internally. Friend… friend, as if that could ever be feasible. Of course not.

Zandik hated you.

III. possessiveness 

It had been a while since you moved in with Zandik, and he stopped treating you with disdain. Though, Zandik was Zandik, so you still got a tongue-lashing from time to time. (But you could never take him seriously anymore, which irritated him.)

Lately, though, he had begun to show you some of his research, and even begun to let you tinker with some of his stuff! Only while he was present of course, but you were elated. Though, he seemed to be enjoying this more than you somehow. You could ask one question and suddenly he’d be on a tangent. But you were just happy he was talking to you.

You had been upgraded from hated stranger to tolerable stranger to okay acquaintance in Zandik’s eyes. You had insisted on calling him your friend, to which he still did not understand, but for some reason he allowed it. Perhaps it was because it felt nice.

Actually, you were a helpful, okay acquaintance. You frequently looked over his notes for him, correcting spelling and grammar errors from when he scribbled so fast. Tidied up his bed and work space too. The best part was that you had begun to run errands for him so he didn’t need to leave the dorm himself. After these series of events, you had declared yourself his assistant without even asking him first, but he supposed that was okay. He valued usefulness. And maybe your company a bit, too. And although he enjoyed silence the most, maybe he liked how nice your voice was in the background.

Today was one of those days where he waited for you to get back from an errand. It was quick and easy, and the seller wasn’t too far away. Like always, he occupied himself with his work and awaited your return, which proved to be fruitful as usual. But after a while, something did not feel right.

Zandik could not put his finger on it. Why did he have this feeling in the back of his mind? He was quite irritated at this itch he could not reach. Perhaps you would have-

That’s right. You. You. You. Where were you? That’s when he realized that you were gone longer than you usually were. To think that his body and mind would get so accustomed to your presence. He wasn’t sure whether to feel disgusted or not by this feeling.

He wondered what was the holdup. But there was naught he could do except wait. And wait. And wait. Until the jiggle of the doorknob drew his attention and you stepped through the door with the items he requested. 

“Hey, Zandik,” you greeted, locking the door behind you and dropping the bag on the table. He didn’t respond, but you didn’t think that was anything strange since he never cared much for greetings. “Got your stuff,” you continued your normal routine, kicking off your shoes and shedding your sweater, expecting the silence to continue.

“What took you so long?” You almost did a double-take when he spoke.

“What?”

“What took you so long?” he repeated.

“Oh, on the way back, some students stopped me and asked if I could explain some stuff to them. I guess I did take a bit longer than usual. Why?” you questioned. Did he really notice the difference? It hadn’t even been that long, maybe ten to fifteen minutes extra that you took. And plus, it’s not like you two were doing anything together. Just sitting in silence with metal clanking as usual.

When you did not get any response, you raised your eyebrows and tip-toed your way over to him to get a glimpse of his expression. It was mostly empty if you ignored the eye twitching and the downward curve. You had to dig your fingernails into your palm to control the chuckles. 

“Could it be… did you miss little old me, Zandik?”

“Perish the thought,” Zandik immediately interrupted before you could even finish your sentence. “Your whereabouts are not my concern,” he vehemently denied.

“Mhm, alright then.”

“I simply do not see why you need to talk to those so-called scholars. They are not worth the time or energy to even look at.”

Ah, there it was. So he was jealous. You understood now.

“Well, I was just doing what a normal, nice person would do.”

“The fact that you are still living with me proves you’re not normal. As for the nice part, you don’t need to do that for anyone.”

“Oh really? So what should I do, turn a blind eye to everyone else and save the sweet words for you?” you joked.

“Yes. Were you not the one who declared yourself as my assistant? Assistants always follow their seniors,” he stated matter-of-factly.

You were completely surprised at his mini confession, that if you spoke carelessly, you knew you’d stutter. But you weren’t complaining. You ignored the heat on your face, and matched his words.

“Hmm… I would say in that case, you can’t speak to anyone either, but it’s not like you do that anyway,” you said simply, biting down on your lip to prevent laughing. Zandik immediately scowled at your statement.

“I don’t need, want, or care to speak to anyone. But since you clearly need to be around these low-tier scholars, you can get out this instant.” You couldn’t help but double over with giggles now at his defensiveness and landed on Zandik’s bed. He huffed. You loved when he acted like this.

“Ah, I’m so glad I asked to dorm with you,” you giggled with a dopey grin. Zandik paused his work, taking in what you just said.

“You… what?”

You turned to lay on your side and propped yourself up on your arm. “Hmm? Did I say something strange?” you questioned.

“You chose to live here? With me, of your own choice? I knew it was strange when the counselor chose me of all people. Surely there were others available?” Zandik was utterly baffled as he had now temporarily abandoned his tinkering to gauge your expression.

“Yes! Shall I recount the exact events for you?” Without waiting for an answer, you prattled on. “Okay so, I went to the counselor lady and she wanted me to dorm with this random guy, and I was like okay cool, but then I got this little sneak peek of the list she had and I saw your name in fancy handwriting. And then I was like, hey, that’s the smart cute morally dubious guy that I hear people talking about! So then I said, nah, give Zandik to me instead please- hey, why is your face kind of red?” 

You ended your little rambling and sat up straight, leaning into your roommate’s face. “Hey, are you embar-” Before you could finish your sentence, he quickly spun back around to face his desk, trying to block out your incessant giggling.

“Shut up,” he hissed in reply, quick to defend himself. “No one in this school would willingly live with me.” And how dare you call him that? That… c-word.

“Well,” you clutched your chest to prevent any more laughter, “That’s clearly not true anymore, because I’ve been here for quite a while! But wow, your face!” You toppled back onto his bed grinning. He swore you were brain-dead. 

Zandik hated you.

IV. like-mindedness

Zandik did not like being in public. That was something you came to realize and understand rather quickly. For the most part, you had no qualms with it. You were quite content with bantering with him in the privacy of the dorm or in the desert or forest looking for whatever specimens he wanted. There were no distractions, no other people to give you weird stares or looks.

It was another normal day for you, and you came to realize that you’d actually been living with Zandik for quite a while. You liked to think that you two were rather close now. The time had flown by quickly for you, but apparently very long for others. To say people were baffled was an understatement. 

People were shocked, fascinated, intrigued, fearful, any word you could think of, at how you managed to dorm with Zandik and still be alive, mentally and physically. Many people even applauded you for managing to live with Zandik for so long. You had people coming up to you asking for tips on how you confronted your fears so easily. The crazier ones even wanted to write a paper on your mental fortitude. (Thankfully your roommate hadn’t found out about that yet.)

Today, however, the two of you decided to stop by Puspa Café after class. It was a nice day to dine outside, and the coffee and food there was excellent. You had no complaints, especially since this was your first time doing this kind of thing with Zandik. It was going quite well, as the two of you read over your notes in silence until whispers began to penetrate the tranquility.

“Hey, look over there. Is that Zandik?”

“Oh wow, you’re right! This is my first time seeing him outside of class.”

“Really? This is my first time seeing him in general.”

“Well yeah, he only goes to class and then back to his dorm. Everyone knows he’s a freak.” Their blathering continued and you twitched your eye, unable to concentrate. You peaked at Zandik but he looked unbothered.

“We’re right in front of them and can still talk about you like that?” You were simultaneously shocked and impressed at their audacity and stupidity. Zandik simply shrugged his shoulders, his uncaring attitude shining through as he was practically immune to these kinds of scenarios now. You huffed and flipped a page in your book. Sometimes you wished you could borrow some of his ability to not care what people think.

But there was only so much you could take. And Archons above, these scholars and their incessant talking were annoying. You had no idea how Zandik could continue to read so intently with this racket. At least he was more pretty when he was quiet.

Slowly you stood up, and Zandik glanced at you, a bit confused but not too interested, still absorbed in his own book. His eyes returned to the text, but then he heard a loud thump from the side. Now more of his attention was on you, as he saw you now closed the thick book shut.

“[Name]?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. You were now retrieving some Mora, probably for the bill, and laying it on the table. “Do you have business to attend to?”

“Business? You know what, yes, yes I do,” you chuckled a bit eerily. “But it’ll only take a couple of seconds.” With that, you picked up the textbook and lifted it up and down like a weight. Finally, you positioned yourself properly and raised your arm toward the direction of the student.

You threw the fucking textbook.

It was a sight that Zandik would never forget. A heavy book that would hurt anyone’s arm from lugging it around, flew through the air, and with uncanny precision, knocked the scholar right in the face.

It was dead silence for a few seconds.

And then chaos.

Screams erupted from the other students at the table at the sight of their fallen friend. A commotion was born as people scrambled to the boy. Zandik was having a bit of trouble comprehending what just happened. Yes, he just understood that you just threw a textbook at a guy, but he did not understand at the same time. Even he knew not to harm someone in public. (Private was a different case.) And you did it with no hesitation, no logical thought process of what would happen. It was an activity far from what most scholars did.

While he was in a little stupor, you quickly pushed your papers into your bag and slung it over your shoulder. “Hey! Teyvat to Zandik! Don’t just sit there! We have to leave the scene!” you scolded him, taking initiative and stuffing his work into his bag as well. He wasn’t the most pleased with how you treated his precious research material but that was only a fleeting thought compared to what just occurred. You threw his bag over your shoulder as well and cursed at how heavy his damn textbook was. But what he did not expect was what you did next.

Rolling your shoulders back to prepare yourself for the weight, you then grabbed his hand and started pulling him away. 

Zandik then had no words to describe his emotions. He could only focus on the prickles that arose from all over his body at such prolonged and close contact with you. He was used to your teasing - running your hands through his hair on occasion, or leaning in close to his ear to whisper something, but this simply broke his scale. He felt as though he was moving unconsciously, feet moving in sync with yours, and he had no idea how to feel or even understand this phenomenon. 

“Hey, I know you can walk faster than that!” Your voice snapped him out of his unfamiliar sensations, and that’s when he realized what was happening. You had actually managed to drag him so far along that you were both probably halfway through the city looking like complete, bumbling fools. And you were still holding his hand, and that’s when he realized again how lovely you looked in this moment. He quickly discarded those thoughts.

“Release me this instant, [Name],” he threatened, immediately putting his vexed look back up. He could feel your warmth penetrating his whole body just from your hand.

“Sure, sure~! Let’s turn into this alley to hide,” He could tell that was a complete lie because your laugh was so loud it probably rang out all the way to Port Ormos. Zandik scoffed and bit his lip to prevent a smile.

Soon enough, you both reached a secluded part of the city, away from all the hustle and bustle and caught your breath. You slid down a wall in relief and closed your eyes while Zandik had his eyes trained on you for what you just put him through.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he raised an eyebrow at your crazy behavior. You peeked at him and put your hand on your chin, in a thinking position.

“Hmm… well, that was quite fun, was it not?!” you tried to keep a straight face but you could not help but laugh at your friend’s incredulous expression.

“You- we, we are going to get in trouble with the dean you know. And the counselors,” he said, trying to bite down the smile that kept rising when he remembered the expression on the assaulted student’s face.

“We’ll be fineeeee,” you shrugged your shoulders and stretched your letters. “Haven’t you gotten into more trouble with the head administration with your little controversial experiments? Besides, if we’re lucky, he’ll be too scared to report the incident,” you laughed, completely nonchalant about what you just did.

“Hmph. The blame is on you if anything happens,” he attempted to speak in an irritated voice, but he could not help but be amused. A bit elated, even. There were many people he wanted to see get chucked with a textbook. And do worse things too.

But a bit of the thrill came from how you did that with no hesitation. It was a… strange feeling to have someone do that for him. Actually, this whole relationship was strange. You were strange. Even he felt strange. He was honestly a straight-up asshole to you sometimes, like he was to everyone else. But that didn’t drive you off. You still did things for him. You still spoke to him. You didn’t want anything in return, not money, not knowledge, not relics, but perhaps what you did want was-

Zandik stopped that line of thoughts in its tracks, trying to ignore how his hand was all tingly from you holding it. Things were fine this way, he declared. He could not admit he was enamored with you. Nothing needed to change. He had to maintain his view of you, otherwise… 

“You know, I’m surprised I even got you to do that. Did you hit your head too?”

“Shut up.”

Zandik hated you.

(You two did get into trouble. The Akademiya assigned you an apology essay which Zandik refused to do so you had to write two separate essays for each of you. With some begging, he did your homework for you in return, and somehow managed to get the blood stain off of that textbook you had thrown. You didn’t question where he learned that.)

V. kindness

It had been years since that fateful day, the time when you first moved in with Zandik. The Akademiya was a long and arduous grind, but that was to be expected. Your friendship with Zandik was one you cherished more than most things.

To say the two of you were close was an understatement. You still remember the counselor’s expression when you told her how well the two of you were getting along, and that there was no need for you to ever switch roommates. You think she became afraid of you too after that.

Tonight was a relaxed night. Zandik and you were not doing any work, simply laying side by side on his bed. (Even though he always threw fierce words at you, you knew he liked your touch.)

In the beginning, you would never be able to tear him away from that desk, but with time comes new things. You were just happy he was getting more hours of sleep.

The two of you lied in the dark as usual, simply enjoying the cool Sumeru breeze and the muffled noises from the city. You learned to grow content with these simple moments. But tonight you felt like talking.

“Hey, Zandik?”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you met me?” You could feel his head shift to look at you, probably for asking such a dumb question.

“Yes, I do. Too well, actually.”

“What was your first impression of me?” you questioned, realizing you never actually asked him that.

“That you were quite annoying and a thorn in my side.”

Anyone else might have been hurt by these words, but you did not mind. He made it pretty obvious that was how he felt in the beginning anyway, so it was no surprise. “But what about now?”

“You’re fine.” Even in the dark, he could feel your pout and pleading eyes. “And your intelligence and helpfulness deserve to be praised, I suppose.” And then he could feel your smile grow as your face was partially on his shoulder. From then the conversation flowed through many things. That research paper you two were working on, some kind of experiment he wanted to do on you (he swore it was painless), about that one scholar who was always annoying during the lectures.

The more you spoke, the more you realized how much of your life centered around being with Zandik here. You didn’t know if you ever wanted to graduate. To ever be apart from him.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. How long do you think we’ll live here?”

“Hmm, it’s hard to say. The benefits the Akademiya provides are far too good to let go of now. Speaking of that, there’s somewhere I want to visit.” 

“Oh, you mean those hidden ruins you think are connected with Khaenri’ah?” How nice it would be if you could just drape your arm over his chest.

“Yes. Though I don’t know if the Akademiya will let me make another trip back to the desert as of right now,” he pondered.

“Are you referring to how you’ve been on the Matra’s watch list for years? So they started following you everywhere?” you giggled.

“Not just me. You too, [Name],” he rolled his eyes. “At least I never threw a book at someone in public.” You pouted and playfully punched his arm.

“C’mon, that was so long ago! You can stop bringing it up!” you whined. He would never let that go, huh? The conversation died down from there, but it was a comfortable silence, which you loved. After that little banter, your eyes began to droop and you yawned. Zandik glanced at you.

“Tired?” You nodded and blearily rubbed your eyes.

“Sleep, then,” he commanded, and you had no qualms with following that. Soon enough, Zandik was the only one left awake, staring out at the open window. He had found these little resting sessions of yours good for clearing his mind. He closed his eyes too. 

Two people, on the same tiny, college-sized bed, arms brushing each other and talking nonchalantly. Totally, two good friends.

Friends. Friends, friends, friends. Long ago, the word left a distasteful feeling in his mouth, and it still did, but not for the reason he originally felt. Now, what he desired was more complicated.

Zandik hated you.

VI. endless

Zandik knew he would be expelled from the Akademiya soon, for the crimes he committed. And yet, instead of preparing for any future plans, he found himself following the directions of a note you left on his workbench. Meet me at our usual spot, 8 PM.

He was a busy man, more so in soon-to-be exile. He didn’t have time for your frivolous games. But for some reason, he found himself heading over to the cliff anyway. It was dark outside, but the stars illuminated your figure, and that was when he noticed the basket next to you as well. You noticed him and sat up eagerly.

“Hey, you made it! I was worried you wouldn’t come, to be honest.”

“...What is this?”

“Eh? A picnic, of course. The weather is real perfect for one.”

He was so astonished that the laugh building in his throat could not come out immediately. Surely you were aware of what he had done? Practically everyone in the Akademiya knew. You couldn’t walk for five minutes without hearing rumors floating around. Or perhaps you were that oblivious?

“Oh really?” His familiar, eerie laugh that you loved finally rang out. “Did a Ruin Guard finally toss you around well enough? Only an idiot wouldn’t know what I’ve-”

“I mean, do killers not like picnics anymore?” You replied so nonchalantly, he was actually a bit shocked. 

“You’re… you’re frustrating,” he murmured.

The way you managed to make him so tongue-tied all the time made him itch to put you in your place, to snap back somehow, but he found himself unable to lately. Actually, he struggled to do that for a while now, and he despised how you made him feel like a bumbling fool.

“Heh, perhaps some of your unhingedness rubbed off on me,” you shrugged, patting down the spot next to you. “Look, I made samosas for you again.”

The blanket was soft and comfy, and though he didn’t care much for the flavors of food, he did enjoy your cooking. You continued to polish off your meal before you spoke again.

“So, I hear you’re going to be expelled soon.”

“Correct. Though I care little for this place, it’s a shame to lose a suitable environment for my research.”

“Have you decided where you’re going? I’m sure you’re not planning to stay exiled in the desert for the rest of your life,” you hummed. “Leaving this country, perhaps?”

“That seems to be the most logical action. There is nowhere in this nation that would fund my research.”

“I see. You’re going far away from here.” Zandik nodded in reply, but the more he thought about it, the more irritated he felt. Far away from here meant far away from you.

To think he felt no remorse for murder but he felt a tingle of emotion (sadness? regret? anger?) at no longer being with you. Whatever it was, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He loathed to admit it, but he enjoyed your company. He enjoyed dragging you out of bed in the morning, and he enjoyed you dragging him to bed at night. He enjoyed your bantering, your inquisitive nature towards his work. He enjoyed being the only person you’d treat like this and having one person to himself. Zandik enjoyed you, thoroughly and fully.

“Well, keep me updated. I already got my bags packed and ready to go.” 

“What?” A quirk of yours, he realized, was being able to leave him surprised at the most unpredictable times. Although scholars must plan for every possibility, he found it difficult to prepare for yours.

“I’m coming with you, of course. You’re gonna need your number one assistant with you. Hey, why’d you stop eating? We still need to get through the Padisarah Pudding.”

“You? Accompany me?” All of a sudden, everything made perfect sense. Yes, of course! You were right, he thought, as a fit of laughter overcame him. It was a splendid idea, one that pleased him immensely. Having you with him would be a great asset for his research. No one suited the role better than you. And you, in general, were… nice. You didn’t grate on his nerves like everyone else.

“Ha! Good! Amazing, even! I shall be sure to tell you when we depart from this nation of fools.” You raised your eyebrows at his sudden enthusiasm, but witnessing Zandik’s bursts of inspiration was nothing new to you either. 

“Well, glad to see you’re so keen on it,” you chuckled. “But I have a request. Actually, it’s more like something I have to say to you before we embark on this. It’s crucial, really.”

“Oh? Do tell.” He wasn’t rich, but he had the ability to procure a wide variety of items. The Nation of Wisdom was more corrupt than one would think. But he did wonder what you would ever want. You didn’t chase after material goods like the majority of humans.

“To be frank, I like you,” you declared, looking right into his eyes. At that moment, it felt like the world had gone silent. The wind stopped blowing, the animals lied low, the grass no longer rustled. “I like you. I want to be more than just friends with you,” you stated bluntly. You felt that getting straight to the point was the best course of action with Zandik, since many things besides his research and manipulating people tended to go over his head.

“So, what do you say?”

There was no response. You attempted to build your case.

“By the way, did you think I’d go through all this trouble if I didn’t want to be with you? I didn’t dorm with you for no reason, you know.”

“...”

“For such a smart guy, you aren’t very good at this, are you? Well, I can’t be too mad. I’ve been dealing with the denseness for a few years now. You know, I’ve been making the first moves this whole time.”

“...” 

The lack of response was beginning to make you nervous. You preferred the maniacal laughter of rejection at this point. “H-hey, I’d like a reply, you know. You don’t need to accept-”

Zandik thought. And he found that the words he spoke next were genuine.

“I find you… agreeable as well.”

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh, shoulders now relaxed. “Why, such an amazing compliment from the high and mighty Zandik has me even more lovestruck!” He wanted to be mad, he really did, but it was at this moment he understood what it meant to be mesmerized by another person. He had found himself mesmerized by ancient machines, ruins, texts, his research. But he truly found you beautiful, your giggles echoing through the night.

“I’m agreeable, yes?” You turned to face him, your body leaning in closer to his. “Am I agreeable enough to do… this?” You tentatively glided your fingers over his hand, gauging to see how far Zandik would let you go. He stiffened at the foreign contact, clearly unused to it, but let you continue.

“What about this?” You slid your hand up and down his arm, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time. He tried not to show any emotions, besides a half-hearted scowl, but you could still see the red tips of his ears. He was so cute.

You scooted closer to him and let your other hand rest on Zandik’s thigh. “I think I’m much more than agreeable in your books,” you teased, cupping his cheek. He scoffed in response but did nothing to refuse your advancement. You leaned in and connected your lips with your lover’s. It felt damn good. Zandik had no idea what he was doing, but it was endearing nonetheless. You kissed him again, and again, and he reciprocated, albeit a little awkwardly. Your heart soared as you pulled away, and placed a few final kisses on his cheeks.

“Now, how did that feel?” You already knew the answer to that, of course. You knew Zandik for a long time, and could tell when he was in a shitty mood, a bad mood, a grumpy one, an excited one, a happy one, and much more. This mood was one you haven’t seen until now, but it sure was a good one. Completely flustered was a great look on him.

“I… I cannot come to a definitive answer as of now. I would say that I need to carry out some more experiments to reach a conclusion.”

“Oh? Then I’m a willing participant for however long as you want,” you smiled, finding comfort in his soft, teal locks. 

And that’s when Zandik truly realized. You were more tolerable than the rest. You were bearable enough to want to keep you around forever. Smart enough for him to desire to hear your honeyed voice. Soft enough to want to feel your skin against his. Ah, he would never say it though, as he brushed his lips over yours once again.

Zandik loved you.

[winterrrnight]

heartless

PAIRING: rafe cameron x dark!fem!pogue!reader

SUMMARY: rafe finds out you've been dating him only for the money.

WARNINGS: dark content! dark!reader, naive!rafe, reader is a liar, a manipulator, dishonest, two faced, takes a big advantage of rafe, usage of guns, threatening, poor rafe is oblivious to it all (he's just blinded by one sided love), minimal swearing, minimal usage of nicknames, alcohol consumption, reader lowkey believes in toxic masculinity, rafe is kinda a crybaby, it's also longer than my usual stuff + please let me know if I missed something!

EDITH SPEAKS: my second ever dark!fic! just like before, dark!content is something I've just gotten into, so this clearly isn't the best dark stuff you've read, but I promise I put in a 100% effort. please please heed all the warnings and make sure you proceed only if you are comfortable with each and every single one of them! if you liked reading this, please reblog and please please let me know what you think of this! 🌩️

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somewhere far along this road he lost his soul to a woman so heartless

↶ೃ��˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You enter Tannyhill, a huge smile on your face as your fingers remain hooked through the expensive branded gift bags, the black credit card of your near and dear boyfriend in the back pocket of your pants.

“Baby I’m home!” You say out loud as you enter, keeping the humongous amount of gift bags in your hand on the couch of the living room. You hear footsteps echo as they transcend down the stairs, and you turn around to see Rafe making his way to you.

“Hi baby,” he smiles as he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your lips. “What did you get?”

You gesture your head to the couch and Rafe sees the enormous amount of bags on the couch. He knows you like to shop, and he never refuses to buy you anything because he believes you deserve it so much; never ever denying you when you approach him with a puppy dog look on your face asking for a shopping trip, which basically melts him into a puddle.

He always accompanies you to your shopping trips, his arm slinging around your shoulders as you both hit store after store in the mall, buying whatever you ask for, and he doesn’t think twice before swiping his card in the machine. He knows you haven’t lived in the best financial conditions as you grew up; that’s what it meant if you lived on The Cut. When you got together, he was more than determined to always give you gifts, his way of covering up all the things he believed you deserved to have but never had a chance to own.

But today, you suddenly had a need to hit the mall again when you had been there not even a week ago, and you had already bought a lot. But Rafe isn’t one to say no to you; how can he say no to your cute face? So you are sent off with a driver with his credit card given safely to you as he himself is busy with some business work.

And right now, here you are with the biggest number of handbags he’s ever seen you with. His eyebrows furrow in the slightest as he looks at how the couch is completely covered with the gift bags from exorbitant stores; the bags themselves cost a lot on their own.

“What happened baby?” You ask as you see him eyeing the couch. He turns to you and lets a smile spread on his face as he gives a peck to your forehead.

“Nothin’ baby,” he says softly. “Did you have fun at your little shopping spree?” Little? Hell nah.

“Yes it was absolutely wonderful,” you smile.

“Good good,” he mutters, smiling a little.

“Oh I’ve got brunch date at the country club with my girls today,” you say, pulling away from him, his arms now falling back to his sides. “Are you done with your work?”

“No,” he sighs. “I have to head to the office in a bit,”

“Oh,” you sigh, a pout on your face. “Such a shame… ’cause I was wondering you could come too,”

He smiles softly, gently moving to caress your cheek with his thumb. “It’s okay baby, you have fun with your girlfriends yeah? You and me can go some other time,”

You just nod at his reply and tell him how you absolutely can’t go to the country club in the same outfit you wore in the mall, and you need to have a wardrobe change. He watches you make your way to the couch and pick two out of the numerous handbags and make your way up the stairs. As you walk, he can see his credit card peeking out of your back pocket. He opens his mouth to ask for it, but then shuts it back realizing you’ll need it at your brunch with the girls.

He just lets out a small sigh before busying himself with more of his work for the business.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

Rafe rubs his eyes as he leans his head back against the cushioned back of his chair, letting out a groan of complete exhaustion. His eyes flick to the digital clock sitting on his table, the numbers 12.53 am flashing back at him. He blinks his eyes multiple times before focusing back to his laptop screen, left with just the end of the work.

As he gets himself back into the working mindset, a little notification pops at the right bottom corner of his screen. Narrowing his eyes, he reads the notification.

As his eyes run over the words, they widen more and more with each passing second.

Your credit card has been declined. Unfortunately we haven’t been able to process your payment.

Right before his eyes, the same notification appears two times more, flashing momentarily at the corner before it disappears itself.

It disappears itself from the screen, but not from his mind. The little notification with its white background and dark blue text remains ingrained in his brain, and it’s as if that’s the only image he’s only ever known.

He quickly gets his phone and opens up the texts between you and him, the last one being him asking you if you’ve reached the country club safely and you replying back with a simple ‘yes’. He hasn’t had any time to go back home as he’s been stuck in his office since the afternoon.

All you said was you were going to have brunch with your girls, so that’s when the credit card should’ve been used. But why is he getting notifications about his card being declined at 1 in the morning?

The notifications are quiet shady, because they don’t reveal where the transaction is being made and is failing, it just tells him the credit card is declined.

He logs into the credit card company’s portal on his laptop, and looks around to find what balance is left in his card. And there he sees it.

The balance is negative.

And not any small number, a big one at that.

-$1000 is written on his screen in a bright, red font, that number being the only thing that can attract his attention throughout the entire mundane black webpage.

Rafe stares at the screen in disbelief – clearly you’re out there somewhere with his card and you’ve overpaid, and now transactions aren’t taking place.

Despite having a little too much money in his card, he never expected for you to ever overpay. He knew it was a huge privilege for you to have so much of something you never before had in your life, but he never expected you to be reckless…

He shakes his head, getting the thought out of his head. No, it’s just some kind of mistake, he thinks, and as if right on cue, his phone rings. He sees that it’s in fact you calling him. He quickly swipes his thumb across the screen, accepting the call.

“Rafeeee,” you whine on the other side, and Rafe realizes you’re drunk out of your mind.

“Baby, where are you?” He asks, his brows furrowed as he anticipates your reply.

“Your card isn’t working anymore,” you slur. “Come on, I just needed some stuff!”

“Where are you?” He asks again, more sternly this time.

“I’m out… are you not listening to me? Your goddamned card isn’t working!”

“Yeah ’cause you used the last of the money in it!” He snaps. “I’m asking you again: where are you?”

“Fuck you!” He hears you slur out loud, and the next second, all he hears is the monotonous beeping, meaning you’ve cut the call.

Rafe sighs, slamming his phone on his table as he holds his hair in his hands, his fingers scrunching around his hair strands as he pulls onto them, hard enough to cause blinding pain in his scalp, feeling as if he’ll just rip his hair out. He slams his laptop shut and gets up from his office chair, deciding to retreat to home for now.

You aren’t telling him where you are, and he most certainly isn’t going to go around looking for you.

The best he can do right now is sleep, and worry about the negative balance in his card the next morning.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

Rafe’s eyes snap open when he feels something cool being pressed into his forehead. It takes him a second but he makes out your outline in the dark room, blinking a few times to adjust to the bare amount of light in the room.

“Rafe…” your cold voice cuts through the darkness of the room.

It’s dead silent, and Rafe’s ears can only process his own deep breathing. Not yours – it feels like you aren’t breathing, you’re just standing silently.

A breeze blows outside, causing the flimsy curtains hanging in front of his window to fly to the side for the moment, letting the white moonlight to leak in through the room.

And he sees it.

He catches the cold look in your eyes, as if they’re dead, not a single emotion swirling in the depths of them. His breath gets caught in his throat, and he slowly turns his head up to find the cause of the cold feeling on his forehead.

A sharp click is heard, and the pressure against his forehead is increased, causing him to let out a shaky breath.

“Now you know I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger,” your voice is cool, emotionless, and monotone. You push the muzzle of the gun more against his forehead. “Tell me where the money is, and I’ll let you go unharmed.”

“What money?” Rafe croaks out, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

A moment passes.

Another moment passes.

All Rafe hears is the rhythmic, yet fast thumping of his heart deep against his eardrums.

“I know the credit card wasn’t the only money you have,” you say. Your voice is so calm, it terrifies the smallest, thinnest nerve in his body. “I know you’ve got money – cash somewhere in here. I used to keep my eye on it. You moved it, didn’t you? It’s not in its usual location.”

Rafe’s eyes widen as he turns his head to his left just slightly and sees the doors of his wardrobe opened, drawers pulled out they’re threatening to fall out, and all his clothes are messed up, unorganized as if someone went through them frantically to find something.

He slowly turns his head back to you, realizing you always knew about the cash he keeps hidden behind his clothes in the wardrobe for all sorts of emergencies.

“I don’t have it,” he mumbles, his eyes widening, and you can clearly see the fear swirling around in his baby blues.

“Liar,” you snap, pushing the muzzle of the gun even harder into his forehead, which causes him to let out a wince. “Now’s not the time to fuck around a’ight? Tell me where it is, and I’ll let you go-”

“No,” he says silently, cutting you off. He’s trying his best to not be afraid of you, to not let it show. But, his shallow, erratic breaths leaving his rubied lips show something entirely different.

Right in the next second, you take the gun away from his forehead and direct it to your right, pulling the trigger with ease as a loud bang echoes throughout Tannyhill. Rafe flinches at the sudden sound which causes ringing in his ear, his eyes shut closed as a reflex. The sound of glass cracking and bursting echoes as an aftermath. He slowly opens his eyes and looks to his left, and sees the lamp on the bedside table absolutely shattered to pieces.

You now place the gun directly on his throat, digging it into his skin harshly. You push his face up with the gun, forcing him to make eye contact with you, which causes his hair to fall in his eyes. Through the hair in his eyes, he catches the glimpse of the crazed, wide eyed look you have.

It gets dead silent, and Rafe can still hear the bang of the gun and the breaking of the glass in the back of his head. You slowly pull the trigger, but not completely, and Rafe’s breath hitches in his throat as he hears the silent creak of the trigger being pulled.

“One last time…” you whisper, your voice having an eerie touch to it. “Where’s the fucking money?”

You notice the glassy layer of tears forming in his eyes, and you groan, throwing your head back.

“Stop being such a crybaby and man up!” You yell. “Just tell me where the goddamned money is!”

Rafe’s lips part slightly, and he raises a shaky hand, pointing to something behind you. You turn around to see he’s pointing to a safe kept safely away in a corner.

You let out an exhale as you turn your attention back to Rafe, the gun still digging into his skin. “What’s the pass?”

“4-” he starts to speak but his words get caught in his throat. “4, 3, 1, 7, 9, 5,” he mumbles out, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels the gun digging in his skin starting to form a bruise.

You look at him for a moment, and then slowly take the gun off his neck. He lets out a shaky breath and moves his fingers to the skin, and as predicted, he can feel an indent in his skin.

“Good boy,” you mutter as you walk to the safe and put in the combination. As you put it in, the safe opens and voila, there are stacks and stacks of dollar bills kept safely inside. You take them out and put it in the bag you had with you, making your way to the door.

“Rafe?” You say as you turn to look at him, and he notices your ‘sweet’ tone coming back in. “I hope you remember it’s our 1 year anniversary tomorrow, yeah? I’ve been eyeing this diamond necklace for ages. We’ll go to the jewelry store alright? And we’ll throw a party, at My Druthers of course. I need a new dress for that so we’ll shop for that too. I’ll see you tomorrow morning baby,” you smile as you open the door and leave, not giving Rafe even a moment to speak before the door is slammed shut with full force.

Rafe sits still for a moment, tears running down his cheeks silently as the past moments settle in him. Nothing could have ever prepared him for what just happened.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

“Yeah, I have the beach cleanup to attend tomorrow, and the soup kitchen volunteering is throughout the week, along with atleast three hours of working at The Wreck everyday, and the biweekly cleaning of the boats for Mr. Smith,” he hears you go on and on about your jobs to your friend JJ. “And then maybe we’ll have enough to pool it in and get ourselves some of that fancy champagne for your birthday J,”

He hears you sigh, taking a sip of your drink as you rest your back against the wall. “You know cheap beer will do it too right? We don’t have to go all out for the alcohol,” JJ tells you.

“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes at him. “It’s your 18th birthday! We are getting nice, expensive champagne for it, whether you like or not. Listen, I will have enough to buy it okay? There’s no way we aren’t having that on your birthday. We’ll be like Kooks for that day, with our champagne in those long ass glasses,” you giggle and JJ laughs with you too, nodding his head.

“That’s tempting you know? The part of wanting to feel like the Kooks,” he says.

“It sure is, and you deserve it alright? So I’ll make it happen for you,” you smile at him. You take the last sip of your drink and peer into the now empty cup. “I’ll be back alright?” You say, walking away from JJ.

Rafe watches you make your way to the bar, and decides to give you a follow. As you sit at a barstool, he sits at the one next to you, catching your eye.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the kook prince,” you smile smugly at him. He can’t help but smile back at you.

“In his full glory,” he says, his smile showing off his teeth.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, kook prince?” You ask. Rafe sees a certain glint in your eye; one that he is almost certain is of the same interest he is looking at you with.

“Let me buy you your drink, that’s all,” he says. He sees your eyebrows furrow, but they relax the next second and you nod.

“Okay…” you say, “but what’s the catch?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No catch, saw your pretty face, and I just wanted to do something nice for you,”

He sees you say nothing, just a smile on your face as you receive your ordered drink and he tells the bartender to put it on his tab. You get up from the barstool with your drink firm in your hand.

“Will I see you around, kook prince?” You ask.

Rafe’s lips are tugged in a soft smile at your words.

“You sure will,”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

That’s all he ever wanted.

He liked you, heck – he fell in love with you, and all he ever wanted was to relieve the pain of financial troubles off your shoulders. He always thought he had a lot of money – too much if he insists, and if it means it’ll help someone and provide them some financial stability, especially when that someone is the person he’s so deeply attracted to, he doesn’t mind, at all.

But what he didn’t catch is that you never loved him back the way he did. He loved to shower you with gifts and whatever your heart desired because he wanted to be there for you.

But did he ever expect you to get so up in your head that you’ll forget all about him and just see him as someone who can give you as much money as you’ll ever need?

Absolutely not.

The wind howls outside the open window, the safe is opened and every single note in it is taken away by you, his wardrobe is opened and clothes are spilling out from it, and he’s sitting, staring at the wall, his fingertips gently grazing over the indent on his neck as tears spill down his eyes.

He’s stuck, and you’ve made it really clear that he can’t back out of this.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

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[diddybok]

what about felix getting jealous of you spending increasingly more time with hyunjinnie and he gets all pouty and in a strop?

i’d do anything to kiss a pout off of felix’s face. oh wait, i literally can because he is right next to me!

all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in any way represent nor reflect the people in real life :)

➩pairing: felix x gn!reader

➩genre(s): angst (soz), a little bit of fluff if you had the vision of a clinically blind person, non-idol au

➩warnings: jealousy, felix grabs reader by the waist quite harshly, but it is not with malicious intent!

➩wc: 0.7k (703)

➩author’s note: whoops. *shrug emoji*

─────────────────────

“Hey Lix have you seen my sunglasses? I can’t find them anywhere.” You yell, your feet thumping softly on the ground as you search around your room frantically.

Felix walks into your bedroom, failing to hide the amusement in his face as he witnesses your panicked state.

“Nope. Haven’t seen them around. Where are you going?” He asks, folding his arms as he leans on the doorframe.

“Hyune and I are going to the beach and we’re gonna take some photos of the sunset.” You say, groaning as you close another drawer unsuccessful in your search for your sunglasses.

Felix’s face immediately falls. His heart starts to beat rapidly and his jaw clenches. Weird.

“Sunset? But it’s noon.” He says, trying to refrain the bite to his tone.

You rummage through your bag, not looking up to see the way his eyebrows furrow.

“Yeah we’re gonna hang out at the beach. We were talking about it for a while and the weather is finally nice so we want to make the most of it.” You say resting your hands on your hips as you close your eyes and take some deep breaths.

Felix didn’t like that. He knows that nothing will happen, you’re his partner, not Hyunjin’s. Though it doesn’t stop the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that burdens him with the question of ‘What if?’.

“Oh. Seems my company isn’t that great if the two of you are going off alone haha….” Felix tries to joke. Emphasis on tries.

The ‘joke’ made you finally turn your attention towards your boyfriend. You walk up to him, placing your hands on his chest reassuringly.

“I’ll collect pretty seashells and rocks and bring them back for you.” You smile up at him about to meet his lips halfway for a smooch, but you turn away at the last second.

Again, ouch. That hurt Felix a little, but he can surely survive on his kiss being swerved. Perhaps to him, he just thinks you’re really set on finding those sunglasses and not trying to rush out the door as soon as possible to get away from him.

That’s not what you think, right? You wouldn’t do that.

You run over to one of your jackets that hang on the back of your door. Trying your luck with the pockets, you damn near cheer as you pull out your sunglasses.

“Yes! Finally,” You place the glasses on the bridge of your nose before sliding them up menacingly. “bring on the beach.” You say lowering your voice.

Sometimes you’re funny, sometimes you aren’t. In this case, Felix would grace you with a small pity laugh to make you feel better about your impromptu serious demeanour you coined, but he can’t stop thinking about Hyunjin.

To be more specific, Hyunjin potentially taking you away from him. Felix just smiles as you chuckle softly to yourself at your antics before moving past him and getting your shoes on.

Hyunjin wouldn’t steal you from him. That’s one of his best friends. He also knows that he is one of your best friends.

“I’ll text you when I get there, when I’m leaving and I’ll send you photos and all the good stuff.” You say hurriedly, giving him a peck on the lips.

It was as if the muscle memory kicked in as Felix’s hand gripped your waist. It wasn’t a tight enough grip to hurt you per say, but it sure did keep you in place.

“You know I love you right? Me. I’m yours?” He whispers against your lips, planting a gentle kiss which acts much like a seal; like wax to an envelope. A promise of sorts.

“I know.” You say with a warm smile. Though your words are genuine, once again they feel as if you’ve wrapped your hand around his heart and squeezed.

Say it back…

But you don’t, you just give him one last kiss to his forehead before racing out the door and straight to the parked car.

It was then when he felt the bile come up at the thought. The thought that by the time you come back home. You will no longer be his.

ʚ hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated ᵕ̈ ɞ

i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.

© 2023 diddybok

general taglist: @spacegirlstuff @chengmeiauau

if you would like to be added to the general taglist, let me know in the comments, send an ask or message me!

[lex1nat0r]

A couple of cases of convergent evolution* in TTRPG mechanics that I like.

*entirely possible one informed the other(s) in both cases, the impression I get is that if you read TTRPGS that aren't name-brand D&D you read a lot of TTRPGs.

Health as resource depletion (Worlds Without Number vs. Shadow of the Weird Wizard)

Easy combat maneuvers (Dungeon Crawl Classics vs. Black Sword Hack vs. Shadow of the Weird Wizard)

One of my favorite mechanics in Worlds Without Number is System Strain. Each PC has a number of available System Strain equal to their Constitution score (NPCs get one point). Every time a character receives healing they gain a point of System Strain. If they're already at their maximum, they don't can't get HP back without resting. For every night of "good, refreshing sleep" a character gets back one point of System Strain (in addition to regular healing from resting). This opens up some fascinating design space, for example a lot of magical item effects add to the user's System Strain. And it allows higher level undead such as wights to do damage as System Strain, keeping them scary without having to deal with the pain in the ass that is level drain. It's a really neat mechanic.

Flipping over to Shadow of the Weird Wizard, a game I have not played so my estimation of how this works may be off, characters have Health against which they accumulate Damage, as opposed to losing HP. If a PC's Damage equals their Health, they are incapacitated. If their Health drops to 0 they die. Over the course of an adventure (what Weird Wizard calls a Quest) there's a couple of things that can reduce a character's Health, the ones that stand out to me are falling and, fascinatingly, all traps listed in the GM's guide reduce Health instead of dealing Damage. As far as I can tell flipping through the books, the only way to restore a character's maximum Health is to get 6 consecutive hours of rest. The end result looks like an amazing way to re-contextualize traps. Instead of being an HP tax, they can really wear PCs down as they explore a location. Not to mention the threat of instant death if the trap can reduce a character's Health to 0 not everyone's cup of tea, I know.

System Strain and Health both impose limits on how much adventurin' a PC can do in a day (in addition to the traditional methods like tracking light sources). I have first-hand experience using System Strain in a campaign, and it works out really well in practice. I suspect Health can do the same, though I'm not sure how fragile Weird Wizard characters actually are on the table.

--

I have played none of the following games, so not sure how well the mechanics work on the table BUT

Dungeon Crawl Classics has a killer aesthetic, the corebook is home to one of my favorite illustrations in gaming, but I'm not sure it's a game I'd ever actually play. Yes part of it is the weird dice. All TTRPG dice should be platonic solids and I'll die on that hill and yes that means I think d10s should go back to being icosahedrons numbered 0-9 twice. Anyway. In DCC combat a Warrior (i.e. Fighter) or a Dwarf (Dwarf/Elf/Halfling are classes in DCC, inherited from Basic D&D) gets a Deed die (goes from d3 to d10+4 depending on level) to determine their attack and damage bonus. In addition, before making an attack, they can declare a Mighty Deed of Arms. As part of the attack the player rolls the character's Deed Die . If the die comes up a 3 or better and the attack hits, the Deed succeeds. Deeds are open-ended, examples include blinding, disarming, tripping, etc., aren't limited just to melee combat, and the magnitude of their effect is based on the result of the Deed die. Plus, and I think this is the important part, the attack also deals damage in addition to the Deed. So far I think this is the best mechanic I've seen for letting fighters do cool stuff. Deeds doing damage plus another effect means that fighters (and dwarfs) don't need to gamble on whether disarming or whatever is worth their turn instead of just trying to hurt someone.

I picked up Black Sword Hack mostly for its worldbuilding tools (which are very good) and was pleasantly surprised to find that it included a combat maneuver mechanic. Each character has a usage die (you shift down a die size when it comes up a 1 or 2 until you have to downsize a d4 and then it's gone) called a Doom die. When the Doom die is depleted, the character makes all rolls with disadvantage until they take a long rest (when the Doom die is restored to its max size for that character). In combat a character can add an effect to their attack by making a Doom roll before the attack attempt. There are two downsides here compared to DCC, namely that there's a defined list of possible effects and about half of them cause you to do no damage. It's decent enough rules as written, but were I to run BSH (which honestly I might get around to) I'd be tempted to just sub in DCC's Mighty Deeds and still require the Doom roll as a cost to make the attempt.

Oh hey, Shadow of the Weird Wizard also has a rule for attack options. Like BSH it's a defined list of options, and you don't deal weapon damage if the attempt is successful but you do still get your bonus damage (which every character gets from levels in their class(es)) and any extra damage you would get. Weapons do from 1 - 4 d6 damage on their own, martial-focused characters get +1d6 bonus damage every level except level 1, rogue- and cleric- type folks get about half the number of d6s, and wizard-types don't get bonus damage but why is your nerd trying to trip people when they could be using their fucking magic. (Important sidenote: you can mix and match fighter/rogue/priest/mage classes freely in SotWW, it's very cool mandatory multiclassing). The other issue is that most of the attack options require you to beat one of the target's attributes +5 as well as their defense, but you are guaranteed at least some damage even if you don't clear the attribute threshold. It's harder to find a way to kludge Mighty Deeds of Arms into this one, plus all SotWW characters just get more features than DCC or BSH characters anyway, so this one I'd run as written.

So obviously I have a preference for DCC's Mighty Deeds of Arms because on paper it looks like the simplest and most flexible way to handle characters attempting cool stunts in combat, but it's nice to see BSH and SotWW trying to give that flexibility as well. It's nice that BSH ties that to the Doom die mechanic, even if the maneuvers themselves are more limited.

[madfantasy]

New 3 things that happened:

*I got my new ID, my id expired and to renew it I had to get photographed, and since I just opened my bank account a year ago it depends on it so already I was giving up on the idea to keep the account but by miracle a photographer agreed to picture us at home, and it turned to us cuz I wanted all my sibs to have theirs taken with me too and because I had to argue first time to get my ID forever, so i didn't have the energy to keep doing it for the rest of my sibs so now it was the chance. The day of the photographer coming I was shaking with fear and I thought I would never leave the bathroom gotten ill. I fear seeing people more than dyin so I don't know how I held it together, I literally don't remember how it went or how I did, but I recall my sibs looking the same as I felt but it was finally done. parents too taken their shoots and because one needed their passport renewed to renew their id, them alone costing 1k$ and the appointment was set 6 months ahead, we R now close to it anyway, and the thought of how we have to pay to exist some more costly made me think of my worthlessness and helplessness even more, making me ashamed of still living.

The thing that blinded me, me the first to be tested on lo

*my eye is better, I still see a dark spot looking in a certain direction, getting an eye mask surprisingly helped keeping my eyes less dry cuz they be the most when I wake up and I had the driest time before it got infected and swelled, and already I'm used to the spot and can ignore it..

*I'm still drawing, literally it's making me live love and laugh, I don't care about improving or drawing my best constantly, ai can get poisoned for all I care as it continues to dehumanise the whole point of art-- keeping humanity alive ( btw use glazing ❤️🖤)

I realised that I don't have any physical collection of my art & since I can't look at the screens forever just to browse, nd printing all my stuff isn't feasible, then I came across those mini albums Nd I got the idea to just print one sheet = 9 pics! They look good too for trashy quality, I love it 8' and yes, purple and silver is the 10% obsession to my 90% red and black pallets, thanks to remembering Freeza c'x

But as usual posting my drawings never cease to eat me alive with anxiety, but I think I'm slowly becoming indifferent to it, even if the thought of that no one actually sees my art but me, which is the main case cuz I am living in isolation and being drawing in secret till few recent years because of my conservative surroundings, I feel much calmer when I'm not seen and maybe it's self destructive in a way cuz to stay posting I need to be commissioned cuz net bill, but it became irrelevant cuz I accepted that i can't have the mental capacity to be a social media person or chase anything that I already knew I can't maintain, I had an art block for a year I almost believed that was it for my art drive and me cuz it my sanity— cuz burning out so bad. If my post has a description it was in my drafts for months cuz I plan for every piece I share, but if can't form words I allow myself to let it be captionless, I draw faster than I form words and that's why art is important to me on a personal level, it's my first way of express even if its indirect, the only bit of human Mani left to live in me to put through lines and paint splodges. Even if no one sees it, and to be honest with myself, have very weak chances of being seen on a level that benefits me financially, I'm on the other side of the world, never seen the sky beyond my schooling days, nonverbal irl and know that I can get taken advantage of easily in social manner because it either I don't get the social cues or can't say no..

I'm grateful that at least I got the chance to experience being in a loving nurturing fandom like Sev's that made me experience genuine human goodness and care I never thought possible, made me have some self worth, personality beyond a made for marriage caretaker, and allowed me to get art tools and clothing that I was never allowed or could afford, and many first time small life pleasures like perfumes, food and toys, even if I only recognise 5 or 10 of you dears now, by DP liking my posts- (I suck at remembering names sorry)

I'm also grateful to have a room after endless years of couch and house movings, I have a safe space to still be able to draw and be cool under an AC in this 50° weather..

I think realistically that's the best it can get having spent all my life trying to get anywhere but isolated, and nothing working. At least I'm indifferent and fine of being the caretaker of my disabled guardians and siblings, I need them as much as they need me, even if it caused me the same cycle of mental anguish and earth leavings hehe

Wish U all the ease and peace and yummy peas 🫶🏽

4 am, sleep deprived

[pencilpat]

You Do Not Have to be Good - moceit

Patton hates alcohol. Not particularly for a moral reason, it just tastes godawful to him. But he came to Janus's room for a distraction, and goshdarnit he'll take it. He cringes through a sip as they sit on the floor, and Janus laughs.

"Oh, Patton, it's cider. Barely any alcohol at all, and you can barely stomach even that." As if to prove a point, Janus swings back his bottle and takes a sip so large he gulps audibly. Patton can't help a small giggle, even as bad as he feels.

"Gosh, Jan, I don't know how you and Logan handle this stuff."

"Simple. We're not man-babies."

Patton laughs and lightly punches Janus's shoulder, coaxing the smallest of smiles from the other man. He settles back against the wall. Janus isn't used to guests, aside from one who isn't a fan of sitting 'properly,' so he has no chairs strewn around his room the way the light sides do.

Janus tilts the liquid around in his bottle with a sigh. "Care to tell me what brought you to me today? My room isn't exactly one of our typical 'spots'."

"Oh! Oh, nothing special or anything, just checking up on you," he says, flashing a winning smile.

"How many times are we going to visit each other before you remember you can't lie to me?" Janus states bluntly, not looking at Patton at all, his eyes fixed on the blank wall across from them.

"Whu- uh- lying? I'm not-"

"How many times will I have to say that sentence? You can not follow 'you can't lie to me' up with a lie, Patton, that's not how this works."

"Look I- I don't really want to talk about it. I came to hang out with you, I don't wanna just-"

"So you're going to talk to one of the others then, yes?" Janus's eyes flit over the fading dark blue in Patton's hair. "How about Logan? I'm sure he'd totally be helpful here, I mean, being so good with his emotions."

Patton frowns at him and Janus sighs, rewording. "All I mean is, you don't talk to anyone else, so it stands to reason that if I don't get you to spit it out, you'll keep 'doing your thing' and only ever talking about how you feel at a surface level while letting the pressure below build and build until you blow up. Am I wrong?"

Patton blinks at him, and then turns away, curling his legs up towards his body and squeezing his free hand's nails into his palm. He's taken to doing that lately, though he doesn't know why. Someone says something that hurts, and he digs his nails deep into his skin or bites his lip so hard it bleeds, then the pain is gone. Dig, dig, gone. "That's not very kind, Janus."

Janus shrugs. The sun is beginning to set, and the room is going golden, the dark walls being cast in the shadows of Janus's blinds. "If someone was never anything but kind, they'd be a liar. I don't want to lie to you forever."

"You don't?"

"Oh wow, yeah, sound shocked about that, sure." Janus rolls his eyes, but he doesn't look angry. "Patton, it's stupid to keep going like you are. Look, if anyone can keep secrets, it's you and me - I'm the best one to talk to here. None of the others seem smart enough to notice how messed up you've been."

Patton cringes, and takes a drink of his cider, which makes him cringe harder. "I'm not... that bad, am I? That obvious?"

"It's pretty bad, dad," Janus sighs. He finally looks at the other man, meeting his eyes. "I promise, okay? And I don't do that lightly. I won't speak a word of whatever is bothering you."

Patton's brow furrows, and he breathes out slowly. He digs his nails into his palm again. Breathes again. Just the offer of talking is threatening to bust down year old dams, but perhaps Janus is right, and this needs to happen. And... he did promise. He's never done that before.

"It's not exactly simple to explain... I guess it's just- it's like- I'm-" Patton sighs, frustrated. "I just don't know anymore if- if I'll ever get it right."

"Right?"

"Being morality. Being... good." Patton's voice strains, and he wipes at his face. "I don't know if I can ever be good, be good enough, be good at my job. I've been messing up nearly everything lately! I can't keep Thomas good, and when I do try to keep him good, I end up being an overbearing jerk. I can't seem to make Roman happy, or Virgil anymore, and," Patton plays with the fringe tips of blue in his hair, almost subconsciously, "I can't make Logan feel good either. We used to be so, so close. Worked through all of our issues, we were really good friends! But he's been so- look, I know he says he doesn't feel anything, but I can tell he's feeling something! And he won't tell any of us about it."

Janus drinks, reserving information as he always does. Patton is upset enough, now's not the time.

"All I've ever wanted was to be good," his voice breaks, and he clears his throat, blinking back hot tears. "Ever since I've existed, I've wanted to be good. What would it mean for Thomas if his morality isn't good?! Maybe you were right, I'm just pointing him towards hell. I'm not doing my job right. How can I be messing up so much? I used to be the one who the others looked at to know everything..." He bites his lip hard, but it doesn't do anything this time. He's crying now, wiping the sleeve of his cat hoodie across his face furiously.

"Who says you have to be good?"

"What?"

Janus sighs, sipping his drink. "'You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.' Mary Oliver. Goodness isn't necessary one hundred and twenty-five percent of the time. You're an animal like any other, and you only need do what makes you happy, just like any other. You're not some divine being above the ability to screw up or be sad."

"You and Thomas's religious sensibilities are very tied together. You're stuck on this idea that as morality, you can only ever have good and pure ideas. You can never make mistakes, and you can never be wrong. Look, sure, we're no humans, but you're a piece of a human, and they're kind of renowned for their mistake making. I've told you before, Patton. If you're making a genuine effort to do better, then your apologies mean enough. You've repented. You didn't even need to, but you do anyway. Because you're good, as much as a side can be. You're so good you make me sick sometimes. I was being a dick when I said you're pointing him towards hell, being a dick is kind of my thing. I don't think you're even capable of knowingly being a bad person."

Patton feels tears pour down his face, staring sightlessly at his bottle as Janus rants. He's drawn blood from his lip. The words are making some deep piece of him ache worse than he has in years. Without thinking, he sets his head on Janus's shoulder. Janus barely blinks, leaning into him as he continues.

"You do make the others happy, Patton. They love you so much it's gross. But they have issues as well. Issues that are getting worse as Thomas's mental health is plummeting. All pieces of Thomas have gripes and qualms right now, I don't understand you all's strange insistence on everything being fine. Want me to lie? Everything is just fine! Why, nothing is eating at any of you, and you're at the peak of your lives!" Janus sighs, eyes closing. "It's okay to experience pain, you know. It doesn't make you bad. Nor does making mistakes. It makes you a living thing, as caught up in your own world and worries as every other living thing. You're doing okay, Patton. You'll never be perfect, but I watch you do everything you can every day. For crying out loud, let that soft animal of 'you' catch a break."

Patton sniffs, letting out a shaking sigh. "Why does hearing all that hurt me?"

"Because you've never heard it before, probably. Has anyone, ever, at all, told you to give yourself a break?"

"I... I guess not, not really. I don't know. I don't feel like I deserve it."

"I say you deserve it. If you won't listen to yourself, listen to me. Listen to a... friend."

Patton nearly physically startles at that word coming from Janus. "Friend?"

"If you make me repeat myself we're never having these visits again, watch it."

"We're friends?" Patton lifts his head, grinning despite his tear streaked face. Janus makes a frustrated noise, his face going red, but he lets Patton hug him nonetheless. Patton laughs, despite it all, holding Janus against his chest. The parts of his heart that were aching feel suddenly wrapped in warmth, like a heating pad on a pained muscle. And as Janus sets aside his drink and properly returns the hug, Patton's heart feels so many things, but mostly, at least for now, it feels at peace.

"Are you going to actually give yourself a rest, or did literally all of that go in one ear and out the other?"

Patton laughs. "Thanks, Janus. Really, thank you. Um. Not going to tell anyone still, right?"

"Of course," Janus places a hand on his heart and holds the other up in a pledge. "We both have trouble verbalizing emotions anyways."

"Can't say I'm surprised! Get it? Can't say?"

"Yes, Patton, I got it," Janus rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "You know I just hate puns."

"Liar liar!"

[shipposttt]

Ship of the Day: Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr

Character Names: Charles Xavier x Erik Lehnsherr 

Ship name: Cherik 

Original Content: X-Men (also present in the comics but for the purpose of this post, focused on the movies)

Ship Info:

Before getting too far into it, what you must know is that Cherik is not mainly shipped as a fully happy together ship, these two have gone through a divorce and are only just coming back together after a whole bunch of stuff. Either that or fans are being delusional and  ignoring the canon “Beach Divorce” (will be explained later, don’t worry).

The X-Men franchise is an institution in the comics world, a product of some of the best minds at Marvel in the 60s. Homo Sapien Superior are the next stage of human development, dubbed mutants, these people are born with superhuman powers, from telekinesis to intangibility, super speed to power absorption. Standing as metaphors and representations for oppression, the othering of the non-majority, racism, genocide, government control and the fight for equality, the X-Men have stood the test of time and come out of it as a present-forward moving media.

And at the centre of this media is two figures, Charles Xavier, powerful telepath and creator and head of the X-Men and Erik Lensherr, metallokinetic and leader of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants (if going by comics). Two leaders on what would traditionally be thought of as opposing sides, but in the case of the X-Men sphere, they instead play as two sides of the same coin against the true enemy.

The Government.

(Yeah, the writers weren’t playing about with subtlety, were they?)

(And people complain that modern comics are too liberal. This shit has always been here, complainers have just been blind to it. Somehow. I really don’t know how. It is a very much integral part of understanding the world the X-Men live in.)

Charles and Erik meet when they are both in their 20s, Charles recently graduated from Oxford with his doctorate in Genetics and Erik continuing his path of Nazi hunting while searching for the man that killed his mother when they were taken to Auschwitz when Erik was a child. They meet, stuff happens and almost the entirety of X-Men: First Class is just a getting to know you, whirlwind romance summer with a couple of breaks between the flirting and longing stares to further the plot which includes working with the CIA, building a team and, at the culmination of the film, being at the centre of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Ah yes, because we needed more of a reminder that we’re in the mid 60s, it’s not like the USSR being a big deal, or the middle-aged Nazi officers or the young looking Holocaust survivors didn’t do a good job of illustrating this point. 

Thus we reach the height of the movie, the missiles are on their way to Cuba and are currently being held in the air by Erik. Erik views the shooting of these missiles as a betrayal as they have been working with those who just sent the missiles for the duration of the movie and wants retaliation so spins the rockets around and sends them back in the direction of the US and Soviet fleets. Charles is also feeling pretty betrayed but does not believe that the men on the ships should die for it. And in a moment of what is probably one of the stupidest moments of Charles Francis Xavier’s life, he tells a child survivor of the Holocaust that the soldiers who have just fired upon them with the intention to kill them are “simply following orders”.

Yikes, Charles.

They have a grapple across the floor, Erik loses concentration, he wins the fight, regains control of the missiles, continues them on their course for the ships before getting interrupted by one of the X-Men team shooting his metal helmet to break his concentration. He deflects the bullets, cause, ya know, metallokinetic. It just so happens that he deflects one of these bullets into Charles’ back. More specifically his spine. Instantly paralysing him. 

There’s a whole moment of Erik cradling Charles' body and apologising. A bunch of other things happen that ends with Erik leaving Charles on that beach with no way to go home and only a couple allies. 

Thus, the beach divorce. 

It is here that Charles and Erik’s stories can go two ways, because the X-Men movies have fully canon time travel that they used to end the old early 2000’s timeline and restart, allowing them to make more money. In both of these, Erik is arrested for the murder of JFK, in the original timeline he stays there until the mid-2000s and is often visited by Charles. On these visits they play chess and have civil conversations. As elder men, they greatly respect one another and in fact, Erik even comes to Charles’ defence against one of his own brotherhood members when they disparage Charles. Both see that the other is working towards the same goal, they simply have differing opinions on how mutants should get to the equality they are fighting for. Charles believes it can be fostered through education, defanging misinformation and working alongside the human governments. Erik believes that it is too systemic and instead mutants must take their place in the world and not fear or be afraid of humans. By the end of their timeline, they are back to being by each other's sides, any differences are put to the side due to the nature of their existence dwindling. Instead they work together and stay by each other, giving each other comfort in the others continued existence. 

In the alternate timeline, Erik is broken out of prison in the mid 70s by the combined effort of a time travelling Wolverine, Charles, Charles and Erik’s past teammate and Charles’ caretaker Hank and a very young Quicksilver, who is not yet aware that Erik is his father. Though to be fair, no one on that mission knows that. In these films, Erik attempts to build a life, getting a quickly fridge-ed wife and daughter and goes on to build the mutant nation safe haven island Genosha. Charles goes on to found his school for mutants, as he did in the original timeline. This timeline ends with Erik and Charles meeting at a cafe in Paris (romantic, huh) and sitting down to play some chess (yes, chess is almost definitely a flirting metaphor, the amount they do it).  

Type of ship: Queer Read

Despite the fact that all 4 actors who have portrayed Erik and Charles in these movies have shipped them, at the end of the day there was never an intentional move done by any of the creatives to intentionally mislead fans to the idea that a romantic relationship may develop between the two. 

Both characters have had female partners throughout the duration of the movies and yet, neither of them last. Erik’s wife dies simply to further the plot within 10 minutes of introducing her on screen and Charles has a kind of girlfriend who he ends up wiping the memory of and leaving alone. By the end of the timeline, they don’t have any partners and are instead with each other. 

Erik and Charles are so compelling as characters, both separately and in combination and one of the reasons for that is how they act as foils for one another. Differing values, same mission, the utmost respect for each other. They are lovers ripped from each other by tragedy, both in terms of the divorce and in terms of being on opposite sides. But they are not just on opposite sides, instead they lead them and that is one of the most tragic parts of their existence. They love each other, but not more than the fight they lead, the ideas they believe. 

At the end, in 1983, when they both finish their missions, passing them on to the next generation, they come together in the romance capital of the world and play chess together. They come back together after so long apart and simply begin to exist in each other's presence in a way they haven’t done since the 60s.

Admin🦉

[storiesforallfandoms]

home life ~ ashton irwin

word count: 1669

request?: yes!

“So the request is domestic everyday life fluff with any of them. Whichever you know best or maybe a short blurb of all of them. I trust you so have fun and thank you!”

description: what’s the typical day like for ashton and his wife? let’s find out

pairing: ashton irwin x female!reader

warnings: nothing just some super cute domestic fluff with ashton

masterlist (one, two, three)

As much as Ashton loved to make music and go on tour, his favorite place to be was at home with you. More specifically, in your shared bed, which was where he was now.

He had awoken before you, both of you submerged in the sea of warm blankets. He rolled over to face you and couldn’t help but smile as he looked at your sleepy face. You were asleep on your stomach, your face smooshed adorably into the pillow. A small sliver of sunlight poked through the closed blinds and landed perfectly against your face, giving you a glow as if you were Ashton’s personal angel.

He moved slowly closer to you as to not wake you. He extended a hand to run it over the soft and warm skin along your shoulders and back. You stirred at the touch, peaking open one eye to look at him before closing it again. A small smile came across your face as you snuggled closer to him.

“Good morning,” you murmured.

“Good morning, love,” Ashton responded. “Did you sleep well?”

“I always sleep well when you’re home.”

Ashton smiled and opened his arms to you. You turned to face him and shuffled closer until the warmth of his arms engulfed you. You breathed in his familiar scent as you buried your head in his chest.

“What if we stayed in bed all day?” he murmured into your hair. “We don’t have anything to do anyways.”

“I love the idea, but if we lay in bed all day we’ll get bed sores.”

“Those aren’t real.”

“Maybe not, but I’m not going to test that. Besides, we have to get up to eat and use the bathroom and stuff eventually.”

Ashton sighed and pressed a kiss against your head. “Okay, counter offer: we stay in bed for one more hour, then we’ll get up.”

You smiled and kissed his neck. “I can agree to that, I guess.”

An hour came and passed and Ashton was reluctant to get up or to let you go, but a deal was made and he was a man of his word. You reluctantly peeled yourself from the bed, your body still care from your night with Ashton. He watched you longingly as you walked to the bathroom. When he heard the shower turn on, he quickly jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.

As much as Ashton loved being physically intimate with you, he also loved these moments of tender intimacy. Maybe even more than the physical intimacy sometimes. You were stood together under the hot water. Ashton had lathered up your hair with shampoo and gently tilted your head back under the water to rinse. You did the same for him before switching so he could put considering in your hair. He then lathered up his hands with body was and started to wash your body. You leaned into his touch, a dreamy smile on your face.

You giggled as his hands started moving down between your legs. “Naughty boy. You’re supposed to be cleaning me.”

“But getting dirty is way more fun,” he replied.

You giggled and playfully pushed him away. You rinsed the suds from your body before leaning in to kiss Ashton. His hands wandered over your soft, wet skin as his lips moved to your neck.

“You’re giving me mixed signals, love,” he mumbled against your neck.

“Only because you’re a horny nuisance,” you giggled.

“You knew that when you married me.”

One hot shower turned very cold later, you were both finally drying yourselves off and getting dressed. You offered to make breakfast, but Ashton insisted on ordering delivery for the two of you instead. “A lazy, relaxing day,” he said. You weren’t about to argue.

You always cherished having Ashton home. Days like these, where you were both home and free of any responsibility for an entire day, were few and far between, and they seemed to be very fleeting. You knew this was Ashton’s life when you married him. In fact, you had gotten a practice run of it in the early years of your relationship. It didn’t make the time away from one another any easier, or the time together any less bittersweet.

Since Ashton decided on a lazy day together, you collected the softest blankets in the house and settled down on the couch. Ashton collected the breakfast when it arrived and brought it into the living room. He placed the spread on your coffee table and took his place next to you on the couch.

“What shall we watch?” you asked as you cuddled into his side.

“You choose,” he responded.

“We both know that’s a bad idea since I’ll undoubtably end up choosing Encanto for the hundredth time.”

“More like millionth.” You elbowed him playfully. “But I love how excited you get when we watch it, so how can I pass up that opportunity?”

You smiled at him and gleefully turned on your favorite movie. The two of you watched in near silence as you ate, sometimes broken by you singing along softly.

“You’re very cute,” Ashton commented after your one woman performance of We Don’t Talk About Bruno.

“I know,” you teased. “But I don’t think that compliment applies when I’m stuffing my face and singing along to Disney tunes.”

“No, especially then.”

You shook your head. “That’s just lies, and you’re not supposed to lie to your wife.”

You placed you plate aside and laid back into his arms. He looked down at you with that look - the lovesick puppy look. He’s had it ever since you first met. There was something warm and comforting about that fact; the fact that after all these years, Ashton still looked at you with so much love in his eyes.

“You’re very cute,” he repeated, lightly brushing his lips against your nose.

“You mentioned that already,” you teased.

“I’ll keep telling you as many times as you want to hear it.”

You smiled and into into his embrace, kissing his cheek.

You spent a few hours cuddled up on the couch going back and forth picking what movies to watch. Ashton’s hand idly roamed your body; first running through your hair, then running over your arm and back, then tracing circles on your thigh. It brought you an added comfort and was almost enough to lull you to sleep a couple of times.

When dinner time came around, you told Ashton you were going to cook for the two of you and you refused to hear otherwise on the matter. He agreed, but only on the terms that he helped you.

That lasted all of five minutes, after which you had to kick him out because he was getting in the way more than helping.

“Go set the table or something,” you had said, playfully, after swatting him with the dish towel.

Some time later, you had dinner ready and placed on the table for the two of you. The sun had set and the only light in the room was the dim light of the lamps. Realizing how quickly the day had gone by resulted in a feeling of melancholy settling over you. You were starting to be reminded about your fleeting time with Ashton yet again.

Noticing your mood switch, Ashton reached out to hold your hand. “Hey, what’s up?”

You snapped out of your mood and smiled. “Nothing. I’m good. Just hungry.”

“Then eat, silly.”

After eating and washing up the dishes, you found yourself back in bed, once again cuddled up in Ashton’s arms. Your head was resting on his chest, listening to his heart beating against your ear. It was another moment you tried not to take for granted: the calm moments when you could just lay with Ashton, take in the warmth of his body against yours, the sound of his heartbeat and steady breathing. His hand had slipped under your shirt and was tracing circles against your bare skin. You could feel the callouses on his fingers against the softness of your skin.

Your eyes kept glancing at the clock on your bedside table. Every minute that ticked by was a minute closer to Ashton’s break ending. You still had a few days, but the next few days were filled with work for you and obligations for the both of you. This would be your last day alone together, and it felt like it was going by way too fast.

“Hey.” You looked up to see Ashton’s concerned face. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

You sighed. “I don’t want the day to end.”

“I know,” he said. “I don’t either, but we still have a few days left.”

“Not ones where we’re both off and can just spend the day together.”

He pulled you in tighter and kissed you on top of your head. “I know, love, but you can’t think about the future in dread like that. You gotta try to live in the moment. Think about us, here, right now. Besides, I don’t care if we have things going on or if I only get to spend a little time with you before or after you have work. As long as I get to spend time with you at all, I’ll be happy.”

Tears were welling in your eyes, both a combination of happiness at his words but also a little sadness at the thought of having to let him go sometime soon. But you cuddled into his side and tried to do as he said; forget about the future and try to live in the now.

“I love you, you know,” you said, your words muffled from your face being buried against his chest.

He chuckled. “I know. I love you, too.”

“I love you more.”

He gave you a look and poked at your side. “Don’t start this debate. We both know how it’s going to end.”

You giggled and settled in next to him for the conclusion of your relaxing day.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Ngl sometimes I feel like Asagiri doesn't know what he's writing. Like in many many interviews I feel like he straight up contradicts what him and harukawa are doing in the manga which often just makes me go ????

Like the way he treats Akutagawa has never been framed in a positive light, he has shown how desperate akutagawa was for his recognition. The cycle of abuse is a constant theme in the manga...

That interview just baffled me so much that I can't help but wonder if asagiri just really sucks at expressing himself or idk because I also feel like if some sentences would've been slightly changed it would've fallen more in line with the manga and it wouldn't have sounded like excusing the abuse Dazai had put Akutagawa through.

... I honestly don't know how to answer to this. I sincerely don't think the author's words contradict what already slipped through the manga? As I said, I think the statement was just a very unfortunate case of intersection between 1) abuse apologism and 2) Dazai idolization... But that's both things bsd ALWAYS had.

Chapter 39 Portrait of a Father is right there; the author's framing of Akutagawa and Dazai's relationship in the interview is precisely the same case of “the abuse you went through actually shaped you to become a better person, and your abuser always acted in your best interests and should even be regarded highly by you, like a father / meaning to your life”. So, nothing new on that front. About Dazai, I guess that's harder to pinpoint, but I do believe bsd has a bad case of Dazai is omniscient / perfect / flawless / can-do-no-wrong syndrome, something someone already made a very interesting elaboration of here. That explains why the author could never admit that Akutagawa was Dazai's failure, because that would be admitting Dazai can fail, and it's evident that the author doesn't agree with that.

I'm not really sure Dazai's treatment of Akutagawa is portrayed as cruel, either. Like, if it was, then why didn't Dazai stop treating Akutagawa that way when he joined the ada and started doing good? That sounds like implying that Dazai didn't stop because he is doing Akutagawa's good. When you think about it, Dazai acts very coldly to Akutagawa in chapters 36 and 51, treating him with condescension and vague contempt; and yet, those scenes are framed as being either endearing or comic, never cruel. Overall, I can hardly find the interview to be inconsistent to the manga when it's basically just expanding on what Akutagawa already told us here:

and where in the past one could have suspected this was only Akutagawa's biased perspective¹, this new interview simply confirms the author thinks it the same way too.

¹ I'll never forget my sister saying, when I was live reacting chapters 84-88 to her, about this exact passage: “That depressingly sounds like an abused person trying to find a meaning in the pain the abuse caused them, something able to give a sense to the pain and excuse the abuser”

I was extremely surprised by how everyone reacted to the interview, because I found it saddening, yes, but people are acting like it's something new and surprising when... I really don't feel the same way? I always thought bsd was full of problematic stuff and fucked up worldviews I don't agree with, from the moment I was watching the first season for the first time. And like, it kind of sucked initially, but I came to terms with it because there's other aspects I find enjoyable to explore and dwell into! (And also simply because I don't get to pick what I hyperfixate on). Personally, I assumed that people in the fandom either agreed with the author, or turned a more or less conscious blind eye to its issues in favor of more compelling stuff, or did like me and acknowledged its problematic stuff while also believing that doesn't necessarily have to get in the way of your enjoyment of the media (we're all just here to have fun). But I never thought... People just didn't notice? Like, the author's world views are all there and they've always been there, what changed exactly? Again, seeing it put so plainly and with no shame is saddening, but can't be deemed surprising. Yet somehow I've seriously seen people say stuff that sounded worryingly like “the abuse defending manga author is defending abuse in real life, how did this happen” and I'm. ?????????¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿????????? I'm sorry, and forgive me if I'm sounding somehow pretentious, but I swear most sincerely that I just don't get it. When in two years the author is going to make a comment of the kind “no female character will ever be as complex as male characters because women simply don't have it in them”, will everyone suddenly be surprised because the author of the sexist manga revealed themselves to be sexist?

It's just... As someone who as it turns out has done this (deeply disagreeing with bsd's themes, but hyperfixated on it nonetheless) longer, very humbly, allow me some words of advice: you're here for entertainment, you're here to have fun. That means you get to decide what parts of canon are worth focusing on and dissect and enjoy, and that doesn't in any way hold you from acknowledging bsd's problems when they're at and overall having a critical approach to reading the manga. I think that's a good advice for interacting with all kinds of media actually! In the words of another old answer of mine:

I don't know who needs to hear this, but someone definitely does: “I love s/kk!!” “the bsd storytelling has many compelling aspects!!” and “I recognize the bsd writing has flaws some of which actively harm an already disadvantaged part of society” are statements that can and should coexist, and if anything - and I know you hate to hear this, I'm sorry, I'm sorry - it should be kept in mind when deciding to support the franchise by buying its products.

And lastly, but most importantly: bsd stopped giving you joy? Walk out!!! The world is full of beautiful stories. Read The Promised Neverland.

[le-trash-prince]

so I have been Thinking a lot about food as love and our thought about Kenta getting really into baking and then I was like. there should be a story where Kenta learns love through food. a series of meals with different people.

it starts with Pete. (everything started with Pete, for Kenta) Kenta's still like, half-here half-not after killing his father, and Pete's a walking open wound with the loss of Way (the loss of what could have been) and they sit mostly in silence in Pete's open plan kitchen while Pete puts together the ingredients that were left already prepped for him. a simple stir fry, a little soup to start. it's warm and filling; it fills in a little bit of what Kenta didn't realise was hunger. it's easy to be with Pete in quiet.

then it's Alan's place, a family dinner where the empty seats are conspicuous and everyone talks a little too loud and vibrant to cover it up. it's a lot to deal with. Kenta hasn't had anything like this and it's just, it's a /lot/ of noise and people brushing against him as they serve each other. he's seated next to Jeff, who keeps his body to himself, and North, who doesn't think to do that at all. half the table carries the whole conversation but nobody seems to mind that Kenta can't contribute. he escapes to the back verandah while the main course is cleared and Sonic and Alan good-naturedly bicker over who might want which dessert. he lights a cigarette and smoke it but mostly just holds it, letting the smell of the smoke settle over him, far more familiar than the mess of scents of everyone inside.

"smoking kills, you know." Kim comes out so quiet he's right next to Kenta before he realises. Kenta stays still (prey animal in front of a predator) while Kim's neat hand reaches up and plucks the cigarette from his mouth. he stubs it out in the ashtray that's clearly well-used.

"I think that will take longer than I have," Kenta answers honestly.

[SKIPPING THE SAD PART FOR NOW]

Kenta genuinely does not remember agreeing to the weekly lunches with Babe (and Charlie when he's not working) yet he turns up for them dutifully regardless. Babe's not much of a cook, and Kenta can't bring himself to learn in such a strange (a stranger's) kitchen, so they mostly order in. they started out eating in front of the tv, using it as a conversation piece, but gradually they stop taking their plates from the bench to the couch, and instead they sit and. actually talk.

for a while they skirt around the topic of Tony, and Way, and Kenta's guilt over not getting out sooner, and Babe's guilt over letting him stay. they talk about the garage and racing (Kenta can drive but he's never going to understand cars the way Babe does) and the miraculous return of Babe's actual father, and the options their lives now hold. it takes quite a few shared lunches before Kenta feels bold enough to lightly tease Babe about Charlie, and Babe blushes a little but mostly he glows. then he fires back, "and what about Kim, huh?"

Kenta chokes on his spoonful of rice. "I don't---what do you mean? What about...him."

Babe waves his fork like he's commanding troops. "I can see you two at the garage! I'm not blind, you know. And Sonic told me about your /dinner dates/."

Kenat stuffs some more food into his mouth in the fruitless hope Babe will get distracted before he has to answer. No such luck. "They're not...dates. He's just, um. Showing me good places to eat."

"Right," Babe drawls, looking far too smug. "Because you need a foreign guy to show you around the city you've always lived in."

Are they dates? Kenta thinks surely Kim would have said something, if they were. Like yes Kenta makes sure he's dressed nicely (his best black pants and shirt, his shows polished) and Kim always generously offers to drive them there ("no sense in both of us trying to find parking)", and Kim always pays ("well, I'm the only one here with an actual job. it's fine! I didn't mean---you don't need to do anything you're not ready for.") and sometimes they sit opposite each other at a small table and their knees brush under it and Kim looks very very pretty in the soft lighting even if Kenta's not brave enough to tell him that. yet.

(okay I hope that helps as a distraction I have to disappear to the grocery store lol)

INCOHERENT NOISES i'm cuddling this ask

yes???? this is beautiful

EVERYTHING STARTED WITH PETE, FOR KENTA!!! I'M CRYING

prey animal in front of a predator fdgkdfg i LOVE. also yes i see you fulfilling the need you (and i) have had for months for kim to put out kenta's cigarrette.

THE SAD PART… GOD….. MY HEART. hits close to home in a personal way

"kenta genuinely does not remember agreeing to the weekly lunches" my mom does this jedi mind trick shit all the time "don't you remember you said you'd do xyz?" LMFAO.

kenta viewing babe as a stranger ouch oh my god………. it's true but it hurts

kenta teasing babe about his boyfriend 😭 slowly learning healthy sibling behavior 🥺

KENTAKIM DINNER DATES!!!!! KENTA GETTING FLUSTERED WHEN BABE MENTIONS KIM!!!! KIM TELLING SONIC ABOUT HIS DINNER DATES WITH KENTA!!!!!!!!!!!! I'M GUSHING gosh they're so smitten with each other… Kim taking things slow because he doesn't want to push Kenta, so he just…. doesn't refer to them as dates AND THEN KENTA DOESN'T KNOW IF THEY'RE DATES OR NOT. just gals being pals, what's better than this

god I love food as an expression of love so much….. Kenta being fed by people, included in meals, even if it's nothing grand, it's more than he's ever had.

North puts food on Kenta's plate without even thinking about it, and Kenta just stares at it at first, wondering if it was an accident and North had meant to give it to someone else, but Sonic just fusses at his to eat already.

When Kim puts food on Kenta's plate, he's definitely thinking about it, and Kenta can tell he's thinking about it, and it's loaded and intimate in a way that Kenta didn't realize food could be, there's a weight to it when he puts the tender morsel in his mouth, deeply conscious of Kim's eyes on him.

Kenta didn't grow up with the luxury of having a favorite food. Under threat of punishment, he learned to eat whatever he was given. As he got older and earned more freedom, he was able to eat out on his own, and he found dishes that he gravitated towards, but it just never occurred to him that he could ask a restaurant to make something a particular way. That he could ask for extra garlic, or fewer chilies, or to sub the chicken for pork. If there's something he doesn't like about the way a dish is made, he just orders a different thing the next time. He does in fact have a lot of preferences and has had very little joy when it comes to food. It's utilitarian to him, and as long as he doesn't have to put much thought into it, that's all that matters.

Kim tries to ask Kenta what he likes and doesn't like, and it's always like pulling teeth because Kenta doesn't think it's important, he can eat whatever Kim wants to make.

But I think Jeff would get it, that Kenta doesn't actually know much about what his own preferences are because he wasn't allowed to have them. He sees Kenta slowly picking at his food sometimes but still forcing himself to eat everything. So he just quietly and regularly reinforces that Kenta is allowed to ask for things to be made a particular way. That it's not a trap when someone asks him what he likes. That he can try things different ways until he figures out the nuances of what he really enjoys.

I hope this makes sense dfgdfgdgf anyways THANK YOU SO MUCH this was indeed a big help, you know dissecting Kenta is my favorite pasttime. I hope you defeated the grocery store!!!

[karlachismylife]

Halsin for the character game ask please lovie <3

A person of a fine taste here ^^

If anyone else is interested, I'll be glad to talk about someone else from COD and BG3. The game itself is here if someone wants to reblog!

So, Halsin, the bear man himself!

favorite thing about them

His unwavering connection and loyalty to the ways of nature. It's something that has always been important to me, and yes, I probably am romanticizing living as primally as possible big time since I am an absolutely city gorilla, but well, what can you do? Following the balance of nature, striving not to disrupt its ways, accepting life, death, love as parts of it - as something separate from morals, yet still staying on a good path; this is obviously something Halsin was not only born into, but nurtured in himself as a druid, and honestly, wish he taught me too.

least favorite thing about them

I do feel like Halsin sometimes tends to bee too stubborn/unwilling to consider something outside of his beliefs (Minthara would be one of the most striking examples). Yes, on one hand, he is probably able to see things more nuanced, because nature doesn't outright define good and evil, but sometimes he gets blinded by what he considers right in his own system of values. Which is not something you would expect from an elf of his age and wisdom, but hey, flaws are good for a character. Still, he is kinda stuck in his path and very much convinced it's the only way, which is always frustrating.

favorite line

I actually really like the overexaggerated way he speaks, you know, Halsin talk with all the constant references to nature and druid stuff. It's cute. The winner line is, however, "I like ducks". For someone who is constantly aware of the Oak Father, the reponsibility, the duties, the deeper connections of everything intertwined this is so simple. It might be one of the most straightforward lines he has, and it's precious.

Under all that regalia, wisdom and years of experience he's just a man who likes duck.

brOTP

Halsin x Shadowheart. The way they roast each other yet still are undeniably fond of each other without it spilling too much over the friendship boundaries (even when in polyamorous relationship/sex with them) is just heartwarming. Also the whole plot stuff, you know. They actually do have a nuanced dynamic an isn't this what we need in a brOTP?

OTP

The companions polycule :D But also Halsin x Astarion as a separate dynamic. And Halsin x Ghost because I will never shut up about it. Sure, polyamory is what's the most natural to him and it's a comforting thing for me to think about, but there's obviously the whole sexual trauma they all went through and have very different ways of coping (or not coping). I actually think if Halsin was willing, he would also benefit from watching someone much less nature-driven go through it. But mostly of course it's him with his already resolved past and blatant sex-positivity guiding some traumatized men back to having power over their own bodies. Halsin + body worship + anyone = the best ship dynamic.

nOTP

None at all. Not only do I, as I said, reject the whole concept of nOTPs, I also can't imagine Halsin finding himself in a toxic relationship, and that would be my only "no". He just won't be there, lol. So yeah, Halsin love for everyone!

random headcanon

He struggles to climb trees not only as a bear, but as a human too. He can, of course, but if he can just take advantage of his height and avoid it, he will. He's just too big and is used to completely different types of movement. Makes it hard to hunt for honey sometimes tho :(

unpopular opinion

This one's hard as always, too, because I don't know what's a popular opinion... maybe this one: he doesn't have a breeding kink. Not because he does not enjoy it (very much does), but it's just not a kink, it's what nature intended. Just a normal Thursday (nature did not intend for Thursdays to exist btw) afternoon to him, nothing special.

song i associate with them

Actually, a recent release by Faun, "Tamlin and the Fairy Queen". Sure, it's not exactly about Halsin's situation, but there certainly are parallels. And also love.

favorite picture of them

I actually really really like this moment. Despite everything, we don't often see Halsin be just... calm. Peaceful. Nothing bad about him always being caring or laid back or witty or battle-ready, but there is something special about the serenity of him soothing his anxiety about his date with his connection to nature. He is constantly taking on a pretty leading/providing role, it's easy to forget that he needs to be provided for too, like any living being.

I love Halsin very much and it's absolutely my daddy issues showing, fucking sue me (my dad is kinda hippie-adjacent, do you understand how bad it is). But also give me any shapeshifer/werewolf and they probably will be my favourite.

Jokes aside, he is a special character, thank you for asking about him <33