#...in someone’s arms! we’re dealing physical and emotional damage here!

[skyward-floored]

stabby stabby

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hallo! I'm not sure if you've already discussed or talked about the Obliviation spell and how memory magic works in general in HP already, but I think that'd be pretty neat if ever.

Hello!

So, I talked a bit here about pensive memories and how I think there's more than one spell involved. Now, mind magic in general in HP aren't talked about that much, but I have some thoughts about it (like I have about everything in HP).

I'll start with something I mentioned here regarding mind magic in general, and that mind magic seems to be the opposite of spells like the Patronus Charm or the unforgivable cures. While the unforgivable and the patronus required emotion, Snape says Occlumancy requires a clear mind:

“Clear your mind, Potter,” said Snape’s cold voice. “Let go of all emotion. . . .” But Harry’s anger at Snape continued to pound through his veins like venom. Let go of his anger? He could as easily detach his legs. . . . “You’re not doing it, Potter. . . . You will need more discipline than this. . . . Focus, now. . . .”

(OotP, 535)

I assume all magic that has to do with the mind requires a clear mind to work correctly. Like, you can obliviate someone without a clear head, but you might delete too much or too little. The clarity of mind is necessary for control and precision which is also required for Legilimency (or to at least understand what you're seeing with it).

Now, we know that pensive memories as I mentioned here can be collected and physically removed from one's mind, as Snape does in his Occlumancy lessons with Harry:

Snape merely raised the wand to his temple and placed its tip into the greasy roots of his hair. When he withdrew it, some silvery substance came away, stretching from temple to wand like a thick gossamer strand, which broke as he pulled the wand away from it and fell gracefully into the Pensieve

(OotP, 533)

But Obliviation doesn't seem to work the same way. We know from Dumbledore that you can try and retrieve obliviated memories or memories buried by false ones that are implanted:

“Never,” said Dumbledore. “He gave, as I say, a full and boastful confession.” “But he had this real memory in him all the time!” “Yes, but it took a great deal of skilled Legilimency to coax it out of him,” said Dumbledore

(HBP, 367)

Lockhart, too, after obliviating himself, still retains some of his memories and mannerisms:

“We’re doing autographs!” Gilderoy told the Healer with another glittering smile. “They want loads of them, won’t take no for an answer! I just hope we’ve got enough photographs!” “Listen to him,” said the Healer, taking Lockhart’s arm and beaming fondly at him as though he were a precocious two-year-old. “He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be coming back a little bit

(OotP, 510)

This suggests that unlike what Snape did with the pensive Obliviate doesn't really remove the memory from the mind, just severs the connections to the memory within the brain, but it's still there and could still be retrieved partially (or even fully) by a skilled Legilimence (Like Dumbledore) or the mind healers at St. Mongos.

Even so, the memories that return aren't perfect. Dumbledore couldn't get the full memory back from Morfin's mind, likely because Tom hid certain parts better than others. Memories returning, even if they are still present and not fully removed, is no easy task. It requires careful coaxing to not damage the mind and memories further.

Then we have false memories that can be implanted:

“I see we are of one mind,” said Dumbledore. “Certainly, there are many similarities between this death and that of the Riddles. In both cases, somebody else took the blame, someone who had a clear memory of having caused the death —” “Hokey confessed?” “She remembered putting something in her mistress’s cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little-known poison,” said Dumbledore. “It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and confused —” “Voldemort modified her memory, just like he did with Morfin!” “Yes, that is my conclusion too,” said Dumbledore.

(HBP, 438-439)

This magic is different from both Legilimency and Obliviation but requires the same clear mind (I assume). What I expect it does is the opposite of the spell that removes a memory entirely to be placed in a pensive. Essentially placing a new memory in.

Now, we know memories can be edited once they're outside someone's brain (be it a copy or the actual memory):

As several of the boys tittered, something very odd happened. The whole room was suddenly filled with a thick white fog, so that Harry could see nothing but the face of Dumbledore, who was standing beside him. Then Slughorn’s voice rang out through the mist, unnaturally loudly, “You’ll go wrong, boy, mark my words.”

(HBP, 370)

So, I think making a false memory works the same way. You take a memory from yourself (a copy) or remove a memory from the target, edit it as heavily as necessary, and then place it in someone's mind the way you would a removed memory. It is probably the same spell Snape used to return the pensive memories to him after the Occlumancy lessons:

and hurried toward the office door. As he opened it he glanced back at Snape, who had his back to Harry and was scooping his own thoughts out of the Pensieve with the tip of his wand and replacing them carefully inside his own head.

(OotP, 538)

Now, a bit more about editing memories. This is a complex skill and not something everyone is doing. Memories in HP are more like frozen fragments in time than just memories. We see it in SWM that Harry can listen in on the Marauders when Snape isn't near them. The memories are perfect in detail and "remember" more than a person naturally would. So, even though in SWM Snape wasn't listening to the Marauders, he still heard them in his pariphary. So their conversation was in his memory even if he couldn't actively recall it.

Basically, calling them memories is a little misleading. They are memories, but they also perfectly capture a moment in a way human memory almost never would. It captures everything your senses get from the scene, even the bits your brain would usually filter out because you don't need all that information.

That's why editing them is probably so hard. Because there is a lot of detail and it all has to be perfected if it's to be viewed in a pensive.

That being said, if the memory is placed in someone's mind without the intention of them viewing the memory outside their own recollection, it doesn't have to be perfect. As I mentioned, compared to how the pensive shows memories, human recollection is very flawed. If something is missing from your memory of a scene a few years ago, you won't get suspicious someone replaced it, you'll think you forgot a detail.

So editing memories into someone's mind is much easier than memories that go into a pensive. It's possible Slyghorn's edited memory wouldn't have felt edited inside a mind, since the brain would fill in the lack of visuals on its own (the brain just does things like that) but in a pensive, there is no human brain to finish his work for him, so the edit is glaringly obvious.

This is, like, all I have to say about mind magic off the top of my head, I believe, hope this answers your ask.

[miraculouscontent]

so... could you write some more adrien/chat salt? your fics and posts salting on him are always so good 🥺

Thank you! And of course~

—————

Ladybug had considered what to say multiple times over the day she'd had to think about it. She'd thought about all the different ways she could've said it, and what would've been the most effective when who she was talking to was taken into account.

However, sitting there on the rooftops with Chat Noir, there was a point where she just had to say it, no matter how it came out.

"Give me your miraculous."

Chat jerked his head over to her, jarred from the silence and eyes wide as his brain seemed to process the statement. Ladybug, meanwhile, stared ahead at the night sky, as if she hadn't said anything out of the ordinary.

After a few more seconds, she got a reply in the form of laughter, Chat buckling over with a hand on his stomach. "That's quite the Hawk Moth impression, Bugaboo!" he exclaimed, though calming himself enough to give her a half-lidded gaze and add, "But you don't have to do that to impress me, you know."

She didn't reply, only turning to look at him with her expression entirely flat, not showing any reaction to the mixture of teasing and flirting.

He was still grinning for a while, but as the silence dragged on, he began to falter. "...Ah—" He shook his head, leaning towards her and trying to force a smirk. "—if you want a wish that badly, all you need to do is say the word, m'lady! I can grant all your wishes."

She remained stoic, maintaining eye contact with him but not encouraging his banter. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head as it became clear to him that she was very much not joking.

One of Chat's ears twitched in confusion. He leaned back to his normal distance from her, seeming at a loss for what to say now that the atmosphere was finally registering with him.

Ladybug took a breath, noting that she had his attention. She straightened and looked back over Paris, saying, "I can't do this anymore."

He followed her gaze, squinting as if the answer would be written out there in bold letters for him. "Being a hero?"

"No, us. Us being partners." While he gaped at her, she stared down at her lap, her hands clutching her thighs as if that would give her some sense of stability. "...Chat, do you think this is a game?"

Chat shifted and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly not having expected the conversation to go here. It was hard to tell whether he was trying to keep things light or if it was just his genuine reply when he responded, "W-well, I'm definitely in it to win if that's what you mean—"

"I talked to Xavier Ramier today."

She watched his expression carefully, his hand leaving his neck and hovering awkwardly in the air as he looked at her. He seemed puzzled, not knowing what this had to do with the conversation, though his brows rose briefly like he'd remembered something.

She continued, trying not to show too much in her reaction as she explained, "Since I'm not as busy right now, I thought I'd check in on some of the people who got akumatized but I didn't have time for earlier. He was one of them." Idly, she pulled out her yoyo, almost mindlessly tapping away at it as she navigated through the various menus. "He said you came by to check on him a while ago; said that you were sitting there, just enjoying the day with him. He told me that you asked him if he missed being Mister Pigeon, or if he was feeling any negative emotions."

"I—" Chat tried to interject.

She didn't hear him, too focused on telling the story. "Then I asked him when you showed up, and he didn't know exactly when, but..." She showed him her yoyo, the messages Chat had sent clearly being timestamped for reference. "I figured out from what his rough guess and asking around that it was when you were supposed to be on patrol."

"I was on patrol!" Chat protested. "I was just checking up on him."

"You were relaxing on a bench," Ladybug reminded him., her tone remaining consistently flat. Snapping her yoyo shut and returning it to her hip, she added, "I even asked around and people told me they saw you go into the Grand Paris Hotel. I heard from one of the butlers there that you were sulking, and got excited when you saw Chloe and Sabrina fighting."

He opened his mouth to explain himself, but she could tell that he was struggling to come up with an excuse; he honestly believed that she'd never find out about any of this.

"I trusted you, Chat. I trusted you to cover for me when I'm not there, no matter what." She needed to swallow back her emotions for that one. "Why would you do that? Why would you hope for akuma to happen? Why would you lie to me?"

"I didn't!" Chat insisted, waving his arms frantically. "I—see... it was an off day! I was just—you know I can always do my best around you, and I did patrol! I just... made a few stops along the way! I wouldn't lie to you!"

"So you don't lie to me," she stated cautiously, "and you've never lied against me."

"Of course not!" he assured.

She paused for effect, just long enough for him to grow uneasy, then said, "Theo Barbot waved me down a while back."

Chat visibly cringed, and she could hear a hissing sound as he sucked in a breath.

"He wanted to congratulate me. He saw the picture of us kissing on the Ladyblog and said that he was glad we could finally go public about our relationship." Her gaze sharpened even as she stared at nothing in particular. "I asked what he meant, and he told me that you said that we were a thing. He said that that's what got him akumatized."

"It wasn't..." He averted his gaze. "...a lie exactly."

In response, Ladybug stood, throwing her arms outwards as emotion began to seep into her voice. "This is about more than lies, Chat; it's about everything! If you can only do your best around me, then what happens if an akuma gets me?" She didn't need him to answer. "You'll lose it. I need someone who I know will take care of things even if I'm captured."

"I would!" Chat retorted he stood up, the nervousness now showing on his face. "I would do everything to get you back, I—"

"Party Crasher," she cut in without missing a beat.

He recoiled like she'd physically struck him.

"And it's not just that I can't rely on you if I'm taken out; I can't rely on you not to take yourself out," she said pointedly, turning away from him and taking a few steps away to distance herself. "You're always throwing yourself in front of me and sacrificing yourself, sometimes when you don't even have to and always without just talking to me about it! Do you have any idea how that feels? You tell me all the time that you'll listen to me and how I'm the planner here, and then you go and make plans without me."

She heard Chat's hurried footsteps from behind her as he tried to match her pace and argue, "It's not like that! It's just—it's because..."

She turned just as he reached her, her stern gaze making him stop. "Because my anger is so irresistible?" she asked. "I'm just so adorable when I'm mad that you won't listen to me?" She advanced on him, forcing him back. "Thanks, Chat, that makes me feel so much better that you can't take me seriously because you just love me that much," she said sarcastically.

"That's not what I meant!" he argued, though at that point it seemed like all he could do was weakly protest that he didn't mean anything that way. "I'm only teasing, Bugaboo!"

"Then what do you really mean?" She clenched her fists at her side. "I've told you to stop calling me Bugaboo and you never do! You're too busy bantering and talking about our relationship to focus on the fight, and when that kiss happened - the one that happened because you got shot by Oblivio and I had to save you - you laughed at me for being upset and you didn't care. I'm tired of having to deal with all of that; I'm dealing with enough as guardian!" Reminded of her own status, she steeled herself up and held a hand out to him, managing to calm down enough to say, "Now, revoke your miraculous. I'll give it to someone else."

Chat retreated, his hand moving to cover his ring protectively. The nervousness had partially faded away into him being generally upset, though he also didn't try to defend his actions anymore. "You... if you give the ring to someone else, you'll know their identity!"

"I've already got a plan for that," Ladybug stated, holding her hand out more insistently.

Because of course she did. She wouldn't have been doing any of this if she hadn't given it a lot of thought first. There were pros and cons to bringing in a new cat, and when she really weighed it all together, this was the only way forward. Chat wouldn't learn, and she'd been stuck in a limbo of shouting at him, being ignored, and having to push down her feelings in the future or risk damaging their teamwork. She'd devalued herself - devalued her emotions - in order to believe that she could make it work because she needed him.

Except, she didn't. She needed a cat; someone to use the more active miraculous to balance out the lack of firepower that the ladybug miraculous had. It wasn't that it could be just anyone, but it certainly didn't have to be Chat. While she deeply regretted going back on one of Master Fu's decisions when he couldn't even have a say in it anymore, the fact of the matter was that she was the guardian and she made the rules.

Chat backed away a few more steps, his eyes darting around as he sought a way out of the situation. Then, facing Ladybug, a mixture of upset and offended, he argued, "We're a team! We still come out fine no matter what happened! You don't even know my identity, I've kept it a secret just like you wanted!"

He was reaching, and they both knew it. That had always been the reason for revoking someone's miraculous: someone else knowing their identity. However, there were reasons beyond that, and them "coming out fine" from a battle was hardly a high bar for someone getting to keep theirs. Ladybug knew that well enough after having dealt with Miracle Queen; even if Chloe's identity hadn't been revealed, she was still a bad person who felt entitled to a miraculous.

But Ladybug also understood the game Chat was playing at: that it wouldn't be right to take his miraculous when he's protected his identity. The logic was flawed, but she nonetheless crossed her arms and gave him a blank look, staring into his green cat eyes and starting to fit pieces of a metaphorical puzzle together.

Kung Food, Horrificator, and Startrain: those at minimum were times where Chat's civilian form had to have been inside at the time the akuma happened. Chat had also mistaken Francoise Dupont for an elementary school after they'd defeated Kwamibuster, but she mentally acknowledged that he could've been lying. He had to have been, if they were trapped in that building together with Horrificator. It narrowed things down significantly, and she knew that he had to have been a teenager like her due to the timer on his miraculous.

And while she was aware that Chat's green eyes meant nothing considering that she got green eyes as Lady Noire, there were little coincidences sprinkled throughout their history together that didn't add up unless she came to one final conclusion.

Chat showing up at the museum even though he'd have no way of knowing that an akuma could've been there. Chat knowing that Volpina's illusion was fake. Chat's mysterious loss of his miraculous when Style Queen was attacking.

The feather allergy.

Then, Ladybug glanced at the hand he was covering; the one she knew had the cat miraculous on his right ring finger. She almost felt like congratulating herself for constantly resisting the temptation, because when she actually thought about it, it was so obvious.

She knew that hand, as she'd seen it so many times. She had pictures of it plastered all over her wall and the realization made her feel sick, her heart dropping as opposed to skipping a beat.

"...Adrien Agreste," she said finally. "You're Adrien Agreste."

He blinked, his expression blank at first before dread started to take its place. His mouth slowly fell open, words trying to escape but there weren't any to be found.

She let the moment drag, stepping forward to close the distance between them. Adrien's face flashed over Chat Noir's for a moment and she swallowed, summoning all of her confidence to address him properly.

"Tell me, Adrien. Tell me that this hasn't been a game for you. Tell me that you wanted to protect Paris all this time. Tell me that this hasn't all been about you."

She waited, not expecting or hoping for any answer in particular, because it no longer mattered; the conclusion would the same regardless.

Ultimately, she got no reply, and within the next ten minutes, the cat miraculous was in her hands and Adrien was promptly taken home.

—————

Marinette took a breath of the cool night air, having chosen to walk home rather than get there as Ladybug. She needed time to think, and walking helped her clear her head from the rush of everything that'd happened.

Her purse rustled, Tikki popping out and leaning off the side to look up at her. "Is everything okay, Marinette?"

"Yeah." She nodded her head, just to reassure Tikki further. "It was for the best. It's a lot, but... I wanted to do it; for me, and for Paris."

Regardless of how many emotions she had to deal with, she was glad she knew. She supposed that she could've taken Chat's miraculous without seeing his identity - though it would've been complicated - but it helped her sort through so many thoughts in her mind.

She let out half of a chuckle, idly thinking that she dodged a bullet. If dating Adrien would've turned him into any level of Chat Noir - or, honestly, just knowing that he was Chat Noir - then it was definitely for the best that she figured out his identity. She wasn't sure how she'd behave around him the following days, but just the idea of things being any semblance of "normal" in the face of "the famous model Adrien Agreste," with no stutters or freak-outs...

It was nice, making everything feel a little brighter. Maybe Alya would even stop claiming that she's just "jealous" of Lila, the girls would stop teasing her so much, and she could put all that time she used to spend thinking about Adrien into something more productive. There hadn't seemed to be a downside in sight, actually.

As Marinette kept thinking on the subject, her gaze wandered off to the side, taking in the sights around her, and she paused when she noticed that she was right next to the Seine. The revelation didn't surprise her - she knew she'd have to pass by it to get home - but it did inevitably remind her of Luka, especially since they'd broken up only a day ago.

The metaphorical wound was still fresh, not helped by the fact that Lies had come right afterward as if to remind her of why she had to break up with him; she couldn't have a normal life, and she certainly couldn't have a boyfriend. It didn't matter if she loved Luka and he loved her back, because she would always have to leave their dates at the first sign of an akuma.

Yet, nevertheless, there was some form of comfort in staring out at the river, and she found herself traveling down the nearest set of stairs to walk right next to the Seine instead of so far above it, her eyes trailing along the surface of the water to search for the Liberty.

It took a few minutes of walking, almost making her wonder if she'd passed it without realizing, but then she saw the ship resting in the water, right where it always was. She approached, taking in the various colors and the silly rainbow weathervane, her body automatically relaxing at the memories of those two weeks of crafting kittycorn-themed costumes from paper mache.

Curiously, she noticed that the gangplank was up, as someone presumably had forgotten to pull it back before going to bed that night. Marinette walked over, crouching down and wondering idly if it was possible that it had been put up but had just fallen over at some point, yet it was clearly set perfectly in place.

Mentally trashing the thought, she placed her hands on her knees and started getting up. As she straightened her back, her eyes involuntarily scanned over the deck of the ship, a familiar color palette of blues, blacks, and whites registering in her mind before she fully recognized what—who it was. Her eyes locked onto the figure, and she had to slap a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from letting out a yelp.

It was Luka, sitting down on an instrument case with his guitar in his lap, though Marinette noted after a moment that he was actually asleep. Concern furrowed her brows as she took in his posture, one of his arms resting on the case while the other was perched on the guitar's base. His back was arched against the taffrail of the ship and his head was tilted back to the point where his hair was falling into his face.

There was no way that was comfortable.

Marinette hesitated, feeling almost like she was trespassing, then gave Tikki a look to hide inside the purse while she walked across the gangplank Any footsteps against the deck of the ship seemed unusually loud due to the otherwise quiet night, but Marinette tried to ignore it, approaching Luka cautiously so as not to startle him.

He was frowning, and she involuntarily copied the expression onto her own face. Outside of the bumps in their dates and the break-up itself, it was rare to see him as anything but calm or happy, and she got the distinct feeling that it wasn't just because he was asleep that he was making that face.

She reached up, lightly fixing his hair in case to try and keep it out of his eyes when he woke up, then lowered her hand to his shoulder. She gave him a light shake, then another with a little more effort when the first failed to stir him. When that failed as well, she leaned close, looking side to side like she was afraid someone would see her and think she was doing something strange. However, no one else was around, allowing her to safely whisper his name to him.

"Luka."

She stiffened when she got an immediate response to that, Luka letting out a low humming noise as he shifted. She jolted back, trying to give him space and blushing at the thought that shaking hadn't woken him in the slightest but her voice had immediately.

Luka's eyes opened halfway, staring blankly up at the sky. Brows lowering in confusion, he tried to move, though a whine escaped him when his body protested at the uncomfortable position he'd gotten himself into. He winced, but eased forward and leaned on his guitar for support, only then looking forward and meeting her gaze.

She shifted in place, feeling awkward but knowing that it was too late to back out now.

"...Mmmarinette?" he asked, squinting like he wasn't really sure she was there. He blinked a few times, his eyes widening a fraction when he confirmed that she was real. "Marinette?"

"Ah—hi," she replied, waving awkwardly. "Um, sorry, it was just—I was walking, and I saw you, and you were sleeping weird—not that you sleeping is weird or you look weird when you sleep!—but you seemed really uncomfortable so I just..." She gestured vaguely at his current state of awareness.

He let out a tired sound that may've been an "oh," then ran his fingers into his hair and rustled it, like he was attempting to shake the tiredness out of himself. That done, he managed a small smile at her that didn't stretch anywhere near the amount it usually would. "Thank you. I'm glad you care about me that much."

"Of course I do!" she blurted out, a little offended at the idea that she wouldn't. She realized belatedly how loud she'd been and rubbed an arm in embarrassment, but didn't take anything back either.

Deep down, she knew where he was coming from. It must've been hard for him to watch her ditch him and then deal with her ending their relationship with next to no explanation. Even with the confidence he constantly radiated, not having any information on the 'how's or 'why's must've been difficult, and she hated keeping secrets from him.

Even Chat got better than that...

Luka tilted his head at her, the anxiety probably written all across her face. Concerned, he began to ask, "...Is everything—"

"Luka," she called suddenly, straightening to face him fully. "I—" She swallowed, needing a few seconds to compose herself. "I know this is a bad time, because I'm not really supposed to be here, and you can say 'no,' but... can we talk? About what happened?"

She bit her lip nervously as he sat up, his body noticeably more awake than before. She felt like he deserved to know more about the whole situation, but he also had every right to refuse her for waiting - even if it wasn't that long ago - so the possibilities were nerve-wracking.

Thankfully though, Luka relaxed after a moment, lifting his guitar out of his lap to set it aside, the bottom of the body resting on the deck of the Liberty while the neck was supported by the taffrail. Settling his hands in his lap, he then gave her his full attention, even offering a soft look of reassurance.

Her shoulders eased; he was going to hear her out. Part of her almost felt bad, wondering if maybe he was forcing himself, but she also knew it was important for him to get closure on the matter.

"Okay..." She breathed, acknowledging to herself that she hadn't planned this is the slightest. After some internal debate, she sat down on the deck of the Liberty in lieu of a proper seat, earning a look from Luka but no further comment otherwise. Running her hands along her capris, she stared up at him and finally began, "It—it wasn't you."

He raised a brow, silently encouraging her to go on.

"I mean, maybe you weren't worried about that, but I just... I needed you to know that." She shrugged half-heartedly. "You didn't do anything wrong, Luka - you're amazing - and if it wasn't for me always having to leave and rush off and make you feel bad, I would've stayed with you."

"...Really?"

She blinked at his tone, the corners of her lips quirking up as he covered his mouth, clearly not having intended to blurt that out. She simply nodded at him, falling back into her serious state as she continued, "You deserve someone who can be dedicated to you, and I just—I can't, and I can't tell you why either." She slumped, ashamed at the secret she was forced to keep. "I wish I could. I do trust you, but it's not about that. It's—" She pursed her lips, struggling to find the right words. "—it's not really something I can say?"

She dropped her gaze to her lap, but didn't miss the flicker of understanding in his eyes. It was important to her, for him to know that she believed in him and that he'd done everything right in their relationship.

"...Are—" Luka paused, voice laced with worry. "Marinette, are you being blackmailed or something?"

She almost laughed at that. His deduction wasn't entirely wrong, as "go defend Paris from a supervillain and tell no one about it, and if you do then they might be in danger," certainly did sound like blackmail. Still, she shook her head, reassuring, "It's nothing like that. I'm sorry. I really want to tell you, a-and even be with you, but I can't do either." She clutched at her knees in an attempt to ground herself, glancing back up at him with a mixture of sorrow and guilt. "I don't know what you see in me, Luka, but I feel so lucky that you like me so much, and then unlucky because—" She choked briefly, her cheeks heating up as she realized that she'd never said the exact words to him before. "—because I like you too and I want it to be that simple but it's not. You want the truth and the truth is that I can't tell you no matter how much I want to. I know I forget things and had to skip out on dates because I was so stressed out, but you made everything fun and not stressful and I loved every date we went on until... you know." She gestured wildly to imply 'unsaid things happening.'

He was quiet, not showing any particular reaction, though she'd spent enough time with him to know that he was glad that she was talking more openly about it and clearing some things up that he might've been wondering about. His expression seemed blank on the surface but he was relieved to know something even if her words were pulling his emotions in every direction.

Mentally preparing herself for the next step, Marinette pushed herself up and walked over to him, finding it hard to meet Luka's gaze even as she hunched over and boldly placed her hands on top of his. Out of the corner of her vision, she could see his eyes searching her face, not knowing what to expect next.

"...I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know I apologized already but I'm sorry. I should've known things would end up like this but I wanted to date you anyway. I can't even tell you when this is all going to end so I can't ask you to wait for me either because it's not fair. You deserve a relationship that isn't so complicated... that doesn't involve me."

She flinched at the emotional punch to the gut she'd just given herself. She'd already known that dating would be near-impossible so long as she was Ladybug, but it was a completely different feeling to face Luka and say it to his face. She wasn't sure if she'd been his first crush, but the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth that it'd all gone so wrong and there was no hope of getting it back.

She took another breath to calm herself, slowly raising her hands away from his. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to say," she murmured, still not making eye contact with him. "Thanks for trying to show me a good time, Luka, but... maybe you should fall in love with someone else."

She turned away before her emotions could get the better of her, about to walk off when a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist and jerked her back. She squeaked in surprise, glancing behind her to see that Luka was on the edge of the instrument case, arm stretched out like he'd impulsively hurried to stop her. She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, but he spoke first.

"Why?"

"W...why?" she echoed.

"Why should I fall for someone else?" he asked, his tone somewhere between hurt and serious.

"Ah." She tilted her head, confused and with no idea of what he was getting at. "Because of everything I said?"

"That you enjoyed our dates? That it wasn't us who cut the song short?" His other hand reached up, holding her hand as well while he looked at her tenderly. His voice grew quiet, like he couldn't believe what he was saying. "That you like me?"

Marinette blushed, but found it hard to look away from him this time. "I...I do like you. Um—only you, but—Luka, the dates..."

Luka slowly stood up, gently squeezing her hand in a show of support. "I didn't even think that I'd be taking up too much of your time, Marinette. I wanted to be together with you, but I didn't want it to be hard either." He offered her a lopsided smile, adding, "And I'm glad you told me, because I don't think you being busy means we can't be together."

"...What?" Marinette gaped at him in disbelief. "I thought you said that you wanted the truth, and—"

"You gave it to me," he reminded her. "You said you can't tell me and I believe you."

She waved her free hand wildly. "Y-yeah, and I'll have to run off and we'll never know when!"

"Then we don't have to date, or we don't have to date as much." He'd said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, and maybe it was. "Why should we be playing sad solos when we can play a happy duet instead?"

She went to retort, but he'd so swiftly shot down her arguments that she was left speechless. She hadn't even considered that - trying to compromise with him on their dates - because she thought she wouldn't be worth it for him, yet here he was, offering himself to her again now that everything had been laid out for him. It seemed too good to be true, but...

He was her Second Chance, and every moment she spent with him just reaffirmed why she'd adored being given that chance in the first place.

She made a small noise as she tried to hold back emotion, her hand shaking in his. "You want me that much?"

His smile grew wider and more genuine, clearly recognizing that she was about to accept him. "Yeah. Do you want me too?"

Afraid her voice might crack and ruin the moment, she nodded and turned fully towards him. She held out her other hand for him and he took it happily, both of them able to enjoy each other's company once more.

Once things had properly settled down, she held back a shy giggle and asked, "S-so, do we just... pick up where we left off? Or just—before everything started going wrong?"

He hummed, seeming to honestly think about it. "I guess so. What verse do you want to start from?"

She retraced all of the bad dates in her mind, like she were rewinding a movie. One moment in particular stuck out to her, and she tried not to grin too much as she suggested, "The cinema? After I gave you the necklace?"

She didn't have to clarify any further, his eyes lighting up in remembrance. He grinned and leaned down to be closer to her level, her getting up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway in a kiss, thus finishing what they'd started from what felt like forever ago. She could feel Luka's hands caressing hers, as if to reassure that everything was alright and he was happy.

She waited until the kiss broke apart, then looked at him to ask teasingly, "Better than setting up a whole date to do that?"

He pressed his forehead to hers, sighing happily. "Definitely."

She beamed at him, almost tempted to kiss him again before she remembered what time it was. She gasped, inadvertently surprising him with the sound, then recoiled and placed her hands firmly on his shoulders, sitting him back down on the instrument case.

"You need to sleep!" she told him, then corrected a second later, "But—not here! Not right here anyway! It needs to be in a bed! Your bed!"

He laughed at the abrupt shift in tone, but nodded obediently at her, resting his fingers along her wrists. "I will. You'll sleep too, right?"

She nodded back, her heart skipping a beat at his care for her. "Yeah, I promise."

Her hands lingered on him, as did his with her as she pulled away from him. As much as she would've liked to stay with him, it was late and she still had a lot to take care of.

Rushing across the gangplank, she waited until she was safely on the other side so she wouldn't risk tripping as she turned to face him, walking backward and waving excitedly. "Bye, Luka!"

He suppressed a chuckle at the happiness-induced loudness of her voice, then waved back at her. It was only when he got up to take his guitar inside that she finally turned around and started officially heading home.

—————

When the last of the Adrien photos had been shoved into her trash bin - even the ones on her corkboard - Marinette allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief and collapse into her chair. It'd taken a little longer than she'd thought, but she was still satisfied with the change. The walk home and conversation with Luka had brought all of her thoughts together and made her feel optimistic about how the day had gone.

"Marinette?" Tikki looked up from the chocolate chip she'd been nibbling on, her being the only kwami awake at that hour. Voicing the inevitable, she asked, "What are you going to do about the cat miraculous?"

Marinette turned, acknowledging her, then reached into her purse to pull out the ring in question, turning it a few times in her hands. It was weird having it in her possession while she still had the ladybug earrings on, but it wouldn't stick around for long anyway, so she wasn't concerned.

Tikki continued, an urgency in her voice, "You're Ladybug, and you're not supposed to know anyone's identities, but you're also the guardian now, so you're supposed to give out miraculouses and know everyone's identities!"

Marinette, much to Tikki's apparent surprise, flashed her a smile and held the ring up confidently. "That's exactly why you're going to pick the next cat, Tikki."

Tikki blanked, dropping the chocolate chip in shock. "Wh—me?" Her voice squeaked. "Why me?"

Marinette would be lying if she said that she didn't find some amusement in Tikki's befuddlement. With a bit of effort, she pushed herself up from her seat, setting the ring down on the table and walking towards the sink at the other side of the room. "Because you've been with every ladybug who's ever existed, which means that you've known every ladybug and cat duo that's ever existed." Giving Tikki an expectant look, she added, "If anyone knows what kind of cat I'd need as a partner, it's you."

"But—" Tikki floundered, the thought clearly having never occurred to her. "It's the guardian who has to hand out miraculouses!"

"I won't know the new cat's identity this way," Marinette reminded her, idly tracing her fingertips along the sink's edge. "Sure, it'll be someone we both know, but if I didn't figure out that Adrien is Chat Noir until I tried, then I won't figure out this one either."

Her eyes scanned over the various drawers in her reach and she pulled open one in particular, a small box jerking forward from the momentum. It was the same box that held her ladybug earrings all those months ago, and now it would be the box for the new cat as well.

Holding the box to her chest and silently wishing luck upon it, Marinette returned to her table to see Tikki staring quietly at the ring in thought, apparently still processing what she'd been told. Marinette paid her no mind for the moment, setting the box down and searching various other drawers for a white cloth big enough for the box to be wrapped in. Then, once she'd successfully found one, she laid it out neatly on the table and opened the box to place the ring inside.

The moving of the ring snapped Tikki out of whatever trance she'd been in. She flew up, clinging to Marinette's hand and begging, "Wait! At least tell me what you'd want in a cat!"

Marinette supposed that was a win, since Tikki wasn't outright rejecting the idea and had little argument against it. She dropped the ring inside the box and smiled at the gentle 'click' it made when she closed it, then turned to address Tikki. The nervousness on display made a modicum of sense when considering that kwami were supposed to obey the guardian, so being told to do what they wanted was probably a little strange.

Marinette just took it in stride. She leaned against her chair as she considered her ideal cat, having been so used to Chat Noir that she needed a minute to imagine someone who really matched her.

"Thoughtful," she answered, nearly blurting the word out when it finally came to her. "Someone who thinks the way I do so I'm not doing everything myself. They can be selfless, but they have to have limits, and with good instincts so they won't throw themselves in front of me." Her expression growing fond at the idea of such a partner, she took the cloth and wrapped the box in it, sealing it with a strong knot as she added, "And... they have to be understanding, where I can cover for them and they can cover for me and we'll just—click."

She snapped her fingers for effect, watching as Tikki flew over to the wrapped-up box and tested it to ensure it was safe to carry. While she was tugging at the knot to confirm it was tight enough, Marinette stood and headed up the stairs to her bed, opening the way to her balcony so Tikki had a way out.

By the time Marinette peeked over the bed to check on Tikki, Tikki had already taken hold of the cloth and flew up to be eye level with her, the box being a noticeable yet manageable weight. Marinette moved to the side, allowing the straight-faced Tikki to go past her and go up to the balcony.

Thinking that Tikki had already gone, Marinette was about to close the trapdoor when she heard a soft, "Marinette?"

Her head turned to see Tikki, hovering above the little table with the box still held in her paws. She seemed conflicted, like she was struggling to find words, but eventually settled on, "You're a great guardian."

And with that, she left, Marinette blinking in surprise for a moment before a smile formed on her face. She closed the way to her balcony, then slipped back down the stairs to start getting ready for bed.

At the same time she'd be settling in to sleep that night, her tiny Miracle Box would be set down delicately in the Liberty, specifically on Luka Couffaine’s amp.

[therealvinelle]

What are vampires?

(Yes, I changed the title from “What is venom?” a week after publishing and after a whole set of sorry souls reblogged the post. I’m very sorry, but as I sat down to write the follow-up piece I realized that this meta is about vampires, not venom, and the title is no longer appropriate. My perfectionism got the better of me and I’m sorry.)

There’s been a lot of speculation on that in this fandom, here comes my take. It’ll split into four parts, this being part one where I look at what venom does to the human body. In part two I look at hybrids, part three I speculate on what venom is, part four I treat possible origins and raisons d’être of venom.

So, this first part is mostly me regurgitating facts. We won’t get anywhere if we’re not all agreed on what vampires are.

Also, I get very pseudo-scientific in this meta, but I have no education in biology or medicine so I could be wrong about everything. I tried to use good sources, though, so I can’t be entirely off-base.

With that out of the way, LET’S DO THIS.

To create a vampire, you infect a human with venom. This venom spreads throughout the body, altering every cell. The process is complete when the heart stops beating. If the human was injured at the time of infection, they will be healed, as long as the heart keeps beating.

Let’s go through that.

How does the venom spread?

When Bella was bitten by James, Edward was able to suck the venom out. Several minutes passed from she was bitten until Edward sucked the venom out, yet the burn was only reported to be in her hand. By contrast, anyone who’s ever had pharmaceutical administered intravenously knows that blood travels quickly. If venom travelled like any normal fluid, Bella would have said «My hand is on fire. No wait, my arm! No, wait, my torso! No, wait-» and Edward wouldn’t have been able to suck it out.

Additionally, Bella has that scar left by James. The venom had already altered the cells at the entry point.

To me, this sounds like the venom is like Pac-Man, spreading through the body by altering one cell at a time. It’s the only explanation for why it’s so slow. More on that later, though.

How does it alter the cells, and in turn the human body?

Physically, their skin is made impervious and perfectly even, their teeth are straight, razor sharp and white, their bodies impossibly strong, fast, and precise, their senses heightened to an insane degree yet they feel no pain from most physical injuries. Their digestive system is altered so they can only consume blood, preferably human blood, anything non-blood is regurgitated. They’re much more attractive than they were in life. They’re not reliant on oxygen, and their blood doesn’t circulate. They produce their own venom.

Mentally, their minds function at the capacity necessary to even utilize a body like this. They are able to process their heightened sensory input (for example, it’s the brain that interprets visual input from the eyes. For vampires to be able to see better than humans, both eye and brain have to improve), process though much faster than humans, they forget nothing, and they feel emotion and physical sensation more strongly than humans do.

Let’s go through these alterations one by one.

Skin

Frequently likened to marble, vampire skin is as hard as stone. When Bella becomes a vampire, she’s stunned Edward’s flesh now yields to her touch. Before, if she pressed her finger on him, his skin would not yield. The shapeshifters can kill vampires because their fangs are sharp enough to pierce their skin, without that advantage they couldn’t do it. No ordinary weapon could injure a vampire.

The stone skin is an armor, protecting them.

Teeth

As us humans get older, the enamel in our teeth is worn away, revealing the tooth’s underlying yellow color (the dentin). Vampires can live for thousands of years, yet their teeth remain that perfect blinding white. What changed? I see two possible explanations, one being that vampires still have enamel, and it’s too strong to ever be worn away, or they don’t have it because their teeth have been altered to the point where they don’t need a protective layer anymore, and their composition is something completely different from that of human teeth.

I think it’s the latter, as there are two other major changes reported. Their teeth have changed shape, they are now sharp enough to pierce through human or vampire skin. They’re also venomous (more on that later), able to inject anybody they bite, fellow vampires included, with venom.

There’s also the fact that vampires are changed on a molecular level, but more on that later.

Strength, speed, and precision

Meta I wrote on vampire strength disparity.

Vampires are ridiculously powerful, no upper limit (as in, «Newborn Emmett can carry 500 tonnes») is given, but whatever it is it’s high. Alice might just be the physically weakest vampire in the saga (Jane is physically smaller, but she eats properly. Alice lives on a subpar diet), but to Bella it makes no difference, Alice blows her out of the park anyway. Edward, a malnourished and not too strong vampire, is easily able to pick up entire trees by the roots, and then throw them at a small target.

As for speed, vampires move faster than the human eye can register, which according to this article means they can reach a speed of 38 146 mph! (61 390 km/h for us metric people) (Also, the traveling object used for this calculation was a ball, and the article specifies that it would be different for bigger objects. Alas I’m not going to bother my physicist friend with this, so we’re using the ball number.)

When it comes to precision, vampires exercise perfect muscle control. They’re so graceful their steps can’t be heard by humans,  Edward can famously stroke a soap bubble without popping it, and they’re able to perfectly mimic the handwriting of others (a task anyone who’s ever googled forensic calligraphy will know is next to impossible). Much of this appears to be instinctual, like a downloaded .vampire package. Knowing how to attack prey, where to bite, that all happens on autopilot. So too does running, jumping, walking (funny how their default mode, even Carlisle’s, is to walk too quietly for their designated prey to detect). Snarling, hissing, and growling are also distinctly non-human manners vampire adopt.

Senses

Heightened sight, hearing, and smell is extremely useful. It makes them much more effective hunters. The smell especially is useful here, but really, all their senses are invaluable in this. It’s great for dealing with fellow vampires as well, they can see, hear, and smell their kind coming from a far distance.

There’s an added advantage, though. As I got into here, and here, if a vampire’s memories of their human life is dull and washed out compared to their brilliant new existence, dismissing humans as equally deserving of life becomes that much easier to justify. Heightened emotions serves this same purpose, though considering their longevity I think this is another form of survival, that they’re wired not to grow bored with life (but this is really for a separate meta).

There’s also the fact that their senses have to be tuned up to 11 to fit their other enhanced abilities. There’s no use in super-speed if you can’t see where you’re going.

Vampires’ heightened senses make them more efficient predators, and help them become the bloodthirsty sociopaths we know and love.

Pain receptors, or lack thereof

Vampires feel pain when they are thirsty, when their limbs are torn off, when they are bitten by other vampires (it appears to be the venom that stings), or when subjected to a gift that induces pain (Jane, Kate). They don’t feel pain like humans do, nor do they feel discomfort (they can sit indefinitely in any position, never feeling the need to shift around.

Interestingly, it looks to me like pain serves the same function for them as it does for humans. The brain registers pain to tell us something, a biological error message. Don’t walk on that leg, it’s injured. Get your hand off the hot stove and don’t put it there again. Pain is useful.

Vampires, by contrast, are not going to get injured from someone hitting them. There are no blood vessels that can burst, no soft tissue that can burst nor bones that can break. So, no need for their brains to register that as pain. Humans need to change positions every now and then for the sake of our circulation and so we don’t develop pressure ulcers (and I’m sure there are more reasons), vampires have no circulation and, as mentioned above, their skin is armor. No pressure ulcers.

What they do need pain for, is to let them know to feed. That’s the big one, and in turn the strongest one. The pain of the thirst is unbearable, as it has to be to turn a human who was infected with venom into a killer. It’s survival. Same goes for feeling pain when their limbs are torn off, or their bodies damaged by a bite. Their pain receptors let them know to avoid this next time.

As for Jane and Kate’s gifts, this may not serve a purpose for other vampires, but it serves a purpose for Jane and Kate. It protects them. So, sucks for everyone else, but that’s what gifts do, they give the gift-haver a leg up on others.

Digestive system

Carlisle had spent many years attempting to understand our immortal anatomy; it was a difficult task, based mostly on assumption and observation. Vampire cadavers were not available for study.

His best interpretation of our life systems was that our internal workings must be microscopically porous. Though we could swallow anything, only blood was accepted by our bodies. That blood was absorbed into our muscles and provided fuel. When the fuel was depleted, our thirst intensified to encourage us to replenish our supply. Nothing besides blood seemed to move through us at all. (Midnight Sun, chapter Home)

Ignoring the horrifying fact that the context for this quote is Edward wondering if Bella’s tear could stay in his system forever, this here is extremely interesting and I agree. Partly because I can’t think of anything better, partly because Carlisle is an in-universe medical genius who’s had access to far more data than I have. He can run experiments, I can’t. Even if I came up with a theory I thought was better, if blood absorption through porous tissue is Carlisle’s best theory then there must be evidence in favor of this which I don’t have access to. So, porous tissue it most likely is.

(Also, my «Carlisle totally volunteered for vivisection fun times with Aro in Volterra» theory survives that first paragraph. Vampire cadavers might not be available for study, but live ones absolutely are, you just pick them apart and put them back together after, and bring in Corin and/or Alec so the guinea pig has a good time too. There’s no way that never occurred to Aro. Even if it didn’t, it’s bound to have occurred to someone over the years, and Aro touches a lot of people. And we know he and Carlisle discussed what vampires even were, that they were best friends and all about that science.

We also know that sometimes, your weird science experiments involving dismemberment and tripping on Corin in Volterra, stay in Volterra. The tissue is porous, Edward, DON’T ASK ME HOW I KNOW.)

This has huge implications. What happened to the digestive system they used to have?

It’s still there, but non-operational.

Middle solution: it’s recognizably there, but welded shut. At some point, whatever the vampire ingests hits an untraversable boundary, and from there the blood is absorbed while any other matter remains, undigested (though possibly dissolved by venom) until regurgitated.

The vampire’s inner anatomy is unrecognizable from that of a human. Vampires have no need for livers, bowels, gall bladders, and so on, and so these organs no longer exist, or have even been replaced by other organs (assuming vampires need any, more on that later).

My vote lies with the third option, though both second and third are possible. The first one, not so much, as it means that in theory, they could force something through their system. They can’t.

More, vampires are nothing if not extremely efficient and economical organisms. They don’t need to feel pain from a physical blow, so they don’t. Why carry around these organs they’re not using?

Then there’s what they even need their digestive system to do. Humans need the nutrients in our meals not just as fuel, but as- well, everything. We need the building blocks for our cells. Our bodies are constantly renewing themselves. Vampires, by contrast, don’t appear to do this. There’s no waste of any kind, and their skin doesn’t get flaky. Edward specifically says blood is fuel, and I think that’s a literal interpretation.

Now we’re veering into speculation territory, and this isn’t the place for it just yet as we’re veering into what venom is and does, but I think whatever digestive process vampires have, serves to turn their blood to venom. I don’t think there’s any particular organ for this, I think that’s just because that’s what happens when venom comes into contact with blood. We see it happen when humans are bitten, and I think it’s fair to assume that the same thing happens when venom comes into contact with ingested blood.

This also helps explain why animal blood isn’t equal to human blood. Animals can’t be turned to vampires, it’s blood but venom and animal blood aren’t on the same FM, so to say. So, with no better option, yes venom can make do with animal blood, but it won’t perform as well as it would with human blood. The vampire is now weaker, with the frankly terrifying side effect that their eyes change color. We’re so used to this that we just go «oh, yeah, animal blood means their eyes turn yellow. It’s like a LED light letting you know which diet the vampire is on!» when in any other organism, a chance of color like that is usually the sign of something being wrong. Blue lips, yellow sclera, red urine, all color changes that point to something not being not as it should be.

Now, to go further here would mean getting more into what venom even is, which is best saved for part three. I’ll say this, venom appears to be the only fluid in the vampire body. It’s moistens their eyes (and melts their contacts), pools in their mouth, is injected through their fangs, and the application of venom to a wound makes them heal faster. Venom is the substance they rely on, more so even than blood, their elixir of life. (My speculation on how Edward was able to impregnate Bella is reserved for the hybrid/what is venom metas).

Also, on what vampires carry over from their human bodies, I do think they’re economical enough to not fix what ain’t broken. I think this because the human nervous system is absolutely brilliant, and indeed Bella regains sensation during her transformation where her spine had once been broken and unable to communicate with her brain. Question is, of course, was this because her new vampire body still uses the human nervous system, or did Bella regain sensation because her transformation had gotten to a point where this was no longer the case?

Beauty

The beauty part has gotten some very valid criticism, as beauty is very subjective and venom makes it out to be an objective, empirically measurable unit.

To caveat first, we see in canon that not all vampires are gorgeous. James was an ugly human, and so as a vampire he’s no beauty. Maggie was emaciated and not particularly attractive, so she’s bony and not hot by vampire standards. The Cullens, by contrast, were attractive humans. Human Bella is a hottie, she pulls all the guys without issue. If she were as plain as she thinks she is, she wouldn’t get male attention. Being new is only gonna get her so far. Jasper was turned because Maria thought he was a cutie, and same goes for Emmett with Rosalie.

(There’s also a certain inherent bias - I imagine attractive people have a much higher chance of getting turned than uglies.)

More, understand that vampires don’t look human. They’re flawless, desirable, perfect, yes - but they are very distinctly not human, and humans know as much instinctively:

Like any normal human, suddenly standing just a foot away from a vampire would send adrenaline racing through his veins. Fear would twist in his stomach for just a fraction of a second, and then his rational mind would take over. His brain would force him to ignore all the little discrepancies that marked me as other. His eyes would refocus and he would see nothing more than a teenage boy. I watched him come to that conclusion, that I was just a normal boy. I knew he would be wondering what his body’s strange reaction had been about. (Midnight Sun, chapter 21, page 547)

Vampires are beautiful in the way the Nefertiti bust is beautiful. It’s perfect, otherworldly, timelessly beautiful, but looking at it you know this is a bust and not a living human woman.

With that in mind, I think some of the vampire’s unnatural beauty is… not circumstantial, but happy bonuses to their other qualities. Their perfect skin, for instance, goes a long way towards making them beautiful. Perfectly smooth, a glowing white, no disruptions like blackheads, scarring, or sweat. At one point Bella describes Rosalie as looking airbrushed. Their perfect teeth, impeccable grace, these features also help.

Now, I think when venom makes a human more beautiful, I think the big thing it does is make the features perfectly symmetrical. This by itself is immediately inhuman and unnatural, more computer generated than human, just perfect enough to tick off the uncanny valley box. This would explain the flawlessness Bella keeps describing in vampires. It also explains the disparity in beauty, the features Rosalie had to work with and get symmetrical were lovelier than the ones James had, and why they can look completely different from each other yet share that same kind of uncanny impeccability. It also explains how people of wildly different face types and ethnicities can all be beautiful, the venom won’t erase the features you had but rather refine them into the best they can be.

I do think that refinement, in addition to symmetry, happens. If it didn’t, the change wouldn’t be so radical from human to vampire. More, all vampires are described as having sharp features, Esme stands out for the fact that she retained some of her human softness. So, the venom appears to make features more angular and, well, sharp.

Aro’s description is in favor of my interpretation of vampiric beauty: 

I couldn't decide if his face was beautiful or not. I suppose the features were perfect. But he was as different from the vampires beside him as they were from me. His skin was translucently white, like onionskin, and it looked just as delicate (New Moon, page 234)

His features are flawless, meaning symmetrical. He should be beautiful, so it’s the skin that gives her pause.

There’s also the matter that beauty is observed in the body, not just the form. They all look strong and limber, even the tiniest of vampires. I imagine some of this is simply texture, that vampires are made hard, smooth, and perfect, but we have this from Bella looking in the mirror after waking up a vampire:

She was fluid even in stillness, and her flawless face was pale as the moon against the frame of her dark, heavy hair. Her limbs were smooth and strong, skin glistening subtly, luminous as a pearl. (Breaking Dawn, page 261)

Fluid even in stillness, her limbs smooth and strong. This woman was starving to death when she died. Combined with the fact that Edward, who was a sick 17-year-old, has muscle definition, it seems venom does body sculpting as well. Though it’s worth noting that hydration goes a long way towards muscle definition for humans, so the change in fluid composition in vampires could have something to do with it their limber appearance.

Then there’s the other vampire beauty markers.

Their voices are described quite unusually, with words like wind chimes, bells, or feathers. They’re beautiful, but, like everything else about vampires, inhuman. When Carlisle calls Billy on the phone, Billy immediately recognized the voice as somehow wrong, it’s too clear and sharp.

I mean, I think in part this is because their vocal cords aren’t made of soft human tissue anymore, but most likely stone. No matter what they’re made of, though, it’s no surprise that we’re not getting human voices out of them.

Their scent is appetizing to humans and other vampires alike, and serves a duel purpose. Humans are attracted to them (well, vampires are too), while vampires are able to use it for tracking purposes. It’s tremendously useful for keeping track of your territory, as randos can’t walk in and eat your food and sneak off again without leaving a trail. It’s also good for meeting up with friends, we see Carlisle and Siobhan use it for this purpose in Midnight Sun.

Circulation

The purpose of blood is to carry oxygen and nutrients to the cells. Apparently, this isn’t a need vampires have. All they need is venom. The theory that their tissue is porous adds to this, as it would mean blood travels through their body in a different manner. The porous tissue replaces circulation.

So, no circulation for vampires because they don’t need it.

This meta is now getting ridiculously long, so I’m putting the venom production section in the venom meta.

The transformation

The transformation is complete when the heart stops beating. The former human is now a vampire, and no longer reliant on a heartbeat, nor oxygen. In this they are different from hybrids.

As for the process itself, I think that as the venom spreads, it starts multiplying on its own. This is why it took longer for Carlisle than it did Bella, she was bitten and injected multiple times and on every part of her body while Carlisle was grazed on the arm. Bella had more venom that could work on her, Carlisle did not. These facts support my theory of the slow spread of venom.

I’ve played with the thought of the transformation happening in stages, where the first act is the spread of the venom, which then spreads throughout the body and heals the body to put it at default, the second act is the bodysculpting, and the third act the finishing touches. It doesn’t quite fit with venom transforming as it goes, though, so I’m very hm on that.

A few observations:

Activity level doesn’t appear to help spread the venom. Carlisle exerted himself, and his transformation took far more time than normal (though lying still instead of contorting in agony probably doesn’t help in that regard). Bella laid still as a corpse, and her transformation took far less time than normal. The venom spreads in its own time, regardless of what the blood circulation is up to.

Going by the accounts of the Cullens, while the pain is constant, the transformation hurts increasingly as the venom spreads.

Bella was severely injured, and needed to be healed before she could even feel all the pain. Her broken spine, for instance, meant she couldn’t feel below the waist.

Carlisle said it’s «easier if the blood is weak» (cryptic much?! Not making it easy for me, dude. Though as this was said in the context of Edward explaining that Carlisle would only turn someone already dying, I do think he’s referring to what it’s like for vampires, though, that humans are not so tempting if they’re half dead.)

Healing

Now we’re veering into the venom meta, but: the transformation fixes anything that could impede the vampire’s function. Bella would get nothing done with her post-birth broken body, and so she’s fixed up for her. Alice’s emaciation means she’s thin and less strong than others, it doesn’t physically prevent her from doing anything.

The venom, it appears, heals the human not because it’s being altruistic, nor to make the vampire more appealing to others, but to make the human into an ideal host. BUT MORE ON THAT IN THE VENOM META.

With that, my god we’re done. And this meta is  words in total, an ugly number.

Lastly, I know that putting a read more at the end of a 4k long meta is the worst joke in the world (RIP to you poor souls scrolling past this. My reason for not being a read more kind of gal to be found here)

Nothing yet, I’m afraid.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 13

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Ahsoka takes Din on a journey through the past.

“You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,958

Warnings: angst, swearing, character death (canonical, but with my own twist), made up planet name that is ridiculous, dialogue heavy, plot plot plot, backstory

Author Note: Good lord this is soooo late coming out. To anyone who sent me an encouraging message I am beyond grateful because I really needed the encouragement to finish this segment. I hope more than anything this segment gives more answers than it raises questions (although reading your theories is both awesome and entertaining so keep them coming too!)

Links to Part 1 and Part 12 and Part 14

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

“Who the fuck is Moff Gideon?”

Ahsoka looks at Din, her brow furrowed deeply. He’s seen the expression on her face enough times to recognize its meaning: this is the face she makes when she is about to reveal a message directly from the universe itself. As an Oracle, she is the only immortal who can glimpse details of the past, present, and future. She has a soft spot for mortals, sharing the few precious snippets the universe allows her to with them in the forms of riddles and vague prophecies that never fail to give Din a migraine with their crypticness when he hears them.

“Moff Gideon is a Seraph who grew discontent with his position amongst immortals,” she says at last.

“Is he the one responsible for keeping my soulmate from me?” he asks, voice as harsh and unforgiving as the environment surrounding them.

“He is responsible for many sins.”

“I don’t have time for your vague answers,” he growls, hands twisting into fists. “You tell me not to kill this Seraph, then in the next breath claim he’s a threat. I am not a mortal who will be entertained by riddles, Ahsoka. You summoned me here to talk, so start talking. Tell me what you know.”

The Oracle’s mouth purses into a thin line. Nearly a full minute passes before she speaks again. When she does, the calmness is no longer natural, but forced. “Telling you what I know would be impossible.”

“Ahsoka—”

“But,” she pitches her voice higher than his protest while narrowing her eyes disapprovingly, “I am capable of showing you. You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

She reaches forward, pressing her index and middle fingers to the center of his visor. If not for his helmet, she’d be touching the space directly between his eyes and instinct tells him the positioning isn’t random.

“We’ll start at the beginning,” she says, but her voice has changed from its usual cadence. It is ancient and youthful, a harsh scream and a hushed whisper all at once.

Din has only the slightest of seconds to process this in addition to the way her facial markings start to glow and her eyes flash white before he finds himself standing in the midst of a crisis.

There is mass hysteria every direction he turns. People screaming in terror, pushing each other and tripping over those who have fallen in their haste to flee an unseen threat; whole buildings are crumbling, sending flaming debris and shards of glass raining down upon the streets as smoke billows into the sky. The edges of his field of view are blurred, like he’s looking at everything through someone’s glasses, and it creates an ache behind his eyeballs. Fuck, is this what it’s like for Ahsoka when she experiences visions?

‘You remember the Fall of Mandalore, don’t you, Death?’ Ahsoka’s voice resonates from deep inside his brain, as if she’s fused her consciousness with his.

His jaw tightens when he says, “Of course.”

‘Oh, look. There you are.’

Sure enough, when Din looks forward he sees himself moving swiftly through the crowd, unaffected by the chaos as he stoops to reap the soul of a woman who’s had her skull caved in by the stampede of frantic civilians. He wonders how many others can say they’ve had an out-of-body-experience such as what he’s dealing with right now: reliving a traumatic event all over again while observing himself the same way a stranger would from a distance.

“Why are you showing me this?”

‘Because it’s important,’ Ahsoka answers, and the image of her frowning face enters his mind unbiddenly. ‘The universe has a plethora of endings imagined for every civilization, but it is the individual choices of the community that act as stepping stones bringing them closer to a specific fate.’

“Mandalore was always meant to fall apart. It was just a matter of how, not when,” he surmises, voice devoid of emotion. His words are punctuated by another fiery blast from a nearby complex, followed by an ear-piercing wall of a terrified child.

‘Precisely. But the same cannot be said for an individual’s lifespan. There are consequences if someone perishes before their time has come. You should know that better than anyone.’ There is a hint of accusation thinly veiled in her tone that has his body tensing reflexively.

His location shifts, shapes and colors mixing together without warning before another scene gradually comes into focus. It’s a large chamber with sparse furnishings, but its beauty is tarnished by the copious amounts of glass littering the room as every single one of the ornately designed windows have been shattered from the force of the explosions outside. Din knows before he even lays eyes on the throne he’s inside the royal palace because he first sees the familiar face of his most trusted reaper standing next to a blond-haired woman. Both women have such strikingly similar facial features nobody who sees them side by side can have any doubt they are related.

Whereas Bo-Katan dons gray-and-blue armor with a jetpack strapped to her back and two blaster pistols holstered at her sides, her sister, Satine, wears a garnet colored dress with a gold belt wrapped around her slender waist. In this moment, the sisters differ from each other as much as night and day; one a military leader, the other a pacifistic duchess.

“You need someone here to protect you. We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with and it isn’t safe for you to be alone,” Bo-Katan argues, crossing her arms over her chest as if to intimidate her sister into submitting.

“Our people are scared and defenseless, Bo. They need your protection during this crisis more than I currently do,” Satine says, voice soft but firm in a way only those deeply involved in politics can master.

Bo-Katan glances out the broken windows at the burning city, stubborn loyalty to protect her sister warring with her duty to protect her people. “Then at least send a message to Obi-Wan to come here.”

Satine shakes her head. “Bo—”

“I know things are strained between you two right now—”

“That’s a glaring understatement.”

“—but he’s one of our best and most loyal guards. He’s proven more than a dozen times he’ll fight anyone who’s a threat to you.”

“I don’t need the reminder of what he’s done for me.”

Bo-Katan places a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and squeezes it when she says, “He’s the only one other than myself I trust to protect you if you were to encounter danger.”

“Just because I’m committed to peace does not mean I am incapable of looking after myself.” Satine reaches behind herself to detach a weapon that had been clipped to the back of her belt. She clicks a button on its hilt, emitting a white blade shining brightly like a beacon amongst the dark clouds of smoke tainting the air.

Din’s breath catches in his throat. “Is that…?”

‘The Lightsaber of Mandalore,’ Ahsoka confirms. ‘Made by the Armorer herself.’

The Armorer is deeply respected by both mortals and immortals alike. As the goddess of metalworking and blacksmiths, there is nothing she cannot forge and infuse with grand powers. However, she is exceedingly cautious about choosing who is a recipient of her creations.

Din is one such recipient, having been given his armor of pure beskar when the Armorer realized how dangerous his touch was to mortals. He remains eternally grateful for the gift not only because it prohibits unwanted physical contact, but also because it is invulnerable to damage or rust like other types of armor. Ahsoka’s dual sabers were also made in the Armorer’s forge, specifically designed for the Oracle’s grip alone and meant to protect her during her journeys throughout the galaxy, but in contrast to the white blade of the Lightsaber, the blades of Ahsoka’s weapons matched the same blue coloring as the stripes on her lekku and montrals.

According to the legends Din’s heard, the Armorer created the Lightsaber for the first ruler of Mandalore because she was impressed with their culture and strong military, and it was passed on to each new heir to the throne over the centuries. When wielded in battle, the Lightsaber made the user invincible against enemy attacks as it siphoned off energy from the souls of those it sliced through.

Throughout the long history of Mandalore, Satine was distinguished as the only ruler to avoid warfare as she sincerely believed negotiations and treaties could solve any problem quicker than bloodshed.

As such, Din isn’t surprised when Bo-Katan raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Did you forget who you’re talking to? I know you wouldn’t use the Lightsaber even to cut a piece of fruit.”

Satine sighs through her nose, sheathing the weapon once more. “Fine. I’ll contact Obi the second you’re gone.”

“You better.” Bo-Katan leans forward, pressing her forehead against her sister’s. A gesture of affection within their culture. “I’ll see you soon.”

And then she’s gone, flying out the nearby window and diving straight into the fray. As a mortal and as a reaper, the redhead is fearless in the face of danger. Some might consider the behavior reckless, but Din’s always been impressed by her dogged tenacity to achieve victory no matter the difficulty of her mission.

Din looks back at Satine. Now that she is alone in the room, she is able to freely express her distress at the unfolding situation, looking as if she’s aged ten years within the blink of an eye. She fiddles with the comlink around her wrist, seeming hesitant to call this Obi-Wan fellow like she agreed to.

‘They haven’t realized it, but they’re soulmates, ’ Ahsoka murmurs, low and melancholic. Hearing it makes Din’s chest constrict with unease. ‘They fought recently and parted ways upset with each other. Unfortunately, she dies before they can resolve their miscommunication.’

The next sequence of events play out startlingly quick, as if Ahsoka has chosen to suddenly jump forward in time. His eyes struggle to absorb the fleeting details—the doors to the throne room being blown open; a Seraph in black armor emerging from the smoke; his voice is unique, velvety and thorny at the same time, as he addresses the duchess by her full name Satine Kryze; Satine attempting to stall as she subtly taps at her comlink, only for the tactic to fail as the foe teleports closer, eliminating the space between them.

“You have something I want,” he tells her, seizing hold of her throat. “You may think you have some idea of what you have in your possession, but you do not.”

One of Satine’s hands claws at his face, attempting to gouge out his eyeballs with her nails, while the other reaches for the Lightsaber. Her fingertips brush against its metal hilt just as he throws her to the floor. The impact knocks the breath out of her lungs, eliciting a strangled gasp, and shards of glass dig into her exposed skin, dotting the pale flesh with beads of blood.

Gideon—Din doesn’t need Ahsoka’s input to know this, for who else could the Seraph be but him?—places the heel of his boot over Satine’s neck. He doesn’t apply pressure yet, but the action in itself has the duchess squirming with panic, hitting at his leg futilely. There is a red light on the comlink flashing insistently, indicating someone on the other end is speaking but they’ve been muted.

“Give me the asset I seek.”

Through clenched teeth, Satine wheezes, “It belongs to Mandalore.”

“I thought you might say that,” Gideon replies, feigning disappointment. “However, in case you haven’t noticed Duchess,” he gestures towards the windows, “Mandalore is dead. My accomplices have made sure of that.”

“You’re a coward for hiding behind others. You don’t deserve the Lightsaber.”

There is a sudden change in the atmosphere, air turning impossibly frigid and crisp.

“I deserve it more than anyone,” Gideon says, angry enough he is trembling. The Seraph’s stance shifts, and although Din has witnessed every type of brutal death imaginable, he flinches at the sound of Satine’s neck snapping beneath his heel.

Gideon rolls her lifeless body over and rips the Lightsaber off her belt, a satisfied smirk on his face. He disappears as quickly as he arrived, reward in hand, and an eerie silence envelops the room. It’s almost as if the palace itself is stunned by the loss of its ruler, struggling to make sense of the merciless act of violence.

Time skips forward again, showing a young bearded-man dressed in military armor clutching at Satine’s body, pressing his forehead against hers as he weeps. Over and over he keeps murmuring apologies for not being quicker, for failing to be there when she needed him, for never saying he loved her.

“How do you know Satine and Obi-Wan are soulmates if they never matched?” Din asks, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment despite not actually being there.

He thinks of a similarly phrased question he’d asked his angel on their way to Sorgan what feels like entire lifetimes ago: how will I know it’s my soulmate? Her eloquent response remains embedded deep in his memory, safely stored away along with every other moment they’ve spent together. Longing twists like a knife in his side as he allows himself a second of weakness to look at the soulmate marking on his palm.

‘I saw the life they were going to share,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘Satine Kryze was not meant to die here. She and Obi-Wan should have both survived the Fall of Mandalore, settling down happily with each other elsewhere in the galaxy. Gideon’s greed altered their destinies.’

The palace fades away to reveal a much older Obi-Wan, gray-haired and wrinkled. He’s in Mos Eisley; Din recognizes the crowded spaceport instantly having taken his ship there for repairs numerous times over the years.

‘The universe puts a lot of effort into making sure soulmates match with each other at a very precise moment. Even if the match is rejected, the individuals still had an important impact on each other’s lives. Timing is the most important factor for a soulmate pairing, and if it’s off then the universe will attempt to fix it.’

Obi-Wan stops to help a woman who’s accidentally dropped her shopping bag, contents spilling out onto the sandy ground. She thanks him as he offers her a polite smile, both of their attentions on each other’s faces and not their hands. More specifically: their marked hands. There is the barest brush of their fingertips as they reach for the same item before an invisible blast of energy erupts from their touch, splitting them apart and sending every person and thing surrounding them flying in all directions.

The shock on Obi-Wan’s face matches Din’s own beneath his helmet. He remembers his angel telling him after the failed match with Omera what happened on Sorgan wasn’t the first time an event like that occurred, but she hadn’t been privy to the details. Her superior had told her she wasn’t high enough ranking which Din had thought sounded like a load of bantha shit at the time.

“Ahsoka, what is the meaning of this?” Din asks the questions quietly, but there’s an audible coating of frustration that he knows she won’t miss. “Satine’s dead.”

‘You didn’t reap her soul,’ Ahsoka says. It’s said as a gentle reminder, but it nevertheless has Din feeling like the ground has disappeared beneath his feet as realization dawns.

“I...didn’t.”

A quiet sigh echoes through his head. ‘I forgot how ignorant you can be. You can’t reap a mortal soul that transforms into a new entity.’

“She’s a Cupid,” Din murmurs. Either that or a reaper, but he knows each of his reapers like the back of his hand and Satine isn’t nor has she ever been one. He shakes his head, thinking of Obi-Wan finding Satine’s body in the throne room. “That doesn’t make any sense. Obi-Wan clearly loved her.”

‘Rejection can sometimes stem from a misunderstanding. Satine’s last living encounter with Obi-Wan was him saying so long as he was part of the royal guard they had no future together. She perceived this as him denying he cared about her, not knowing he had made plans to retire in order to ask for her hand.’

In front of Din, Obi-Wan rubs at his soulmate marking while staring at the mess around him, lines of unease and confusion creasing his forehead.

‘You asked, what is the meaning of this moment?’ Ahsoka continues. ‘It’s one of the universe’s attempts to reconnect Obi-Wan and Satine so they experience their matching as they were intended to.’

“But they’re of different statuses,” he points out needlessly. “She’ll outlive him.”

‘Yes, but the matching of soulmates not only influences the lives of the pair, but the lives of other people as well in ways both obvious and invisible. Think of it as a ripple effect.’

“Did the universe’s attempt work?” Din wonders. “Were they ever reunited?”

‘When Satine awoke as a Cupid, it was a surprise to both her and Gideon. Rather than kill her a second time, the Seraph chose to inflict a worse fate. She became the first of her kind to have her memories erased. However, he’d never previously used his ability on another immortal before, resulting in him nearly wiping her entire mind clean. The universe is capable of many miracles, big and small, but every attempt of reuniting the pair failed. It remains the universe’s most profound regret which is ultimately the reason why the universe brought you to Trinomliaxeros without your armor so that history wouldn’t repeat itself.’

There is a strange, heavy feeling that suddenly inflates within the confines of Din’s chest like a balloon. It’s different from the rampant anger he can still detect simmering beneath the skin of his human façade. He tries to shake it off, focusing on his breathing and the desert heat emanating from the twin suns overhead, only to slowly realize that what he’s feeling is fear.

Within his memory he can recall just one other distinct moment in his existence where he felt this spine-chilling emotion, and that moment was experienced on Trinomliaxeros.

“What did you just say?” His voice sounds shaky even to his own ears, but he can’t find any energy within himself to care.

A long stretch of silence fills his head; it’s the fragile kind, too, preventing him from snapping at Ahsoka to answer lest she become angry at him and yank him out the vision entirely.

‘Twice the timing of a soulmate match has been disturbed. The first pair affected was Obi-Wan and Satine. And the second pair was...’

“Ahsoka,” he says when she hesitates to continue, but any additional words he can think of saying catch in the back of his throat.

‘The second pair was you and your angel.’ Another pause of silence, shorter but no less meaningful. ‘Only fifty years ago, she wasn’t an angel.’

This is what Din remembers from Trinomliaxeros: feeling a pull so forceful, impatient and unanticipated it drags him across the galaxy in his civilian clothes, arriving to find the planet engulfed in smoke, unable to see his hand in front of his face, even without his gloves on. Finding skeletal remains burnt to blackened crisps with the souls inside shaking and traumatized, practically leaping into his outstretched hand, knowing either the afterlife or damnation would be better destinations than lingering there even a second longer. Explosions in the distance, bursts of flames as intense and hot as the sun, greedily consuming everything in their radius.

Out of the smoke and darkness, a survivor. A girl, covered in soot and sweat, colliding with his chest. The dead are calling out to him, pleading for him to reap them, to save them. Their voices swirl around his head, clawing at his brain and pounding against his skull. Shoving the girl aside, one foot in front of the other, letting his powers guide him to the next soul. Her voice cuts across the distance, a plasma bolt striking him in the back. We’re soulmates, she says.

His breath stills in his lungs. Fear spreads like a virus through his bloodstream, slipping beneath his defenses, turning him into a stranger within his own body. The declaration is a lie, an impossibility, a delusion. He has no match, hands unmarked, flesh poisonous and lethal. His words, too, are weapons themselves. Sharp, ruthless, desiring to wound her as she’s wounded him. You could never be my soulmate.

And then he’d left her.

This is what Din remembers. But, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly it hurts, I’ve remembered everything all wrong.

Phantom hands gently press against the sides of his helmet, offering comfort without caring about the dried blood. He keeps his eyes shut, knowing it’s just a manifestation crafted by Ahsoka in his head. ‘Don’t blame yourself. This was the only viable outcome the universe could produce to ensure the bad timing would be remedied in the future,’ she says, but it does little to lessen the weight on his chest. ‘Your rejection saved her life. It granted you both a second chance of a first meeting.’

“How did—” Din struggles to string words together, to fucking breathe. “She—She knew. What we were. How…?”

The Oracle puts him out of his misery. ‘She found out the way all soulmates do: through touch.’

Din’s eyes fly open at that, and he has to blink a few times to bring everything into focus because there’s him and his angel right in front of him, frozen mid-collision. She’s grasping the sleeves of his coat to keep her balance, the palm of her marked hand touching his wrist. He stares at the point of contact for a moment, then barks out a laugh, hysterical and strangled sounding.

“That’s not possible.”

‘Soulmates can’t kill each other. She’s always been meant to withstand your touch.’

Din swallows thickly, staring at his angel’s face. He hates the question forming on his tongue, but it will haunt him the rest of his life if he doesn’t ask it. “In your visions, when I meet her at the right time, what happens?”

'You’re different by then, less broody and more accepting of the notion you could be loved. You have a soulmate marking,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘You fall for her hard, even before your hands brush. You love her throughout the entirety of her lifetime.’

“And...when she dies?” The words taste like blood in his mouth.

‘Don’t torture yourself, Death. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore.’

For one brief, fleeting second Din is actually grateful Gideon altered their destinies. However, in the next, he’s trying not to let the fear gnawing at the back of his mind increase as it belatedly occurs to him that the universe is not as infallible as he’s always believed it was.

He wishes he could see Ahsoka, if only so he could glare at her directly. “Everything you’ve shown me has only further convinced me Gideon deserves death. Why have you asked me to promise not to kill him?”

'Do you remember what happens after this moment on Trinomliaxeros?’

Din frowns at the change of subject. “I continued to reap souls.”

'Yes. And then?’

He huffs a frustrated breath through his nose. This is Ahsoka, he thinks, at her most annoying. But, as much he loathes admitting it, this is also the most helpfully transparent she’s ever been. Today may be the only time she trusts him enough to share her visions. He owes it to her to be as open as she’s being with him.

That being said, he’s still wary of the memories he’s kept in the distant, shadowy corners of his mind being pulled into the spotlight. “Tell me we’re not gonna talk about the kid.”

‘We talked about the universe’s biggest regret. It’s only fair we talk about yours too.’ Ahsoka has found the crack in his armor he’s tried so long to conceal, peeling it open without remorse.

She doesn’t spare him time to argue. All he does is blink and he’s looking at his past self locked in a staring contest with a little green-skinned child who is propped up inside a floating, orb-shaped pram.

Of all the buildings and homes on the planet, only its temple had remained untouched by the destruction. Din didn’t know if it had been the structure’s own holy foundation keeping it standing or if it was the personal choice of the mastermind behind the attack, but he’d been drawn to it regardless, finding souls there to reap whose hosts had differed from other victims in that their throats had been slit. The walls of the temple were adorned with intricate murals depicting immortal figures and religious events of ancient history, but before he could observe the artwork closer, a quiet coo had stopped him in his tracks.

When he opened the pram, he hadn’t anticipated finding a baby of all creatures. When their eyes connected, every background noise abruptly ceased. Even the voices of the dead fell silent. Rather than rouse his suspicions, Din had felt only a sense of peace he usually only experienced in the midst of hyperspace travel where the stars were his voiceless companions.

An unspoken conversation transpired between the two of them, one Din still can’t translate into words all these years later, but it concluded with him knowing he would take the child with him.

Din had reached for him unthinkingly, the child lifting his arms up in eagerness to be held, but self-awareness kicked in right before contact and Din retracted his hands away so fast it startled the child into crying, brown eyes filling with tears. Panicked, he surveyed the room, looking for something to put an end to the wailing, before looking down at his own coat, experiencing a lightbulb moment.

“Alright, kid, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Watching his past self shrug off the coat, Din remembers it had been his favorite of his civilian clothes, well worth the cost for its soft fabric and length. He managed to successfully swaddle the child, ensuring his arms were safely tucked away to prevent him endangering his life, and Din exhaled a quiet breath of relief when the tears dried up almost immediately.

However, the ensuing silence wasn’t as peaceful as the previous one. Both past and present Din turn at the sound of distant shuffling echoing off the temple walls from another room.

“Ignore it,” Din tells his past self. “Just take the kid and leave.”

But his plea goes unheard and the past remains unchanged. Ahsoka is silent inside his head, either because she knows he won’t accept any more comforting words or because she thinks he’s undeserving of them for choosing to leave the child behind in his pram, closing it when he starts to whine again, so Din can go investigate the noise.

Din exhales a quiet breath, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides as he watches himself stalk through the temple halls, checking each room he comes across. It’s strange, seeing himself from this perspective. The distanced viewpoint allows Din to glimpse new details he hadn’t been capable of noticing back then.

Such as the reappearance of a familiar Seraph emerging from the shadows to stab him in the back.

Here’s one of the perks about being Death: he can’t be killed. That fact doesn’t mean there haven’t been attempts though. As Death, people sometimes look at his armor as a challenge. Like if they can fire a shot or throw a knife at just the right angle, it’ll wound him and allow them to live longer. Simply put, all those people are idiots.

When he looks like a regular, unintimidating civilian, he’s also been involved in violent predicaments where someone’s attempted to mug him or where he’s tried to save someone else from a similarly sticky situation.

Armor or no armor though, he’s always walked away from these encounters completely unscathed.

Well. With the sole exception of Trinomliaxeros where he was mostly unscathed.

It wasn’t the first time Din had been stabbed before. Usually knife wounds felt like a mild pinch. More irritating than painful, similar to a splinter stuck in one’s thumb. Once the weapon was removed, the damage healed within seconds, leaving behind no scar or proof he was ever attacked.

Usually, is the keyword to note here.

Ahsoka freezes time right when the blade of the Lightsaber is driven straight through the center of Din’s body, bone and flesh as easy to slice through as melted butter. His agonized expression—eyes screwed shut and lips open in a silent scream—would be comical if Din didn’t remember the exact emotions he was feeling in that moment.

Instead of a pinch, it’d felt as if thousands of invisible hands were pulling and scratching at him, attempting to strip apart his human exterior layer by layer—peeling off skin, scraping away muscle and bone marrow, seeking to reach the core of himself where his powers resided.

‘Looks like it hurts,’ Ahsoka says. The return of her naturally calm and neutral tone of voice seems almost cruel given the frozen, graphic display.

Din again wishes he could glare at her. “Is this funny to you?”

‘The transformation of the Lightsaber into the Darksaber is anything but funny.’

Lost in recollection, he failed to notice until now how the blade of the Lightsaber has changed in color from white to black. It’s the same inky hue that absorbs the brown in his eyes, that had dyed his veins during the execution of Hess.

‘The Armorer specifically instructed the Lightsaber only be used against enemies. As a neutral entity, you are, by definition, no one’s ally or adversary. By stabbing you, the saber became corrupted. It is a consequence Gideon still has yet to fully realize the monumental repercussions of.’

Time resumes, Din’s past self collapsing onto the floor, pressing a hand to the throbbing hole in his chest, attention too consumed by the franticness of his powers struggling to repair the trauma to notice Gideon lingering behind him. The Seraph’s stunned look of shock lasts barely ten seconds, morphing into one of deep contemplation as his gaze flicked between the weapon and Din, before he vanished.

When Din recovered enough to stand, he teleported back to the child’s location at once. He needs to get the little guy as far away from here as possible, somewhere peaceful and safe. His planning came to an abrupt halt upon finding the pram open and empty, his coat shredded and scattered about the floor in pieces.

“Gideon took him.” It isn’t a question.

‘Yes,’ she confirms. ‘The child was the intended target of this siege.’

“Why?”

‘He’s...very special.’ There is something about how her voice hitches when she says ‘special’ that has Din’s instincts prickling with alertness, but he holds his tongue. ‘Gideon considers him a tool he can take advantage of.’

The ugly, tight mass of anger swells inside of him and presses against his lungs, resulting in a low growl slipping out of his mouth. He curses his own ineptitude. If he’d paid more attention, hadn’t allowed himself to be wounded, he could have subdued Gideon and spared both his angel and the child from being captured.

“I warned you once upon a time, there would be consequences if you released your darkness,” Ahsoka says, her voice no longer emitting from inside his head. The vision fades back into reality the same sudden, jarring way one wakes up from dreaming. It takes all of Din’s self-restraint not to perform a full-body shake. “Your control is slipping as your rage increases. It’s making you not think clearly which is exactly what Gideon wants. That is the reason I am asking you to promise you will not kill him.”

Put like that, Din no longer thinks her request sounds quite so outlandish, even though he does still remain in the dark as to what consequences exactly will unfold. Ahsoka has remained stubbornly tight-lipped about the topic from their very first encounter, claiming the universe is adamant she can only share the details with one other person and it isn’t him.

“He deserves to die for all he’s done,” Din says quietly, but he’s self-aware to know his resistance is beginning to crumble.

“Between you and me, I think so, too,” she admits in the same low tone. Her ocean eyes are dark and stormy, reflecting her internal turmoil. “But rules are made for a reason and we would be fools to carelessly overlook the consequences of breaking them.”

The accusatory note from earlier has returned with a vengeance. He’s not surprised—of course the universe would utilize the Oracle to express its disapproval—but aggravation still thrums through his veins.

“Hess played a hand in my soulmate’s fate. He called her a whore.” Din’s upper lip twitches with the urge to snarl. “I don’t regret what I did to him.”

Ahsoka sighs. “I was afraid you’d say that. When you swore your creed, you promised the universe you’d only reap a soul when their host’s time has reached its destined end. By killing Hess, you not only broke a sacred rule, you also broke your creed.”

Din recoils, feeling like he’s been stabbed with the Lightsaber all over again.

“...What?” The anger is gone, extinguished by the weight of the revelation. Confusion and wariness are quick to fill the void. “What does that mean?”

She looks away then, but not quick enough to hide her troubled expression. “I...don’t know.”

He blinks, mind scrambling to understand the implications. “Isn’t that your purpose? To know everything?”

“For the very first time, the future’s unclear to me,” she murmurs, eyes briefly turning cloudy as if she’s trying to take a peek at the potential timelines right then and there. She shakes her head a beat later, frowning. “There are many choices left to be made, each one capable of influencing the fate of the galaxy. It is not possible at this time for me to predict our upcoming reality, let alone your consequences. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Din says, because it’s the truth and he doesn’t like seeing her crestfallen expression. Fuck, he might actually consider her a friend after all.

Whatever happens, he thinks to himself, it can’t be any worse to deal with than being separated from his soulmate. If he can survive this, he can survive anything.

“The last promise I made was broken.” He bites back a wince at the memory of his angel’s pinky promise. “But if making another one is the only way you’ll take me to my soulmate, then you have my word. I won’t kill him.”

A ghost of a smile pulls at her lips before she grabs hold of one of his vambraces. “Take me to your ship. I will guide you to her location.”

“You don’t trust me to go alone?” he asks, unsure whether to be amused or indignant.

“No,” Ahsoka replies bluntly.

Din huffs. “Fine.”

“I may not be able to see much at the moment, but I know it’s never wise to turn down support. You’re going to need us.”

“Us?”

“It’s Bo-Katan’s choice to make, but you and I both know she’s never been one to back down from a fight. Especially once she learns Gideon is her sister’s murderer.”

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[beccascribbles]

after their defeat against karasuno, aoba johsai deal with the repercussion of their loss, ft y/n as a manager.

warnings - swearing

word count - 3.0k

a/n - to be honest, i wrote this for my own selfish indulgence because i honestly have so much love and respect for this team. i hope you enjoy it!

The final whistle blew. You felt numb as you looked at the scoreboard again, the final set count at 2-1 for Karasuno. Shock was evident on each member of Aoba Johsai’s face. Oikawa was frozen, his arms outstretched to dig the ball. It was the most still you’d ever seen them. You felt a strangled cry rise in your throat, and hurriedly swallowed it down. You could not break, not now. Across the court, your eyes met Iwaizumi. You knew what you had to do, be the manager, offer them the support they so desperately needed.

So, at the side of the court, you began to clap for your team. “That was a really good game. You’ll get your revenge next year.”

The words provided little comfort to you and your fellow third years, your shared dream of finally making it to nationals shattering before your eyes. At the very least, the first and second years were able to pull themselves back together, beginning to move to their end of the court to thank Karasuno for the game. Spurred into action by their kouhais, the third years, Oikawa excluded, made their way over to the rest of the team. He stood still, looking over at the other side of the court. Your gaze followed his, falling on the younger setter that Oikawa had so desperately wanted to beat. You weren’t sure what was said between them, but, when Oikawa spun back around, you could see the determination in his eyes.

“No matter what I say, the results are what they are,” said Coach Irihata, the players arranged in a loose semi-circle around him. You stood near the third years, a hand resting on Oikawa’s shoulder as you gave him the physical support he desperately craved. It was clear he was close to breaking, trying to hold his emotions in to be the supportive and collected captain the team deserved in that moment. He shot you a thankful smile. “The bitterness cannot be watered down either. You probably have plays that you will keep regretting. But still, first and foremost, let me say this: you all fought well.”

At those words, Watari and Kindaichi burst into tears, probably replaying the crucial moments within the game where they could have performed better. Meanwhile, you watched as Hanamaki’s and Matsukawa’s faces crumpled, quiet tears beginning to roll down their cheeks. You glanced over at Iwaizumi. He was tense, fists clenched at his sides. His face was fixed in an angry expression. You realised, with a bite of bitter disappointment, that he was blaming himself for the loss. Concerned, you reached out to comfort him, abandoning Oikawa to silently wrap your arms around Iwaizumi’s waist. He remained stiff in your hold, arms hanging at his side.

Oikawa cleared his throat. “Let’s go greet everyone in the stands.”

Iwaizumi marched off, easily breaking out of your hold. You watched him walk over, heard the sob of frustration he let out and stared as he stood frozen in place. You met Oikawa’s face, the worry you felt mirrored in his eyes. He marched over to his friend, giving him a hard slap on the back as he walked past. This jolted Iwaizumi from his thoughts and he stared after Oikawa. Hanamaki followed Oikawa’s example, giving him a firm slap on the back. Matsukawa came next, giving Iwaizumi’s back a brief pat as he walked past. No words were needed. Seeming to snap out of it momentarily, he wiped his tear-streaked face with his shirt before joining the line.

As they thanked everyone for watching, standing in silence to the claps of the spectators, you began to pack away the bags, gathering everyone’s things together in preparation for a quick exit.

And, together, you left the gym in silence. 

After making your way down the hallway for a little bit, a figure came sprinting towards you, tears leaking from his face. You recognised him. Yuda, one of the third years who hadn’t made the starting line-up. “You guys were awesome! You were so strong! You guys basically won! You won!”

“Yuda...” you sighed, stepping forward to calm him down. Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind by Sawauchi and Shido, who yanked him backwards. 

“Yuda! What are you talking about?”

“Calm down!”

“I agree,” you said. “You need to get a grip of yourself.”

He burst forward, dodging past you to grab at Iwaizumi, who had come to a stop behind you. He grabbed him by the hair, beginning to shake him back and forth as he let out a strangled cry of ‘Hajime’.

Oikawa, Hanamaki and Matsukawa watched the scene unfold before them.

“Man... seeing Yudacchi seriously calms me down,” observed Oikawa, as he watched his childhood best friend get shaken furiously. You supposed it was meant to be a form of comfort, but it didn’t seem to be that effective. From what you could see of Iwaizumi’s face, it was twisted in a scowl.

“Yeah...” agreed Hanamaki.

Having seen enough of your friend being shaken from side to side, you interfered, carefully extracting Yuda’s hands from Iwaizumi’s hair. “Please calm down, Yuda. Some of us have played a game and are looking to enjoy some good food, not be shaken by you as you cry... as much as your concern is appreciated.”

And, if breaking up that interaction wasn’t enough, you had tasked yourself with putting Kindaichi’s mind at ease. His composure had lasted for only a couple more minutes before he was blubbering, snot running from his nose. The plastic bag you held out to him was full to the brim with used tissues...and it didn’t look like he was going to be stopping anytime soon.

“Look, Kindaichi, it wasn’t your fault,” you said, wrapping your arms around him so he could sob against you. “You are in a team. And here, we fail and win together.”

“I know,” he hiccuped. You pulled away to look at him. His voice was thick with emotion but he seemed to have calmed down slightly, tears now under control.

“Okay?” you asked, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

“Okay.”

The sound of something colliding with the floor caused you to spin on your heels to head immediately in that direction. The majority of the team were already waiting to board the bus and you had been sent to round up the stragglers. As you turned the corner, you were greeted with a familiar head of blonde hair kicking repeatedly at a bin. With some relief, you noted it was empty. You weren’t particularly looking forward to the idea of scooping up someone else’s rubbish.

“Kyoutani,” you called softly, beginning to walk over to him. You could feel the anger and frustration rolling off him. He turned to look at you, a scowl on his face. Slowly, like you would with a scared animal, you held out your hand. “We’re leaving now. Let’s go to the bus together.”

He looked at your hand, at the gentle smile on your face. Turning away, he gave the bin one more violent kick that sent it careening down the corridor in the opposite direction that you would be going in. Gruffly, he said, “I’m not picking it up.”

“Okay. Are you going to come to the bus with me?”

Letting out a huff, he nodded in assent. That was all the confirmation you needed to finally grab his wrist and drag him down the corridor with you. You bit back the lecture you wanted to give him on damaging other people’s property, deciding to speak to him about his behaviour the next time the opportunity arose. It would hardly do him any good to be scolded at this moment.

“Thank you very much for the food,” you said, bowing slightly as a bowl of ramen was placed in front of you. You had just finished the rounds, making sure everyone had got their food before returning to your seat at the counter next to Hanamaki. Managing this team was so exhausting sometimes, and you deserved this. Eagerly, you began to tuck in, only vaguely aware of what was happening around you.

A shout caused you to snap to attention, eyes falling on Oikawa, who was leaning over Hanamaki. “Shut up! I need to eat right now!”

Food was flying from his mouth. Subconsciously, you leaned out of the spit zone, grabbing a pile of napkins before you rose from your seat. Wordlessly, you handed Hanamaki a few so he could attempt to clean the food sticking to his face, pointing him in the direction of the toilet in case he needed a more thorough cleaning or the assistance of a mirror. Then, you fixed your attention on Oikawa. You slapped him around the back of the head, causing his hand to shoot up to clutch the sore area.

“y/n-chan!” he whined. “That hurt.”

“Seriously, Tooru, how old are you?” you snapped. “Two? Is this really how you behave while eating out? I don’t care if you’ve just lost to Kageyama. This whole team lost and you don’t seem them acting in such a childish manner.”

You decided to ignore the fact that Kindaichi was currently crying into his food as he apologised to Matsukawa for something that had happened in the game. Oikawa looked down, avoiding your gaze. He pouted. “That still hurt.”

“Good.”

“I think you should kiss it better,” he suggested, brown eyes finally flicking up to meet yours.

“Hajime!” you called. Iwaizumi looked over at the two of you, clearly wondering what Oikawa had done as the boy was currently flapping around nervously.

“No, Iwa-chan, don’t worry,” he cried, shooting you a glare in the process. “y/n was just being funny.”

“Sure,” you shrugged. Turning around, you shot Iwaizumi a thumbs up. “It’s all been taken care of.”

The sun was beginning to set, casting an orange glow over the sky. You embraced the team one by one, giving Kindaichi an extra squeeze before letting go and joining the third years.

“Shit!” spat Oikawa as he walked past. “Shit!”

You raised your eyebrows, cocking your head slightly as you watched him. You figured it was about time he properly exploded, considering his weak attempts to hold it together in front of the younger members of the team.

“That’s his 53rd ‘shit’ today,” observed Matsukawa in what could only be described as an emotionless tone.

“You’re still counting?” you exclaimed, smiling teasingly at Oikawa as his head turned slightly to glance over at the pair of you. “I stopped after the 23rd one. It was getting bothersome recording each one.”

“At least he’s not constipated.”

“He’s definitely a shitty guy, though.”

“Well, shit, I’m pissed off!” exploded Oikawa, whirling to face you.

“54th,” you muttered loud enough for him to hear. He shot you a glare with no real malice, which surprised you considering how frustrated he was right now, before continuing as if you hadn’t interrupted.

“We definitely had a team that could’ve made it to nationals this time.” He wasn’t wrong there. Over the course of the three years, you'd watched them train, offered them support when they had fallen at the last hurdle each time. Confidently, you could say that this team was worthy of a spot at nationals.

In a dry tone, Hanamaki commented, “Well, even if we made it, we might’ve gotten our asses kicked right when we got there.”

Oikawa looked at him for a moment, incredulous. You couldn’t quite stop the snicker that escaped your lips as Oikawa said with utter confidence, “No way!” and continued to berate Hanamaki on his negative outlook.

“To be honest, if you couldn’t beat Shiratorizawa, Takahiro has a point,” you stated. Then, Oikawa whirled on you. His words were so quick you could barely distinguish one from the other. You winced at the hurt look on his face. “I admit that might’ve been too soon.”

Silence settled over the group after that, you moving forward to walk beside Iwaizumi. Concern had you furrowing your brows slightly. It was clear to anyone who could see his face that the young man was angry. Trying to interject some cheer in your voice, you clapped him on the back, “Come on, Hajime. Brighten up! Your forehead wrinkles are way too intense. Do you want to ruin that smooth skin of yours?”

“I know, damn it!” he snapped, refusing to look over at you. “Can you just leave me alone, y/n? Please? I don’t want to piss you off or hurt you because I’m too angry at myself to think straight.”

“But...”

“Just stop.” He moved away from you, returning to his previous state of intense anger. You looked over at Oikawa, the only other person you thought may be able to pull him from his current state. Oikawa nodded at you before beginning to speak in a calm voice.

“Sawamura-kun’s receives, Baldy’s follows, Goatee’s spikes, Watacchi’s receives, Mad Dog-chan’s follows, Tobio’s direct attacks, and Kindaichi’s blocks... Everyone was giving 120% back there. But, in the end, Karasuno was just slightly above us! Just a little bit! But most of all, Iwa-chan, you should praise yourself for hitting that set with absolutely perfect timing.”

You felt yourself growing emotional. Shit. He wasn’t even speaking to you but you were close to sobbing like a baby. You brought your top up to wipe at your wet eyes, blinking furiously to stop the tears from breaking free completely. In support, Matsukawa wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. You leaned into his touch, grateful to your friend for providing you with the support you needed in that moment.

The words had the opposite effect on Iwaizumi. If it was even possible, he looked even more furious than before. “This all pisses me off even more because both the toss and my timing were absolutely perfect!”

Oh, brilliant. Now Oikawa was getting heated, his cheeks flushed with colour. “Damn straight! But you should yell at me more for not being able to get that last ball even though I reacted to it! I’m way more pissed off!”

With a growl that was almost feral, Iwaizumi picked Oikawa up off the ground and threw him. He landed a couple of metres away, looking mildly disgruntled but not hurt.

“I would love to know why this turned into a competition,” you said, crossing your arms and shooting a glare at Oikawa. After all, it was him who had gotten fuelled by Iwaizumi’s anger. Although, you had to admit, it had diffused the tension by a fair bit.

“Nice spin.”

“Good form, Hajime. But, I think I’ve seen you throw him further.”

“Can’t say this was your best work.”

“Anyway,” said Matsukawa, putting a stop to the teasing as you all followed his gaze, which was focused on the school building, “weren’t we heading home?”

Needless to say, the third tears found themselves back on the volleyball court, this time with you joining in with the game. You weren’t the most talented player considering you were only the manager, but it made sense for the third years to play one last game together before parting ways. You were panting. A little game. That was what you thought. But, a little game had turned into one that dragged on for over an hour.

“Holy shit!” you yelped, narrowly missing being hit by a serve that Oikawa had sent over. It slammed off the ground next to you, hitting the wall behind you before rolling back to gently hit the backs of your legs.

“Oikawa, stop spiking for real!” yelled Matsukawa, clearly agitated. It had been bad enough when he had been on the receiving end. Iwaizumi clearly shared the same sentiment.

“Seriously, Shittykawa, are you trying to kill us?” he questioned, glancing over at you to assess your physical condition.

“All I know is that was one spike serve too many for me,” you said, holding your hands up in defeat as you walked off the court. While they continued to play, you picked up the stray balls, packing them away. When that was finished, you simply collapsed onto the floor to enjoy watching your friends play together like this for what was probably the last time.

“We should probably start cleaning up soon before someone comes to check why the lights are on.”

This spurred you all into action, with you running to grab the mops while they began to take down the net. When you rejoined them, moving to give Yuda a mop, Oikawa began to speak. “Guys, do you have a second?”

Everyone turned to look at him. Hanamaki seemed to catch onto the direction the conversation was taking, reaching out a hand as if that would stop the words from coming out of Oikawa’s mouth. “Hey. Don’t do it! We’re trying to end this on a good note! Let’s just let everything end peacefully!”

“Shut up!” cried Oikawa, his voice thick. The tears began to pour down his face before he could stop them. “Thank you for the last three years!”

You stood in silence as he let out a whimper, the tears rolling down his cheeks. It honestly broke your heart to see him like this. He’d worked so hard with one goal in mind - to make it to nationals and prove you didn’t have to be a prodigy to succeed. The mop you were holding clattered to the floor with a bang as you sprinted towards him, throwing your hands around his neck as you pulled him into you. His hands wrapped around your waist, holding you closer as he shook. You were fairly certain you were shaking too, the tears rolling freely down your own cheeks.

“Damn it,” sobbed Hanamaki, his cries joining those of his already weeping teammates. “I told you...”

Iwaizumi was the first to join your hug, one arm going around Oikawa’s shoulder as his other wrapped around your waist. His head came to rest against yours, his tears mingling with your own as they fell. Matsukawa and Hanamaki were the next to follow, arms wrapping around your shaking forms. The other third years came last, forming a ring around your group, with you and Oikawa at the centre.

It was hard to believe that it was finally over. The last three years with this team were over, soon to become memories that you would look back on fondly and with love.

In truth, you couldn’t have asked for a better high school experience.

[emiefaunwrites]

Not sure if this would cause angst or just some funny shenanigans, but I’m curious…

Has Taka and Leon ever been on a date that just… went horribly wrong?

Heyyy!!

So yes. Yes there is one particular date that I can think of that went horribly wrong. And I think it's about time that a certain member of Leon's family turns up at this point...

So just before I continue, I want to clarify my opinion on Kanon. I don't know all that much about her, but the things that are BEYOND obvious is that she is young and that she is obsessed with her older cousin Leon. Obsessed to the point of stalking, manipulative behaviour and attempted assault.

Now as someone who has, unforunately, had an obsession with an ex of mine, I know how difficult it is to shake those feelings. They make you act in ridiculous ways and turn you into a person that you honestly are not. Thankfully I never hurt anyone physically nor did I stalk, but I was manipulative and controlling and became a person I am ashamed to remember today. And once that obsession fades (which it thankfully did for me), the guilt and the embarrassment is crippling and I live with it daily.

Now I'm not at all saying she is right in what she's doing - it's absolutely wrong. It is NOT an excuse to stalk, or harrass, or assault the 'object of your affection' in the slightest and I do not condone Kanon's behaviour or actions at all. But I would like to try and portray Kanon as a girl who cannot control her emotions and all the ways that it manifests - the two sides of obsession. I think it's important to show what obsession looks like as well as the affect it has on everyone around them - including the person they are obsessed with so if you aren't comfortable with obsessive behaviour or just with Kanon's character in general, please don't read this.

Okay. So enough on that. Here is the disaster date! Thank you for your ask and I hope you enjoy!!

**********************

• Leon hasn't told Taka about his cousin, Kanon.

• It isn't really an easy topic to bring up - how your cousin is obsessed with you.

• It'a always made Leon uncomfortable and he's tried to rebuff the attention in many different ways.

• He tried telling her that cousins shouldn't date - but she ignored it.

• He tried to steer her towards boys her own age, suggesting he help hook her up with someone - but she was adamant the HE was the only one for her.

• He tried grossing her out, not washing for a few days before she visited - but she took no notice.

• Eventually, in his 'asshole' phase, he took drastic measures.

• After years of torment and feeling uncomfortable, he announced to her, in front of his 'friends', that she was ugly and he only liked 'sexy' girls.

• He would NEVER consider dating her, not unless she threw a pitch at 100km - something he knew would be impossible.

• And until that day, she wasn't to talk to him anymore.

• A part of him felt guilty - she's his cousin after all, and the last thing he wants is to hurt her.

• But he's tired of it all, and he's already under so much social pressure, and he pretty much hates himself anyway - so he stood his ground and shut her down.

• Since then, he's barely thought about her.

• But about eight months into his relationship with Taka, he encounters her again.

• Because what Leon doesn't know is Kanon's obsession has only grown stronger.

• And because she's been blocked from his social media, she's resorted to a fake profile to follow him.

• And she happens to know that Leon will be on a date with someone in the city.

• And not just anyone. A date with A BOY.

• And she can't deal with that so she oh so conveniently happened to have caught two trains and a bus just to be in there too.

• So Leon and Taka are sat in their favourite cafe, enjoying each other's company.

• When Leon sees a familiar face on the other side of the street. Heading this way.

• 'Oh fuck.'

• Taka's super confused as his boyfriend ducks down, covering his face with his jacket, looking intensely uncomfortable.

• 'Are you okay?'

• 'My cousin's here.'

• 'Your cousin?'

• Glancing out the window, Leon sees that Kanon is heading straight for the cafe and tries to shrink further down under the table.

• Why is she here?! What is he supposed to do?! And what about Taka?! What will she do to him?!

• The cafe door jingles open and he KNOWS it's her so he grabs the menu and tries to cover his face...

• Not knowing that Kanon knows JUST who to look for and bounds right over with a big smile.

• 'Hi Lee!!'

• He pries his face away from the menu, barely able to look her in the eye as he smiles uncomfortably.

• 'H-hey, Kanon...'

• 'I'm just meeting a friend and she's a BIG fan of yours and wanted to see if I could introduce you...'

• 'S-sure...'

• 'And she told me you'd be here today so I thought we'd meet here! She said you'd be on a date! So...where is she?'

• The mood has DEFINITELY changed now. The glint in her eye at the mention of date was one of jealousy.

• 'C'mon, Lee! I wanna meet the girl that stole your heart! I bet she's SUUUUUPER sexy, right?'

• Her words are like knives, sickly sweet and dangerous...

• But Taka reads the situation and chimes in.

• 'He's meeting her later. He wanted a pep talk first so asked me here before he meets her.'

• LIES! Kanon KNOWS that filthy boy is LYING and the glare she sends his way is completely opposite to the personality she's shown so far.

• But in a flash, she smiles back at Leon and slides into the seat next to him.

• 'Great! Let's hang out then, Lee! It's been wayyyy too long!'

• Taka REALLY isn't comfortable with what's happening.

• This girl, who must still be about 15, is pressed up far too much to her cousin - touching his arm VERY inappropriately and with her face FAR too close to be innocent.

• And Leon looks terrified - pressed right up against the window to try and be as far as possible but is quite obviously trapped.

• 'I think Leon needs a bit of space...'

• 'No this is how we ALWAYS are! We're SUPER close, aren't we Lee?'

• 'Leon doesn't look comfortable.'

• 'I said we're close. I don't need to listen to you.'

• 'I really think you should back off a bit.'

• 'And I think you should go to HELL!'

• Aha. Here we go. The act has dropped and there's a possessive, dangerous look in her eye as she snarls towards Taka.

• 'What do YOU know about my Lee?'

• 'He's not 'your Lee'...'

• 'YES HE IS! HE'S MINE! And YOU can't have him!'

• Leon looks absolutely powerless as Kanon crushes herself against him - begging Taka to help him with tearful eyes as he shrinks into himself in shame.

• Yeah. Enough is enough.

• Taka stands up and grabs Leon by the hand - using his entire strength to pull him (and therefore Kanon) out of the stall and towards the door.

• 'GET OFF MY LEE!'

• The girl goes crazy, punching and kicking Taka in an attempt to stop him until she's held back by other concerned patrons of the cafe.

• 'I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU FOR STEALING HIM! I HATE YOU!'

• Taka makes sure to push Leon out of the cafe before heading back abd he glares down at the girl in front of him.

• 'If you truly give a damn about Leon, then you will realise just what damage you've done today. You've humilated him in public, you have degraded him and you have shown a side to yourself that I'm sure you'll be ashamed of. Your feelings are obsessive and you need to get some help.'

• All the rage and emotion floods out of Kanon as she sees Leon sobbing outside, guilt and embarrassment taking over as she truly sees what she has become.

• Oh but Taka isn't done.

• With an ice cold looks, he offers one final warning.

• 'If you EVER pull this kind of shit again, I will not hesitate to involve the police. I don't care who you are or how young you are. I will NOT tolerate MY boyfriend being abused by anyone - especially his own family. So stay the fuck away from him.'

• Of course, the date is over so the rest of the day is spent comforting Leon in the solitude of Taka's dorm.

• Leon tells Taka everything right from the beginning and Taka vows to himself that he will keep Leon safe.

• And who knows? Maybe one day Kanon will realise what she's done and bridges can be built once again.

• But that's not for now.

• For now, Taka needs to remind this beautiful boy in his arms just how much he means to him in every single way he can.

[imnotusedtobeingloved]

EQUALLY LUCKY

(PLEASE DON’T REBLOG!)

Warnings: Internal conflict / Mental struggles.

Pairing: Azula x f!Reader

Characters: Azula, Zuko, Izumi.

Requested: Yes!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: You get a glimpse into Azula’s life years after Sozin’s Comet, with you by her side.

A/N: This was my first time making an x reader with Azula, so i’m very nervous to post this lol. It got way more angsty than i intended it to be, but i also wanted to try and stay true to Zula’s character to some extent. And i very much hope i did. Thank you for the great request @the-desert-shewolf​ i hope this is what you were looking for.

“Zuzu, you don’t look so good!”

The last Agni Kai. It was a day that was forever branded into your mind. You could still remember the heat of her flames. How her patient, strategic mind slipped into a rash and impulsive demeanor. She’d fataly wounded her own brother. Ready to do the same to Katara, if she hadn’t stopped her. And that was when you’d found her. Chained to a grid on the floor like an animal, crying in despair and spitting fire like a dragon. Nobody dared to go near her for hours. Nobody but you. “You need to stop, Azula,” You’d cried tears of your own as you forcefully hugged her, body winding against yours. Still trying to free herself. Still trying to fight. Still trying to win. “Please... I’m begging you...” Her whimper broke your heart. You were all that she had left.

There were times when not even a heartfelt “I love you,” could save her. Instead it was interpreted as a further manipulation through her mother. The so called ‘Puppetmaster’. She felt so far out of reach.

But not all days were bad. Sometimes Azula remembered. In the bright hours she recalled your supportive actions and words. You always hoped they would give her some kind of strength. And it wasn’t any easier to face those hardships yourself. To love someone who was hurt so very deeply.

“Being damaged doesn’t give you the right to abuse others,”

A lot of people called her crazy. Called you crazy for feeling affection towards the princess. But what were you supposed to do? You couldn’t just ignore them. Or turn them off. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t what you wanted. All you were trying to do was to care for a person you’d known since you were a kid. A childhood friend, teenage crush and an adult lover. Where Zuko had been saved by Iroh, Azula had been saved by you. But it wasn’t quite the same. You'd just been a little kid yourself at the time.

“Are you going to see Azula?” You nodded, smiling at Zuko over your shoulder. The robes of the Fire Lord really suited him. “I am. I want to surprise her with a picnic,” He raised a brow, curiously leaning over the little basket on the table before you. You’d spent hours picking out different kinds of tarts and snacks, trying not to get in the way of the cooks.

It was a perfect summer day. The climate was warm and mild. Your timing couldn’t have been better.

Years had passed since Sozin’s Comet occured. Years full of anxiety and anger. But finally you’d arrived in a part of your life, where things were looking up again. The time spend supporting Zuko as the Fire Lord hadn’t been wasted. Both of you worked together on a daily basis. Especially when it came to his sister. Despite everything she had done, he couldn’t deny that he held a soft spot for her. So it was no wonder that she resided in one of the finest suites of the palace. After being monitored and treated for ages, her mental heatlh finally regained stability.

“She’s lucky to have you, (Y/N),” He said, attempting to steal one of the tarts only to earn a slap on the hand. Grumbling he retreated, watching as you checked the contents again, before closing the lid. “Maybe,” You turned around to face your friend. “But i’d like to think we’re equally lucky,”

Your picnic was set up in the gardens, by the fountain, under the old apple tree.

Her whole life Azula only gained approval from two people. Her father and you. The few moments of empathy she experienced were supported by you. If she had a nightmare late at night, you’d crawl into bed with her. When you reduced the choice between you two to physical affection, Ozai couldn’t keep up with you. The mixed messages her parents gave her as a child were what lead her into misery. But her best friend, someone of the same age, stuck by her.

Eventually you’d won her over. Relationships were rekindled. Needs were met.

And right this moment, you were beyond glad that you had. “There you are, sugarplum,” An involuntary grin spread on your face. You’d been so busy with displaying everything perfectly that you hadn’t heard her come up behind you. “I see you haven’t grown tired of the petnames,” That nickname would truly stick with you for life. She’d once used it mockingly, back when you visited Ember Island. And she did ever since. It was always used with an edge of sarcasm, but never empty of love.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way, would you (Y/N)?” You turned around to her, reaching for one of her hands. Her fingers intwined themselves with yours. “Of course not, Azula,” Pulling her towards your little arrangement, you sat down on the blanket, leaning against the strong stem of the tree and patting the spot beside you.

Since her recovery she’d formed a habit of over-sharing her feelings and often apologizing more than nessecary. Those were new sides that you had to grow accustomed to, but that weren’t unwelcome. Nevertheless you were relieved that she also kept some of her wit. She knew she could be free with you. Didn’t need to fear any jugdement. Some days were harder than others. On those Azula would cry a lot. And so would you. You couldn’t stand seeing her so broken.

“Keep it together, (Y/N),” She would say at first, making you laugh through your tears. “It’s okay,” You’d reassure her time and time again. “Healing takes time,”

It was hard to face all those bottled up emotions after such an amout of time. It wasn’t her favorite way to deal with things at first, but she quickly found it helped. And it didn’t take long for her to tell you.

“Sharing your tears doesn’t make you weak,” She’d repeat your words in her darkest times. It brought her comfort. Kept her from going back to her old ways.

The princess moved to sit in the spot next to you, but she never made it that far. Small feet rushed through the grass, running straight into her legs. A tiny, little person curled around them, hugging her as far as she could reach. “Zula!” They squeaked.

The so-called ‘Zula’ raised a brow and crossed her arms, looking down at the little troublemaker. “What do you think you’re doing here?” The girl only lifted her hands in response. You stiffled a smile as Azula picked her up. “Where is your father? Didn’t he want to spend time with you?” Yes he did. And he arrived right on time. “Izumi?” Zuko looked around, searching for her, until he spotted you. The princess was snuggling into her aunt’s chest, a place that always felt warm. You knew it best. “There you are!” His sister raised a brow, tapping her foot on the ground, when he walked up to the three of you. When they stood next to each other, the family-resemblance was undeniable. They shared the same shade of amber eyes, the soft umber strands, and the fair, spotless skin.

It was another person that had helped Azula on her journey. Izumi.

The girl got to experience the childhood the siblings never had. She was proof that princesses didn’t have to be perfect all the time. Nobody did. And she loved her aunt without any doubt or fear.

“You really need to keep better watch on her, Zuzu. This is already the fifth time this has happened,” The Fire Lord nodded, holding his hands out. “Of course. It won’t happen again, i promise,” Azula tried handing her niece over, who whined, clinging to her neck. “But i mean, now that we’re already here, we could also just join you on your picnic,” He argued, pointing to his daughter who held onto Azula’s clothes with all her might. “Izumi seems to like the idea,” You squinted your eyes at him. This was definetely not a coincedence. Accidents don’t repeat themselves that often. “Admit it, Zuko. You’ve purposefully told Izumi that her aunt is here, only so you could get your clutches on our food again!” You’d connected the dots and read the situation. He’d taken a glimpse into your basket every time before you went out the past times. Particular interest always occured when it contained those delicous fruit tarts. With rose pedals on top. He gasped. “No, i didn’t!” 

“He’s lying,” Azula said, rolling her eyes. Izumi proceeded to tell her father that “Lying is bad!” which earned her a gentle pat on the head from her aunt.

Nevertheless they swayed you to share some of the ‘goodies’ as Izumi liked to call them. Finally you had Azula were she belonged. Next to you. Her niece sat in her lap, munching happily as your lover ran her hand through her hair. It had taken some time until she’d been allowed to see Izumi at first. Zuko and her mother hadn’t let them meet each other until his sister was completely stabile. Additionally he didn’t want to put Azula through something she couldn’t handle at the time. Their first meeting had been nervewracking for everyone who watched, but an eye-opening event for the two princesses. They seemed comfortable. Content with each other. Sometimes Azula would act as if Izumi bothered her. But she couldn’t deny that she was fond of the girl.

It was also no secret that Azula was clearly the ‘coolest aunt’. At least from Izumi’s perspective. She looked up to her as the strongest female firebender, to be known. Of course she was still too young to fight. But that didn’t stop her from constantly begging the siblings for stories. “Can you tell me a story?” She’d ask, making a pout. “I’ve told you stories countless times,” Her aunt replied, booping her upturned nose. “Another one, pleeease?” Azula sighed. Zuko chimed in, coming to her aid. He started telling the tale of the ‘Dance of Dragons’ in great detail, paying no mind to his sisters sarcastic comments interrupting the tale. Izumi was exstatic about both of them engaging in the narrative. When the story was completed, he beamed at Azula. “Remember when mother used to take us to watch the Ember Island Players perform this play? Afterwards you and i would reenact every scene. I don’t get why i always had to be the dark water spirit, tough,” His sister scoffed, not hiding her gleefull smirk. “Clearly, i made a better dragon emperor,” Her niece laughed at their antics, clapping her little hands. You could comprehend her joy. It was hilarious to have them both participate.

Unfortunatly, Izumi couldn’t escape her duties forever. “Bye, auntie Zula! Bye auntie (Y/N)!” She waved when Zuko carried her back inside. Upon her loopsided smile, Azula couldn’t help but grin, waving back. It wasn’t a sneer or a grimace. It was a genuine expression of so much beauty, that it took your breath away. When she turned back to face you, she furrowed her brows. “Why are you looking at me like that?” There were a ton of reasons. You didn’t even know were to start. So your delight had to be expressed differently. Her lips weren’t far from yours. It took a mere second to connect them. They were soft, as always. She tasted sweet, like the pastries she’d eaten before. “You’re my everything,” you mumbled, her lips still brushing yours. You see her eyes watering as she struggled to speak her next words. They reminded her of all that she’d endured. And yet you’re important enough for her to pull through. “I love you, (Y/N),”

A moment later the tears were replaced by a smile. Her hands came to rest on your cheeks, one of her thumbs running over your bottom lip, removing the lipstick hers had left. You yelped as she abruptly grabbed your shoulders, pulling you to rest your head in her lap.

She worked to untangle your locks, massaging your scalp in the process. Her nails lightly scraped your skin every so often. It felt relaxing. Heavenly. The smell of smoke and leather teased your senses. Something so familiar that it was like home. You allowed yourself to close your eyes for a moment, being at peace with just... feeling her. Being in her presence.

“Agni, you look just as self satisfied as my niece,” She playfully remarked.

The slight breeze made the leaves rustle softly. “Why wouldn’t i?” You chuckled, slowly opening your eyes to look up at her. Her slim fingers hadn’t stopped spoiling you. She looked stunning in the midday sun. Her eyes glowed like molten gold, framed by long, dark lashes, casting shadows on her cheeks. “I’m being pampered by the princess herself. I consider myself to be very lucky,” Her lips pulled into a smile as she caught your gaze.

“You’re right, (Y/N). We are lucky,”

Because everything you did for her, she would return tenfold.

Despite all the hardships, neglect and abuse she’d suffered, Azula had managed to get out on the other side.

Stronger, and better than ever.

Reconnected to the world around her, she remained one of the most powerful fire benders. Her blue flames offering protection wherever you’d go.

When she’d first felt affection towards you, she thought you were her weakness.

Now she knew you were her strength.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #163

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the Alter Ego of Pleasure, Meltryllis! This one’s easy, all we gotta do is make a vampiric ballerina A.I. out of water and strap knives to her feet. In vaguely medieval times.

Yep, real easy.

Nothing to it, really.

Won’t even break a sweat on this one.

Tootally not stalling here.

Fine, we’ll really do it. Build breakdown below the cut, character sheet over here.

Next up: She’s got huge... tracts of hand.

Race and Background

So, uh... tackling the big questions first, I guess. The obvious answer here is just Custom Lineage, but we’re trying to make someone made of acid here, and slightly reflavored human just isn’t going to cut it.

Instead, we’re going with Water Genasi because let’s be honest literally nothing would actually fit here, and we already set a precedent with Arjuna and Karna. This increases your Wisdom by 1 and your Dexterity by 2. You also get resistance to acid damage because melting acid is dumb, you’re Amphibious, allowing you to breathe air and water, you can swim, and you can cast Shape Water for some fancy ballet visuals thanks to your Call to the Wave.

Your background is... complicated to integrate into D&D, but you do get a lot from your mother, so we’ll modify the Inheritor background and make you an A.I.nheritor, giving you proficiency with Arcana (the closest thing to tech in D&D) and Performance thanks to your obsession with pirouettes.

Ability Scores

You’re good at spinning around and stabbing people with swords while spinning around, so make sure your Dexterity is as high as possible. Bending yourself into a pretzel is only half the battle though, so keep your Charisma high too. Your Wisdom also isn’t that bad, you’re usually hooked into the universe’s admin systems whenever you pop up, so you’re pretty aware of things, even if you can’t feel them. Your Intelligence isn’t that bad, you’re literally a hyper-advanced A.I., I bet you’re good at calculus. This means your Constitution and Strength are pretty low. You’re canonically built for offense, and while I would’ve dumped Constitution instead of Strength normally I checked out how much HP you’d be left with and that’d just be cruel, even for me.

Class Levels

1. Monk 1: We’re starting off as monk right away so you can have Unarmored Defense to make your Armor Class good even in a leotard. You also get Martial Arts, giving you a bonus action attack, dexterity based attacks, and a d4 minimum for monk attacks.

Just saying here that we’re reflavoring your heels as short swords. This lets you dual-wield for two shoes (though it is kind of redundant since you already get bonus action attacks with your kicks anyway) and they’re pointy and already monk weapons.

You also get proficiency with Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as the physical skills Acrobatics and Athletics to make your dance moves flashier and your routines longer.

2. Monk 2: Second level monks get Ki which you can use to Dash, Disengage, Dodge, or attack twice as a bonus action by spending a ki point. You get Monk Level ki points per short rest.

You also get Unarmored Movement, making you a bit lighter on your feet.

3. Sorcerer 1: It’s been said that eldritch abominations are just outside context problems for the universe, and it doesn’t get more outside D&D’s context than a sentient AI. That’s why you’re an Aberrant Mind sorcerer, which gives you Psionic Spells for free (most of which we’ll be swapping out) and Telepathic Speech, giving you the ability to tap into Seraph’s chat system to speak telepathically with another creature for Sorcerer Level minutes, as long as you stay within Charisma Modifier miles of each other. I don’t know how you could get two miles away in less than a minute, but have fun figuring that out.

Also also your Call to the Wave improves, and you can cast Create or Destroy Water once per long rest.

Speaking of Spells, you can cast those now by using your Charisma modifier. You get the first steps of the Melt Virus thanks to your Acid Splash and Tasha’s Caustic Brew to soften up even the toughest of enemies. You also get Blade Ward because seriously try to cut water. Message is just another chat program, and Sword Burst lets you try spinning. It’s a good trick!

You also get Arms of Hadar, Dissonant Whispers, and Mind Sliver for free from your psionic spells, but we’re going to replace DW with Detect Magic right away. You’re jacked into the system, magic shouldn’t be hard to figure out.

4. Monk 3: Bouncing back to monk real quick to become a Drunken Master. You can Deflect Missiles by kicking them back as a reaction, reducing their damage and launching it back if they’re reduced to 0. You also get a Drunken Technique, making yourself even faster when you start hurting people. Using a flurry of blows lets you disengage for free, and your walking speed increases by another 10 feet.

5. Sorcerer 2: Second level sorcerers are a Font of Magic, giving you sorcery points that can be spent to recharge spell slots, among other things that don’t unlock til next level.

You can also cast Comprehend Languages now, and you should replace Arms of Hadar with Identify. Just stick it in your inventory and read the name, it’s not hard.

6. Sorcerer 3: Thanks to second level spells, you can now Blur the edges of your body to become harder to hit. You also get Calm Emotions and Detect Thoughts as freebies, though neither one is really justified, which is unfortunate.

Thankfully all your other spells get cooler thanks to Metamagic! Spend sorcery points to change a spells damage type with Transmuted Spell or make it harder to save against thanks to Heightened Spell!

7. Monk 4: Bouncing back to monk again gives you your first Ability Score Improvement, so bump up your Charisma for stronger spells. You can also Slow Fall as a reaction to avoid fall damage because all those heels kind of act like shocks. You also get Quickened Healing to spend ki points to heal yourself as an action. This probably isn’t canonical, but trust me, you’ll need it.

8. Sorcerer 4: Now that your spells are okay, use this ASI to get the Elemental Adept feat for Acid spells. Your spells now ignore resistance to acid damage and all your dice count as at least a 2 for damage. Considering how much Acid spells love d4s, this is a serious upgrade.

This level, you can use Green-Flame Blade (Green-Acid Blade?) and Enhance Ability to make your dance moves even better.

9. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers can autocorrect thanks to their Magical Guidance, spending a sorcery point to re-roll a failed skill check. You also get a proper Melt Virus upgrade thanks to Vampiric Touch, dealing necrotic damage and healing yourself. Sadly you can’t turn this into acid damage, but it’s still pretty good on its own.

You also get more freebies from Psionic Spells, Hunger of Hadar makes for a pretty good Sarasvati Meltout vortex for at a low level, creating an area of difficult terrain that deals cold and acid damage on creatures that start and end their turn in it, respectively. You also get Sending, another chat client that can work even with people in other servers (planes).

10. Sorcerer 6: Your brand new Water Walk will let you stay on top of your own Meltout.

You also get Psionic Sorcery, not to be confused with Psionic Spells, that lets you cast Psionic Spells without verbal or somatic components if you spend sorcery points. You can also ignore material components if they’re not consumed by the spell.

On top of all of that, your Psychic Defenses firewall kicks in, giving you resistance to psychic damage and advantage on saves against being charmed or frightened. Lets be real, your mother is way scarier than any dumb goblin could be.

11. Monk 5: Fifth level monks get an Extra Attack each action, so now you can kick with both legs without using your bonus action! Your Stunning Strike can also be used by spending a ki point to force a constitution save on a creature you hit with a monk attack. If the target fails, they’re stunned for a round, giving you the perfect opening to torment them even more.

12. Monk 6: Sixth level monks get Ki-Empowered Strikes, making your fists magical weapons. You’re kind of a magical construct, so that just makes sense. Since you’re a drunken master, you also get your Tipsy Sway, speeding up how much speed you need to stand up and letting you turn your pleasure into another creature’s pain by redirecting attacks that miss you.

13. Sorcerer 7: For your fourth level spells, you can use Vitriolic Sphere for even more Acid, possibly even taking more damage on the next turn unless they pass their dexterity save. You also get more Psionic Spells, but I’ll save you the headache and just tell you what we’re swapping them with. Get Arcane Eye this level, and Locate Creature next level. One benefit to being an AI; access to the world map.

14. Sorcerer 8: Grab the Piercer feat to round up Dexterity, boosting your AC and attack power. You can also re-roll a piercing die once per turn. You also deal an extra die of damage on critical piercing attacks. You also get a Watery Sphere to restrain creatures within... drumroll please... a watery sphere. A great way to hold enemies in place while you pelt them with acid.

15. Sorcerer 9: Your fifth level spells include Enervation for a longer lasting Melt Virus, as well as Psionic Spells Rary’s Telepathic Bond for a whole chatroom, and Legend Lore. Tune into the BB channel to learn about your favorite subjects!

16. Sorcerer 10: Grab Quickened Spell as your third Metamagic option to add extra power to your rounds. Attack twice as an action, then Green-Acid Blade for even more pain!

You also get Skill Empowerment to give yourself expertise on skills you’re already good at for the greatest dances you’ve ever seen. We’re also pretty much set on good cantrips, so grab On/Off for the flavor. You can now turn nearby electronic devices on or off as an action. Honestly you could probably use a lot of the Modern Magic spells if your DM allows for it.

17. Sorcerer 11: Tasha’s Otherworldly Guise gives you a fancier outfit that makes you immune to fire and poison or radiant and necrotic damage depending on what role you choose to play. You’re also immune to being poisoned or Charmed, respectively. Your weapon attacks are now magical, and you get +2 to your AC. You get a flying speed for truly impressive jumps. You can also use your Charisma instead of dexterity to attack, but your dexterity’s better, so...

18. Sorcerer 12: Use your last ASI to bump up your Charisma. Stronger spells are always good.

19. Sorcerer 13: With your new seventh level spells, you can fully unleash your sadism thanks to Power Word Pain. If the target has fewer than 100 HP and it can be charmed, it becomes wracked with crippling pain. It can only move 10 feet per round, it has disadvantage on attacks, checks, and saves (aside from constitution saves). It also has to succeed on a constitution save to not waste the spell slot. At the end of each turn it has to try and make a constitution save, otherwise, the spell is indefinite.

20. Sorcerer 14: Your capstone level turns you into a Revelation in Flesh. As a bonus action, you can transform yourself for 10 minutes using 1 sorcery point for each ability you want to activate. These options include:

Truesight on invisible creatures (6/10 canonicity, might as well with all the divination spells you’ve got)

A flying speed (8/10 canonicity, can justify with sick jumps)

A swimming speed and underwater breathing (5/10 canonicity, but you already have these abilities so it doesn’t really matter)

Your body becomes basically liquid, able to squeeze through inch width gaps and escape from grapples and restraints. (10/10 canonicity, this is literally why we’re here.)

Pros:

With deflect missiles, a decent enough AC of 16/18 with Tasha’s Guise, and your Psychic Defenses, you’re decent enough at dealing with ranged attackers.

This is especially useful, as your mobility will keep you one step away from the melee fighters, letting you pick and choose your fights. You’re fast, and you can fly or run on water for extra escape options.

For most damage types, elemental adept is a nice addition, but nothing game changing. Not so with acid spells. So many acid spells use d4s, meaning the difference between 1 and 2 is greatly appreciated, as is the ignored resistances.

Cons:

If something can catch up to you, it’ll find out real fast just how squishy you are. Those sorcerer hit dice did not do you any favors, leaving you with only 75 HP. Be careful around high level casters with a good antivirus (Power Word Kill), or they might just delete you. Also literally any fighter.

While elemental adept helps, Acid Immunity is also pretty common in D&D. While Transmuting your spells (and just hitting people) will help keep you from being a sitting duck in those fights, it’s still a glaring weak point.

Outside of your spells, your physical attacks aren’t particularly powerful thanks to being stuck with short swords. So if you start running out of spell slots, retreating might be a good idea. A glass cannon without the cannon is just a bad thing to be.

[kirishwima]

what quirks do the mysme characters have ?? would they go pro ?

this has been sitting in my inbox for so long and ive been wanting to answer it cuz i LOVE the crossover of bnha x mysme!!! so after long deliberation, here’s my lengthy, ranty answer-and if you wanna talk more about quirks or bnha p l e a s e hit me up im always happy to talk about this ;u;

YOOSUNG:

- I think what'd really fit him and be adorable af is if he could talk to animals, kind of like Koda!!

-He manifested his quirk earlier than most-at about 2-3 years old, and his parents found out after they found him crying because their house cat called him, and I quote, 'a bag of flesh and bones ready to eat'

-At first he didn't like his quirk much-something about seeing a cute chihuahua and rather than that high-pitched funny bark hearing 'i will MESS YOU UP' can be scarring to a kid

-Eventually he came to love it though! He found out it could be so useful when interacting with injured animals

-For this reason, rather than going pro, I think he'd become a vet once again!

ZEN:

-Do not even argue with me on this one baby boy would have a Siren quirk!

-Singing certain melodies can have different effects on people-one melody can lull them to sleep, others, more dangerous ones, can make them feel fear, anger, agression etc

-It took him a while to learn what melody and pitch of voice triggers each emotion, and for a while he was afraid to sing-his parents calling him a monster over it didn't help either :(

-Yet he insisted on using this power for good. He worked hard, memorised each melody and even created more complex ones, and would only use them if he had to!

-(I feel like he might also have some mild regeneration quirk maybe passed down from one parent cuz who said we can't have dual quirks? Not the Todorokis thats for sure)

-I feel like he'd be kind of like Hawks, in the sense that he's more of a celebrity than a hero; everyone knows of Zen the knight!

JAEHEE:

-ok at first I was writing a plot for a speed quirk but THEN i had this idea, you'll have to bear with me as I ramble through it: Jaehee has a matter manipulation quirk.

-Soph, what the heck is that, you ask? Well, here's the breakdown of it

-Jaehee can manipulate particles around her on a 4m radius. That means she can manipulate anything, change its shape, position etc-and with enough effort, eventually can also manipulate time IN this radius only.

-Think like matrix-style, bullets flying, but the moment they reach Jaehee, she manipulates them to slow down and they just casually graze by her as if nothing ever happened-ITS A BADASS QUIRK OK

-It's a little OP though, so as a drawback, she gets exhausted easily while using it, so it has quite the cooldown period.

-Despite the cool quirk, I don't think she'd want to go pro. All she ever wanted was to live her life quietly. But with a quirk like that, she's bound to get into crazy situations all the time.

-Now I want a fantasy-comedy show of powerful quirk-bearing Jaehee aaaa

JUMIN:

-I think he'd have a quirk like Shinso's! The moment you address him, he can, if he wills it, manipulate the person as he sees fit.

-But, unlike Shinso, Jumin can do one more thing with his quirk-Thought manipulation/Insertion. He can think of something, or simply voice it (for a stronger effect), and convince the other that this was their thought/idea

-i.e: Jumin, sitting across a potential company partner, smirking as he thinks to himself 'I want to sign that contract'.

-The partner, eyes wide while scanning through the document 'hm..yes, I want to sign this contract. Why didn't I want to earlier?!'

-He actually keeps his quirk a top secret, since the moment it manifested; no one would ever want to work with him face to face if they knew, now would they?

-Plus he's afraid deep down, afraid of people being scared of him.

-So he doesn't go pro; he keeps this quirk a secret, and god forbid anyone tries to find out about it.

SAEYOUNG/707/LUCIEL:

-Electric quirk!!! Electric quirk!

-Sae with little zaps coming out his fingertips grinning menacingly 🥰🥰🥰 id let him electrocute me

-Similar to Denki but minus the 'go dumb if overuse' thing; you're on my blog and we love angst and gore here, so here’s the catch:

-if he overuses his quirk, he starts to become vulnerable to it too. After all, it makes some sense-we have neurons firing signals in our bodies in similar fashion that electricity is conducted. Were you to touch a wire, not only is it very dangerous, the current MUST be conducted. So with electrical injuries-there’s always en ENTRY and EXIT wound, where the current came into and exited the body.

-So overusing his quirk can cause severe damage to himself, and is a reason why he’s riddled with scars-on his arms especially, but also legs (an often exit point for currents), back e.t.c.

-He found out about his quirk whilst protecting his brother. He…didn’t mean to use it. It terrified him. But it was a means of survival, and he was ready to use it no matter what.

-I really feel like someone form LoV would try to convince him to join them-and if they were to protect his brother too…he just might’ve.

-If we’re ignoring canon and going into a full BNHA universe, then I think Saeyoung would definitely go pro! He’d want to help people, and he’d be such an amazing hero, loved by so many people <3

V/JIHYUN:

-This is soo biased given that V’s my baby, but mmm, i really feel like he’d have a healing quirk, WITH a regeneration quirk mixed-this is my absoloute favorite quirk idea, and here’s why:

-How this quirk would work, is that he’d be able to take on any injury someone may have, big or small, so long as it’s not lethal-dead is dead after all. He can also heal significantly faster than average via self-regeneration, so he’s virtually overpowering, right?

-Well, here’s the catch:

-Anytime he takes on an injury or damage, he feels all of it-every single thing, and whilst the physical injury vanishes, the pain lingers, longer than it should. It does go away eventually, but taking on massive injuries is jarring and can scar him, physically and mentally.

-If we follow canon, after his eyes are hurt-his quirk deals with it, healing the tissue fast, yet he keeps injuring it himself, hating his quirk for the very first time.

-If we go full bnha AU, then he’d try to train his quirk as much as possible, and would go pro, but as a support hero, helping the injured after fights e.t.c.

SAERAN/RAY/UNKNOWN:

-Hmm, I’ve been thinking about this, and here’s what I’m thinking: I think Sae’s quirk would be bloodbending.

-Essentially he’d be able to use it in 2 forms; one is that he can use his own blood to form weapons, support items e.t.c (think blood swords….badass)

-The other form, is that he can bend the blood of others-anything with blood is doable, human or not, so long as there’s an injury, no matter how minor, for him to drag the blood out of. He can’t bend it whilst the skin is completely unpunctured, as cool as that would be, and he can only use it on one person per time.

-I think he’d hate his quirk at first-consider it hideous, monstrous e.t.c. He’d cry about it, his brother comforting him, reassuring him the only monsters out there are people judging him for a quirk he has no control over.

-If we go with canon: Rika DEFINITELY makes him use his quirk even when he doesn’t want to. He hates himself for it, spiraling depeer into her clutch.

-If we go fanon: He’d definitely be scouted by the LoV, but he’d never accept their offer. He instead wants to become a hero, and put his quirk to good use, to protect others. So I think Sae would go pro too!

[hopeymchope]

Godzilla Singular Point

I came into Singular Point with some trepidation because Godzilla’s history in anime is both very recent and extremely bad. The three anime movies released between 2017 and 2019 are easily the worst work of famed writer Gen Urobuchi and honestly contain more bullshit than I can even get into here. Those movies and this series were both Godzilla anime properties commissioned by Netflix, which didn’t get my hopes up very much. Thankfully, Singular Point is a very different beast from the anime trilogy. One could argue it’s very different from most Godzilla media, actually — at least from my perspective. And I’m still a pretty entry-level fan of Toho’s Big G, all things considered.

Let me just warn you right up front: This smartphone-based virtual assistant is basically the breakout star of the series. 

When you think “Godzilla,” you probably don’t think “incredibly dense sci-fi concepts,” but with the big G’s first-ever anime series, the writers clearly set out to change that perception. Before the first kaiju even appears, the lead characters are plucked from obscurity and dropped into a mystery that involves fourth-dimensional time travel, physical objects that look different from all sides, theoretical math concepts, self-propagating A.I., and a whole lot more. And it’s NEVER made clear how all of it connects to the rampaging kaiju! Although we spend a lot of time investigating a red dust or sand that is very obviously tied to the monsters in SOME way, no one ever makes a connection that explains the relationship. Maybe we’re supposed to wait for a later season to connect the threads... but let’s get into the idea of “another season” later.

I like to think of myself as someone who typically enjoys hard sci-fi, but even with the characters spending loads of time trying to explain the high concepts driving the story, I was never able to fully wrap my head around what was going on in the mystery at the center of GSP. I rewound and rewatched a few explanations, but I still walked away feeling lost. I eventually settled on some vague, loose understandings of most of the ideas mentioned, but those understandings were subject to being ripped apart in subsequent scenes when I was shown or told something completely at odds with what I thought I knew. I can’t say I was ever bored with the thick, dense scientific concepts on offer — trying to find purchase with these far-out ideas kept me glued to the screen — but damn, I sure wish I was able to comprehend them.

What do we want?! DENSE SCIENTIFIC DISCUSSION AND DEBATE! When do we want it?! AFTER THOROUGH RESEARCH, TESTING, AND PEER REVIEW!

Another weird thing about this show is that the lead characters remain in separate locations and on separate tracks for the entire duration. We have Yun — a mechanical engineer and programmer who has an amazing grasp on physics and human behavior. And we have Mei — a grad student who is deeply invested in theoretical science, UMAs, cryptids and other far-flung concepts. Both of them are basically geniuses in their fields, and even though they take opposing views of just how flexible reality is, their shared ability to think “outside the box” becomes the crucial component in solving the mystery at the core of the series. Because they don’t even know one another (despite being separated by like, ONE degree), they only ever interact via text messages and behind screen names, which feels pretty damn weird. At least  I immediately liked both of them, with Yun being the standout to me because of how his lowkey reactions to crazy shit generates a lot of humor.

This soundtrack cover LIES; you will never see these characters in a room together like this. 

Alas, we don’t get to know the characters a whole lot beyond what we learned of them in the first two episodes. It’s not long before they’re trapped in a series of complicated exposition dumps, endlessly attempting to explain the high concepts of the show to other characters as well as my dumb ass in the audience. The fact that I liked them in the first couple of episodes carried me through more than half of the show, but I was always hoping to see them share more of themselves or just display more emotion. Anime as a medium excels at emotional storytelling. But despite the major, world-altering events the characters are constantly warning us about, none of them seem to have many emotions about said events. 

Further complicating matters is how, when major events finally occur in this show, they are often kept off-screen. One character shockingly dies, but the portrayal of that death is so piss-poor that I didn’t even realize it’d happened until someone mentioned their death in the next episode. After that vague death, I was particularly sensitive to anything that looked like it might possibly be lethal. Yet a later event that is played up as a tragic, fatal occurrence ends up... fine, somehow? It’s not clear how the character survives, because — even after one of our heroes is left screaming their name in despair as they seemingly die — nobody ever talks about or explains how he’s just fine a couple of scenes later. And near the end of the series, there’s a major transformation that occurs for one of the characters, and we never see it happen nor do we understand HOW it happened. It’s just that suddenly, this character is extremely different due to off-screen reasons that are only vaguely verbalized.

I guess these two really bonded at some point for some reason? And what you are seeing here is literally the height of emotion shown in the entire show.

Even though the overarching story of the series so far pretty clearly wraps up in episode 13, we then get a post-credits tease for a potential second season. So the question becomes: Would I watch that?

Well... Godzilla Singular Point is a series with a lot of issues that kept me at arms’ length from it — tons of extremely confusing dialogue, highly frustrating choices in direction that lead to baffling storytelling, characters who are mostly exposition-dumping — and yet there’s still some foundational work here that I appreciated a lot. When the action occurs, it’s pretty cool/fun. And when urban destruction occurs, it can be awe-inspiring. The human characters, though little-explored, have likable and interesting foundations to them that could be expanded upon. And I didn’t even mention the soundtrack, which features a variety of musical styles combined with the classic Ifukube theme music and an OP that is an absolute banger. (I have a weakness when it comes to music; a good soundtrack can carry me through even the blandest series sometimes.) Even the core idea of centering a Godzilla series around hard science and mathematical concepts is a compelling one, I think! I just hated the execution of it; they went waaaaay too far on poorly explaining incredibly complex, mind-bending concepts for my pea brain to handle it. They spend so much time trying to explain things, yet somehow they never succeeded for me. 

Ultimately, I’d probably give the show another chance. But if I do give another season a chance, it’ll be on probation. I wouldn’t watch the entire season unless I could see within four episodes that they’d definitely improved things.

Would I recommend that anyone watch the series as it currently stands? I mean... not really? I guess if you really dig complex math, hard theoretical science, and/or Toho’s stable of monsters, then maaaaaaaaaaybe give it a shot. But otherwise? Naaaahh. It’s not good enough at anything to make it stand out from the anime crowd. I didn’t hate it like I hated the Godzilla anime films, but Singular Point is still something that both casual viewers and most fans can comfortably ignore for the time being. It’s not a complete disaster, and it’s not without its highlights... but it’s definitely disappointing in my opinion.

OKAYOKAYOKAY, so let’s talk about the kaiju for a bit! 

Below will be SPOILERS revealing all of the kaiju that appear in Godzilla Singular Point and giving my feelings on them. 

Godzilla — It’s interesting to see a version of Godzilla that borrows some ideas from Shin Godzilla. Shin G has been incredibly unique until now, but this Godzilla manages to fold some of Shin’s distinctive aspects in with the more classic/typical versions to build a fun new depiction. Be forewarned that Godzilla doesn’t show up until the series is halfway over, and he doesn’t get a ton of screen time, either. He’s used quite sparingly and kept in hazy settings, often framed from the neck-up when they show him. It’s a little frustrating that they felt the need to shroud him so much, but I respect the fact that whenever Godzilla is shown, the destruction he causes is on a scale far beyond anything that the rest of the kaiju ever do. He is pure devastation. 

Rodan — He’s easily the biological kaiju with the most screen time in Singular Point. Rodan is first introduced as one gigantic pterosaur, but if you’ve seen ANY trailers for this show then you already know that his depiction transitions into an asston of smaller pterosaurs, all of whom are also called “Rodan.” (Apparently the word Rodan is both singular and plural, like the word “buffalo.”) Although he looks kind of cool at first, pretty soon Rodan showing up isn’t special or threatening anymore. Rodan appearances go from “a big goddamn deal” to “some bland background noise” before the series is even 1/3 finished. The design might be a little too far removed from the original for my own taste, but even if I didn’t think that, I wouldn’t be able to care for this Rodan simply because he’s rendered so unimportant and unimpressive.

If you go out in the woods today, you’re sure of a big surprise... 

Anguirus — Now check this guy out! Anguirus gets one of the coolest fights in the show and also demonstrates some powers that are well beyond anything we’ve seen him do before. Because he sticks to unpopulated areas, we never see him do much damage to Japan, but he is definitely holding all the attention when he’s on-screen. He’s a highlight for me — a total badass who is very unique in his abilities. And the stated origin for his name is goddamn adorable.

Manda — Yup, Manda is in this series... but I don’t have much to say for him. It seems like the creators of the anime didn’t have much to say about him either. His role amounts to little more than a repeated cameo, and in most of those cameos you only ever see his tail. When we finally see his full body, it’s done so briefly and kept at a distance, leaving me with no real impression. I had to look up his design online and... yup, that sure looks like Manda. Final score: MEEEEHH.

Kumonga — I definitely did not see this appearance coming! Kumonga is much smaller here than you may be used to, but she gets to star in the most suspenseful sequence in the series and easily earns the most exciting cliffhanger moment at the end of an episode. I was utterly glued to the show during her screen time, which comes with a lot of icky twists. Good ones! I honestly like Kumonga here more than I ever have previously.

NEW PHONE WHO DIS

Salunga — Uh, who? This is the one monster that isn’t based on a classic Toho kaiju but instead is a brand-new creation. I suppose that everybody who touches the Toho Kaiju franchise wants to make their own mark on it in some regard. But a big part of the fun of this series for me personally was the anticipation of seeing new interpretations and designs of classic Toho monsters. And so, given that he kind of resembles both Baragon and Gabara, I never stopped wishing they’d just used one of those guys as the basis and namesake. Taken on his own, however? He’s... pretty neat. Not unique or exciting, but solidly above par.  He resembles a cross between a lizard/dinosaur and an ape, plus his head has some nifty coloration. 

Our Jaguar!

Jet Jaguar — I guess Jet Jaguar isn’t exactly a kaiju in the traditional sense because he’s a Giant Robot. However, if you want to consider him one, then I wager he probably gets even more screen time than Rodan! We meet him almost immediately when the series begins. Initially an odd pilot-driven robot that was constructed at the whim of a quirky old factory-owner with too much disposable income, Jet Jaguar grows and changes over the course of the show, ultimately undergoing a transition in episode 7 that makes him pretty damn impossible to dislike. In fact, I utterly adored him by then. This is definitely the best Jet Jaguar I’ve ever seen. His design is recognizably similar to the original yet utterly distinct, too. Like many of the other kaiju here, he’s not nearly as big as he was when he was first introduced to the movies, but his size is ideal for battling the smaller-scale monsters that we spend most of the series on.

[sherwoodland]

The Codependency myth.

A liberating and counterintuitive text from the book Attached, by Amir Levine, PhD and Rachel Heller, MA. We need connections, not detachment. Codependency does not exist, it's not an accepted diagnosis and never will be. Romantic love is an attachment bond. Pop-psychology gives you the wrong answers because it's not scientific.

“Emotional dependency is not immature or pathological; it is our greatest strength”.

Sue Johnson, PhD.

THE CODEPENDENCY MYTH

The codependency movement and other currently popular self-help approaches portray relationships in a way that is remarkably similar to the views held in the first half of the twentieth century about the child-parent bond (remember the “happy child” who is free of unnecessary attachments?). Today’s experts offer advice that goes something like this: Your happiness is something that should come from within and should not be dependent on your lover or mate. Your well-being is not their responsibility, and theirs is not yours. Each person needs to look after himself or herself. In addition, you should learn not to allow your inner peace to be disturbed by the person you are closest to. If your partner acts in a way that undermines your sense of security, you should be able to distance yourself from the situation emotionally, “keep the focus on yourself,” and stay on an even keel. If you can’t do that, there might be something wrong with you. You might be too enmeshed with the other person, or “codependent,” and you must learn to set better “boundaries.”

The basic premise underlying this point of view is that the ideal relationship is one between two self-sufficient people who unite in a mature, respectful way while maintaining clear boundaries. If you develop a strong dependency on your partner, you are deficient in some way and are advised to work on yourself to become more “differentiated” and develop a “greater sense of self.” The worst possible scenario is that you will end up needing your partner, which is equated with “addiction” to him or her, and addiction, we all know, is a dangerous prospect.

While the teachings of the codependency movement remain immensely helpful in dealing with family members who suffer from substance abuse (as was the initial intention), they can be misleading and even damaging when applied indiscriminately to all relationships. Karen, whom we met earlier in the televised race, has been influenced by these schools of thought. But biology tells a very different story.

THE BIOLOGICAL TRUTH

Numerous studies show that once we become attached to someone, the two of us form one physiological unit. Our partner regulates our blood pressure, our heart rate, our breathing, and the levels of hormones in our blood. We are no longer separate entities. The emphasis on differentiation that is held by most of today’s popular psychology approaches to adult relationships does not hold water from a biological perspective. Dependency is a fact; it is not a choice or a preference.

A study conducted by James Coan is particularly illuminating to that effect: Dr. James Coan is the director of the Affective Neuroscience Laboratory at the University of Virginia. He investigates the mechanisms through which close social relationships and broader social networks regulate our emotional responses. In this particular study, which he conducted in collaboration with Richard Davidson and Hillary Schaefer, he used functional MRI technology to scan the brains of married women. While these women were being scanned, Dr. Coan and his colleagues simulated a stressful situation by telling them that they were about to receive a very mild electric shock.

Normally, under stressful conditions the hypothalamus becomes activated. And indeed this is what happened in the experiment to the women when they were alone awaiting the shock—their hypothalamus lit up. Next, they tested the women who were holding a stranger’s hand while they waited. This time the scans showed somewhat reduced activity in the hypothalamus. And when the hand that the women held was their husband’s? The dip was much more dramatic—their stress was barely detectable. Furthermore, the women who benefited most from spousal hand-holding were those who reported the highest marital satisfaction—but we’ll get back to this point later.

The study demonstrates that when two people form an intimate relationship, they regulate each other’s psychological and emotional well-being. Their physical proximity and availability influence the stress response. How can we be expected to maintain a high level of differentiation between ourselves and our partners if our basic biology is influenced by them to such an extent?

It seems that Karen from our example instinctively understood the healing effect of holding her partner’s hand under stressful conditions. Unfortunately, she later gave in to common misconceptions and viewed her instinct as a weakness, something to be ashamed of.

THE “DEPENDENCY PARADOX”

Well before brain imaging technology was developed, John Bowlby understood that our need for someone to share our lives with is part of our genetic makeup and has nothing to do with how much we love ourselves or how fulfilled we feel on our own. He discovered that once we choose someone special, powerful and often uncontrollable forces come into play. New patterns of behavior kick in regardless of how independent we are and despite our conscious wills. Once we choose a partner, there is no question about whether dependency exists or not. It always does. An elegant coexistence that does not include uncomfortable feelings of vulnerability and fear of loss sounds good but is not our biology. What proved through evolution to have a strong survival advantage is a human couple becoming one physiological unit, which means that if she’s reacting, then I’m reacting, or if he’s upset, that also makes me unsettled. He or she is part of me, and I will do anything to save him or her; having such a vested interest in the well-being of another person translates into a very important survival advantage for both parties.

Despite variations in the way people with different attachment styles learn to deal with these powerful forces—the secure and anxious types embrace them and the avoidants tend to suppress them—all three attachment styles are programmed to connect with a special someone. In fact, chapter 6 describes a series of experiments that demonstrate that avoidants have attachment needs but actively suppress them.

Does this mean that in order to be happy in a relationship we need to be joined with our partner at the hip or give up other aspects of our life such as our careers or friends? Paradoxically, the opposite is true! It turns out that the ability to step into the world on our own often stems from the knowledge that there is someone beside us whom we can count on—and this is the “dependency paradox.” The logic of this paradox is hard to follow at first. How can we act more independent by being thoroughly dependent on someone else? If we had to describe the basic premise of adult attachment in a single sentence, it would be: If you want to take the road to independence and happiness, first find the right person to depend on and travel down it with them. Once you understand this, you’ve grasped the essence of attachment theory. To illustrate this principle, let’s take another look at childhood, where attachment starts. Nothing better demonstrates the idea we’re conveying than what is known in the field as the strange situation test.

THE STRANGE SITUATION TEST

Sarah and her twelve-month-old daughter, Kimmy, enter a room full of toys. A friendly young research assistant is waiting in the room and exchanges a few words with them. Kimmy starts to explore this newfound toy heaven—she crawls around, picks up toys, throws them to the ground, and checks whether they rattle, roll, or light up, while glancing at her mom from time to time.

Then Kimmy’s mother is instructed to leave the room; she gets up and quietly walks out. The minute Kimmy realizes what has happened she becomes distraught. She crawls over to the door as quickly as she can, sobbing. She calls out to her mother and bangs on the door. The research assistant tries to interest Kimmy in a box full of colorful building blocks, but this only makes Kimmy more agitated and she throws one of the blocks in the research assistant’s face.

When her mother returns to the room after a short while, Kimmy rushes toward her on all fours and raises her arms to be held. The two embrace and Sarah calmly reassures her daughter. Kimmy hugs her mom tight and stops sobbing. Once she is at ease again, Kimmy’s interest in the toys reawakens and she resumes her play.

The experiment Sarah and Kimmy participated in is probably the most important study in the field of attachment theory—referred to as the strange situation test (the version described here is an abbreviated version of the test). Mary Ainsworth was fascinated by the way in which children’s exploratory drive—their ability to play and learn—could be aroused or stifled by their mother’s presence or departure.

She found that having an attachment figure in the room was enough to allow a child to go out into a previously unknown environment and explore with confidence. This presence is known as a secure base. It is the knowledge that you are backed by someone who is supportive and whom you can rely on with 100 percent certainty and turn to in times of need. A secure base is a prerequisite for a child’s ability to explore, develop, and learn.

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Horikoshi: This will probably not be super popular, but it’ll be fun!

Us: Oh, well that sounds nice!

Us, 290 chapters later: This Isn’t Fun Anymore Horikoshi

Horikoshi: :)

Anyways, welcome to the beginning of - hopefully - a long term and engaging project. I am basically aware of all of canon, and am up to date with the manga, but I haven’t actually read from the beginning of the series, and I’ve only watched the series up to the Deku v Todo fight in the sports festival. However, I’ve been curious as to how the manga portrays stuff that I’ve seen in anime gif form, and so I figured, hey, make this a project!

If you have questions or anything, the ask box is open for now. Meanwhile, I am going to head into the first chapter proper!

[No. 1 - Izuku Midoriya: Origin]

Wow, you’d almost think this kid would grow up to be a villain or something, with that kind of attitude, huh? No way that this kind of attitude would ever come to bite him in the ass and force him to reevaluate his entire character and kickstart his character development.

(Before you say anything, I like Katsuki as a character, but DAMN did he have to do a lot of growing up. I suppose when one is at the bottom, the only way to go is up… unless you have a pickaxe.)

One thing I actually noticed right away, and I dunno how much it’s used in other manga (seeing as I currently am not reading any other manga and the last ones I read were… a long while ago…) is the shape of the text boxes in order to convey emotion! It’s actually hella neat and a little detail I wouldn’t think about adding if I were in his position (not that I can draw all that well, but that’s not my point). You can practically hear the warbling in Izuku’s tone and the rougher edges in Katsuki’s!

(Also, question for the English sub while we’re at it, why the fuck does Katsuki sound like he’s a goddamned adult when he’s fourteen. What the fuck.)

Interesting little thing here, Katsuki not actually using his quirk here against Izuku; his hand is trailing smoke from his explosion, but it’s not a direct burn wound. Not that he should be doing this at all, but with the number of fics I see where Katsuki literally gives Izuku second or third degree burns, I think this is a reminder that canon Katsuki has some modicum of restraint, even this early.

Before I forget, hello winged kid who definitely has no plot significance whatsoever. No siree.

(If you are new to the manga/show and are reading this as among your first introductions to the fandom, first off, I am so sorry. Secondly, expect me to be… definitely making a lot of sarcastic quips to things in the future.)

Onto the second/third page, which is supposed to be a full spread, but is split up into two pages on the online reading site. RIP, but I will not complain about free access to the whole manga. 

Lookit this green bean. I love him so much. I can’t wait for him to suffer.

Izuku: wait, what?

Anyways, a few things to note:

Who the fuck is this guy? I looked into the wiki but he apparently doesn’t warrant a page or even a mention as one of the background faces of the series, but look at that fucking claw, man! And those boots and jets! He’s very obviously themed after a baseball catcher, so I’m going to guess that he has some kind of quirk that deals with either drawing projectiles to him, or perhaps in throwing projectiles… in either case, it’d be something like Snipe’s quirk, so maybe this is his less howdy-happy sibling.

Oh right, the chapter. The other heroes we see on the scene in this two-page spread are Death Arms, Air Jet, and Kamui Woods. 

Also, something I want to point out that I’m sure others have but just struck me while looking at this spread - multiple people are recording / taking pictures of this. I wonder if part of the reason for the villain industry to be as strong as it is is because the villains, even if they know they’ll lose, still get their own sort of fame in being in the news? That… might explain a lot about how there can be enough villains to even run an entire damn industry.

(Well, that and a lot of sociopolitical commentary on BNHA society, but we don’t need to get into that now. Maybe wait two hundred or so chapters first.)

Not gonna lie, I had to double take because I was like ‘wait, what is Ochako doing here?’ but then I realized it was just a random civilian; she doesn’t have those side bangs Ochako does. But now I almost wonder what sort of world we could have had, if they’d met a bit earlier.

Onto the fifth page (fourth is just a filler page, nothing on it), and we get treated to this gem:

Tag yourself I’m the guy who’s slackjawed because his kid is fucking glowing.

The first four examples of quirks shown in this flashback are the luminescence, telekinesis, ice, and that flame-headed(?) mutation. Of them, we actually see hints to the fact that quirks have drawbacks, as the girl with ice is drawn with the same frostbite backlash as Shouto, while the flame-headed kid is… well, I have no idea, but they do not look to be happy.

Also, I love the nod Hori does to the heroes of our era as silhouettes! This is just more evidence to me, along with the fact that the first quirked kid is born and presented in a modern hospital, that this series takes place sometime in the future. I… even calculated the years it could technically be, based on information we get in a few chapters, but I’ll save that for then.

Onto the sixth page! A nice shot of Kamui Woods getting into position, and man is that giant quirk unnerving.

What the fuck is with those feet, Hori. Those aren’t feet.

Next we see how the crowds are reacting, basically with no panic or concern. One guy is just casually letting his boss know he’ll be getting in late. And Backdraft! That is some serious water manipulation, but it seems like it has to be the water they’re in contact with? Also, is it just me or is that a portable pressure hose on their back?

And of course, Izuku being excited over hero stuff, as one does. He’s so babey faced, going back to current chapters after this is gonna be fucking wild.

Onto the seventh page, and here we are with the ‘you’re pure evil’ speech to someone who’s… just a robber. Seriously, dude? I get that you’re still fairly new to the scene (I think he might not be from a hero high school, but a late join program, but that’s another post), but like. You can’t just call random people ‘pure evil’ and correlate petty crime with like, actual mass murderers, or else people might start to see things in black and white and, you know, create the idea of ‘villainous people’ and so push even more innocents down the path of desperation and criminality.

Wait, sociopolitics later. Izuku being a hero fanboy now. Even able to utter Kamui’s attack call as he’s calling it out, with some seriously cool visual effects-

And on the eighth page, we have Mt. Lady crash the scene. Literally. She just fucking shows up outta nowhere and fucking leaps up and delivers a kick right to the villain’s chin, throwing him back through the train bridge wall and sending debris down to the ground below. Sure hope there weren’t civilians there!

Also, hello to that random guy on the roof watching this. I think in Smash they made that guy her manager or something.

I love how Izuku and the other guy are like ‘what the fuck’ while the press just shows up out of nowhere and is like. Hyperfocused on her. (I’ve heard some issues with the portrayal of media/reporters in the series, but since I have no experience with that sort of thing, I can’t say much on it.)

The last panel of this page shows that, fortunately, there were no civilians on that part of the street (even though it being rush hour and the huge crowds on the other side of the bridge should have suggested otherwise… but what do I know?)

With page nine, we get to see our first case of villain apprehension, which to note does not include any sort of quirk suppressors. Because those don’t exist. Otherwise Aizawa and the Eight Precepts’ erasure bullets would not be such huge deals to everyone. I mean yikes, though, the guy is fucking muzzled. And you can see the damage done by Mt. Lady in the background, both physical and emotional. Not to mention…

What the fuck is that face.

But yeah, this notes that performance in heroics determines not only what they’re paid by the government, but also how much fame they get. No way a system like this could backfire in any capacity, right? Right? (cough).

I love how Hori uses Izuku’s muttering habit as the border for the text bubble when the kid zones into his little world. Also, gigantification is noted to be a common and strong quirk, so we really should see more OCs with size altering quirks in fics in the future, you hear me? Honestly, with it being common, I would almost expect there to be entire buildings, or maybe even neighborhoods / blocks dedicated to catering to size shifters… wonder what those places look like.

Also aww, the guy saying good luck on the heroics dream to Izuku and Izuku just sparkling. What a cutie. Can’t wait for him to suffer. :D

Izuku: No seriously, what-

Anyways, I’m cutting off here since we then transition into the next ‘scene’ and this is a long chapter - 55 pages! Besides, this has already surpassed 1700 words, I don’t need to ramble on too long in one post. 

Lemme know what you think, and I’ll be back with more soon!

[aqua-murphys-law]

when it rains

Rating: K+ Warnings: panic attacks, breakdowns, self-depreciating thoughts Summary:

i’m only honest when it rains if i time it right, the thunder breaks when i open my mouth i wanna tell you but i don’t know how

~*~

With a life like Milo’s, it’s only a matter of time before he can’t just grin and bear it anymore. Some times are less convenient than others.

A/N: This started out as a purely self-indulgent “let Milo get angry and upset” whump fic, but hooooo boy there’s a lot to unpack now. My headcanons just will not give me a break. But hey, y’all get a +6k word fic out of the deal, so enjoy!

Check replies for a link to read on A03 for full tags, cause Tumblr hates links apparently! - Aqua

~*~

Of all the ways Milo Murphy has traveled to school, clinging to the top of a runaway ice cream stand that’s surfing a massive wave of pistachios is certainly one of the more palatable ones.

Hah, palatable- he almost makes the joke out loud, but between Zack’s screaming and Melissa’s shrieking laughter and the roar of wind and veering traffic in their ears, they probably won’t hear him. He files that pun away for later and turns his focus to their inevitable stopping; there’s a fountain up ahead that’s about the right height.

Adjusting his grip, Milo climbs over to the side of the stand, throwing its weight to the left. That changes its trajectory just enough to crash right into the fountain, tipping them and all the stand’s contents over into the small ocean of pistachios below. It’s like falling into a ball pit- if the balls in ball pits were tiny green nuts with miscellaneous ice cream sundae ingredients scattered about. Either way, it’s a soft enough landing, and the momentum carries them further down the road before the ground flattens out and they finally roll to a stop.

As fate would have it, the tidal wave of debris has carried them right to the school crosswalk, minutes before first bell. There’s a small group of their classmates waiting to cross, gaping at the wreckage. Milo picks himself out of the mess and dusts his knees off before helping Zack to his feet.

“Watch out for the banana peels,” Milo cautions. “They’re just as slippery in real life as they are in cartoons.”

Zack catches his breath. “Dude, that was kinda awesome.”

Milo’s heart swells happily, and he grins. “I’d say that’s one of our most palatable adventures yet.”

Zack’s eyes light up as he catches on, nudging Milo with his elbow. “It sherbet was!”

“No puns this early in the morning,” Melissa groans, picking pistachios out of her hair.

Milo digs a brush out of his backpack and hands it to her. “Sorry, Melissa,” he says good-naturedly.

“Yeah, sorry,” Zack says, “we know you don’t… cone-done that behavior.”

Milo hides a laugh behind his hand while Melissa lightly punches Zack’s arm before continuing to brush out the pistachios. Then he takes a second to look over the damage again, double-checking no one got caught in the crossfire. It’s a good thing the stand hadn’t been open yet when that freighter full of pistachios exploded-

“Stop! Milo.”

Milo looks over at the familiar voice, smiling. “Hi, Elliot.”

As always, the crossing guard is brandishing his stop sign at them. His attention seems to be split between staring at Milo and staring at the heap of food in the street.

Melissa rolls her eyes. “We’re already stopped,” she points out, passing the brush back to Milo. “You know, just a group of middle school kids, waiting for the crossing guard to help them cross the street?”

“Yeah,” Zack adds, “your job?”

Elliot makes a disbelieving sound. “What, the giant mountain of walnuts hasn’t stopped traffic enough as it is?”

“Actually, they’re pistachios,” Milo says helpfully, tucking the brush away. “And sure, but it’s really best to wait for authorized personnel to formally halt the flow of traffic using proper signage instead of taking your chances.”

“I know that!” Elliot protests, sounding irritable. He holds the stop sign out, gesturing with his other hand for them all to cross. “Alright, move it along, people…”

Milo is happy to do so, leaving Elliot’s grumbling behind. It’s always a good morning when he actually makes it to school, and on time. Walking beside him, Melissa’s already whipped her phone out to share the pictures she took during all the excitement, snickering at the way Zack’s eyes widen. Milo chuckles to himself; how she manages to get such incredible shots, he’ll never know.

They reach the sidewalk on the other side without incident. He can hear the echoes of sirens from responding emergency vehicles starting up across town and knows they’ll be at the scene in a couple minutes. That makes him feel better about heading inside before they arrive, though he laments the fact that he won’t get to thank them personally-

“You know, Murphy, these catastrophes would be a lot more bearable if you took them seriously.”

Milo pauses, tilting his head. Melissa and Zack are already frowning at Elliot, but he wants to make sure he’s accurately identified the disdain in Elliot’s voice and isn’t just missing sarcasm again.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Elliot folds his arms with a huff, his stop sign sticking out at an angle. “I mean, you walk around with that grin on your face, brushing everything off like it’s no big deal.” He scowls at Milo over his glasses. “Do you even care about all the chaos you leave in your wake?”

Milo blinks, his smile faltering. Is that the impression people get from him?

Zack steps forward. “Hey man, back off,” he snaps at Elliot.

“Yeah,” Melissa chimes in, folding her arms, “you’re just bitter because people keep assuming you’re in your thirties.” She jerks her chin over at the doors. “Come on, Milo.”

Milo manages to smile again, but it feels strained. “Elliot, I can assure you that I understand the severity of Murphy’s Law,” he says carefully, moving to follow Melissa up the rest of the stairs.

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it,” Elliot gripes after them, a parting jab.

Milo should let it go, he knows he should. This is just how Elliot is; there’s no way somebody so pathologically obsessed with safety would ever see Milo as anything more than a hazard. But this is more than simply placing blame on him for Murphy’s Law. That, he’s used to. He can handle that.

What he can’t stand for is the implication that he doesn’t care when people get hurt. Not when he works so hard to avoid it- often at the expense of his own wellbeing. If he only worried about himself, Murphy’s Law would be exponentially easier to deal with. Most people don’t realize that.

He stops walking, turning to look Elliot dead in the eye. “What’s the alternative?” he asks, his face blank and voice held carefully neutral.

Elliot’s clearly surprised at the question. He hesitates, shooting a wary look at Melissa and Zack, before he manages a shrug. “I don’t know, just some indication that you’re actually sorry for everything going wrong all the time?”

Milo’s grip on his backpack goes white-knuckled. “You think I should feel sorry?” he asks quietly.

Elliot flounders for a second. “I, uh… well, yes?”

It’s one thing for Milo to impulsively feel responsible for any destruction caused by Murphy’s Law, before he can remind himself that it’s not his fault. But it’s another thing entirely for someone to tell him that he should feel that way, all the time.

“What would you like me to do?” he presses. “Walk around with my head hung low, overcome with guilt every time Murphy’s Law happens? Apologize constantly when the majority of the people in my life have been dealing with it for years? Or- or beat myself up over something I can’t change or control?”

Elliot’s eyes widen, his brows shooting up to his hairline. “Now listen, that’s not exactly what I said-”

“But it’s what you meant, right?” Milo asks in a voice he doesn’t recognize. It’s white-hot with anger, and he can feel the glare that’s drawing his eyebrows down into a point, the way it’s narrowing his eyes. It’s an unfamiliar expression.

Oh, this is dangerous territory. Anger isn’t safe; it clouds the mind and fosters rash decisions, preventing one from thinking clearly. He can’t afford to have his judgement skewed, his reaction time hampered by the distraction of wrestling emotions under control. Not here, when there’s so many people around who could get hurt by his inability to act if something were to happen.

Melissa tugs Milo by the arm, trying to pull him away. “Milo, come on, he’s not worth it,” she says, her voice low and urgent.

The concern in her voice pricks at him. He’s aware, to some degree, that they’ve attracted an audience; the other kids that crossed with them are lingering, whispering to each other. He’s aware that his heart is starting to race and his skin feels flushed, the unpleasant physical effects of anger. And he’s especially aware of Zack’s gaze on him, what he must be thinking of the whole situation.

But Milo abruptly finds that he doesn’t care. Maybe that should concern him, too.

Elliot holds up his hands, something akin to panic flashing across his face. “Hey, look, I didn’t-”

“If I let myself feel bad every time Murphy’s Law happened, I’d never stop,” Milo says sharply. “Do you realize that? You’re only exposed to Murphy’s Law in the brief moments I’m around you. But for me, it never ends. It doesn’t have a weekly schedule, it doesn’t take days off. It doesn’t even stop when I’m asleep. And I will be dealing with it for the rest of my life.”

A horrible silence follows, even Elliot seeming lost for words.

Chills erupt across Milo’s skin. The fiery anger inside him suddenly extinguishes, leaving him cold and hollow. He’s struck with the realization that in his lashing out, he’s only just upset himself more. Because he doesn’t like to think about the future, about how everything he’s experienced so far in his short life is just the tip of the iceberg, and there he goes, now he’s thinking about it-

Something wet runs down his cheek.

Instinctively, Milo looks up to find the source. But there aren’t any clouds in the sky threatening a sudden downpour, no leaky pipes or anything else to drip water on him. Brows knitting in confusion, he absently reaches a hand up to his face.

Then his eyes start to sting as his vision blurs, and it hits him.

He’s crying.

… he’s crying?

A sound gets choked in his throat, something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. Horror sweeps through him but it’s rapidly being outdone by the overwhelming hysteria.

Oh no. No, no, no, he can’t be crying, not here. He stumbles away from Elliot, his backpack hitting the stair railing with a soft thud, and presses the heels of his palms against his burning eyes. Stop, stop, stop! Colors bloom behind his closed lids, intensifying as he increases the pressure until it’s almost painful, desperately willing the tears to go away.

He’s not supposed to be crying at school. If there’s anything more distracting than anger, it’s crying. There are too many people around him, something could go wrong at any second and he won’t be able to protect them like this- something could be going wrong right now and he won’t notice because he’s too busy falling to pieces.

Panic kicks in, and the harsh echo in his ears tells him he’s hyperventilating. That’s definitely not helping, but the part of him that realizes this is remarkably absent, like he’s become disconnected from his own body.

The rest of him is pretty sure he’s about to die. And not in the way he’s familiar with.

Two hands circle his wrists, pulling them down from his eyes in a grip that’s gentle yet firm. Melissa’s face swims into focus.

~*~

Melissa searches Milo’s face, her heart sinking.

“Milo?” she tries. “You okay?”

Milo doesn’t respond, but he squeezes his eyes shut, sending a few more tears streaking down his face. She can feel his pulse jumping under the scarred skin of his wrists. His heartbeat, normally so steady, is running fast and erratic.

Something is very wrong.

“Woah, uh, is he okay?” Elliot asks, alarmed.

“You don’t get to talk,” Melissa hisses at him before turning back to Milo. It’s incredibly hard to push her anger down, but she has to, for his sake. “Milo,” she says, softer, “it’s me. You’re alright. We’re gonna go somewhere else, okay?”

Milo still doesn’t respond, but he curls a little closer to her. Melissa takes a second to shoot a warning look at the other kids gathered around. “Give us some space,” she orders them. And then, “Zack, you’re with me.”

They must hear the barely restrained fury in her voice, because the doors are cleared in record time. Zack unfreezes and swiftly places himself on the other side of Milo, his hands fidgeting like he isn’t sure what to do with them.

Gently, Melissa starts leading Milo up the stairs, into the school. Thankfully, he follows. He seems to be in a daze, too focused on his internal panic to take notice of what’s going on around him. Melissa is suddenly very grateful that she and Zack are here, because if Milo were alone in such a state, he wouldn’t be able to protect himself from any Murphy’s Law incidents.

Speaking of Zack, the other boy has moved slightly in front of them, paving a way through the various students still lingering in the halls before class.

“Where to?” he asks over his shoulder, voice tight with worry.

“Somewhere quiet and out of the way.”

“Under the stairwell?”

Melissa follows Zack’s gaze to the stairwell before nodding swiftly. They make a beeline for it, swerving only to avoid a ceiling tile that drops out of its frame above them. She catches the edge of it with her shoe and sends it skidding along the floor, out of the way. Serves it right.

She ducks under the stairwell, careful to pull Milo down after her so he doesn’t hit his head. The little alcove is a bit dusty, but it’s quiet and away from prying eyes, so it’ll do. She shrugs her backpack off and sits against the wall, taking Milo’s weight.

He leans on her heavily, like he doesn’t have the energy to hold himself upright. She’s tempted to slip off his backpack as well, since that’s probably accounting for a third of his weight right now, but she knows that would only make him panic further.

He’s still breathing way too fast for her liking, blinking rapidly to try and fight back tears. The glassy look in his eyes is so unlike him, it makes her heart clench painfully.

Zack’s voice hovers anxiously somewhere above her. “Has this happened before?”

“Not in public,” Melissa answers shortly. Then she swallows hard and forces her voice to come out calm and gentle. “Hey Milo, you with me?”

It takes a second for Milo to find her eyes, trembling all the while.

Melissa holds his gaze, pouring as much reassurance into it as she can. “Good, that’s good. Zack’s here with us. Is that alright?”

Milo doesn’t look over at Zack, but he manages a nod.

“Okay,” Melissa murmurs. She takes a quick look to make sure no one’s wandering by the stairwell before turning back to Milo. “We’re alone now, just us three. We’re safe.” She takes a deep breath. “Go ahead.”

Milo’s face crumples. “Melissa-”

He finally breaks, burying his face in her shoulder. His sobs are partially muffled by her jacket- which is quickly becoming damp- but she can feel the force of each one, the way his chest heaves for breath. He holds her arms like his life depends on it, pressing close to her as if he’s trying to hide away from the world.

Even though she’s preparing herself for it, hearing him cry brings a fresh wave of tears to her own eyes. Stubbornly, she stares up at the ceiling until they recede. She can’t break down right now. Milo needs her.

Think about something else, something funny. Like how great it’s going to feel to get Elliot back for this. There’s a petting zoo service nearby that rents out ducks. If she places an order soon, she could probably get them before Monday. How many ducks is too many, she wonders?

“So hey, uh, what’s going on?” Zack’s low murmur brings her out of the daydream. He’s looking at Milo with a stricken expression. “Is he going to be okay?”

Melissa exhales, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “He will be,” she says softly. “He’s just overwhelmed.”

Zack runs a hand through his hair. “Is- is there anything I can do?” he asks helplessly.

There isn’t much, but she can tell just from looking at him that his anxiety is skyrocketing right now, on the verge of his own panic attack. Giving him something, anything else to focus on might help.

“Keep people off us, and watch for any trouble,” Melissa decides.

It’s strange to think that she’s only known this boy for a few months, yet she’d trust him with hers and Milo’s wellbeing. But Zack’s proven he can handle Murphy’s Law, and she knows he’ll protect them with everything he’s got.

She’s proven right when Zack’s expression hardens, and he nods. Turning around, he goes to stand at the mouth of the alcove, blocking her and Milo from view of the hallway. His hands twitch at his sides, ready to act. Just like that.

Not for the first time, Melissa is thankful that Zack became their friend. Milo chose well.

And speaking of Milo, the panic seems to have finally ebbed. Now it’s just regular crying, without the hyperventilating and shaking. The knot in her stomach loosens, but only slightly- they aren’t out of the woods yet.

Gently, she drums her fingers along his spine, beating a soothing rhythm against the body armor he wears under his clothes. The muffled thuds are too light for him to feel; it’s really just so he has a sound to focus on. She’s found that helps, in the past.

But she doesn’t try to shush him. Now that he’s actually crying, he needs to get it all out. She tries to imagine that her arms around Milo are a safety net, allowing him to be vulnerable without fear. She hopes he can pick up on it.

The next several minutes pass in relative calm- if holding your friend while he has a breakdown can be considered calm. A couple times, Melissa catches wind of something going on in the hallway, some likely improbable object coming their way. But thanks to Zack’s vigilance, nothing comes close, letting her focus all her attention on Milo.

It’s not long after second bell when Milo starts to come back to himself. His grip on her arms tightens and then immediately slackens, and the next breath he takes is a deep one, though it shudders on the exhale.

There are a couple moments where Milo is still and quiet, just the occasional sniffle as his breathing evens out. Then he pulls back enough to look at Melissa, his eyes red and teary but no longer vacant.

“Melissa?” he breathes, his voice small.

Melissa lets out a sigh of relief, managing a tired smile. “There you are.”

“Hey, buddy.” As relieved as Melissa feels, Zack sounds about a hundred times more so. He kneels down next to them, his hand once again awkwardly hovering over Milo’s shoulder before retreating. “How you feeling?”

Milo glances around, taking in their surroundings. Melissa can almost see the moment realization hits; his mouth presses into a tight line before he looks away, wiping at his eyes. “Guys, I- I am so sorry-”

“Don’t you dare,” Melissa cuts him off sternly.

Milo swallows hard, tucking his knees to his chest. “But it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have lost my cool back there,” he mumbles guiltily. “It was just Elliot being, y- you know, Elliot, and I got-”

“Rightfully upset,” Melissa finishes for him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, dude, you’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Zack agrees.

Milo’s smile is thin, but his eyes are thoughtful. Melissa hopes they’ve gotten through to him. She isn’t going to push it any more, though, not right now.

“Now, c’mon, let’s get off the floor,” she says, straightening up. “My legs are falling asleep.”

Milo accepts the hand she offers him, letting her pull him up and out from under the stairwell. He looks a little shaky on his feet, his face still paler than normal, but he jolts when he notices the clock.

“Oh no, we’re late for first period. We’d better-”

“Nuh uh.” Melissa holds fast to his arm. “After a bout like that, you need to go home and rest.”

Milo hesitates. “I miss so much school already…”

Melissa shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. Mental health days are included under excused absences, you know. We’ll let the teachers know and grab your homework for you.”

“Seriously, it’s alright,” Zack says softly.

Milo studies them both before nodding. “Okay,” he relents. “Thanks.”

Melissa whips out her phone to text his mom. As she does so, she notices Milo is starting to lean against Zack for support. The other boy doesn’t seem to mind, his arm automatically shifting around Milo’s shoulders. It seems his earlier reservations are gone, now that Milo’s sought out the contact. It’s a cute sight.

“Alright,” Melissa tucks her phone away, “your mom’s on her way over. I asked her to meet us in the back lot, just in case the jerk-who-shall-not-be-named is still skulking around.”

Milo nods slightly, giving her a grateful smile before his gaze lowers again.

Now that he’s given up on toughing out the day, he’s starting to withdraw. He doesn’t always go nonverbal after a crying spell, but the panic attack has to have done a number on him.

They aren’t common for Milo, panic attacks. Melissa knows his stress response is… highly abnormal. Even before she met him, he’d been living in a constant state of stress for years. She’s not sure if he’s learned to tune it out, or if his body has just stopped responding to common stressors by this point. But she knows he rarely gets a physical reaction to danger, that ‘fight or flight’ response that spikes you up with adrenaline.

This is clearly a different ball game. The only time she can recall anything remotely similar to this happening was the first time she got seriously hurt by Murphy’s Law. And it didn’t even happen on the spot; he hadn’t broken down until visiting her in the hospital after the fact.

That was a long time ago, but it left quite the impression. The hyperventilating and shaking, she remembers. And that distant, glassy expression. It was something she hoped she’d never have to witness again, but of course, life has other plans.

Not that she blames Milo for it. After all, however difficult this is for her, it’s much, much worse for him. Losing control of his emotions hits him hard, because his life is already so out of control as it is. The one thing he should always have control over is himself, but he doesn’t.

And even though she’s long since made peace with the idea that life isn’t fair, this feels particularly, especially unfair. With all the danger Murphy’s Law brings, Milo shouldn’t have to deal with guilt, judgmental crossing guards, or a misplaced sense of responsibility so severe that he feels like he isn’t even allowed to cry.

Her expression must be troubled, because Milo lightly bumps against her arm. By the time she looks over, he’s already averted his gaze again- eye contact is probably a bit much for him right now- but she appreciates the gesture anyways.

‘Don’t worry,’ he seems to be saying.

Well… she can try not to, for his sake.

~*~

Zack can’t help stealing glances at Milo as they make their way down the hall.

He knows he shouldn’t be staring, because Milo doesn’t seem too keen on eye contact at the moment. It’s just hard to resist the urge to check up on him. Most of Zack’s focus was on keeping Murphy’s Law at bay, so he couldn’t really keep tabs on how the situation was going.

He can’t shake how jarring it was to see Milo like that. It’s a very good thing Melissa was there to snap him into action, because if she hadn’t, he probably would’ve just stood there frozen like a complete idiot, not helping the situation at all.

And how sad is that? Milo saves Zack over and over again, every time disaster strikes, but the one time Milo really needs him, Zack’s totally useless.

He should’ve seen that the conversation was going south and shut it down. He should’ve stood up for Milo more, or tried to get him out of the situation. He should’ve-

There’s a slight tug at the hem of his shirt. When he turns his head, he finds Milo’s hand gripping there. Not pulling, or trying to get his attention- Milo’s facing straight ahead, eyes downcast. Just, holding. Whether it’s an attempt to give comfort or receive it, Zack’s not sure.

But it does give him something else to focus on, aside from the spiraling thoughts in his head, and he smiles softly. Just in case Milo can see it out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a good reminder; there’s no point in dwelling on the past. He needs to keep moving forward, like Milo does.

They reach the back doors without issue, and are greeted by an empty parking lot. Fortunately, there aren’t any late stragglers- aside from them, of course. It’s a nice day, not too cold, so Zack doesn’t mind waiting a few minutes. Maybe the fresh air will help Milo. It’s certainly helping Zack.

He lets out a deep breath, feeling a little better for it. Milo settles further against his side while they wait, his cheek pressed against Zack’s shoulder. That steals the breath Zack just got back, but that’s the least of his concerns right now.

He’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when Mrs. Murphy’s car pulls into the lot. Milo perks up a bit, though still remains silent as his mother exits the car. She takes in Milo’s current state with no comment, just a sad, knowing look in her eyes, and Zack wonders if this is more common than he realized.

“You ready to go, honey?” she asks kindly.

Milo hesitates for a second, then turns and abruptly gives a hug to the both of them. It’s a quick thing, but Zack feels his face heat up immediately; Milo’s never hugged him before. And that thought is followed by his heart swelling almost painfully, because Milo’s never hugged him before. With that context, it’s a deeply touching gesture.

After stepping away, Milo darts over to his mom, hiding his face in her side. She smooths a hand over his hair, murmuring something too low for Zack to hear, before smiling at them gratefully. “Thanks, you two.”

“No problem, Mrs. Murphy,” Melissa replies. “Feel better soon, Milo.”

“Yeah, take it easy,” Zack calls after them.

The car pulls away, and Zack can see Diogee clambering into Milo’s lap before they’re out of view. That makes him feel a little better. Still, he sends a quick prayer to the universe that the car ride goes smoothly, without any Murphy’s Law incidents. Milo really deserves a break.

Next to him, Melissa stands motionless, watching the car leave. Zack clears his throat. “Well, we should probably head back…”

Melissa shakes her head, sitting down on the steps. “First period’s already half-over by now, no point in going.” She shrugs. “Plus, we need to talk this out, or it’ll turn into one of those weird unspoken things.”

“Oh.” Hesitantly, Zack sits down next to her. If Melissa is willing to play hooky, it must be important. “Alright, then.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the sounds of distant traffic. He’d been expecting Melissa to start the conversation, but she seems to be waiting for him, instead. Waiting to see what his reaction is.

It hadn’t taken long for Melissa to go from ‘Milo’s only other friend’ to ‘Milo and Zack’s friend.’ Once she warmed up to him, she’d moved right along to acting like they’d known each other for years. But they certainly haven’t had any deep, serious discussions before. He’s not quite sure how to proceed.

Zack rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “So, uh… that happened.”

“Yep.” Melissa exhales heavily, but her expression is sympathetic. “I’m sorry you weren’t more prepared, it’s just that he tries to handle these things privately.”

Zack frowns. “These things? What do you mean?”

Melissa stares out over the parking lot, her brows knit together. “Milo breaks bones on a monthly basis. He comes away with some kind of injury on a near-daily basis. And the constant threat of danger plus the massive amount of effort required to deal with it would be enough to drive anyone to tears.”

“And…?” Zack prompts, confused.

Melissa glances at him out of the side of her eye. “Before now, have you ever seen him cry?”

Zack opens his mouth to reply, ‘Of course I have!’ because surely it would’ve happened at some point. He knows Milo gets hurt frequently, he’s watched it happen. But as he thinks about it, he can’t actually recall a time when tears were involved. Not even for broken bones.

“I… woah, you’re right,” Zack realizes, his stomach dropping.

Melissa nods grimly. “He doesn’t like crying. Says it messes with his ability to react to Murphy’s Law. So he just… doesn’t let himself cry, most of the time, no matter how hurt he gets. It’s been like that for as long as I’ve known him.”

It takes a second for the full implications to hit Zack. “Wait, didn’t you guys meet when you were six?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.” Zack swallows. They might be old enough now that crying isn’t as common, but Milo’s been like this since he was six, possibly younger. Zack himself was a bit of a crybaby at that age, even a skinned knee sending him into hysterics.

And sure, maybe it’s embarrassing to look back on, but that’s normal for little kids.

Milo didn’t get to have that.

“That’s… kinda sad,” Zack murmurs.

“I know,” Melissa sighs. “Of course, he can’t bottle it up forever. And crying is an important chemical release, it’s healthy. So he just puts it off until he’s safe at home, usually on a weekend. That way, he’s got his family there to look out for him, and he doesn’t have to worry about anyone else getting caught up in Murphy’s Law. I’ve only been there for a handful of them, but he probably goes for months in between. It’s… a lot of buildup.”

The pieces are starting to fall into place. Zack inhales sharply. “So, when he does finally let himself cry…”

Melissa gives him a thin smile. “Well, you know what they say. When it rains, it pours.” She wraps her arms around herself. “But this time was worse than normal, because he was having a panic attack on top of it. He really didn’t want to break down at school.”

Zack nods slowly, brows furrowing. “Wow. I had no idea.”

Melissa makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s not your fault, he doesn’t like people to know.”

Alarm shoots through Zack. This is a deeply personal aspect of Milo’s life. What if he wasn’t ready for Zack to see it? What if Zack’s intruding?

Melissa must have noticed the panic on his face, because she waves him off. “Don’t worry, him letting you stay was giving permission for me to tell you this. Just, people, in general. He puts a lot of work into staying upbeat all the time, and he doesn’t want that ruined by something like this.”

Zack chews on his lip, only slightly relieved. Quite a few people saw the beginning of the whole thing. “Is he gonna be okay? I know it was just some kids from class, but…”

“I think he will be,” Melissa says thoughtfully. “He’s been branching out a lot more this year, in terms of making friends.” She smiles faintly at him. “We’ve got you to thank for that.”

The sudden diverge throws Zack for a loop. “What do you mean?”

Melissa leans back on her elbows, contemplative. “I mean, if Milo and I started a band last year, Mort wouldn’t have dreamed of joining. If we’d been crazy enough to have a birthday party, no one would’ve come. For as long as all of us here can remember, Milo’s just had me. But seeing you give him a chance… I don’t know, I think it’s helped them realize they don’t have to stay so far away.”

Zack’s stunned. “I… guess I hadn’t thought about it.”

That’s an understatement. Zack found his place so readily within this new school that he hadn’t stopped to consider what things had been like before. He knows Milo didn’t have any close friends aside from Melissa, but had the other kids in class always been nothing more than scant acquaintances? Was it new for them to engage Milo in conversation or willingly be around him?

Then Zack thinks back to the day they met, at the bus stop. The way the other kids there had immediately scrambled away from Milo, expressions full of fear. And he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.

Melissa hums. “Yep. You’re a trendsetter.”

Zack rubs his arm, embarrassed. He really doesn’t deserve accolades just for giving Milo a chance. “So… do you cry often?” he ventures, changing the subject.

Melissa rolls her eyes at him. “I’d say a normal amount, for someone in my circumstances. Whenever I’m seriously hurt, you can bet I’m crying about it. Not everyone can just block out that kind of pain.” Her expression sobers. “But even on the emotional side of things, if there’s ever a particularly rough day, then yeah, I’ll go home and cry it out. It’s a good release.”

“Huh.” Zack scratches his head. “Gotta say, I’m a little surprised. You seem to handle Murphy’s Law so well, you know?”

Melissa snorts. “Yeah, only because I let myself cry every now and them. No one can deal with all that disaster and destruction without it getting to them. Not even Milo.”

“Fair point,” Zack amends.

“So, what about you?” Melissa elbows him. “C’mon, don’t be a hypocrite.”

Zack flushes. “I mean, yeah, sometimes,” he admits. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to be friends with Milo, but Murphy’s Law can be… stressful.” Particularly on top of his normal anxiety, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Melissa nods approvingly. “Good. Own it. Being part of a Murphy’s life has its ups and down. It also has its own set of rules.”

“Like what?” Zack asks, tilting his head.

“You need to make sure you relieve stress on a regular basis, whether that’s through crying or something else. And you need to relax on a regular basis, too. Not necessarily in that order,” she adds, as an afterthought.

Zack raises his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. Anything else I should be aware of?”

Melissa counts them off on her fingers. “Stay hydrated, get regular sleep, have a good amount of protein in the diet…”

“That just sounds like normal self-care stuff,” Zack points out flatly.

Melissa squints at him. “Touché.” Then she snaps her fingers. “Gargling salt water can help your throat recover from over-screaming. Oh, and Murphys are legally protected from being discriminated against by an accord written in the early 1900’s, so don’t be afraid to cite it. Also, Milo craves physical affection from those he’s close to, but he doesn’t feel he has the right to ask for it.”

Zack blinks. “Figure all this out yourself?”

“Nah, Mrs. Murphy had some tips.” Melissa’s humor fades. “Seriously though, I noticed your hesitation back there. That’s a good instinct, since plenty of people don’t like to be touched during panic attacks. But you don’t need to worry about it with Milo, that’s one of the few times he actually seeks out comfort.”

Zack jolts with surprise. He hadn’t though Melissa would pick up on that- at the time, he was hardly aware of what he was doing, himself. “Oh, alright then.”

“And just for the record,” Melissa’s expression turns mischievous, “if you were a little more forthcoming with physical affection on a day-to-day basis, I don’t think Milo would mind.”

Zack jumps to his feet like he’s been electrocuted, choking on air. “O- oh, sure, of course. Being close to Milo, I don’t have a problem with that, why would I have a problem with that?” he babbles, feeling his face heat up. “I mean, I don’t not have a problem with it, I mean, not more than the normal amount for two friends-” Okay, Zack, time to shut up now.

Melissa just snickers at him, standing up and dusting off her skirt. “C’mon, it’s about time to head in. Ready for a completely average, boring, uneventful day?”

Zack sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets with a rueful grin. “If we must.”

Maybe it’s not so bad to have a little time to process things, considering how much he has to process.

~*~

Milo’s only been curled up on the couch for a couple hours when his phone buzzes.

It’s a selfie from Melissa, in science class. She’s angled the phone to get Zack in the background of the shot; he’s clearly dozing, eyelids drooping as he rests his chin in his hand. Melissa’s giving the camera a knowing look, and the caption reads, ‘Someone’s missing you!’

Milo’s heart skips a beat. He quickly attributes it to surprise that Melissa is actually texting in class- though he knows she’s just checking in with him. It’s a thoughtful gesture, and he sends a couple emojis back. Words, even in text form, are still hard right now. But he knows she’ll understand, because she and Zack are the best friends a Murphy could ask for.

He’s lucky like that, to not have to weather this storm alone.

~*~

[youralternantpersonality]

Except For You

Embry x reader: Except for You

Warning: Death, Emotional support and control, CPS/fostering/adoption/homes.

***

Y/n was an easy-going kid growing up, full of life, happiness, and all things of that. It wasn’t until the tragic accident happened that landed you in foster care. CPS searched high and low for a family member to take you in. But to no avail, you were still in the system from the soft ages of five to 15.5 years (to be exact). It wasn’t the easiest, nicest, and not the most pleasant, but you survived and that’s all that mattered. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

You were taken in by your great aunt when you were eight, but by then, the damages had been done. You were distant, hesitant, and deemed as an “aggressive” child. The only life form you ever let get close to you was the dog of the house, Manny. As soon as you entered the household, Manny was your comforter, protector, and your emotional and mental support. Your great aunt and uncle realized this and let it be. It wasn’t until another accident occurred that resulted in Manny’s death did you end up in a group home. The pain was too much, and because you weren’t properly taught how to express your emotions healthily, it resulted in a few tossed dishes, runaways, holes in the wall, and nights of screams and cries that could be heard for miles. Ever since, at the tender age of nine (at this point), you wouldn’t allow any form of being near you. The thought of going through that pain again only would hurt 20x more than the time you lost your family and Manny. And that wasn’t worth it.

That is until you were fostered by a couple who wanted to adopt you in the small town of La Push. You had met your foster mom, Emily, at the group home she volunteered at and for once grew attached to someone. It took a while, but something about Emily gave you a sense of home. She reminded you of your mother. Or what little you had of her. All you had of your family was pictures and trinkets you hid from the other kids, so they don’t mess with it.

You and Emily grew close. So close that Emily had to stop volunteering at the group home. Regret consumed you until you had a potential parental meeting to be adopted. When you walked into the room, the first person you saw was your caseworker, Lilly (the bitch), and then you saw her…Emily. You ran to her as fast as you could, hugged her with all your strength, and cried.

“What are you doing here?” You cried into her shoulder.

“I’m here to take you home Y/n/n.” you looked at her confused. She smiled and continued,

“That’s why I stopped volunteering. It would have been a conflict of interest and unethical to continue to work here and then adopt you, sweetie. So, I talked to Jessica and Leo,” the group homeowners, “and they said I would have to stop for a given month, place in an application, allow CPS to check if we’re acceptable to be able to be a contender. But Jess and Leo somehow convinced them to speed up the year process to five months. I’m so sorry Hun, I didn’t mean to be away for this long.” She said with tears forming in her eyes.

“You want me?” I said in disbelief. She smiled and looked up at a man I didn’t realize who was there. Big ass dude who looked to be “6’4”, broad shoulders, buff, and looks like he could intimidate and scare off anyone in his path. He grinned down at Emily and looked towards me. He held out his hand and introduced himself.

“I’m Sam, Emily’s husband. She has told me nothing but great things about you Y/n.” I hesitantly but confidently shook his hand and from then forward, I was accepted into their close little family. And to be honest, I wasn’t that was surprised at how easily I had grown attached to the two.

Six months later

I was in the garden with Emily fixing the flower beds when I heard the guys come from the forest. Emily and I looked at each other and went inside to clean up real fast and prepare for their ultimate feast. The guys had been training for some vampiric war due to this incompetent girl who can’t get herself out of trouble.

It was on accident really, how I found out what Sam and the guys are. Two things happened, one, Embry imprinted on me, and two, I was there that uneventful day, the first day I met Bella, where her dumbass punched Paul. Not only did I see Paul, but I also saw Jake transform.

Living with Sam and Emily for a month and a half

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” I yell at a distance, Embry, my imprint before I knew what it was, Quil, and Jered all turned to look at me.

“Fuck.” Sam said, he turned to look at me, but I took off. I didn’t know where I was running, but I ran. I wanted to go home, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know if Emily or Leah did the same thing. So, I just ran, ran until I got to First beach. I fell to the sand to catch my breath and just looked out into the ocean. I felt someone sit next to me, without even looking, I knew who it was. The second and last person I’ll let come as close as they were to me; the only other male to be within proximity of me. Enough to where our shoulders touched.

Embry. The cute and idiotic boy I took to instantly the second we met. I never understood or knew what it was about him, but whatever it was, I tried to fight it at first, but it hurt more than I thought it would. Emily said to just let it happen, let yourself feel, and not resist. It was hard, but after some time, he somehow looked like it affected him more than me, which worried and hurt me. Without a second thought, I accepted and allow myself to the possibility of gaining a closer friend. And since, he has been one of the closest people I have ever taken to. More so than Emily, and that says a lot. I broke the silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” I said without looking at him.

“I figured you’d want to get adapted to living here before you found out that our legends are true Olives.” I roll my eyes at the nickname he gave me as soon as he found out that I despise Olives. I looked at him and looked down as our knees were leaning on one another.

“You still could have said something…I don’t know. Anything. You know I hate secrets, especially coming from you Cilantro.” He wrapped his arm around me, and I easily gave into him. It used to bother me how easily I took to him being close to me, but now, I don’t fight it.

“I know, and I’m sorry. No more secrets, I promise. Unless I have to protect you, but I promise, I will try to keep you out of that situation Olives.” I looked up at him, I couldn’t look away even if I tried. His big soft brown eyes carried the light from the sun as if it was a sea with quiet waves. A whirlpool of honey mixed with chocolate. The boy had a grasp on me, but I wouldn’t break what we have for some weird crush. But apparently, he would because without a second thought, he leaned in and I felt two warm lips against mine. I did nothing at first, but when he pulled away, I leaned in and caught his lips to mine again to show him how I felt back. After that, we leaned our foreheads against each other and smiled. Thus, resulting in him to tell me about imprinting. Now, that, I understood why he held back from telling me. Thinking back on it, the ways the pack responded to us, it made sense.

“Awe, look at the married couple.” -Jared, when we were eating.

“You guys want us to leave while you have your privacy, or are we welcomed into the conversation?” -Brady, when we were hanging out at the beach.

“Get a room!”- Paul, when we were doing nothing but making stupid faces at each other.

Everyone knew I hated being touched or having someone too close to me, except for Emily. So, when I allowed Embry to do so, that brought on more teasing. And it wasn’t big stuff like wrapping an arm around me. It was small things.

When he’d sit next to me at the table, he would be close enough for me to cross my legs and rest my foot behind his calf, yet far enough so no one would be able to notice.

Sometimes Emily and I would be sitting at the table when the guys come in. He would purposefully be last so that when he came behind me, he would glide his finger softly at my exposed skin. At one point, he didn’t care, and Emily saw him do it then saw my reaction. She was happy to see my reaction but said nothing to me.

When Emily and I are cleaning the kitchen from cooking and the guys come in to eat, he’d get the silverware and slightly brush his shoulder to mine. Then bump me with it and head back to the table. I would do nothing but smile, which caught Paul’s attention, who then pointed it out. Asshole.

After that, Embry said, “fuck it!” and just found a way to get close to me. I didn’t mind. But it was moments like these, on the sand, with his arm wrapped around me that no one saw. It was something that wasn’t worth showing. Something that I was not comfortable showing. The slight touches, I’m ok. But PDA, I can’t do. Thankfully he understands this.

Present Day

Just as the boys were entering, Emily and I just took the food out. Like normal, the boys set the table and for some reason, Embry came up to me first, kissed my cheek, grabbed the plates, and went to the table. I was shocked, but I wasn’t mad. No one saw it, so that put me at ease.

After eating and relaxing, Embry and I went to his place to just watch a movie. It was times like these did he love the most. Why? Because I was always attached to him. With Embry, I can get lost in time and can easily feel physically deprived from. So, when we are behind closed doors, I basically turn into a big baby. Another thing that has scared me. But I am learning.

With Embry, I am learning a lot about myself. My boundaries, comfort zones, and what I want. With Emily and Sam alone, I learned what I want, Manny proved that to me too. With my great aunt and uncle, I learned what I didn’t want. At the group home, I was taught how to survive. With all these lessons, I learned a great deal about myself. And all of it came into play meeting up to the love of my life. And every day, I am grateful.

Masterlist

[akirakurusuimagines]

Magic in the Air

@p5auweek​ day three: Fantasy AU // Thank you so much to @askkrisachan​ for the wonderful idea!! I hope that I did it justice!!!

“How dare you.”

Akira looked up from his latest book, slightly surprised to see you barge into his quaint shop in one of the city’s many dark alleyways, fuming so much he almost thought you would burst into flames. He pushed up his glasses, the large rims hiding his eyes. “Excuse me?”

He watched as you stormed up to him, slamming your hands down on the counter top scattered with trinkets and used mugs he was resting his feet on. Akira just barely caught his fresh cup of coffee before it spilled, making sure it settled down before it ruined any important documents he had scattered around. 

“A couple days ago, you sold some students a set of faulty potions!” You leaned in towards the dark mage, though his face was slightly hidden from his large hat, you held the sneer on your face while your relentless rage boiled over. “They had to be admitted to the medical ward because of it!”

Akira’s eyebrows furrowed at the news, his lips pursed in a thin line as he attempted to recall such students. Ah, that’s right. He recognized that uniform of yours. It was one of several schools of magic that occupied the town. He couldn’t say he was surprised by that outcome, but the potions weren’t the ones to blame. “None of my wares are faulty,” Akira explained with a cool tone, “your friends must’ve mishandled it. Therefore I have nothing to do with it.” 

You weren’t going to just accept that, of course. They were your friends, after all, and you wanted answers and compensation. “You can’t guarantee that!” you argued, “They told me you sold them a love potion⁠—” 

“I don’t make love potions,” Akira corrected you, taking a sip of his coffee. This was tiring him already; he only wished to continue reading the text he bought. “They came to me in search of a way to cheat on their exam. I told them the consequences of doing so, and clearly they didn’t listen.” 

“What?”

Akira sighed and pulled his hat off, tossing it aside, yet somehow landing it perfectly on the hook that hung from the wall. Simple magic. He pulled his legs off of the table and adjusted himself so his elbows rested on the counter and his chin rested on his knuckles. “It’s admirable that you trust your friends so much, but you should still do some of your own research before you come barging into someone’s shop, accusing them of something they didn’t do. Luckily, I didn’t have any customers. Otherwise, things wouldn’t have been pretty. Do you understand?” 

You gawked at the mage, baffled at his bold words, staring at him for several silent moments. You hadn’t noticed before, but he was just around your age⁠— there was no doubt about it⁠— and yet he’s already become a clearly powerful mage with his own shop in a very prominent city, despite the stigma against those of his dominion. Not to mention he was attractive, but you’d never let yourself be caught saying that to him. Clearing your throat, you attempted to regain your bearings. “It was your fault for selling them something that you knew would backfire on them! They deserve a refund!” 

He had the audacity to chuckle at your desperate attempt to not look like a complete fool. He gestured to the small sign next to himself, detailing the conditions about purchasing from his shop. “No refunds, especially because you aren’t them. You have no proof that they sent you here to collect a refund, and if you somehow did get legal documentation, I still wouldn’t provide you with a refund on the count that they did misuse my magic. I had warned them explicitly before they purchased it, so they have no one but themselves to blame.”

“Even so⁠—!” 

“Please leave, my answer will not change, and I’d like to get back to reading,” he held his gentle tone, but the glare from behind his glasses sent a shiver down your spine. He didn’t want to use magic or brute force against you to make you leave, but he will if he deems it necessary. 

“Oh no, we’re not done here!” you argued, still upset that he took advantage of your friends in such a manner. You didn’t exactly know you were going to say, the way he continuously maneuvered around your words was only making you more and more upset, and yet, you lunged over and gripped the mage by the collar of his cloak, yanking him a little too close. 

The words that flew from your lips were ones you didn’t even recognize, flying too fast for you to notice, too overcome by your emotions to notice the panicked look on the mage’s face as your inexperienced abilities spiraled out of control. Your eyes shifted into a shimmering marigold, barely paying attention to the words that left the dark mage as his glasses flew off his face and hair was tossed every which way, a hefty storm brewing within the walls of his shop.

Akira hadn’t recognized the signs until it was too late, realizing that he should’ve known that a student of magic wouldn’t be able to control it when under extreme emotional turmoil, yet he’s never seen unhinged magic from a student be this powerful before. He winced as he heard glass shatter and books fly from their shelves, his neat, though curious shop becoming ruined from your magic. It took him a second to remember the proper counteraction, his hands being frozen in place by the same winds that deafened his ears, yet he still managed to bellow his words out loudly enough to stop your incantations, silencing you and watching as the marigold faded from your eyes, leaving your normal eye color in its place. 

You stumbled back, letting go of Akira’s coat and falling on your ass, body trembling with exhaustion and eyes wide with horror as you realized what you had done. “I⁠—” you began, one of your hands coming to cover your mouth as the reality of the situation set in, looking around the now-miserable shop, dread filling every pore in your body. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t…” You began to apologize over and over, feeling terrible for what you had done, even if it was unintentional. This has never happened before, you don’t know why it did now, but any sane person would call the police on you⁠— 

“Relax,” he was suddenly in front of you, taking one of your hands, frowning as he turned your palm to face up, seeing blood trickle down your arm. You were numb, you had no idea you had gotten cut, though considering you were essentially sitting on a pile of glass, it was to be expected. “I’m not going to report you or anything.” 

You stared up at the mage in disbelief. Frankly, you thought he would do anything to get you out of his hair. “Why?” 

“Because you’re still a student. You clearly didn’t mean to. You came to me because you were worried and angry over what happened to your friends,” he explained, focused on healing the wound on your hand. His leather-covered fingers grazed over the cut, the crimson blending in with your blood, seemingly absorbing it, leaving nothing but light pink skin where the cut once was. 

“But… I…” 

He looked up and offered you a smile. You only noticed then how gorgeous his eyes were, but this was no time for you to admire him. “If it makes you feel better, I have no intentions of letting you disappear now that my shop is in shambles,” he watched as you turned your face away, ashamed, “You’ll work here part time until you can pay off everything that you’ve damaged. In exchange, I’ll also give you some sparse lessons. I’ve never seen anything like your magic before.” 

You, frankly, couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was he insane? Were all dark mages this forgiving? Still, it was a relief to hear that you wouldn’t be punished extremely for this. You could manage a part time job, besides, how long would you need to stay there for anyways? A month at most, probably. “Alright…” 

Akira stood up and offered you his hand, feeling much warmer than he had when you first oh so rudely burst into his shop. After a moment of hesitation, you took it, feeling a rush of energy from him as he sealed the agreement between the two of you while pulling you up onto your feel. 

You were mesmerized at the chain that slowly tattooed itself onto your wrist. It wasn’t painful in any way, leaving only warmth in its wake. “What is this?” 

“A physical memento of our deal,” he explained, “that way you won’t skimp out on me.” 

You scoffed at him, though you were very grateful for the way he made you feel better, despite you ruining much of his work. “Fine, fine… but can I at least have your name, since I’ll be working for you?” 

“Just call me Akira. Or⁠— you could call me master, whatever suits you,” the cheeky mage said with a wink as he made his way into behind the counter once more, picking up an old-fashioned broom and tossing it over to you. 

You stumbled for a second before catching it completely in your arms, staring at him quizzically. You expected him to wave his hands around and restore everything to its former glory, considering how versatile his magic seemed to be, but clearly he had other plans. He hadn’t even asked for your name before he started to put you to work! “By the way, my name is⁠—” 

“I don’t need it,” he cut you off. “You’re my apprentice now, so it’s only natural that I should call you that.” Akira cleaned off his seat and sat down in it, looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You should start cleaning before it starts getting dark,” he mused, looking at his now-cold coffee before frowning for a moment, seeing a shard of glass floating on the surface. It was easily remedied with a snap of his fingers, getting comfortable in his chair with his book once more, with a fresh cup of magically-brewed coffee. 

Gripping onto the broom tightly, you were astonished, but couldn’t raise your voice against it, slightly fearing a second wave of your fury would erupt. Might take some time to get over that, regardless of how comfortable your new boss was trying to make you. “You’re cruel,” you grumbled under your breath, stealing one more glance at him before getting to work, sweeping up the glass that surrounded your feet and glistened in the candlelight of the shop.

When he was certain you weren’t paying any attention to him, Akira slumped in his chair, a sigh passing through his lips. He wasn’t expecting something like this to occur, and yet… there was something about you that intrigued him. So passionate, full of life and magic, he wondered where your journey would take you, especially if you managed to cross paths with someone cursed like him. His lips curled into a slight smile as he returned his attention to his book, turning the page and happening upon the chapter labeled Love Potions, Relationship Hexes, and More while you silently swept away. This would be an interesting experience indeed.