#NOTHING to self identify with because I don’t have the emotional readiness nor time (at least it feels like) to get into something new whil

[proto-caustic-moon]

every fucking time i remember how grave the crime was. the gravity of what he did. i just get angry again. i can’t not feel fucking grief.

[bratz-kitten]

the sun through the houses 

sun in the 1st house: you irradiate confidence and self-assurance, as if you know exactly who the fuck you are and what you're here to do and people are very drawn to that kind of energy in you, to the way you're so full of life, spontaneous, ready to face anything that life throws at you and your ambitious nature. you thrive when you're uplifting others to feel as good as you do because you don't want to shine alone, and because on the inside, you might be much more insecure than people are aware of - you understand what it's like to be at rock bottom, but you're good at hiding this part of yourself. can be very controlling and competitive, and if you were raised in an environment where your parents used to fight a lot, you might chase conflict wherever you go. be careful with being arrogant and proud, and be aware that your strong energy might overwhelm a lot of people. whatever you do, you follow your heart. you need appreciation and recognition from others. you keep your cool in the most stressful situations. 

sun in the 2nd house: you crave to achieve financial success; here, the planet of the ego is tied to the house that rules material possessions and our self-worth, so you want to achieve power by getting rich because that's how you feel safe. you're very talented when it comes to business and making good investments that'll allow you to get to the next step. when it comes to your ambitions, if you want something, you'll work hard for it and only stop when you get it. you're very witty, with your dry humor and sarcastic personalities, you truly have the best comebacks lmao and above all, you always keep your word. you take pleasure in everything lavish that life has to offer; you have great taste and know when something is of value almost instinctively. you need to make sure you're appreciating the people in your life instead of only what you own and your ambitions because you're at your best when you're expressing your kind and generous side. you might be into retail therapy when you feel sad or empty, but afterward, you might feel terrible because the fulfillment shopping gives you is only temporary. careful with being controlling or possessive. 

sun in the 3rd house: you use your mind like a weapon. you truly have a way with words and you're able to express yourself in a way that leaves everyone wanting to know more about you; but most of all, you crave to keep on learning more and more and to expand your knowledge, because that's what feeds your soul. spontaneous personality; bold but unpredictable and you feel a sense of pride whenever you think about your friends, they're very important to you. you have the capability to bring stories to life, this placement is amazing for aspiring writers, and you like analyzing your surroundings which, in turn, makes you a very adaptable person. constant change in your way of thinking because you're always viewing things from different perspectives. you can become easily bored when you aren't feeling mentally stimulated, which is why you're always seeking new experiences, communicating with others and why you live so much in the present. persuasive. people who don't seek to expand their minds terrify you. you refuse to live in the shadows of your siblings, you have a need to stand as your own person. 

sun in the 4th house: when the planet of the ego is in the house of our family life, our inner experiences and our childhood trauma, you are blessed with a rich inner experience that leads you to want to delve deep into what you went through and how those experiences shaped you into the person you are today – and that means the trauma you went through, too. if you had bad experiences in your child, your journey is longer and harder because you find it harder to understand life, and you might've compared your home life to the "outside world" a lot, feeling like they were two different entities (think sinclair from demian). you're very caring and nurturing and very attached to your family, either the one you were brought under or the one you want to establish. having a home that feels cozy and safe is what brings you security, and you want to bring happiness to the ones you love the most. be careful with being too pessimistic and feeling paranoid that something bad will suddenly happen, and also with being too controlling and domineering. you need a lot of reassurance, but be careful with coming off as if you don't trust your loved ones. very strategic, you play the long game. 

sun in the 5th house: you literally irradiate artistic talent and creativity! you thrive when you express yourself and your originality and get recognized for it, and appreciation for your efforts is very important to you. intelligent, you can be very cunning and strategic, at the same time that your optimism and spontaneous nature naturally commands attention from others. very dramatic, you shine in the eyes of others. but although you have a happy aura to you, you can be very hard on yourself, thinking you're not good enough whenever you're not being appreciated. at your worst, you can have an exaggerated sense of pride, dominating energy, manipulative tendencies or feeling less than others. you may fluctuate between focusing a lot on yourself and being overly generous with everyone in your life. bold, you do a lot just to feel alive. you're very loyal and love deeply, passionate and nurturing, but be careful with involving yourself with people who take advantage of that. you should realize that appreciation should come from yourself and not others. if you add discipline to your originality, you can become very successful. 

sun in the 6th house: one of your driving forces is your attachment to your work and your need to be of service for others and to be recognized for your efforts. health, dieting, exercise and keeping a structured routine are very important to you. you have a constant need to be perfect and that can be your own worst enemy, because when you or others aren't meeting your high standards, you might feel like you're weak and have your insecurities taking over you. you can't stand being told what to do. very self-aware. a tendency to be a workaholic because it's what makes you feel proud of yourself; you need to feel like you're making the world a better place. stress can easily physically affect you, you should understand that validation needs to come from yourself and not from others, and accept that having imperfections is human, it doesn't make you weak! careful with having a routine too restrictive that doesn't allow you to have fun, work can become an obsession for you. you truly always want more and need to keep busy and productive to feel safe. don't let your insecurities stop you from pursuing your ambitions. 

sun in the 7th house: you have a very strong sense of justice because of your capability of analyzing a problem from all different perspectives. you need to bring peace everywhere you go and to help others in any way you can. you have a special charm that others feel drawn to, and many admire you for your caring nature and talent at giving advice, making you often the center of attention in the middle of groups. sociable and good with words, you're very persuasive; although you might tend to identify yourself too much with what others think of you – you should understand that others' opinions aren't that important and it's how you view yourself that matters. you crave affection and are very sensitive when it comes to your relationships, you would do anything for your loved ones and you're very in tune with their needs. you can have people-pleasing tendencies because you're terrified of rejection. you're determined to succeed and to build an amazing self-image because you have a gift when it comes to social intelligence. can have some open enemies.

sun in the 8th house: can attract a chaotic life that pushes you into achieving transformations because that's how you grow and evolve, through the process of death and rebirth. you can't deal with superficiality and you crave deep connections with people, intimacy and to evolve with the person you love. creative. you may feel like the universe sends you messages so that you'll reach an awareness of some kind. you love experiencing new things and especially with yourself, you constantly look forward to changing your appearance and your spiritual or emotional views on the world. you feel a need for self-improvement. very secretive, you value privacy more than anything and you don't allow almost anyone to figure you out. you might be terrified of not finding people who want to connect with you as deeply as you want with them. tendency to isolate yourself emotionally, as in you might open up to others about superficial matters but when it comes to emotions, you're terrified of showing that part of yourself. you want to help others through their darkest times. 

sun in the 9th house: you love learning and dream of exploring the world, it's like you can absorb any information that you get your hands on. very idealistic and dreamy, it's hard for you to keep grounded on reality and material things when you're so concerned with the metaphysical, to understanding the secrets of the universe and all that is spiritual, philosophical, religious and transcendental. so enthusiastic and curious, it's like you can't stay still for a minute and long to go on adventures. you can see the best in people, but be careful with only seeing their good parts – you need to understand that nothing is black or white and people are morally grey and complex, not all bad nor all good. might be very pessimistic if you've gone through something traumatic that completely shattered your perceptions of the good in the world; you might feel like things are never going to get better (i promise they are). very proud of your knowledge. high ideals and honesty. loyal to your beliefs always. careful with being too authoritative. 

sun in the 10th house: when the planet of the ego falls in the house of social status, you seek power above all. you want fame, notoriety and to lead, and when not achieving what you want, you might become insecure. you can't help that ambition runs in your blood, but you should make sure you're doing things because you love doing them and not just to get recognized. it's like you need to achieve so that you can feel proud of yourself because you never felt that kind of support when you were younger, and achieving success feels like a life or death matter to you. you ooze charisma and you naturally draw attention to yourself, wanting to be recognized for your talents. very aware of how others perceive you. but even if you're a great leader, you hate following orders which can make you have problems with those in charge – be careful with making enemies and with stepping on others to get what you want, it’s very important that you keep a strong sense of morals or else you can grow to be arrogant and tyrannical. at your worst you can start abusing your power; at your best, you can use it to better the lives of all those around you like a true leader.

sun in the 11th house: here, the planet of ego is in the house of friendships, hopes, inventions and the collective, making you shine when you're able to help others. your friends are the most important thing for you, but be careful with identifying too much with them. you carry yourself with so much confidence, you're so full of life and with a love for learning and giving to others. eccentric personality and big dreams. you want to stand for a cause that matters to you alongside others who you love. others gravitate towards your magnetism, individuality and friendly nature, naturally looking up to you as a leader. if you happen to have been betrayed in the past, you might shut yourself completely from friendships due to a fear of trusting the wrong person again, but please don't deny yourself your need to socialize and to express your revolutionary ideas to others because you truly shine when you're around those who you trust and help you grow. 

sun in the 12th house: you might have a very hard time understanding who you are and your identity, and because of this sense of unclarity about yourself + your intuitive and empathetic nature where you absorb others' energies like a sponge and need a lot of solitude to recharge yourself, you might feel like you need to keep a mask in public, to play a character to feel safe interacting with others. plus, it doesn't help that you have perfectionist tendencies and hate failing and making mistakes. there's a tendency to feel very insecure and misunderstood, and to feel melancholic and with turbulent emotions, so you should be gentler with yourself and allow yourself to express your sensitivities, the way you're so compassionate and giving. because even if you need time to recharge for introspection, you shine when you can help others. be careful with developing self-destructive behaviors. artistic tendencies because of the depth of your emotions and inner world. you can be truly wise and others might see you as an "old soul" because of that. you might be a night owl. psychic potential. 

[septicmomma]

Learning To Love The Timeless Child

I’ve gone through a flux (har har) of emotions upon my thoughts on The Timeless Child reveal. From feeling ambivalent to mild disliking and to thinking it was just “ok”. I’m finally ready to put my foot down and not only say I love it but it’s actually one of the best inclusions in DW cannon.

But before you rase you're pitchforks I’m not writing this in an attempt to invalidate the opinion of people who don’t like it but to offer understanding of those that do.

While also identifying some of the common complaints/criticisms that've been levelled at it. "It breaks cannon, it makes the Doctor a Messiah figure, its pointless, it disrespects Hartnell ect".

First off The Doctor still is “some guy” but in all honesty the reality is arguably since The War Games the Doctor has always been a figure of relative importance. Which is something I think people are just going to have to come to accept, and if anything, adding a potential nuance by centring the exploitation of the Doctor by an uncaring society only makes their character that much richer imho. Whereas instead, they’re usually related to Gallifrey in a more heroic profession.

But that doesn't make the Doctor special by virtue of being the Timeless Child. What makes her “special” is only a by-product of exploitation, any uniqueness she may have had was stripped away and trivialised to forge someone else’s story of supposed ‘greatness’ leaving her part buried and forgotten. They may occupy a significance position within DW lore, but it’s in a passive capacity not a proactive role. I also think the notion that the Doctor was “supposed” to be some kind of underachieving drop-out who proves themselves through sheer bare-knuckled heroism isn’t entirely accurate. As strictly regarding newwho the Doctor has often been a source of significance and intrigue, albeit a remarkably personable one. The companions are where the modern series has typically rooted the ethos of being capable of great things even if you’re ordinary. The modern series Doctor is, more often than not the catalyst for that potential in other people, rather than an example of it themselves. TTC has literally changed nothing about the Doctors modus operandi. She doesn’t have any memories of that time of her life and can’t exactly use any of that knowledge to help solve her problems. None of the Doctors ideological impulses comes from being the Timeless Child. And even if she did have those memories TTC doesn’t make them this all-knowing messiah figure, they’re just another alien that just so happens to have a longstanding healing ability which grants them no inherent edge, nor any heavenly merit.

Tecteun finds her alone and abandoned, as the Master puts it a “refugee” the only thing this change’s is that she was the first person able to regeneration which in-itself is just a cosmetic plot device it’s not what defines Gallifreyans as a race, whilst there have been instances where it's used to comment on the Doctors mortality (The End of Time, Twice Upon a Time) rarely is it displayed as anything more. As for the Doctor being “it makes the Doctor a Messiah figure” the Timelords evolved naturally and expanded their outreached as mentioned in the TTC, with Tectuan they became the self-appointed elite and renamed themselves Timelords, there would still be “Timelords” regardless of the Doctors involvement it's a title not a literal race. The Doctor is only ever presented as a “messiah” figure through the lens of the Master's insecurity "All I am is somehow because of you". The Master is essentially meant to symbolise an outrage merchant/NMD type, wanting the Doctor to be scared and outraged over everything. He even goes to the lengths of creating an army of Cybermasters purely in his image, when they regenerate, they don’t change they just stay the same. Echoing the fear of change and evolution. This fear is also accentuated through Ashad, though despite their similar aspirations both him and the Master still butt heads because it doesn't cater to their specific vision. Ironically this is something the Master points out regarding Ashads plan, yet he himself doesn't see the hypocrisy by making them shallow self reflections.

TTC narratively justifies itself within its own story it doesn’t need to exist outside its own confines as it already serves a narrative purpose in this episode. Primarily as a story dealing with the Master attempting to destabilise the Doctors perception of herself while also acting as a commentary on colonialism. With the added subtext of the Doctor appearing as a black girl who was taken and exploited for gain of another race and having her history buried and forgotten.

Posing the question of what if there were many different Doctors from any ethnicity groups but we haven’t seen them before because the Timelords have appropriated the ability to regenerate for themselves in addition to this doubling as commentary all the previous Doctors being white men. Showing the Doctors previous lives as children, that diversity has always existed after decades of telling people that this how it’s always been so it so should just to stay the same; instead of questioning why an alien who can change their appearance into literally anyone would always take the form of a white guy. Being that identity has been the following theme throughout this era, I think there’s a lot of value in this conceit, which comes through in Ruth and Thirteens short interaction. Learning to reconcile with parts of yourself that you never realised were there. I suspect those sequences might mean a lot too adopted or just alienated kids in general watching the show, showing that this program is for them as it is for anyone else.

At the end of the day, it’s an adoption story. Discovering your life is a lie can seem like a world-shattering revelation. But it doesn't have to be, and other people imposing their beliefs onto you doesn't mean you have to listen. The Master is an example of revelation like this literally breaking someone into such a self-loathing state it leaves them impetuous, desperately grappling to find some new sense of purpose. There's nothing 'chosen one' about being someone who was taken by a self-serving pragmatist and indoctrinated into a totalitarian elite. Everyone convinced themselves the Master meant the Doctors past when in fact the obvious “lie” of The Timeless Child is just his way of compartmentalising their trauma, that it prohibits his own ability to develop meaning outside of the moment where it collapsed. Detractors keep focusing on the lore elements as if that’s the point of the reveal but it’s not. The point is what happens when your sense of identity is turned on its head? what happens when something you once believed to be a fundamental part of yourself isn’t quite as clear as you thought it was? It hangs on the notion that the Doctor and the world they’ve seen grown around them is built on a paradoxical impasse, that indicates a potential otherly aspect to their upbringing. Her dropping the watch is the first time she’s away from manipulation, away from unruly expectation and threat. It’s the only time she’s allowed to make the choice for herself, not based on any preconceived bias. So naturally, she decides to not let the past define her and allow herself to just truly live in the moment. 13 spent all of Series 11 instinctively trying to suppress her past in a way to necessitate her need for company and comfort only for it to get thrown in her face in Series 12, leaving her with no sense of individual importance, and Series 13 is where she’s faced to tackle those facets head on to retake her own narrative.

The TTC makes it very clear that the point is the open up possibilities and new venues for the show to explore, that your past doesn’t define you. With the Doctor partially acting as an audience surrogate, constantly asking questions of what it all means.

It’s about the intrigue and the joy of the mystery itself which is what the TTC is trying too ahead too. It doesn’t matter what the specifics of what her backstory are because frankly It plus all the lore about Division is simply there to provide motivation for the Master and a framework for Flux. The fact that this new backstory even exists at all only means that the Doctor didn’t know herself as well as she thought she did, which drives her to want to find out and develop a better understanding of who she is. It's ultimately a journey of self-identification, and for me at least, Flux managed to cap that off in a place where I felt fairly satisfied. What I think 13 truly learned is that she never desired the information per se, but rather, gaining the agency to decide what to do with it. It’s about her having autonomy over her own life and sense of self without it being dictated by other people as it’s something she was denied by Tecteun, who essentially abducted her and unilaterally changed the course of her life, her physiology was exploited for the benefit of others, Division wouldn’t let her willingly leave their service, and eventually she had her memories stolen and her body reset. By the end of Flux, the Doctor is back in the driver’s seat ready to face whatever journey may come their way.

You can even look at it on a metatextual level, with a show that spans a history of almost 60 years, amassing numerous spin offs and expanded media. Making an almost celebratory deconstruction on the arbitrary nature of cannon and if you’re going to tell a story the largely focuses on this then you have to acknowledge that cannon isn’t necessarily fundamental, as much as it’s just a storytelling device, especially in the case of DW with its numerous contradictions. Incidentally, this also applies to the revelation itself. If you really don’t like it then feel free to disregard it. But be prepared to accept the fact that some people might critique that standpoint, and that’s OK.

The inclusion of the Morbius Doctors is a prime example, hell even the Curse of Fatal Death Doctors, all of it is possible now. To have the revelation change the Doctor in any significant way would be hugely undermining the point of what the episode is trying to say. Instead of conforming to the Masters way of thinking she doesn’t let this change frighten her she embraces it. Much like the very nature of the show.

Anyway, hope u enjoyed my rant :-]

[eulangelo]

callout for @genderfluidlucifer

google docs

tw for transmisogyny + TERFs + emotional manipulation

Transmisogyny

Lucifer is a huge transmisogynist who will complain 24/7 about how TERFs hurt the ace community, but the moment @randomclustermissile , a trans girl (who is not an exclusionist at all) tries to point out transmisogyny in inclusionist circles (in the most vague and general way possible, without pointing fingers nor calling anyone names) Lucifer will immediatly jump to block her and so they did with me (another inclusionist) and i have to suppose to everyone else who agreed with that post, even arriving to vagueing about us in private group chats to suggest that we were “sympathizing with exclusionists”. all because we dared point out transmisogyny in inclusionist circles. lucifer is TME but apparently they think they’re the authority on TERFs and their talking points but actual trans women are not, according to them, since this is the stuff that they would go and spew to other people. (screenshots from @enbyoctoling​)

here’s more examples of Lucifer (again, a transmasc person) going deep in detail about how according to them, TERFs/SWERFs hate aro/ace people and are an active threat to us

1. link

[Image ID: Three screenshots of a post by Genderfluidlucifer. The first screenshot is of a paragraph that reads, "Hey. So I can actually answer this. Anon your commentary about how you thought terfs would approve of sex repulsed aces is sort of it. Except...not. Basically terfs hate ace people for not wanting sex in the approved by terfs way. Terfs are actually extremely interested in [forcing] amatonormativity onto everyone. Because for as sex negative as terfs are...they don't want to actually acknowledge or change the fact that amatonormativity is at the root cause of rape culture and misogyny."

The second screenshot is a zoomed in section of the post that reads, "So yeah no I have NO idea where exclus allies are getting this idea from that terfs would even remotely care about the sexual rights of ace people. Terfs generally hate any sexualities in the LGBTQ+ acronym that aren't LGB because they can't force a gender binary onto those sexualities. At least, not as easily. That's why it's actually a massive sign of someone who doesn't call themselves a terf being a crypto terf if they use the term LGB in a positive manner. Along with the term SGA, as it is deliberately exclusive of nonbinary and not inherently SGA centric queer-aligned sexualities. /END ID]

link to the full post, these are just excerpts but the whole thing is just a very long rant about how TERFs hate ace people and so on (i think it’s worth noticing that although the actual post is kinda long, trans women are never once brought op in a conversation about TERFs issues and the only time transmisogyny is mentioned is not relevant to the conversation)

2. link

[Image ID: A screenshot of a reblog by genderfluidlucifer. The original poster is nothorses. It reads, "Because apparently I have to say it: Testosterone is not a 'violent' hormone. It doesn't make you 'more aggressive' or a worse person, it doesn't make you 'dangerous,' or 'toxic.' Transmascs do not need to be 'warned of the dangers of T.' We do not need to spend our transitions terrified that we're going to become a danger to those around us - that HRT is going to turn us into a monster.

Everyone experiences mood swings during hormonal shifts (pregnancy, menstruation, menopause, estrogen HRT, etc.) and while you might have grumpy moments or feel anger/frustration that you need to learn to handle differently, that doesn't make you a bad person.

Testosterone can change the way you access/process emotions somewhat, but if you're already thoughtful about how you handle your feelings and treat others, you're going to be fine. It's normal to lash out on occasion, by accident, then apologize and work to do better. It doesn't make you a bad person. Everyone on HRT is prone to this, and everyone experiencing hormonal changes is prone to this.

Getting HRT should be positive and affirming; you should not have to spend your entire transition terrified of becoming a monster."

The post then has a reblog by captainlordauditor that reads, "The big danger of T is that needle ouchy." /END ID]

here’s them reblogging from known transmisogynist user @nothorses (once again, the irony that a post about how testosterone is seen as the "aggressive hormone" does not mention transfem at all which are literally the main victims of this rethoric in the first place)

3. link (1), link (2)

[Image ID: Two screenshots of posts by genderfluidlucifer. The first screenshot reads, "Queer exclus: We're not repackaging terf rhetoric! Saying that is transmisogynistic! Also queer exclus: Remove the plus from LGBT!" and has tags that say, "I will pay these people to grow some god damn self awareness. Imagine being this dense. Queer discourse." The post has 15 notes.

The second screenshot reads, "Honestly it is so stupid and frustrating to see ace exclus continue to deny that the ace discourse was started by terfs. Proof was given countless times. And a big name terf like galesofnovember even admitted to starting it. Those of you who demand proof but ignore all of this never wanted proof to begin with." and is tagged with, "ace discourse. The post has 38 notes. /END ID]

heres another two post of theirs conflating TERFs with ace exclusionism

4. link

[Image ID: A screenshot of a reblogged post by furbearingbrick. The original poster is boxlizard, Lucifer's old account. The original post reads, "By the way for people still in denial about it, here's galesofnovember, a terf, admitting that she intended to start the ace exclus movement. She's taking credit for it. Normally if the victims of this behavior weren't ace/aro or other queer identities y'all be ready to rightfully lynch her. But since it's us, y'all just still wanna stamp your feet and go, 'Nuh uh!' instead of acknowledging facts." The part that says, "admitting that she intended to start the ace exclus movement" is a link to a galesofnovember post.

There is then a reblogged addition from furbearing brick that reads, "archived versions of the receipts" and has two links to the webarchive. The tags read, "Bringing this back since it's apparently still relevant. Terfism mention. Aphobia mention. Queerphobia mention. Blocklist." and has 1,455 notes. /END ID]

this is their post that ive already talked about but basically they found a 52 notes post made by a TERF in 2012 and this one person said "i dont know why i dont get to be the princess of the anti-ace-brigade" and apparently they are convinced that this means TERFs started the ace exclusionism movement and that this is one of their goals. which is insane when TERFs in real life only care about making life miserable for transfem people first and foremost.

5.link

[Image ID: A screenshot of a reblog by genderfluidlucifer. The original poster is yu-gay-fudo. It reads, “Just in case you happen to be unaware, some of the “radfem lite” they post to warm you up to their rhetoric, just off the top of my head:

- Ace/aro exclusionism

- Bi exclusionism or claims that bi people are “less queer” bc of “straight passive privilege”

- Saying you have to be dysphoric to identify as transInvalidating nonbinary people

- Calling queer a slur regardless of context, saying people can’t identify as queer, and saying that it can’t be reclaimed

- “Mogai hell”, “kweer”, or otherwise mocking less common labels and claiming they are “just cishets who want to feel special”

- Excluding sex workers from feminist discussions or claiming that sex work is inherently evil

- Basically anyone who thinks they can determine what other people identify as”. The tags read, "queerphobia tw. twerfs tw. no id." and has 70,727 notes. It was reblogged on March 22nd, 2021 /END ID]

another example of conflating radfems to things that, while wrong, have little to nothing to do with them because being a radfem, again, is something very specific that has all to do with transfem oppression.

Emotional manipulation

Lucifer has done nothing but block, break boundaries, spread lies and vague about people, some of which were even mutuals with them knowing they would see the posts. when confronted about it Lucifer's only answer was "just say you hate me and block me" but they actually ended up blocking everyone first, making it impossible for anyone to set some boundaries with them or even just to calmly confront them about anything.

[proof: Io(popncourse) and Lucifer had a disagreement in a shared discord server, which prompted Lucifer to vague Io in a vent post. Io confronted them, as being vagued is one of buns triggers, to which Lucifer initially agreed to delete the vent post, but then proceeded to victimize themself and immediatly blocked Io. later on, Jude(malewifedeckard) was confronted by Lucifer, then after Jude told them “I’m worried that you’ll vague me just like you did with Io” they proceeded to block Jude and vagued about him too. when Io made a post (which was not a callout, it was just bun setting buns boundaries) explaining what Lucifer did, Lucifer immediatly jumped to victimize themself, acting like they were being called out and straight-up lying, even going so far as to say that no one tried to hear them out, which is a blatant lie if you consider the aforementioned Io and Jude’s attempts at doing so, with Lucifer immediatly blocking and cutting ties with the both of them. ] 

(screenshots taken by @popncourse and @malewifedeckard)

as seen in the proof above Lucifer’s behaviour is not ok because they don’t accept any kind of confrontation and immediatly jump to blocking, and after blocking, they'd immediatly go and vague about the people who confronted them pacificly, spreading more lies and painting themself as the victim and even arriving to say “no one hears me out at all” which is simply not something you can say when you block people who are trying to hear you out in the first place.

this is by no means an invitation to go and harass them, send them hate or anything like that. i absolutely don’t want anything even remotely hateful or negative to be sent their way after this post. 

this post was only made because:

1. as an ace person who fully supports the inclusion of aspec identities in the lgbt+ community i don’t want to support an enviroment that costantly downplays transmisogynistic oppression in order to be taken seriously. there are hundreds of ways to make aspec activism without acting like we(as in TME aspecs)are the victims of a system that seeks for the annihilation of transfemenine people in real life everyday. i especially don’t want to support TME individuals who act transfem-friendly but then block any transfem who tries to speak on transmisogyny without a second thought.

2. Lucifer’s behaviour has hurt two friends of mine and i don’t want to associate with someone who actively breaks people’s boundaries without taking accountability when messing up.

3. i cannot associate with someone who spreads lies about me accusing me of sympathizing with exclusionists all while having me blocked so that i can’t see it nor defend me. they complain about people not hearing them out but they’re the very first person who does not try to hear people out, and instead jumps to spread baseless rumors. this is not someone i can nor want to associate with. 

(image descriptions provided by @malewifedeckard)

[ikeromantic]

Peace

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic. This scene occurs just past the midpoint of Ch.10 in his main route. Approx. 1700 words of pure, uncut fluff!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Not an End

Mitsuhide swam up towards the light. His eyelids opened, heavy as stones. He was in a room, on a futon. A lantern sat nearby, throwing off a warm glow. His bloodstained clothes were gone, replaced by a clean nightrobe. And someone had freshly bandaged his wounds. Hideyoshi? 

No. The mother-hen wasn’t there, but his little mouse sat on the floor beside him, her chin resting against her chest. Her eyes moved under shuttered lashes. Her breath came in little gasps. A nightmare, perhaps? Not surprising given the battle she’d survived. 

“What hells I have put you through,” he said softly. His mouth was so dry the words were barely a whisper. Still, it was enough to jolt his beauty awake. 

She turned, eyes wide and damp with the remnants of her tears. “Mitsuhide? You’re awake?�� Her smile at his nod was like the sun. Without being asked, she put a cup to his lips and helped him drink.

The water slid down his throat, a cool burn against smoke-raw flesh. He pushed the cup away and sighed. “It seems I passed out in the middle of our discussion. Have I slept for long?”

“Not long, no. We’re still in Honno-ji. Hideyoshi helped me put you to bed.” Her gaze was heavy with worry. 

Mitsuhide chuckled, which almost turned into a cough. “After all his rage, he still tucked me in? It seems he will be a mother hen to the end.”

This brought a smile to her face. She looked down, her hair falling forward to hide her laugh. “He kept lecturing me on how to bandage you properly and wouldn’t leave until you were clean, dressed, and in bed.”

He sat up, tucking her hair back from her face so that he could see her better. She was beautiful. It almost hurt to be so close to her again, after telling himself he could let her go. 

“You should lay back down. Everyone else is still asleep. The sun won’t be up for a few hours yet.”

“Mmm. If I close my eyes, I won’t be able to see you.” His fingertips moved from her hair to her cheek. Soft skin. Warm. There was such joy in these simple touches.

His little mouse blushed. 

“I am so glad you are unharmed. I cannot tell you how worried I was,” he said earnestly.

She tried to blink her tears away before they could fall, but they escaped to trickle down her cheeks.

“You still cry so easily.” Mitsuhide wiped them away with the pad of his thumb. 

“Only around you . . .”

He wished that was not true. But he couldn’t deny being the source of her tears. Were he a more romantic man, he thought, he would promise her only joy. He would kiss the tears from her face and swear to never make her cry again. But that would be a lie. He had no sweet words, only the ache in his chest.

She took his hand, her warm fingers stroking his bruised knuckles gently. “You are so - so reckless! Did you even sleep since you escaped the dungeon in Azuchi? Or stop to eat?” 

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. “I took sufficient care of myself to finish my mission.”

“Oh?” She met his gaze, her eyes red rimmed from her anxiety and sleepless nights following after him. “People who take sufficient care of themselves don’t pass out mid-conversation.”

He hadn’t considered how his peril might hurt her. That she would worry for him like this. He didn’t have a ready reply. 

She took a deep, shaky breath. “You knew what the shogun planned didn’t you? Before anyone else? But . . . why didn’t you tell Nobunaga at least? Or warned Hideyoshi?”

“Little one.” His gentle tone quieted her. “It wasn’t that kind of fight. Nobunaga is not a man to strike from the shadows. Neither is Hideyoshi.” He smiled. “And if they tried to battle Ashikaga on their terms, he would have won.”

“So you took it all on yourself? Alone?”

“That is -”

She narrowed her eyes. “If you lie to me, I will leave you here alone in this room for the rest of the night.”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “I can see that you’ve learned my lessons well. Fine.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I couldn’t tell anyone what I knew, even if I could trust them to let me handle this in my own way. The Oda forces had an infiltrator. A spy close enough to Nobunaga to know the contents of our private meetings. The list of suspects was short but . . . I could not be certain who was involved or if I’d identified them all. So it made more sense to simply move forward with my plans on my own.”

“So you really thought you couldn’t talk to anyone?” His little mouse raised an eyebrow. “You could have told Hideyoshi when he came to visit you in the dungeon. There weren’t any spies around then.”

Mitsuhide remembered that visit well. Hideyoshi’s pain at betrayal. His anger. He wore his emotions openly, and his actions followed suit. “No . . . Hideyoshi is terrible with subterfuge. He is a man of honesty and people love him for that. He must remain in the light. And the light suits him well.”

She watched him with wide-eyes, clearly thinking over his reply. “And there was never a moment you might have had Nobunaga alone? At least to tell him your plans?”

“Ah. Perhaps I could have,” Mitushide nodded. “But I chose not to. Nobunaga has bloodied his hands time and again. Gone to great lengths for his dreams of unification.” He tapped a finger to his chest. “But it was my actions at Enryaku-ji that earned him the sobriquet ‘Devil King’. I did not want to see that happen again. I will bear the cost of my own actions.”

“Well, but what about -”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “No, there is no one I would share the burden with. And none suited to this work, regardless.” He smiled and gave a slight shrug. He thought of explaining further, but his eyelids felt so heavy and his body was aching to lie down again.

His little mouse looked as if she might cry again. “But you’ve sacrificed everything. For what?”

“Peace.” He sighed. “Before Nobunaga, hundreds of petty warlords fought and wasted the lives of their vassals for nothing but pride. People starved. Life was a coin to be spent, and lower class lives were spent cheaply.” Mitsuhide did not want to tell her what it looked like to clear the streets of bodies dead from starvation. Nor to ride through towns where the only men left were ancient and toothless or still suckling because the rest had died in war. He fixed his gaze on her. “That kind of chaos must never be allowed to happen again.”

She leaned forward to rest her head on his chest. “I - I think I understand.”

He settled an arm around her, taking comfort from her touch. “Little one . . . I am not a kind man or a good one. I do these things for my own purposes. Don’t think of this as a noble sacrifice.” 

“Mmm, you say that but . . . you won’t even get to see this peace you’re working for. You will die first. And people will curse your name. Even your friends. No one will know what you did. That sounds pretty noble to me.”

“If you say so, little mouse.” He kissed the top of her head. Her words were so sweet. Just as she was. He wished they were true. Mitsuhide settled his chin atop her head and pulled her closer. “You know. When I left Azuchi, I wanted to say goodbye to you. You have a home to return to. A life that is safe and good. But I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t able to lie to my own heart. There is no one I treasure more . . .” Speaking the truth to her felt right. Like freedom after a lifetime in shackles, yet he could barely get the words out.

She looked up at him, nestled in his arms as if she belonged there.

Mitsuhide wanted to kiss her, but he held himself back. “I cannot change who I am and I would not. Yet, despite all my sins . . . my faults . . . I want you - I want you to stay with me.” The words tumbled from his lips, heedless of the consequences.

His little one gave him a slow, warm smile. It lit her from within, and somehow made her even more beautiful. “I never want to leave you Mitsuhide. I don’t want to be apart.”

“I hope you know, it is too late for you now that you’ve said this. I won’t let you go again.” He leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss so deep he felt it in his soul. There was no release from a love like this, he knew, and yet, he didn’t want to be released. He wanted more.

When he broke the kiss, she was pink cheeked, lips red and swollen. A look that stirred him and made his aching body want more than it could handle. He could see the desire in her heavy-lidded gaze too.

“Y-you should probably . . . get some rest,” she said unconvincingly.

“I should,” he nodded, and kissed her again. His hand slid beneath her kimono, caressing her skin lightly. He wanted to pull it from her. To see her . . . and worship every inch of her with kisses. He might have, had his vision not burst with little sparkling lights, darkness framing the edges. Mitsuhide released her regretfully.

She pulled away from him with great reluctance, slowly adjusting her clothes. “You ah, you need to- to recover.”

“I would sleep better with you beside me.” He wasn’t at all sure he would but he wanted her close. Even if it was a sweet self torment.

His little one smiled. “I told you I wouldn’t leave your side.”

Mitsuhide scooted over and she snuggled in beside him. It was as wonderful - and terrible - as he’d feared. She smelled wonderful, and he could feel every inch of her pressed tight to him. The thin layer of cloth did nothing to hide her curves or her softness. 

“I love you,” she told him sleepily.

“I know.” He kissed the edge of her ear. “I love you too.”

Sleep took him by surprise, hidden in the rhythmic breath and comforting warmth of his love.

Next: Reunion

[mimik-u]

Gloves, Chapter 2.

Summary: There's a reason that Yellow Diamond doesn't take off her gloves.

AO3 Link / Previous Ch.

—

Her heels clicking harshly against the quartz-inlaid floor, Yellow Diamond swiftly conquers the hallway that ends at a set of pale, pink doors, watching with cool disinterest as her Pearl scurries ahead of her to unlock them. She drags her finger along the panel in a quick succession of movements. The diamond icons flash once in affirmation, and the doors slide open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing a seemingly empty chamber inside.

“Once the diagnostic from the Reef arrives,” Yellow says, her voice as low as her natural timbre allows, “send it to my screens immediately.”

“Yes, my Diamond.” Pearl dutifully withdraws, salutes, and bows low, though she’s not entirely able to obscure the fact that her hands are trembling at the exact nexus of their crossing.

It isn’t a detail in her subordinates that Yellow typically notices, nor concerns herself with... but, of course, it isn’t every average cycle that a royal Pearl is cracked either.

Diamonds are rarely so careless with their things.

And yet, this particular dilemma isn’t strictly about carelessness. After all, carelessness would be simple to identify, discipline, and eventually excuse, conveniently burying it beneath all the other minor boundaries of decorum that Pink has dared to infringe.

No.

From what she has gathered, this wasn’t about carelessness at all.

Yellow absently clenches and unclenches her gloves as she steps over the threshold, the doors closing behind her with a serpentine finality. 

The empty grandiosity of the room, with its high, vaulting ceiling and vacantly floating bubbles, draws her eye upwards at first, and she can discern no visible damage beyond a missing panel, perhaps—easily remedied by any Bismuth worth her minerals. However, when she glances down to see where the panel may have landed, it becomes readily apparent to Yellow that the initial reports hadn’t exaggerated the carnage.

In the center of the floor, where an intricately embedded mural of the Diamond Authority’s insignia used to be, a sizable crater has been scooped out of the ground, mercilessly excavated, the diameter comparable to the bottom of one of the royal palanquins or even the base of a gigantic statue. Jagged cracks vein what had once been glassy pink quartz, revealing the bare, white foundation underneath. 

And there are fragments everywhere.

Innumerable shards upon shards.

Try though Yellow does to pick around them, she still shatters pieces beneath her heels anyway as she makes her way across the room, where doubled doors open up onto a crescent-shaped balcony.The archway frames a remarkably quaint image, frangible and delicate—like a stained glass window of so many carefully arranged pieces.

Pink Diamond sitting on the ground.

Arms curled around her legs.

Forehead reverently kissing her knees.

Shaking shoulders.

Shivering hands.

Moonlight walking its silver fingers along the curvature of her bowed spine. 

If she notices that she isn’t alone anymore—and surely she must given the distinct crunching noises—then she doesn’t give herself away, unmoving from her vulnerable position, unstirring.

When Yellow is right behind Pink, she crosses her arms over her chest and tries to appear cross, but the familiar trappings of a habitual facade elude her as she stares downwards at the younger Diamond. 

Yellow wears her hardnesses like they’re pieces of armor, but even armor has its weaknesses. 

Even armor cannot withstand pity and compassion.

The inexplicability and irrationality of love.

So she crosses her arms, but the gesture does little to no good; her toughened eyes melt anyway—liquid gold.

“Moroseness doesn’t suit you,” Yellow says, and her voice is lighter than she originally intended, almost but not entirely, verging upon, kind. “Blue tells me that you’ve been in your chambers all day.”

Silence for a moment, stretching thin in an already threadbare, starless night.

Yellow frowns impatiently, but then—

“I thought you were away,” Pink croaks, her voice seemingly hoarse from disuse. “Gone to Pallas for a couple of cycles.”

It’s true. Mere hours ago, she’d been on an entirely different planet, an adjacent star system away, overseeing the construction of resource gathering infrastructure. The reminder that she’s going to be behind schedule on that project is enough to pique her annoyance.

“Yes, well, I received at least four separate reports that you had cracked your Pearl before I had even properly disembarked from my ship,” she replies, her tone regaining some of its usual briskness. “I had no choice but to turn around.”

At the blunt phrasing, Pink lets out a low moan, bringing her gloved hands up to cover her ears, and Yellow’s rough edges sand themselves down all over again.

Her gem aches.

And pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand, she sighs ever so softly and stares upwards into the vaulting sky above the two of them. In the absence of stars, there is darkness. In the darkness, the shapes of bitter memories begin to play out across the blank tableau like a horrible pantomime, littered with grotesque silhouettes.

The knuckles in Yellow’s left hand ache from the tension of clenching them.

“So I’m here now, Pink,” she continues, her voice yielding again, bending to foreign softness, trying it on like an ill-fitting sword. “And I would like to know what happened—in your own words. Before I have to debrief with White.”

The very name of their matriarch sends another visible chill down Pink’s spine, and she begins to rock back-and-forth, dragging her hands downwards from her head, holding herself by her puffy sleeves.

“S-she’s going to send me to the Tower, isn’t she? She was already cross with me this morning, a-and I... I was so angry with her and... and I didn’t mean to... Pearl... she was just standing right there! And I...”

But she can’t go on, her barely coherent speech lapsing into sobs, and Yellow watches as a pulse of light briefly illuminates the balcony in a wave that vibrates the very air and all the molecules around them.

Lush and magenta, it could have only originated from one source.

Pink Diamond’s gem.

Pink Diamond herself.

“Calm yourself now, Pink,” Yellow demands, a measure of urgency in her voice as she lowers herself next to the younger Diamond, kneeling on both of her padded knees. “No one’s going to punish you for this.”

(White might have, of course, had Blue not swiftly interceded on Pink’s behalf, diplomatically placating the elder Diamond, promising correction of course…)

“But then again, maybe you should,” Pink half-whispers, her voice muffled against her knees. She twists her gloved fingers deeper into her sleeves. “Punish me, I mean... I hurt Pearl... I cracked her... I’ve... I’ve never done that to a gem before. I-I don’t even know what happened.”

“Walk me through it,” Yellow says immediately, settling into a more comfortable sitting position. Even though she’s not standing anymore, she still looms some ten feet above Pink, casting the smaller gem in her elongated shadow. “Every last detail.”

Pink’s response to this proposition is immediate.

Desperate.

Stripped of all pretense.

Nothing left but raw, visceral emotion.

And quiet.

Her response, her supplication, her plea is quiet above all.

“Please…” She whimpers. “… please don’t make me relive it, Yellow.”

Even though she knows that the younger Diamond isn’t looking at her, Yellow staunchly shakes her head anyway.

“What have you been doing on this balcony all day but reliving it?” She asks knowingly. “One more time will scarcely hurt more than it already does.”

“You cannot possibly know that.” Pink mutters, resentful, self-loathing, utterly convinced.

“But I can,” Yellow replies fiercely, matching the fervency in the other’s tone, the bitterness, the complete and utter self-loathing. “I do know that… I’ve lived through it.”

And it is this that finally commands Pink Diamond’s undivided attention. 

She looks up so suddenly that it’s a wonder that she doesn’t pop her neck in the process, her bloodshot eyes wildly raking Yellow’s face for a confirmation of this baldly stated truth. And Yellow, without missing a beat, stares back at her ruthlessly—lips pursed, shoulders squared, her nosed upturned in the beginnings of a snarl—as though daring her junior to challenge her.

She’ll win.

She always wins.

After a pregnant moment, the silence electric with unspoken meaning, Pink seems to accept Yellow’s words at face value, nodding slowly, the grip she has on her sleeves loosening a fraction of an inch.

“If I do it…” She begins quietly. “If I tell you… could you… will you tell me how you lived through it?”

Yellow’s opposition to this unsavory idea must immediately evince itself in her expression because Pink flinches, as though already stung by the harshness of an incoming refusal.

“Please…? I just… I don’t want to be alone in this feeling, Yellow,” she whispers, closing her eyes, her delicate features screwing themselves up against their own pronounced agony. “I… I feel like a monster.”

And undisguised tears slip down the Diamond’s pink cheeks, collecting uncalmly upon the point of her chin.

Falling unceremoniously into the abyss between her knees.

Yellow makes an awkward, jerking movement as though to pat her, to console her, but she can’t quite seem to subjugate her hands into working order.

She ends up planting them on either side of her, the spines of her knuckles perpetually tensed, mountain sharp.

She’s never been good at the whole emotion-thing.

That’s always been Blue’s forte.

Stars, even Pink’s.

Maybe even especially Pink’s.

“Am I a monster, Yellow?” She continues without prompting, suddenly opening her eyes, as though stricken with realization.

With epiphany.

With awful and complete horror.

“I… I went above yours and Blue’s heads to ask White if I could finally get my own colony. And she said no—I wasn’t ready… I didn’t deserve one yet… and I was bothering her with my silly trifles… all my impetuous games…”

Yellow can see it all unfolding in her mind’s eye—White lofted on her high throne, staring down at the younger Diamond with that sharp, saccharine smile that has always so clearly indexed danger. A not entirely inconsequential part of her wants to immediately scold Pink, to abuse her for having been so reckless to approach their matriarch about this matter in the first place. Of the three elder Diamonds, White has always been the least patient with Pink’s youthfulness and immaturity; indeed, she specifically delegated Yellow and Blue to deal with her because she’d already reared two Diamonds from emergence herself.

But Yellow bites her tongue.

Pink is already punishing herself far more efficiently than Blue and Yellow ever could.

“She dismissed me to my chambers… and I… oh, stars, Yellow… I don’t know what happened next. I yelled, and I screamed, and the next thing I knew, I was glowing pink. My hands, my arms, my face… and when I came back to myself… when I stopped glowing… Pearl was on the floor. And she wasn’t moving… her eye… her gem…”

Bifurcated down the middle, the reports said.

The damage extensive.

Repair questionable.

Pink Diamond begins to cry again, pressing the heels of her palms against her running eyes in a vain attempt to stop the spillage.

“B-Blue told me to be more careful with my emotions… that I needed to keep them under control… but I didn’t listen to her,” she sniffs miserably. “And now I’ve hurt my Pearl. She didn’t do anything wrong… she was just… there.”

Too close to the explosion.

Collateral damage.

(Expendable damage.)

If Pink has anything more to say on the matter, she doesn’t proffer it willingly, lapsing into agonized silence as she continues to rock back-and-forth on the ground. 

Yellow swallows painfully and half-wishes that she had never engaged in this conversation.

That she had allowed Blue to console her.

That she had not broached the subject of her own stark failure.

But the hypotheticals of actions long done and buried hardly strike her as being productive; all the things that she should have said, should have done, and didn’t do can afford her nothing but misery.

She didn’t allow Blue to console Pink.

She came of her own volition and free will.

And brought up her own miseries.

And presented them before Pink boldly—as an indelible commonality between them.

Every choice has its consequences; every word exacts its price.

And Yellow Diamond’s price and her punishment and her eternal condemnation is the truth which resides so uneasily beneath her gloves. She curls and uncurls her fingers.

And feels the cold material slide against her naked skin.

“I was barely 12,000 years old,” she begins hoarsely, “when I hurt Blue Diamond.”

“What?” 

Pink seemingly can’t help herself. She looks up again—shocked, disbelieving, alarmed—and Yellow finds that she cannot stomach these very expressions, so she glances upwards, forcing herself to be interested in an empty sky. 

The moon has never looked lovelier without all of her silver companions.

She has never seemed lonelier either.

So small against a dark infinity vast.

“A battle on a planet I was conquering wasn’t going well,” she goes on in a practiced monotone. “I was losing gems left and right to the local organics. And I was embittered and angry—so utterly disappointed with myself… but Blue tried to console me. You know how she does.”

Yellow had placed both of her palms flat against the nearest wall as electricity began to expand from her gem outwards through her body, surging down her arms, pooling in her bare fingertips. The wall beneath her had begun to heat beneath the energy—cracking, blackening, burning. She hadn’t even realized what was happening, her anger so complete that it overwhelmed all reality and sense. And then—

“She touched my arm to try and calm me down, but I was generating too much energy,” Yellow continues flatly, each word militaristically disciplined. It’s all she can manage to tell this story. To remember it without wanting to weep. “We weren’t as strong then as we were now. And she… she poofed right before my eyes.”

Even though this happened so many hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of years ago, Yellow can still see every facet of Blue Diamond’s gem falling through the empty air.

She can smell the smoke that strangled the air.

And hear the devastating thud as Blue clattered unceremoniously to the ground.

Cold.

Lifeless.

A mere rock without form.

Yellow Diamond screamed and did not stop screaming for a very long time.

“And because we are Diamonds”—she glances down at her own gem, unimpressive in the darkness, dusted and dull —“because we require so much light to make and remake ourselves in the rare event of our disincorporations, she did not reform for almost a year.”

Three-hundred and forty one cycles to be exact.

And Yellow Diamond waited almost every last one of them by her side, mourning and mourning and despising herself and—

“No,” Pink whispers, her voice hushed. When Yellow finally dares to glance down, she sees that the younger Diamond is staring at her with open-eyed terror. “You can’t have done… we’re… we’re D-diamonds. We can’t just… I’ve never… you can’t have poofed her! Diamonds don’t… Diamonds can’t poof!”

“But I did,” Yellow responds coldly, her nose twisted in a sneer she does not feel, “and she did. We have that capacity within us.”

White Diamond disciplined her in the Tower for days, but to this very day, she wishes that the punishment had lasted longer—as long as Blue had remained a gemstone, wedged inanimately upon a pillow.

She would have deserved it.

She had craved to be punished for the brutality of what she had done.

“After that, I took matters into my own hands. I couldn’t allow myself to lose control in such a way again… not with anyone… especially not with—“

But she cannot bear to say the name aloud, the single and beloved syllable sticky and hard on her imperial tongue.

So she swallows the damage.

She pushes past it.

And looks away from Pink as her cheeks threaten to color.

“I commissioned gems to make me gloves that would insulate my own powers when they proved to be unruly.” She says it all very clinically, as though this tragedy hasn’t entirely shaped her worldview for some hundreds of thousands of years. “And I sought, by sheer willpower, to tame what was left of my unruliness by excising emotional excess, because I swore, from that cycle onwards, that I would never hurt Bl—a fellow Diamond again by my own strength.”

Encased, entombed inside her gloves, her fingers still ache with the guilt.

She pulls her arms across her chest again just as she senses Pink shifting.

Moving closer.

It is only for her safety that Yellow moves away.

“I’m so… I’m so sorry, Yellow,” Pink says quietly, “I… didn’t know.”

“But now you do,” Yellow replies, her voice softening—so very incrementally—somewhere in the middle. She forces herself to look at Pink Diamond again and hopes that her eyes are far more stern than her inflection. “And I would like you to take a singular lesson from this story.”

“And what is that?”

The question is desperate.

Agonized.

The young gem would do anything to learn how to not hurt another.

(The cruel irony is that hurting gems is part of what is prescribed by the Diamond duty.)

“There are some parts of us that are so dangerous, Pink Diamond, that we must forever hide them away. Conquer them. Annihilate them. Vanquish them from plain and immediate sight.”

Yellow Diamond curls the tips of her fingertips into her arms, digging into golden skin.

“It’s to protect the gems around us,” she finishes neatly. “The gems whom we care about.”

Pink’s lower lip trembles. 

It doesn’t escape Yellow’s sharp notice that she’s mimicking the elder Diamond’s posture, arms crossed defensively over her chest.

“The gems that we love,” she echoes miserably as a another tear glances down her sharp cheek, pale pink in the light streaming in from the chamber.

Yellow stares at her incredulously.

“Don’t be preposterous, Pink. Diamonds don’t love Pearls.”

“… I know,” comes the defeated reply. “I know… I was just… saying things.”

Stupid things.

Treasonous things.

“Yes, well”—frowning, Yellow pulls up her comm screen with a single swipe through the empty air, checking to see if she’s had any messages since she’s been on the balcony—“that isn’t anything to say so casually.”

“Yes, Yellow…”

A pause then.

Loaded.

Charged.

Pink bites her lip in hesitation, as though weighing whether or not she should speak, moderation warring against impulse, and impulse ultimately winning because she bursts aloud with winging words—

“Have you heard anything, though? About her? Is Pearl going to be alright?”

URGENT MESSAGE FROM THE REEF.

SUBJECT: PEARL 3A. CABOCHON D3.

STATUS: DECOMMISSIONED.

NOTE: THE DAMAGE TO THE PEARL'S PROJECTED FORM UNSALVAGEABLE. HARVEST RECOMMENDED.

Yellow Diamond quickly closes the missive before Pink can peer upwards to read it for herself, dispersing the screen in a burst of silent static.

“No,” she returns almost softly. “Not yet.”

[healingchildhoodtrauma]

Anger Is Normal and Natural

Like Jane, many survivors of child abuse experience anger toward their abuser, their families, or the justice system, and the trauma that was caused. This anger is a legitimate reaction. It’s a rightful response toward what was, ultimately, a severe violation of her safety, health, and well-being.

Anger is important. Like each of our emotions, anger provides us with information that helps us investigate the environment around us. Anger sends us needed messages such as “I perceive injustice” or “Something is blocking me from achieving my goal” or “Someone is making me feel unsafe.” These messages embolden us to protect ourselves, motivate us to take needed action, and give us courage to correct what we perceive as unjust. Ultimately, anger can prompt us to assert our independence and define our personal boundaries.

Despite this, you may be afraid to express your anger. You may have perceived at a young age that the expression of anger, especially toward your perpetrator, was dangerous. Anger may have led to escalated abuse, admonishment, violence, or threats of harm toward your loved ones.2 Such punishments may have driven you to associate the expression of anger with terrifying consequences.

Survivors may feel they are not entitled to their anger, believing the abuse they suffered was somehow their fault or even deserved. So instead of allowing themselves to feel angry, they may deny their anger, push it away, or channel it toward themselves rather than toward the person responsible.3 Such coping strategies will likely send the survivor down a painful road of isolation, numbness, and self-blame.

As a survivor, you shouldn’t have to carry the burden and exhaustion of continuously locking your anger away or pretending it never existed. In fact, the complete elimination of anger is “neither possible nor desirable” according to renowned therapist Sandra Thomas.4 Anger is meant to be felt, not to be stamped out and invalidated.

Embracing the Feeling of Anger

You have a right to your anger. There is nothing shameful or toxic about feeling it. It’s a valid emotion you’re entitled to experience and process. Feeling or expressing anger doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you a human being with natural responses to pain, terror, loss, and feelings of betrayal.

Knowing this, you may be unsure of where to start when it comes to examining your anger. A suggested first step is to mindfully acknowledge the anger you are feeling. You may have convinced yourself that you’re not actually angry because you’re not yelling or being hostile toward others. But anger doesn’t equal explosive rage. It takes on a wide variety of forms. Like Jane, your anger might cause you to shut down and become closed off from others. But quiet anger is still anger. Even if you never yell.

To become mindful of the anger you are currently feeling, take time to be fully present. Remember, you are not a passive victim of your anger but a mindful agent in control of your response. Think about the anger you’re experiencing and allow yourself to truly feel it and observe it. As an observer, watch your anger while, just for a moment, letting go of shame, guilt, or self-judgment about the anger. What sensations are you feeling? How is your anger manifesting physically? What is your anger a response to? What is it protecting you from? What is it motivating you to do? As you examine your anger, recognize it as an energy that is trying to tell you something. This energy is not inherently good or bad. It’s simply energy—energy you are allowed to feel.

Using Your Anger to Help You Heal

You might think, “Okay, so I’m angry. Now what?” Take that energy and decide what to do with it. What will you channel this energy toward? You could channel it into other parts of your healing journey—things that will be positive for your life. You might channel your energy into protecting others, bringing justice, or taking steps to heal. You might channel it into physical fitness or doing something good for someone else or committing yourself to a new skill.

Researchers have repeatedly found that most people are able to improve their mental and physical health after writing about deeply troubling experiences. According to James Pennebaker, PhD, putting traumatic memories into words can help ease emotional turmoil and defuse anger.5 Writing about a stressful event helps you break down overwhelming and troubling memories, thereby enabling you to make better sense of them, rendering them more manageable.

Habits, goals, and long-term planning aren’t the only things your energy can help you achieve. It can also help you in the here and now—not just with how you act, but how you react. On a day-to-day basis, you can direct this energy toward identifying red flags and managing your reactions to those red flags. An example of a red flag might be a triggering situation. In this instance you can use your energy to plan ahead on how to cope or avoid the situation entirely, thus protecting yourself from the pain it poses. Another example of a red flag might be distorted thoughts, or thoughts that don’t align with reality, like negative self-talk. You can channel the energy of your anger toward not only recognizing when your thoughts are distorted but to counteract them with thoughts that are calming and filled with self-compassion.

Another option might be using your energy to manage your body’s responses to red flags. For example, if you notice your heart rate is increasing, your muscles are tensing, and your stomach is tightening with panic, you might try slow breathing, relaxing your shoulders, and clenching and unclenching your fists. Maybe you will want to stretch or go for a walk. The options are endless, but they all demand some measure of energy. Take wherever you are in your healing process and channel the energy of your anger into a way that will help you.

Don’t be ashamed of your anger. Don’t try to hide it or push it away. It’s important for you to feel it. Then, once you’ve acknowledged the full extent of your anger and its purpose, decide what you will do with it.

Jane decided to stop suppressing her anger. She could see and embrace her anger without acting on it in a destructive way. She allowed herself to feel the emotional responses and the messages they were communicating. She was angry. And it was okay. Anger tells her she was wronged, she didn’t deserve what happened to her, and she does deserve to heal.

As she accepted these messages, the guilt and shame Jane experienced toward her anger began to fall away. Her anger is part of her recovery. It’s an energy she can use. It motivates her to take action, to move forward. Using the energy her anger provided, Jane was able to raise awareness to help protect others, devote time to her support group, and to take care of her body. As she does, the anger is replaced by a different kind of energy—hope.

At this point in her healing, Jane knows she can’t force herself into a state of peace and calm acceptance. And she certainly isn’t ready to think about forgiveness just yet—toward her perpetrator or even toward herself. But one day she will. And, in this present moment, she can use her anger to kick things into gear. Her anger is not bad. She needs it. Because it will help her get to a place in her recovery where, eventually, she can let it go.

https://youniquefoundation.org/anger-can-help-you-heal/

[eleanorbloom]

When You’re Ready Ch. 20

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, anxiety, suicidal thoughts.  Rated M

Taglist @utterlyinevitable @binny1985 @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations  @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268  @cinnamonspongecake @romewritingshop @freckles-spangledvampire​@mercury84choices​  @curiousconch​

______

Chapter 20. I’ll Stand By You

I'll stand by you

Take me in, into your darkest hour

And I'll never desert you

 Whatever cloud of anxiety and fear had been following her since she got out of the quarantine room, now it seemed in suspension. Right above her head, waiting for the proper moment to come back and shower her with the consequences, with the realizations that inevitably death brings in.

Her family was being like a dome, a bubble protecting her from hurt and pain, and from any damage she could do to herself with her mind. With her thoughts. With the memories, the guilt, the I-should-haves. She could see everything outside, wandering, waiting for any nook to sneak into, but somehow her family managed to catch them before they could reach her.

  No one had doubts that there would be aftermaths, that at some point she’d have to face them, but they wanted to delay it as much as they could.

Bryce had identified the anxiety she felt at the thought of being alone, so now everyone was attentive to not leaving her alone.  

Her mother had identified the guilt was slowly consuming her. It was the sadness in her eyes, her fingers fidgeting distractingly. It was sometimes just a mother's instinct.

But despite all the effort everyone was making, no one could stop what happened inside her head at night. Somehow, she felt like she was in that quarantine room over and over again. The same heavier sensation on her chest. The feeling of being scared and tired. Of wanting to leave. But someone was pleading her to not go, something was pulling her back to the ground.

When Eleanor went to see Rafael the next morning, it made everything worse, even if she was happy that he had survived.

He was fragile, it would take him a long road to recover, and it was all her fault.  Why she had to let him accompany her? Why she had to put him in such danger? Why she ruined his life like that when he had plans? When he wanted to start over?

The only thing she had managed to do was screw his future up. His life.

Verónica knew what was happening. She saw the pain in her eyes, the rage brewing inside her, she saw her knuckles turning white over her knees, her hands grasping the blanket over her tights, the imploring look she gave Rafael while he was speaking. She had seen it so many times. The guilty look. It wasn’t the first time that she was taking responsibility for something that was completely out of her hands. And it wouldn’t be the last time either. But she knew how to handle it. Mothers always know.

 As Verónica knew when she was feeling bad, she also knew the best ways to put her out of her misery, to distract her, to not let her mind sunk in guilty and self-deprecation. “Honey, is that true that Bryce braided your hair?” she asked, while she was combing her hair after returning from Rafael’s room.

She felt the exact moment her body relaxed at the mention of Bryce. Then, she chuckled, and a bright smile rested on her face. “Yes, he did. And I still can’t believe it.”

“I have to say he’s pretty good at it. It barely loosened overnight, and you have amazing waves in your hair now.”

“Heh. Please repeat this in his presence. Or not. He won’t shut up about it for a week.”

“He deserves to be proud of that talent. Well, more than a talent, this is a skill. A very useful skill. Now you don’t have to worry about doing your daughter’s hair all by yourself because he’ll deal with it pretty well. Maybe even better than you.”

Eleanor glanced back at her, flushed, “Mom!”

“Oh, sorry, darling, could be a son too, there’s nothing wrong with boys having long hair.”

“Mamá…”

“Well, maybe you don’t want to have kids, and that’s respectable, sorry for being too intrusive.”

Eleanor giggled, amused, “You really liked him, uh?”

“Is there any other alternative, Ellie? He’s too likable. Too charming. And he’s been an angel with you.  I don’t feel nothing but gratitude towards him.”

“He’s been amazing. Not just now. He has always been this way…”

Suddenly a knock on the door interrupted her, “Can I come in?”

Eleanor looked at the door where Keiki was standing with a mix of shyness and surprise, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw pain flashing her eyes, “Keiki! Yes, come in!”

The girl walked towards her and, in a surprising act, hugged her, “Ella! I’m so happy you’re okay!”

She had never done that before. Hug her and speak to her with such sincerity. The had become close by the weeks, but she never had shown any spontaneous affection towards her, not even to Bryce. “Keiki! Oh! Thank you. And I’m so happy to see you again! I missed you.” She said, her eyes glimmering with emotion at the gesture,

“Me too.”

Eleanor smiled at her and then Keiki looked at Verónica, standing at the other side of the bed. “Oh, let me introduce you to my mom, Verónica. Mom, she’s Bryce’s sister, Keiki.”

“Hi, Mrs. Bloom, nice to meet you.” She said, giving her a brief nod.

"Hello, Keiki, nice to meet you too. I’ve heard so much about you!”

“You have?”

“Oh, yes, Ellie has mentioned you lots of times! She says you're incredibly smart and sass and she loves spending time with you. Must be she misses the role of elder sister.”

Both girls laughed in agreement. Then, Verónica got up from the bed and walked towards the door, “I’ll leave you to it, girls, I’ll call mom.”

“Okay send her and Tata a kiss, please.”

“Sure, honey,”

“How are you feeling?” Keiki asked once Verónica closed the door behind her.

“Still a bit tired, but I can’t complain.”

“Bryce told me Rafael woke up this morning.”

“Yes! And he’s doing fine. Now we are waiting for Danny to wake up. You can go to see him too, I’m sure he will be happy to see you.”

“My volleyball buddy.”

“The biggest treason you could’ve done to you brother.”

“Oh, please. We both know how much he loved kicking my ass that day.”

“Well, yeah.”

Suddenly, Keiki chuckled, “You should’ve seen him yesterday at lunch. Freaking out.”

“Freaking out?”

“Yes, he told me he would meet your parents at night, and he didn’t know what to do, what to say… It was hilarious seeing him freaking out when… he usually doesn’t freak out with anything… Well, if not involves cooking, of course”

“Why didn’t I notice? To me he looked pretty composed when he came back.”

“Well, at home he was rambling, saying he would screw it up, wondering what he would do if they didn’t like him.”

“No way! He was really freaking out! I would’ve never imagined he would be nervous about that, I mean, he’s the King of Smooths.”

They both laughed, “He told me he wasn’t in that situation since he was seventeen, and… well at that moment the situation was very different because our dad was already in jail, so it’s understandable the bad experience.”

“But now nothing of that matters, he’s a very accomplished young man.”

“Now he’s Mister Imaginary Boyfriend.”

Eleanor snorted, “Oh god, he told you?”

“Yeah, he told me every second since he met your parents. He woke me up when he got home and had me until 3 am gushing about it.”

Eleanor and Keiki laughed and kept catching up and laughing for a few hours until the teen decided to visit Kyra and then Rafael, so Eleanor could have some rest.

The following days weren't very much different. Benjamin returned to Detroit, but her parents would stay in the city until she was discharged.

Danny woke up two days later. He’d have to remain in the ICU for a long time, but he’d be fine. Even if Eleanor had seen Sienna happy for Rafael’s and her recovery, just when Danny woke up she was the same Sienna again. With hope in her eyes, with the glimmer that characterized her kind and sweet smile. Her happiness was now complete.

The next day after Danny woke up, she was discharged, just in time to attend Bobby’s funeral.

The dome she’d been in the last three days couldn’t protect her from what was coming. Even if her parents and Bryce tried to convince her that she didn’t have to attend Bobby Gunderson’s memorial, she insisted that she had. That she was fine enough to attend.

Physically yes, she was. But the moment she set a foot in the memorial, Eleanor realized that emotionally, she wasn’t. She would never be.

It was so tangible how the dome started to vanish. How the pain, the guilt, the regrets, everything, was coming to get her.

And the guilt… the guilt soaked her to the bones.

Seeing the pain in the other person is painful. But seeing the mix of gratefulness and envy in the family is hard to manage. Because Eleanor can’t help but think that Bobby’s wife was glad that the rest survived but can’t help but wonder why her husband had to die,  why he was the only one who’s gone, why he was the only unfortunate. Why just him and not Eleanor, or Rafael, or Danny. Why she wasn’t as lucky as Verónica and Robert, who had their family complete.

 And Eleanor can’t blame her.

Why it had to be him when she was the responsible one? The Senator was her patient, she had discovered that Travis was poisoning him, she should’ve informed Ethan, and Banerji, and the police, and not deal with the situation by herself, let alone involve innocent people.

If someone deserved to die, was her. It was her fault what had happened. Mrs. Gunderson didn’t deserve any of the pain and sorrow she was feeling, nor her family.

The rest of the afternoon went in a blur. She lost track of time and space for periods. Sometimes she focused on the conversation she had in front of her, sometimes her mind wandered. Sometimes the guilt was too big she couldn’t think about anything else. Sometimes she couldn’t think about anything.

She wasn’t alone any minute. Whether she was with Bryce, her parents, or her friends, she was wandering through the service and reception like a wave in the middle of the sea, moved by external impulse, and not by her own will.

A couple of hours later, while Bryce and Eleanor were talking to Jackie and Aurora, her parents approached to say goodbye. They gave a grateful hug to her friends and thanked them for the umpteenth time for all they did for their daughter. Then, Eleanor and Bryce led them outside, where the taxi was waiting for them. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay here, sweetheart?”

Robert and Verónica gave her a worried glance. She was paler than when she got out of the hospital, and Verónica could read the haunting in her eyes.

Even if Eleanor knew her mom probably read her, she gave both her parents a reassuring smile, “Yeah, mom, don’t worry, I’ll be staying with Bryce and Keiki so she’ll keep me company while Bryce is working.”

“Okay, but if you need anything, please call us, okay?”

“I promise,”

Robert pulled her into a hug while Verónica did the same with Bryce, “Visit us soon, Sunny. You could stay with us if you’re getting bored here, you know? We will always be happy to have you."

“I’ll keep it in mind, thanks dad,”

“And of course you too, Bryce, visit us soon with Keiki, I’m sure she’d be delighted with the lovely spots that we have in Cincinnati to take pictures of.”

"Thank you, Veronica, we'll plan a trip for sure. Hope you have a safe flight."

Then it was the time for Bryce to say goodbye to Robert, “I know there’s no need, but take care of my Sunny, alright?”

“Of course, Robert. With my life.”

“Please call us if you need anything, if you need help or if something is happening with Ellie. You have our numbers now.”

“I will.”

 *

Hours later, when they arrived home, Eleanor went directly to bed. Her head was bumping and couldn’t handle another word with anyone. Bryce decided to join Keiki in the living room and watch something on the TV. She’d been alone most of the day.

Now that she was out of the hospital, the idea of being alone wasn’t as hard as it was at Edenbrook. She was alone in the room, but there were people near. And Bryce’s room didn’t remind her of the attack, and she didn’t feel like someone would appear from anywhere and would threaten her life again.

In fact, now she was relieved of being alone, at last. Now she could let all her feelings flow.

Her mom had been filling her with questions, comments, and ideas to not let her think about the attack, and even if Eleanor was grateful for the help she had given her, somehow that just had made her accumulate things. Accumulate thoughts, feelings, anger, guilt.

She buried her face in the pillow and cried, anger exploding in her core like a balloon that can’t hold any more air.

She was so mad. With the world. With herself. Above all, with herself.

 She deserved misery, pain. A man had died because of her and her irresponsibility.

She didn’t deserve people worrying about her.

What was her purpose after this? Why had life decided that her life was more worthy than Bobby’s? How could she live with his death on her back? With the suffering Rafael and Danny will have to endure to recover?

It was all her fault.

She didn’t know how much time she cried, but after a while, she started seeing flashes of that horrid night. The night she should’ve died.

At first, it was calm. Bryce was lulling her to sleep. For a moment, everything felt fine. But then it was all darkness and pain, and a voice breaking the silence in the middle of the darkness, pleading. “Please protect her. Don’t take her away. Don’t take her away from me. Please. Please,” she could hear while a tight grip was pulling her by the hand.  

 She was floating in midair, tired, ready to go. Her whole body was aching. But the grip on her hand was like an anchor, it wasn’t letting her go very far. Something kept pulling her to the ground. She didn’t know what or who. It was dark.

But then she saw Bryce’s face over her, his arms around her, and he was sobbing incessantly. Tears spilling down his cheeks and to the window of the hazmat suit, “Please, stay with me, stay with me” he begged, pulling her life like a kite flying away in a storm.

“Bryce…” She tried to whisper, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move or speak. She was exhausted. But she could see him, she could hear him.

She had never seen him like that. So broken. So… desperate.

It was in sorrow. Desolation. But it wasn’t real, isn’t it? It was just a dream.

“Stay with me, please. Babe, don’t leave me, please. I don’t know what I’d do without you, please.” She could feel the lump in his throat aching with every word. The desperation in his grip, the fear with every inch he pulled her against his chest. She knew it was a dream, but something about it felt so real. So familiar.

“Bryce…” She tried again.

“Please don’t leave me.”

She wanted to go. She was tired. She deserved to die. She was the one who should’ve died.

But Bryce didn’t let her.

“Elle, babe.”

Why didn't he just let her go? Couldn't he see the pain was too much? That she couldn't live with herself after what she did to Bobby?

“Babe… Love, wake up. Wake up.”

And then she opened her eyes and found Bryce, no hazmat suit, no tears, just a concerned look on his face in dim light, “Babe, what happened?”

She looked around, trying to distinguish where she was. It was his room. The lamp on his nightstand was turned on, there was absolute silence in the apartment. Bryce was sitting at the edge of the bed with boxers and a shirt on, his hair disheveled. They both had been sleeping.

“I was… dreaming…”

And as she remembered her dream, rage suddenly started to boil inside her. Unstoppable, unbearable. All the rage and guilt and anger that had been brewing inside her, was unleashed now that she knew it had been him, “Why didn’t you just let me go?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why you held me and begged, and prayed to keep me alive… When I was so tired and I…” Eleanor covered her face with both hands in exasperation, “I… I wanted to go but you didn’t let me, you pulled me to stay with you, but I shouldn’t be here, Bryce… I should be the one... I don’t deserve to be here”

Bryce’s face disfigured at her words and shook his head instantly, “Don’t say that,” his voice was indignant.

"But it's true. I'm responsible for this. Bobby shouldn’t have died. I should have. He didn’t deserve to die, I was the stupid one who thought I could deal with the situation…”

“Elle, you’re not responsible for this, the only one to blame here is Travis. He wanted to kill the Senator, he brought the canister. You just tried to save him.”

“But I… I did it all wrong. I should’ve called the cops, he was dangerous, I put everyone in danger… And an innocent person died.”

“And just for that you think you should’ve died?”

“I-, if there was someone that should’ve paid the price, that was me. Not Bobby, or Raf of Danny. I ruined their lives.”

“No, Eleanor. The only one who should’ve paid the price was Travis, and he paid it with his life. It should’ve been in jail, but he did pay.”

Silence.

Bryce’s words made sense. But that didn’t stop her from feeling all the rage she had inside.

But the rage wasn’t actually towards Bryce, she realized. It was towards herself, for wanting to live, for fighting for her life and succeed, when she didn’t deserve it. Bobby deserved to live. “I don’t know. It’s just that… I can’t stop feeling guilty, all the time, Bryce. When I see Raf, Danny, suffering, when I saw Mrs. Gunderson, her daughter, all his family suffering, I feel terrible. I am responsible for this, and I’m here, alive, safe. I’m the least affected of all. I don’t deserve to be here when I brought so much pain with my actions.”

Bryce gave her a sad look as his eyes started to glimmer, then he laid down beside her and pulled her towards his body, “Babe how could you say that? You deserve to live. What you did not deserve was to die, to die because of some stupid psycho who didn't give a damn about anyone else but his revenge. He's the only one who should've died, and he did. Unfortunately, Bobby died too, but that’s not on you.”

Eleanor shivered at the feeling of his touch, of his comforting and soothing touch. She looked deep into his amber eyes and for a moment, things weren’t as horrible as it seemed. “But how… How can I live after this? What can I do with all this anger I have inside? How I stop feeling anger towards you for… For not letting me go? Towards myself for surviving?”

“I think that’s something you have to figure out with time, babe.  I know this is all dark and horrible right now, but with the proper help, it will get better. Soon you’ll understand that this is not your fault. Just don’t give up.”

Eleanor nodded, and then she nuzzled her face against his chest, his lips brushing her forehead as his arms enveloped her in a tight and warm embrace.

After a few seconds, she couldn't help but whisper, "Was it real?"

“What?”

Eleanor parted from him a few inches so she could see him in the eyes, “What I dreamed? You really said those things and… held my hand… like you were trying to hold me to life?”

Bryce couldn’t hide the conflict in his eyes, how reluctant he felt about responding to her, but after a few seconds, he nodded, “Yes. I didn’t leave your side, and I didn’t let go of your hand for a second. I was scared that you would go if you… If you felt alone.”

 “Would have been that difficult if I had died?”

“How… How can you ask me that, Elle?” His voice broke all of a sudden, as if the last source of strength had crumbled inside him.

“It’s just… you were so desperate. I… I’d never seen you like that. I could have never imagined you could break like that.”

“I broke a lot of times that day, actually, but I didn’t want you to see me like that. I wanted to be strong for you, but at that moment… You were so fragile, so in pain… that the idea of losing you was… too much, more than I could handle…” Bryce sighed and wiped the tears streaming down his cheeks. Eleanor stroke his hair, looking pensive at him.

Then his eyes looked at her for a few seconds, deeply and thoughtfully, like he’d never done before.

It was with a vulnerability that had never seen in him, not even that night at the quarantine room, not even in the shower while she was crying her fears away, not even the night he told her about his parents and Keiki.

It was raw vulnerability, and not by chance or by the circumstances. He was choosing to show himself like that in front of her. He was opening a door that had never been opened. And it was heartbreaking. Her heart ached at the sight of it.

“Eleanor you… You’ve been the only person that has loved me… That has loved me for who I am. That has seen the broken pieces of me, my past, my mistakes and… and even still has kept loving me.” A shiver cursed down her spine as the words reached her ears, just as it happens when a heartbreaking truth is revealed. How? How this could happen? “Even before you said you were in love with me, you loved me like no one else ever did. Without judging, without wavering.” His voice was tremulous, his eyes threatening with tears again, but he looked so, so earnestly at her that for a moment she didn't recognize him. And in fact, she didn’t know him. She was meeting Bryce for the first time. The real Bryce. The Bryce under layers and layers of protection built over the years. The Bryce she always wanted to meet. Where she wanted to dive in.

Her brain couldn’t process such truth. She could’ve never imagined that no one… No one had loved him unconditionally. How? How so many people could miss him?

  “It took me years to come to terms with the fact that I lost my parents. I never did with my sister for some reason, and now she’s here. I always thought I’d be alone my whole life… But everything changed when I met you.  I could trust someone for the first time. I could love someone for the first time. That's why I was so scared at first when you met Keiki. Because it would've been extremely difficult for me to overcome our breakup in case you choose Ethan, or simply because you didn't want me. But then I chose to let you in… And… is it beautiful as it is frightening. The fear of losing you is worse.  I would’ve never overcome it if you’d gone, Eleanor.  That’s why… I was so… desperate. So hopeless, because I don’t know what I’d do if I lose you. You mean too much to me.” He couldn’t go on. The lump in his throat was too painful.

Eleanor pulled him into a hug and kissed his temple, “Bryce, my love… I…” She couldn’t continue either. The truth hurt too much. So she simply held him and pulled him towards her chest, stroking his hair, kissing his temple, letting him know that she was there for him.

 “I’m sorry, it’s just I… I can’t stop thinking about that day, about the moment I found out you were in danger, when I saw you there, scared. When… when you started crying because the pain was too much. I still hear your screams sometimes, and it breaks my heart every time I think what you went through” He shook his head, trying to suppress the memories but he needed to let all out. “And… I can’t stop thinking about the moment I held you in my arms and suddenly you felt so heavy that for a moment I thought you were…” He needed to say it. The word had been eating him alive all those days, and he knew he needed to say it to find some kind of closure, to face this idea with reality. "I thought you were dead."

But the reality was that she wasn’t dead. She was with him.

“I thought you were dead and I…” He held her like clinging to life. Almost like how she clung to him in that quarantine room.

You never know when the roles can be reversed.

For the first time in days, Eleanor felt thankful for being alive. Even if she still felt guilty about Bobby's death, at that moment she realized how much more damage would've done her death. The pain that could've caused her family and friends. The pain that could've inflicted in Bryce. How devastated he would've been. And she didn’t want that. He didn’t want more suffering for Bryce. She wanted her happiness.

So, somehow, somewhere between all that pain, all those fears, all those tears, and late-night confessions, Eleanor found some sense of purpose. A reason to stay alive, to stay positive, a reason to heal.

She knew it wasn’t a definitive solution, that at some point she would find her path again, her own sense of life, but right now, when all was dark and painful, Bryce was pulling her back to life again.

“But I’m here, I’m here my love, I’m with you. And I’ll always be, I promise.”

His love was saving her again.

_____

A/N: This chapter was larger, but I decided last minute to cut it because I honestly didn’t want another chapter with more than 6k. Who knows if I’m going to keep my own promise next chapter haha

Thank you so much for reading! ❤

[aka-efirg]

of god and... god

dazai is free. dostoevsky is free. chuuya is not. after years of living with the god right beside him but always beyond reach, one week in the clutch of a self-proclaimed god suffices to break the barrier between the god and the human

triggers : non-consensual drug use ; implied/referenced torture ; implied/referenced rape

ao3

“It seems you’re lucid again despite the drugs.”

“It seems your drugs don’t work anymore. Maybe you shouldn’t have used the same ones for a whole week. You didn’t do your homework? My body takes around a week to grow accustomed to a drug.”

“How unfortunate. Maybe I shouldn’t have underestimated Dazai’s strongest piece.”

The sound of chains breaking can be heard and in one second the redhead is in front of Fyodor, a hand on his throat.

“Be careful with what you’re saying. Dazai and you think the game is solely between you and the lot of us are just pieces. You geniuses are so annoying.” While speaking, Chuuya moves and is now straddling the russian’s lap, his arms around his neck. “I’m no one’s strongest piece, neither queen, nor even trump card. And certainly not Dazai’s. I’m my own player. Both of you better remember that from now.”

“You are now?” Fyodor is looking straight at the mesmerizing blue eyes. When he’s got his hand on the redhead, he has not planned things will turn this way. But it is far from being unpleasing for him. If not, it’s just making things more interesting. “Yet you seem to play by Dazai’s game.”

The look the mafioso throws at the russian is fierce enough to pin Fyodor to his chair. However his expression is openly interested, wanting to see how things will unfold. The redhead seems to catch his feelings because the frown on his face subtly deepens. 

“I play along, not by. You are threatening my city and the people I care about. So if following Dazai’s plan can ensure your demise, I’m willing to do it.”

“Such harsh words.”

Fyodor brings his hand to the other’s face and draws an imaginary line from the cheekbone to the jawline, reveling in the way the redhead seems to lean at the touch. Not unlike a cat, Fyodor thinks, amused. Sometimes biting and hissing. Sometimes demanding and purring. 

The second Chuuya realizes what he’s doing, he withdraws. Leaving hanging in the air the hand that was previously gently stroking his face. Fyodor even swears he hears the redhead hissing. Not that it will be enough to deter him. On the contrary. He grabs the mafioso’s chin and maintains his head so that their eyes are bored into each other’s.

Amethyst into sapphire. He takes several seconds to relish the sea of emotions, so vivid and captivating. How the the redhead is not afraid of showing them is a strange concept. It makes him wonder what it is like to feel so strongly. Is the mafioso not overwhelming? Is it not incapacitating to have so many emotions that can go against reason and logic?

How can one think rationally if they are filled with anger or despair? How can they hope winning if they can not do what has to be done? If one is not ready to sacrifice those beneath them, they are just going to die, along the very ones they want to protect.

So he doesn’t understand how the one before him can be an Executive and still feeling and caring so vigorously. You would think someone who works under Mori Ōgai and had Dazai Osamu as their partner would have learned to hide their emotions.

But no, because these very emotions that should not be in the open are flashing so fast in these so expressive eyes Fyodor is not sure he’s managed to catch them all, let alone identified them. 

“It’s such a shame we don’t share the same point of view. You’d be dazzling by my side.”

“By your side?” Chuuya snorts. “You would let someone stand beside you?”

“I certainly could let you.”

When Fyodor feels the redhead moving, he prepares for him to try to dislodge the grip on his chin and back away. Instead the smaller leans forward until their nose are only a few millimeters away. 

“And what makes you think I’d want you by my side?”

“Are you that hard to please?”

Chuuya moves his head back, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Like I said, I’m not keen on those who go after the people I care about. Plus you want to destroy Yokohama and I can’t be seen with someone like that, can’t I?”

Fyodor lets out an amused chuckle and lets go of Chuuya’s chin, only to place his hand on the other’s hip and press him closer.

“You’re awfully close to me right now.”

“But I’m not next to you.”

The glint in his purple eyes matches the smile which appears on his face. He presses the smaller closer with the hand on his hip and brings the other to the red hair. He starts playing with the fiery strands, enjoying the silky sensation. He then bores his eyes into the blue ones and can’t help but say. “Your look has changed, compared to last week.”

The hand on the hip is now resting under the shirt and starts drawing circles on the lower back. To his credit Chuuya doesn’t look fazed by the russian’s constant touching. “Maybe it’s because I’m not drugged anymore.”

“No. You have changed. I don’t know what has caused this change but something feels different about you.”

“What? You really thought no change would occur after being your prisoner for a whole week?”

“I wouldn’t know. Usually they break after only a few hours, or one day for the most resilient. The change is always for the worst. They certainly don’t become more dangerous than before.”

“Oh~ you think I’m dangerous?”

“It would not be wise to underestimate you. I’ve already done it and look at where it has led us.”

“Me on your lap?”

Fyodor chuckles. “More you out of your chains.”

“And what are you going to do about that? Your chains can’t contain me and your drugs don’t work on me.”

Fyodor’s hand stops playing with the red strands and comes to encircle the smaller’s neck, applying a little pressure. “I could always kill you. There would be one fewer opponent. A powerful one at that.”

Chuuya removes his arms from where they are and cups Fyodor’s face with his hands. “What are you waiting for?” He leans forward, increasing the pressure on his neck. His voice becomes smoother, hypnotizing as he talks.“I’m at the mercy of your ability. Heck, you could even gut me with the knife you’re keeping on you. So what are you waiting for? Are you afraid your ability won’t work on me? Or do you think I will use your knife against you?” One of his hand has gotten closer to the said knife and is now holding its hilt. Without looking away, he brings the weapon between them, the blade toward him. “There, you see. All you have to do is push.”

Fyodor watches with amusement as the redhead is leaning closer and closer until he’s sure the blade is nipping the mafioso’s skin. “Now I can see why Dazai is so interested in you.”

Despite the mention of his ex-partner, Chuuya cracks a smile, pure mischief perceptible in his eyes. No one should look that pleased after being tortured for a week. Fyodor think absently. You sure seem to enjoy yourself, маленький бог.

“Oh, you were talking about me in your glass prison?”

“Well, I don’t see who else will fit the most the description of ‘a barking dog who seems can not follow one simple order and will only end up being a disappointment’. Even though you’re far from being a disappointment. I suspect Dazai wanted to keep you as far from me as possible. I mean, I can understand why. Wouldn’t it be the worst scenario if you ended up being under my control?”

“I’m fucking going to kill him and throw his body in the middle of the ocean.” He leans backward and sighs. Fyodor can only watch with mirth the redhead growing more and more irritated. “Lose one game, one single game and you get this fucking nickname following you for the rest of your life.” He looks Fyodor in the eyes, frowning a little at the clear display of emotions into them. “Once I’m finished with you, I swear this shitty good-for-nothing mackerel is dead.”

“Wouldn’t it be like throwing away all your efforts to free him?”

“But it would be so satisfying to do so.” The not pout and the not childish tone are so alien to the situation, Fyodor can’t help but smile.

“I’m not denying it. But didn't you say you needed him to beat me?”

“Agh, you’re right. You’re fucking right. I hate geniuses.” Chuuya closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Why does he always end up frustrated each time his ex-partner is mentioned? He has other problems to deal with. Such as the russian asshole in front of him.

“Maybe we should stop talking about him.”

“You’re the one who mentioned him first.”

“Why are we talking about him as if he is your ex-something ready to come between us?”

“Us? Great, replacing one disaster sociopath genius by one distinguish psychopath genius. I’m over the moon.”

For sole answer, Fyodor pushes the redhead toward him with his hand, pressing the knife even more into the smaller’s stomach, and brings his head closer to his own. The mafioso doesn’t flinch in the slightest at the bite of the knife, nor at the sudden lips crashing against his own. The kiss is far from being sweet and slow, but is devouring and biting. Neither of them close their eyes and Chuuya quickly understands the kiss is not of lust and desire, but of domination and control.

So that is where Fyodor wants to go. Fine. Two can play this game. And Chuuya would be damned if he’s going to let the russian win. 

He lets go of the knife, leaving it rest between them, and brings his hand to the dark hair. He grabs the black strands ferociously and deepens the kiss. He feels delight in the subtle shudder his action causes to the russian. In response he feels the hand on his neck moving to his nape and the vicious grip that follows. Thankfully he is no stranger to this kind of action and has since learned not to react. Fyodor is not the first one thinking he can submit him like that. And the few ones who succeeded paid the price ten fold. 

As neither of them appear to want to let the other gain one bit of control, soon they both are left out of breath and forced to break the kiss. Fyodor’s eyes shine with ominous glee and hunger. A dark chuckle escapes from his lips which curve in a predatory smile.

“You weren’t that defiant the other times I kissed you, маленький бог.”

The glint in Chuuya’s eyes is dangerous as well. The man before him took advantage of the state he was in and the god in him demands retribution. One does not wrong a god without paying the price. And Chuuya is more than willing to let the god reclaim his due. 

Fyodor mustn’t have sensed his intents, or does not care, because the next thing he says sends fury in his blood.

“You were so pliant and begging for more.”

Amusement is painting his face and all Chuuya wants is to rip this smile in tatters. Torn those hands off and crush them until there is nothing left. He wants to take his soul and shred it. Again and again. To wrest all that makes him human.

Does Fyodor even have a soul? Is it already in tatters? Does it look human? Now Chuuya wants to know. Which one of them have the most human soul?

Despite his thoughts of death and shredding, Chuuya flashes a sweet smile and brushes Fyodor’s face with his finger.

“Oh I’m sure it was very satisfying to have a god at your mercy. Whimpering, meowing, screaming, begging. I hope you enjoyed it because it won’t happen again.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Drug me, chain me, torture me again if you must, I will kill you. Make me beg one more time and I will destroy and tear you apart.”

Fyodor strokes the skin of the nape under his hand with a sickening affection. “Is it a promise?”

When Chuuya senses the hand on his back getting lower until the finger are under his clothes, he clutches violently the dark hair while his other hand grasps the arm in a bruising grip. 

“Yes, it is.”

[amwritingmeta]

15x06: Castiel

Is there anything more beautiful than turning points for a character? I don’t think there is. Cas has had a few of them throughout his journey (of course all of TFW have) but this episode he comes across a most likely enormous one, because this episode actually manifests his self-liberation in no uncertain terms, and given how far along we’ve gotten down the line with his progression, I’m thinking it’s most likely to stick.

It’s all about identity, right? Even this turning point that I’m so mysteriously hinting at. I’ll get to that. 

Let’s take a look at the lay of the land this episode and it’ll bring us to why this turning point feels like it is shaking the very foundations of Cas’ core character traits and, hopefully, bringing about that needed change in the process.

Here’s the thing. When he was cast down from Heaven and turned human by Metatron stealing his grace, Cas was lost and was killed and then he was brought home to the Bunker only to be thrown out again, and so he named himself Steve and took a job at a Gas ‘n Sip because he couldn’t drape himself in the flag of Heaven anymore. 

As a human, adrift and alone, he did the only thing he could think to do: he mimicked human everyday life. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. He could see no other choice. 

Until he called Dean to tell him about a case in the town where he’d settled (using settled loosely here since Cas was basically squatting at that same Gas ‘n Sip because he didn’t have a home of his own btw) and Dean showed up and reminded Cas what is at his core: to help. And that this desire to help is there even if he’s scared of dying, because that is what gives him a sense of purpose. (which is why he threw himself into that human everyday life to begin with: in search of purpose)

After Dean drove off in 9x06, telling Cas to live his life, Cas made a decision, for himself, to get back into hunting. To insert himself back into TFW, whether Dean wanted him there or not. 

This was an enormous turning point for him, because for the first time he truly considered what he wanted for himself, and he went after it without hesitation.

Which was then promptly followed by Cas seeing no other choice but to swallow Theo’s grace and get his powers back, readying himself for the war that most surely was heading their way, because how could he be of service, of help, to the brothers and to the world without his powers?

Right? Right.

Now then, in 15x06 we get Cas in a deep state of identity confusion.

This is most clearly given to us through the name he chooses for himself.

Firstly, Clarence is a beautiful callback to Meg and perhaps that’s all it’s meant to be, but it’s also tying in with those early days that lay the foundation for the identity confusion Cas is still grappling with. So it’s interesting to me that he’d use it now, when he should be moving on, know what I mean? 

And yeah, that brings us to the second Clarence, which is a character name from True Romance where the character Clarence Worley is played by Christian Slater and Worley is a posturing, bi-coded renegade of a male and has a lot of Dean in him (and I’m headcanoning that Dean has initiated Cas to the wonders of True Romance and done so fairly hardcore) so for Cas to actually, literally, name himself after a Dean-esque character is delightfully poignant.

Because it serves to underline how Cas is still not acting from a place that is based in having enough perspective on himself that he’s aware of what he wants, but rather we’re given to understand, in no uncertain terms, that he left the Bunker, pondered what to do and instead of considering what he’d do, he thought: What would Dean do?

And Dean, to relax and regroup and get away, would go fishing.

So, essentially, Cas is still in mimic mode.

Only this time he wasn’t told he had to leave the Bunker and what he deep down has always thought of as home and family and safety, even if he hasn’t felt like he truly belongs there: this time he chose to go.

And, this time, yes, he goes into mimic mode because he’s at a loss of what exactly he’s supposed to do now, but when a case presents itself, he doesn’t call Dean, he goes into hunter mode and leaves the mimicking behind, leaning on his own knowledge and understanding of what hunting down a monster entails, knowledge and understanding he’s accrued over his years of inadvertent training. 

Granted he’s not human and he’s not risking his life the way he would’ve been back in S9 -- which was the reason (well, one of them, if you want to read the subtext as being that he genuinely wanted to see Dean and he hoped Dean would come look him up) he called Dean -- but he’s not fully fledged, his powers are failing him, and he doesn’t know what that means or what it will mean for him in the long run.

What is evident is that he doesn’t need his powers to do his job and do it well. He correctly identifies the monster as a djinn and locates what is evidently its lair without using anything but power of persuasion and research skills.

I could - over-zealous that I get at the mere prospect - read all this as meaning that we’re getting foreshadowing for how Cas doesn’t need his powers to live his life. Actually, it feels a little more like Cas’ powers are hampering his ability to live his life this episode, as the pastime that relaxes Dean Humanity Winchester does nothing to relax Cas-Still Angelic and thus Tied to Heaven-tiel. But the powers do save him, and they do allow him to do what is at his core: help. He heals Caleb, even though it takes a lot out of him

The taking a lot might be foreshadowing that his powers are diminishing to the point of soon not being there at all, or it might be an underlining of how we should root for him being powered up again, so that the moment he is will feel truly gratifying, because we’ve witnessed the struggle.

The gunshot wounds to his chest might be a highlighter for how he still sees himself as ‘thing’ and always expects to be able to heal himself, which could be a plant for how, if he becomes human, bullets flying at his head will carry a completely different meaning because he’s always been someone who absorbs such situations without even really blinking at them (like how he didn’t even flinch when Ketch blew up that car with the grenade launcher back in S12), or it could be another underlining of Powers=Good because they allow him to do what this entire episode pushes for him to do: stand up to authority.

And so we land in the-->

Turning Point

Which is Cas standing up to authority and, if you look at the subtextual implications, in so doing, breaking away from how he’s related himself to Dean for a whole lot of their joint arc, especially during the latter half of it. 

This turning point is enormous for his individual arc: letting go of his proclivity for making choices based in servitude to the greater good (manifested in God and then in Dean) (his servitude always skewed since he should be making his choices based in his own sense of morality) (not trying to do what he thinks someone else wants him to do) and starting to make choices based in his own knowledge and understanding of himself and his place in the world.

And this newfound self-insight could potentially hopefully have an enormous impact on how he relates himself to Dean moving forward.

Because instead of this -->

Leading to this -->

Ending in this -->

We’ll get Cas behaving based in this -->

And the parallels here are rich as well, btw. They’re not as violent as they look, at least not the way I see it, because not only is the possible S8 callback (it’s what I got in my head anyway) a tie-back to a moment where Cas bowing to authority brought about emotional trauma, which led to him standing up to said authority, but on top of this, Dean as authority figure isn’t working anymore. 

Dean as role model, Dean as compass, Dean as charge and the reason Cas uses for why he’s even on Earth isn’t holding up anymore. It hasn’t for a long time now. And in this moment Cas not only knows it, but I would say he accepts the truth of it. 

The sheriff is a toxic masculinity representative in the most classic sense and it’s beautiful how Cas uses the lines that Miriam threw at Dean in 13x01, almost to underline the parallels here, but also to tell us how little Cas is ready to bow down to this type of power. 

As such, it’s not just a parallel to Dean, but to Chuck as well, which is why the turning point is so layered and carries so much weight: this moment is Cas telling a representative of what God now is in the narrative (and granted always has been) this his sense of entitlement, that his belief that he deserves his position and that he should be worshipped simply because he’s in that position, won’t convince Cas to obey. 

This then morphs from a moment of empowerment to a moment of loss of control as the soldier mode takes over, yeah? The djinn needed killing, but slaughtering? 

There are a myriad of possible implications here, but the sentiment of the scene itself is Cas breaking free and stating unequivocally that he sees through fake points of authority and will not follow blindly anymore. Cas sees through the bullshit now. He’s breaking free of his indoctrination once and for all.

Which is why the episode, for Cas, ends in that absolutely mind-blowing decision to contact Sam, which we’ll be privy to in the next ep, because Cas realises that staying away won’t solve anything and it’s not the way he can actually truly help either. 

He felt he had to cut communication in order to make a statement, but ignoring Sam is neither smart nor does it serve his intention of making Dean understand he’s in the wrong and that he should stop being such a selfish douche. 

Staying in the game, but making certain that Dean acknowledges he’s been entirely unfair and apologises, is more mature than giving everyone the silent treatment and missing out on vital information pertaining to the probable end of the world in the process. 

All of this has me excited for what it means for Dean and Cas, without me expecting that it means anything! Dean shows how he’s ready to let Cas go live his life as best he sees fit, but he’s going to call Cas out for being a dumbass, yeah? Which is well-deserved. Cas is being stupidly stubborn and he really should answer Sam. Dean is letting go (while, you know, being forlorn without Cas but recognising that this forlornness is his own burden to bear) and isn’t going to tell Cas to come back. 

I mean, unless Cas shows he didn’t mean move on as in remove myself forever from your presence and stays in contact with Sam, because then there’s a chance that what Cas wants and needs... is an apology. *slow eyebrow raise*

What it looks like to me is them being placed in a position to choose one another without needing the other to define their identity, or even to assist in providing perspective. They are moving into facing that final fear - their shared fear of happiness - and through facing it, beginning to believe that they deserve to be happy.  

I am just way too curious now to know exactly where it’s all landing! We know Dean will give in, we know he’ll end up reaching out, but omg what will that mean overall? I mean... will Cas hear that prayer, is my foremost question, with his powers dwindling? #wewillknowafterChristmas

[villainever]

Eve and the Performance of Morality

The "descent into darkness" as a format for a character arc is relatively common these days, especially in prestige television, and while it's more often played out with men than women, it's not unheard of as a trajectory for female characters. What's so interesting about Eve's development is how FAST it is happening. On a poorly-written show, this would be because the writers were rushing, too caught up in Point B to plot a satisfying journey there from Point A. But Killing Eve is basically a masterclass in good screenwriting, and it leaves us with the unshakeable feeling that this is the only way it COULD happen for Eve.

Other "descending" characters are so often ordinary, but transformed by their remarkable circumstances. They are pushed by the people around them and unfortunate events into compromising on their ideals and values, slowly shifting inch by inch until they've lost sight of who they were. And often, this is where they're killed off, or a redemption begins.

But even though she changes, Eve isn't transformed. She's REVEALED. And not just to us, but to herself. She isn't surrounded by people pushing her to darkness -- in fact, Elena, Hugo, Kenny, Jess and Niko are all trying to hold her back from it. Instead, she chases darkness. She follows Villanelle further and further, around a dozen corners in the gloom, and when the light's gone entirely, Eve realises that she can still SEE. Eve is made for the darkness, and Villanelle knows it from the beginning, but Eve is still working it out.

While I don't think Eve has the same compulsion towards violence that Villanelle does, I do believe they are an example of the nature/nurture conflict. Eve was raised by good people in a good place and got a good education, then married a good man and got a good job. "Nice and normal". At every turn, she was socialised and conditioned to mimic morality and empathy, and while Villanelle often acts this out as well, for Eve, the acting is still subconscious. She believes it comes from an innate impulse, rather than years of being told what to do and how to react. Neither Villanelle nor Eve really connect with people effortlessly on an emotional level, but Villanelle accepts that about herself, while Eve can almost pretend it's been bred out of her.

Eve's stable life and her moral framework are dependent on one another, so they implode at the same time. Staying in the realm of 'normal' with Niko necessitates a certain performance of conventional morality, but when Villanelle not only doesn't demand that performance but actually demonstrates an existence without it, Eve finds it harder and harder to maintain her home life.

Once the door has been opened, it can't be closed again. Eve is realising who she is, and more importantly, who she ISN'T. In 205, Martin says, "Don't add. Take away." And this is how we're experiencing Eve's arc. We take away outside pressure to be normal. We take away moral influences. We take away the expectation of goodness. And this leaves Eve looking a lot more similar to Villanelle than she's perhaps ready to admit yet to herself.

It's worth noting how Niko has identified Eve as self-obsessed, because she definitely is. But a lot of that self-obsession manifests in her fascination with Villanelle -- not only because Eve really likes Villanelle and stops caring about what distracts her from wholeheartedly pursuing her, but because Eve RECOGNISES some part of herself in Villanelle, and almost uses her as a mechanism for self-discovery. She watches what Villanelle does, and enjoys it, while being able to maintain the distance that comes from not having physically done it herself.

As I mentioned earlier, we've seen the "descent" arc before in modern television. One that springs to mind in Piper on OITNB. In S1, Piper commits increasingly selfish acts, but still considers herself a good person -- indeed, nothing she does can be really that bad, because she's a Good Person. Over S2 and S3, she continues downwards, until by S4, she's no longer able to reconcile the two versions of herself, so she decides she must be a Bad Person. Because of her pathological need to be liked, this doesn't work for her either, and ultimately, Piper ends up trying to do good things to become a genuinely Good Person.

Eve, I think, originally believed that she would hit some point like this, and bounce up from the bottom. But she won't. Why? Because at first, Eve thinks she needs people to like her, but she actually doesn't. She fires Kenny -- the last of their original team, the last person who knew Old Eve (not counting Carolyn, who has layers I won't get into here) -- and doesn't really miss him, or notice he's gone (eg. calling Hugo "Kenny"; they're interchangeable and missable). She wants Villanelle's attention, but Villanelle 'liking' her is different to the way other people might -- Villanelle wants her, is attracted to the best of the worst in her, is enjoying Eve's emergence from her crucible (or cocoon, depending on how you want to frame it). Eve's primary drive is Villanelle's interest in her, and that's certainly not holding her back in her journey.

Secondly, Eve doesn't actually care about being good. She's had numerous potential "wake-up call" moments -- stabbing Villanelle, facilitating the torture of the Ghost, nearly pushing the guy at the train station, Niko leaving, Villanelle killing someone right in front of her, etc. Yes, she had a minor breakdown over knifing Villanelle, but that was more the idea of Villanelle being gone than the stabbing itself, because the way Eve later says she thinks of it "all the time" doesn't sound as black and white as regretting it in its entirety; like Villanelle, she views it as a point of significsnt connection between them and I don't believe she'd let that go. Regardless, the point is that if she had a real gut connection to her moral compass, she would've bailed. Because really, her original mission is over. She caught Villanelle. She chased her and drew level and she's done.

But Eve's not done, because she's chasing not just Villanelle, but the Eve who can keep pace with her. She's chasing what Villanelle represents -- freedom from a system that doesn't fit Eve, not really.

What we have to remember, though, is that Eve has been socially and ideologically programmed for forty-five years. Most sociopaths lead typical lives and have long-term relationships and never really dig too deep into their psychology. It's doable. This is why Eve is slipping fast but not faster -- she's had a taste of liberation from her constraints, but her skin has long since grown over those shackles, so it's hard not to see them as a part of herself, and difficult to get them off.

But they'll come off, because Eve isn't a quiet woman with an average husband and a respectable government job. Eve is a chameleon, the way Villanelle is, only she's less deliberate and has been playing her character for far longer.

Which leads me to Villanelle's speech on life being boring and why it was so important for Eve to hear it. If we look at classic "chaotic" characters like Eve and Villanelle, they're often motivated by boredom, or rather, the desire to escape it. Villanelle and Eve are stuck in a world designed for other people.

The fact is, Eve has been bored forever. Eve was bored long before the pilot, when she was stuck in a holding pattern with Niko and imagining how she'd kill him, not because she wanted him gone but because it was INTERESTING. When she started keeping track of a female assassin but not even trying to report her, because she wasn't aiming for justice but ENTERTAINMENT.

Another fascinating element of their dynamic is that we as an audience are usually positioned to root for a redemption, but with Eve, we can't imagine anything more disappointing. We don't need her to turn it all around, we need her to dive in. Not only because it makes for a fresh storyline, but because great arcs are about characters finding who they are, and we have already grasped who Eve is. Along with Villanelle, we're waiting on her to realise it and act on it. Eve returning to her normal life would be a wolf among sheep, and I think Eve has gone too far. Not in that she's committed serious crimes she'd always be guilty of -- although she's getting close -- but because Eve is coming to understand she's not who she imagined she was, and any performance after this will be a conscious one. A decision to pretend. And guess what? That'll get boring, too. We root for a darkening Eve because we want her and Villanelle to escape that boredom, and escape it together, and forgetting this ever happened is not a way to do that.

I've smashed this out on my phone because I had a lot of thoughts and I'm not going to proofread because no one will actually read this. But essentially, I think we can expect Eve to continue using Villanelle as a proxy for a little while longer, until she's ready to cut loose her parachute. She hasn't committed to this yet because she doesn't want to forfeit the possibility of her old life to go back to (which is why she was upset over splitting from Niko even though she couldn't care less when he's actually around), but once she is reminded how horribly BORING it was, there'll be nothing to hold her back anymore. Because better to flame and implode than be smothered in a kitschy kitchen with a man you imagine blending up and pouring into a thermos. Better to be true and horrible than be nothing.

If you did read this thank you and I promise I'll stop writing mini essays and go back to regularly scheduled memes in a moment. I don't really do these because they don't interest anybody, but lmao, these two always get me thinking. hmu if you wanna trade theories lol.

[chocoholicannanymous]

Leap of Faith (BtVS)

Disclaimer: I own neither vampires nor Slayers, and the boy in my bed is most definitely not Spike. (I haven't read the comics, so anything revealed in them regarding Faith's family is ignored.)

The file for this was created March 2nd, 2014. The fact that it’s finally ready for posting... Yeah, it feels a bit unreal.

I owe my gratitude to @pterawaters and @wolfish-willow for giving this a read-through and me their opinions.

Leap of Faith

To say that inmate Faith Lehane – formerly known as Faith the Vampire Slayer – didn’t get a lot of visitors was an understatement. Angel showed up now and again, mostly when he felt especially redemptive, but that hadn’t happened in a while now. He was the only one – she didn’t exactly have a lot of friends. Family, well, she had even less of that, and what little she had? She wasn’t even a blip on their radar. However, she did have enemies, more than she could be bothered to count.

So when she was informed of a visitor that wasn’t Angel she didn’t know what to think. That the man in question had identified himself as Alexander Lehane, and claimed to be a distant cousin… Yeah, right. Her mom had been an only child, and her dad? Well, not only had he never been in the picture, he’d also not been the one to pass on that ‘Lehane’. So the chances of this guy really being a relative were slim, yet she wasn’t ready to completely rule it out. Even if it was a lot more likely that he was an assassin, or someone who simply wanted to gloat. Whatever, or whoever, he was, Faith was ready.

Turned out she wasn’t. The man on the other side of the window was named Alexander all right, only his last name wasn’t Lehane but Harris, as in Xander Harris – not-quite-card-carrying member of the Scoobies and friends with the other Slayer. That fact didn’t make her rule out the possibility of an assassination, nor that of gloating. They had been on less than good terms the last few times they’d met – mostly because of her. Still, maybe she’d get a chance of apologizing now. Xander had believed in her, had thought she could return to the ‘light’ side, and she’d repaid him by trying to choke him. Yeah, she owed him an apology alright.

“Hello Faith. You’re looking surprisingly good. I take it redemption’s working for you?”

She did a double take at his words, and then she looked at him again, closer, and this time she really saw. This wasn���t Xander. At least not the Xander she’d ‘known’, in place of a better phrase. This guy looked older, wiser, more self-assured and mature. Like he’d come into his own and knew exactly who he was. Not a change she’d have thought possible in the short time since she’d last seen him. Also, he was an eye short. No, something didn’t add up here.

Faith stayed silent and scrutinized the man – because this ‘Xander’ was obviously no longer a boy in any sense of the word. He could be an impostor; someone quite cleverly disguised who’d just missed. Or he could be something else entirely. In the end, she leaned towards that explanation, even though it was the most unlikely one. It was still the one that seemed to fit the best.

“You’re not quite the Xander I knew, are you?”

That was as diplomatic as she could make it. For a while she thought she’d blown it, that either Xander really had grown up this much, or that he was a fake, an assassin and now she’d alerted him, made him panic. Only he just chuckled.

“You’re good. Sure, you had the outward clues, but still. None of us was really sure you’d believe me. Still might not, but hey, this is a good start.”

And that began his rather outlandish explanation. He was Xander, even the Xander she’d met in Sunnydale, only from the future. Part of her wanted to balk at this, to laugh and call him a liar, yet… She was a Slayer, one of the Chosen Two (even if she’d done a lousy job). She killed vamps and demons, or at least she had done so before coming here, so who was she to scoff at the idea of time travel?

Apparently Sunnydale was experiencing another one of those pesky apocalypses the town was prone to, only this one carried more than the usual threat. ‘In short: Buffy dies to save the world, badness ensues and a few years from now we’re pretty much fucked because of it. And I don’t mean ‘we’ as in the Scoobies, I mean it as in humanity and the world.’

Unnecessary apocalypses, the Slayer-line being threatened, the world finding out about Slayers – and chauvinists and war-mongers all over freaking as a result… Not good.

Xander and a bunch of others – he carefully avoided mentioning names; was that so she wouldn't know who else died? – had tried just about everything. Now they were down to this: they wanted to try and change the events by bringing Faith into the equation.

At that she did laugh. She, save the world? She’d practically helped the people who wanted to end it before going to jail. And now, just because she was trying to make up at least a little bit for her crimes, they thought she could do the opposite? It was hilarious. Only, not so much apparently, ‘cause Xander sure as Hell wasn’t laughing. He looked dead serious.

“Look, Faith, I know it’s a lot to take in and I sure don’t blame you for doubting me. I wish I could give you the time to think about it, but we’re kinda running out of that. We need you, and we need you now. So, are you in or out?”

Faith thought about it. This was it. She knew getting out of jail would be as easy as getting in, at least for her. The walls surrounding her only held her because she let them. So that part wasn’t even up for debate. She could get out. The question was whether or not she should. She’d turned herself in because she’d become too dangerous. Did she trust herself enough to walk freely now? Did she want to help? If not, then B would die. Did that bother her? After all, they were talking about the girl who’d stabbed her in the gut and placed her in a hospital. The girl whose life she’d tried to steal. Did she care enough about B to try and stop her from dying?

And then it hit her. It didn’t matter. This wasn’t about B, wasn’t about her or Xander or anyone else she’d ever met. It was about the world. About being a Slayer in the truest form; to stand against the darkness. And when put like that, fuck, then she didn’t have a choice. This was something she had to do.

“Step away from the glass.” She kept her voice low, without emotion, and didn’t dare to give more warning than that.

Xander got the picture though, and moved quickly but yet without raising suspicion, and in the right direction. She had just enough time to notice he’d placed himself perfectly for what she had in mind, just as if he knew what it was. Then again, coming from the future, maybe he did. And then she broke the glass.

As she rushed towards the window, grabbing Xander on the way, Faith once more touched on the possibility that he’d known what she would do. He was perfectly placed. She twisted as they fell, making sure she’d take most of the hit – not because of sentimentality or wishes for redemption, or anything like that, but simply because it was the logical thing to do. Her Slayer constitution could handle the crash better than Xander’s strictly human one, her Slayer healing dealing with the rest. And well, Xander was the one who knew where the get-away car was (at least she hoped so) and who (again she hoped so) had a plan for getting out of LA without trouble.

Those were the only reasons that mattered. A small whisper that she didn’t want the one person who seemed to believe in her at the moment hurt… Well, that wasn’t logical. And thinking like that never seemed to get her anywhere.

Forty-five minutes, two cars and a change of clothes later Xander and Faith were safely on the highway to Sunnydale. Maybe now, Faith thought, there would be time for a longer explanation.

Xander didn't volunteer one though, choosing instead to drive in silence. Maybe it was reckless, but she was going to let him. For a while at least. She would enjoy that there were no walls around her, that she could feel the wind and smell the sun, and not hear much of anything. Things would get heavy soon enough any way.

“So.”

They were about halfway to Sunnydale, with no signs of being pursued, by the time Xander parked at a rest stop and pulled out a cooler. Once they both had food Xander looked her straight in the eyes, raised an eyebrow and gave her a crooked smile.

“What do you want to know?”

Faith took her time, thought about where to start, while chewing on a piece of sandwich and relishing in the simple luxury of eating something other than prison food.

“This apocalypse? What makes it so special? I mean, you guys have handled what? At least one or two a year for five years now, so what makes this one different from those? What do I need to know?”

Xander took a deep breath, the lines in his face hardening. Obviously this was a painful subject for him.

“First of all, normally? Buffy’s been the one to keep us together. This time she didn’t have that strength, and we were too stupid to lend it to her. Joyce dying hit us all hard, seeing as she acted a bit like a mother to us all, and since we were all grieving none of us actually stopped to think about how much worse it had to be for Buffy. Joyce wasn’t just her mom, she was Buffy’s connection to the world, the one whose love made her strong.”

And yeah, Faith could see that. She'd envied Buffy just about everything, from going to school to having a nice house, from Giles to the Scoobies, but most of all she'd envied her Joyce. Maybe Faith was nothing but trash, never to amount to anything – as she'd been told over and over again. Or maybe having a mom like Joyce would have changed everything.

She'd woken up in the middle of the night, her face wet from tears, after Angel had let it slip that Joyce had passed away.

“Second... Everything else we’ve come up against, it’s been ‘normal’ supernatural. Vamps, demons, magic... This time, however, well. Glory’s abnormal even by Sunnydale standards. She’s an actual Hell god, and if that wasn’t bad enough she’s evil enough that the Hell gods she shared her dimension with banished her,” this made Faith’s eyes widen, “oh, and also she’s crazy. Part of it is because they bound her here, inside a human. The magic used protect them both though, so the first time around we couldn’t ID the body acting as Glory’s prison. Turned out to be someone we sort of trusted. Not much, but enough for us to let our guard down. Ironically, the guy actually tried asking Buffy out.”

Faith shook her head. B really had no luck when it came to guys.

“So. Most of the time Glory was, well, wasn’t actually, and when she came out... She’s not your regular Big Bad, Faith. She’s a God. Buffy’s strong, but Glory? Glory swatted Buffy like Buffy does a fly.”

Now, that was scary. Some chick making Slayer strength seem like nothing?

“Damn.”

“Oh yes. Which, by the way, is pretty much what we’ll all be if she gets her way. Which just so happens to be a way back to Hell. Now, normally I wouldn't give a fuck – as far as I'm concerned she's their problem and they can have her back. Except it's not that easy.”

Of course it's not. Even if Faith isn't so sure she'd use the word easy when talking about opening a doorway to Hell.

“Thing is, the portal she opened went both ways, and the dimensions bled into each other. We're talking about actual Hell on earth here. Which as one of the people living here I'm going to say I'm definitely against. What I'm also against is how she opened that portal. See, when they kicked her out the other Hell gods locked up their dimension and threw away the key. Sort of. There were these monks, and some magic stuff, and hey presto! The Key's no longer a mystical ball of energy. Nope. Instead it's a human.”

Faith really really didn't like the sound of that.

“Which brings us to our final problem. The Key's human form is Dawn. And the portal is opened by her blood. Do I really have to explain how well Buffy takes that possibility?”

No. He didn't. He really didn't. What he did  have to do was stop the car so Faith could get out and pulverize a couple of trees instead of the car.

They ended up speeding a little to make up the lost time after, but even with the risk of being stopped by cops it was the better option. The stop had been necessary. Faith would survive the car wrecking because of her temper, but Xander might not. Also, they'd definitely never make it anywhere near on schedule (not that Faith knew what that looked like, she just recognized its existence) without a car.

Once they'd made up for their unscheduled break Xander slowed down to just under the speed limit and soon started talking again.

“Anyway, since we're all about the uncomfortable-ness right now, there's something I'd like to take up. Clear the air, maybe?

“This took me a while to figure out, but well, I had the time. Part of why everything happened the way it did back then, in Sunnydale with us and you and... everything.”

The Mayor, Faith’s inner voice supplied. She didn’t say it out loud though, and was grateful that Xander hadn’t either.

“It had just as much to do with us as it did with you. You might have noticed,” and the irony was obvious, “that we tended to compare you with Buffy pretty much all the time.”

Faith nodded. How could she not have noticed?

“But, and here’s the real irony of it all, we also kinda never wanted you to be like her.”

“Huh?”

“See... Willow saw Buffy as her best friend, the first girl to really be her friend. If you and Buffy were the same, that would have made you even more competition than you already were.

“To Giles Buffy wasn’t just his Slayer, she was the daughter of his heart. He didn’t want her to have to share that space with you, and if you’d been exactly like her... You get the picture, right?

“And then there was me. I thought Buffy was the ultimate woman – pretty, treating me like I mattered, and a superhero to boot. I compared everyone else to her. Then you came along, just as attractive and captivating – and totally different. And if you’d been another Buffy... Let’s just say I didn’t care for the idea of another superhottie seeing me as practically neutered. Buffy did that, without thinking about it, saw me as one of the girls – more or less – and it hurt. You on the other hand... Sure, you never cared about me they way I would have liked, but at least you noticed I was a guy.

“No matter what you saw that night as... It meant something to me. It taught me things. I really needed that. I would never have been strong enough to be the man behind you – I would have grown to resent your strength, and the fact that you’d always be the one saving me. But you’re still a good memory in there, Faith, a really good memory.”

Faith blushed, something she hadn’t done in forever. She’d fucked Xander to scratch an itch, had mocked him for thinking she gave a damn, had even tried to strangle him. And he still saw something good in her? Was he blind, or did he see deeper than anyone else?

She just sat there in silence.

Xander gave her that, just kept driving and gave her time, before finally breaking the quiet with a sigh.

“Look, Faith, I’m sorry to dump all of this on you, but we don’t have much time. At least I don't think we do. We were aiming to get me here in time to stop the Hellbitch early, but I have no idea if we succeeded. If we did, then great, but if we didn’t... Thing is, I’m having a bad feeling about our timing.”

His face said it all. If whoever “we” were had missed their aim, time-wise, then they might not be able to stop the events that made B die the first time.

“Okay. So what are we doing? What are you looking for?”

“A crashed RV – or well, preferably a not crashed one – full of Scoobies. See, we were going nowhere and Glory was picking us off one by one. Buffy couldn’t risk it any longer, couldn’t risk Dawn, so we got the hell out of Dodge in this joke of an RV. We figured Glory wouldn’t think to look for us like that. Only, we didn’t take into consideration that there were others after us as well.

“There was a bunch of crazy knights as well. No, really. We’re talking armor, swords, horses... The whole kit. Some sort of fucked-up order whose sole purpose was to make sure Glory never managed to open the gates to hell. Which, by the way, I agree with. I just don’t agree with how they went about things. See, they never tried to find a way to stop Glory. No. They concentrated all their efforts on finding the Key, and then on destroying it. They didn’t even change their minds when they found out the Key had been transferred into human form. Their general actually told Buffy to her face that it was their duty to kill her, kill Dawn.”

“And I can imagine how well B took that.”

Xander’s face turned grim again.

“She was about five seconds from crossing the ‘Don’t kill humans’ line.”

That hit home like nothing else. Buffy about to kill a human being?

“Fuck.”

“You’ve got that right. She hadn’t gotten the time and space to grieve for Joyce yet, Dawn’s life was on the line, Giles was badly wounded and the end of the world was just around the corner. Buffy was reaching her limit, fast. And then she made a mistake. A big one. She couldn’t have known, but still... Being Buffy of course she blamed herself. We talked the knights into allowing a medic – only the guy Buffy called turned out to be Glory’s little hiding place.

“The Hellbitch got away with Dawn and Buffy snapped. Maybe if she hadn’t things would have turned out differently. Maybe.

“Anyway. If this mojo worked properly we’ll find the RV before the knights do. In that case your job is to get Dawn in the car and away, no matter what. I mean it. If you have to run someone down to leave, do it.”

Faith felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She wanted to protest – she was reforming, killing another person was not on her to-do list. One look at Xander’s face kept her quiet. He meant it.

“I’m serious, Faith. Nothing is more important than getting Dawn to safety. I’ll take Buffy – but leave us if you have to. Just get Dawn somewhere safe for the next couple of days – there’s an envelope with instructions and such in the glove compartment – and then bring her back.”

“You’re staying?” That she had not expected. Wasn’t it like a big rule of time travel not to expose yourself?

“Yeah, best case scenario.” Oh. Obviously she asked that out loud.

“Only, if we can stop this now then that’s more important than anything else. That’s our main priority.”

She believed him. It was written all over his face, in hard lines and dark shadows; in the tense way he held his body and the grim tone of his voice. No sacrifice was too big if it led to stopping this now. He’d give his life, and hers, without a seconds doubt to prevent his future from happening. Faith realized she would let him.

When they spotted the broken-down RV Xander swore, loudly and well.

When they reached the place the Scoobies had used as a hide-out only to find it empty (except for the bodies) he was quiet instead, hardened into stone. The Xander she’d known had always been prepared to back Buffy up, no matter what, with his greatest value being that he always gave his everything and never gave up. This Xander was a force to be reckoned with, a warrior in his own right.

“Now what? You have some kinda plan?”

“Yeah. Not anything ultimate, but... We’re heading for Sunnydale, and splitting up. I have a demon to try and take out, see if that changes anything, and... I’m sorry, Faith, but if you fail, then I need to be hidden in reserve. There’s a Plan B. Don’t make me have to resort to that.”

Faith didn’t want to know what Plan B was. Something about Xander’s statement told her that it was only fractionally better than hell on earth – but that those fractions were enough. It sent shivers down her spine.

“And what am I doing?”

“Go to the Magic Box – Giles owns it now, and they will all be there. Talk Buffy into letting you help. It’ll be hard, I know, but you have to make her trust you enough for that. You need to get her alone, and...”

She focused hard as Xander told her when and where to find B alone, what arguments could be used to sway her and, surprisingly, what to tell Giles.

“He might do it anyway, he did back then, but we’re changing things. But there’s one thing we can’t change: Glory. If we stop her now she won’t just give up. She wants to go home and won’t care if her deadline’s passed. Hell, I can see her find a way out just to go for revenge.

“Buffy doesn’t want to admit this, because then she’ll have to admit that the only way to put a permanent stop to Glory is to kill the host-body. And seeing as he’s not only human but also someone she knows... It’s one thing to get so angry you almost cross the line, but to actually do it? Premeditated, in cold blood? She’s not capable of it. Giles, however, is.”

This startled Faith. Giles? No way!

“Yes way. Once upon a time, before he went all tweed, Giles lived a life of sex and drugs and rock ’n’ roll... and magic. He and his friends actually called forth some kind of demon. For fun. He was known as ‘the Ripper’ then, and no matter what he says some part of that is still left inside him. And ‘Ripper’ will know that there’s only one way to do this.”

Faith twisted in her seat and stared at Xander.

“And I get the privilege of telling him? Look, Xan, I’m gonna help, I really am, but this is starting to sound crazy. They hate me. They should hate me, all things considered. How the hell am I gonna talk any of them into this? Even if I manage to get B to agree, well, she’s not exactly known for standing up to Giles and her friends.”

“I know. Trust me, I know. But this time she will. We’re talking Dawn’s life here. She will turn her back on each and everyone of them – us – in order to save Dawn. She never forgot the pain of having to send Angel to hell. At this point of time we sort of knew that, but not really, you know? We sure as hell didn't understand how deep that still ran. If we had... It might have changed everything.

“Losing Dawn would make that pain seem like nothing, and even if no one else realizes it right now, Buffy knows it'll break her. Right now the only one with the guts to back her is Spike. She’ll accept your help – she has no alternative. She needs you now, Faith, like you can’t even imagine. She needs both her sisters.”

Faith sat in silence for a few minutes, thinking about Xander’s words. B needing her sisters, meaning her and Dawn. That felt so good, so right – but also not. The three of them – Buffy, Dawn and Faith – belonged together, she knew it, but... She shook her head. Time for that later. For now she needed to focus on the upcoming battle, on being a Slayer. Hopefully there would be time for being a sister after.

“So B’s teaming up with another vamp? Huh. Bet that’s making Giles real pissed off. I’m guessing adding me to the mix will make things even better. Sweet.”

The words lacked their usual enthusiasm though.

Hiding in the alley behind the Magic Box felt weird. Staying in hiding as a vamp attacked a teenager felt plain wrong. She had to though, had to leave this to B. Xander had been clear on that, even if he hadn't said why. Didn't matter. Faith knew that some things just had to happen in a certain way, no matter how small or insignificant they might seem.

So she waited, waited for B to appear and for her to turn the fanged idiot into a pile of dust. And then, after she'd revealed herself, she waited for B to make up her mind about what to do with her.

“Faith. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” The hostility and suspicion was obvious in not only Buffy’s voice but also in the way she held herself, ready for an attack. That was actually painful. Understandable, sure, but still painful.

“Not really. Nowhere more important at least. Jail will be there tomorrow – unless the world ends tonight of course. I know about Dawn, and... Whoa!”

She took a few quick steps back to avoid the suddenly very dangerous blond.

“I’m here to help, B. Honestly. You might not think too highly of me, and I deserve that, but I actually like that kid. Always have. I’m not here to hurt her, I’m here to help you save her. Okay? Saving the world’s a bonus.”

“How do you know about Dawn? What do you know about Dawn?”

Faith didn’t make the mistake of thinking she was in the clear yet. Yeah, B might have backed down a bit, but she still held herself ready for battle. As a Slayer she had at least one stake on her, and as Faith well knew stakes killed humans just as well as vamps. Still, this was it. Do or die, so to speak.

“Kid sis got herself kidnapped by some crazy-ass Hellbitch who’s planning on opening the gates of Hell by using Dawn. And I’m guessing that by now Giles has started pushing for you to sacrifice her for some ‘greater good’, like with Angel. Calling her an ‘acceptable loss’ or some rubbish like that, saying she’s not human. Not real. I can kinda see where he’s coming from, being a Watcher and all that – but I don’t agree.

“Dawn’s not an acceptable loss, and I wanna help make sure she isn’t turned into one.

“As for how I know, well, I’ve been having these weird dreams. Like, you know, being on drugs. Except, I guess you wouldn’t know. Still. I’ve had them for a while, since, eh, the body-swap? At first I thought that was why, especially since they were really vague. Only, now I’m starting to think they might be Slayer Dreams – and I totally suck at them.”

Xander had suggested she use the Slayer Dream excuse, but since then something had clicked in Faith’s head? Those weird dreams? Yeah, they were real. And if they were Slayer-related, then it would explain a lot. Sure, she’d never had them before the coma – but that shouldn’t necessary mean anything. Maybe the coma had triggered something, awakened one part of her brain while the rest was “sleeping”? Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that she and B had been in each others bodies – could the capacity for Slayer Dreams had been transferred then? Whatever the reason though, the dreams were there and if they had been Dreams, then she had both explanations and clues.

She saw Buffy shake her head, and tried to find another way to convince her counterpart. Turned out it wasn’t necessary.

“It’s been five years now; me and Willow and Xander and Giles saving the world. Five years, and they’ve stood beside me for everything – even Angel turning evil. And now, now when I’m more lost than ever, who do I have on my side? Faith, the Slayer gone bad, and Spike, Slayer of Slayers. Irony much?”

Faith had to agree. She and Spike had both tried to kill B. Now they were trying to keep her alive – and sane. Life had a way of messing with you.

“Yeah. So, are you okay with me being here? If not, then I’ll go my own way, but...”

Two teams, working towards the same goal, but not cooperating? That was a sure way to chaos. Buffy seemed to think something similar, and nodded.

“Then I’m guessing you should go in there and warn them.”

She got pretty much the welcome she expected – that she figured she deserved – but only Giles tried to force her to leave. A private talk in the back room took care of that.

It was obvious Giles didn’t want her there. It was just as obvious Giles didn’t like what she had to say – he really didn’t like the fact that she brought up his Ripper-days. He shut up about her leaving though.

It felt so strange. She'd always felt like the odd one out in Sunnydale. Instead of it being her and B against “the forces of evil” it had been Giles and the Scoobies who'd faced the apocalypse, sorry, apocalypses, with B. Faith had, simply put, been the new girl in more ways than one and damn, had it chafed.

Here she was, for her first Sunnydale apocalypse, finally standing side by side with B. Only instead of the Scoobies standing strong like they'd always done before they were split. Giles might have been the only one stupid enough, or brave enough, to suggest killing Dawn, but it was obvious that he wasn't the only one thinking about it.

The only ones wholeheartedly on B's side, on Dawn's side, were her and Spike. Yeah. How's that for irony?

The battle was going on all around them and all that mattered was that Dawn's at the top of the tower. Not alone, either. Faith was just about to try and fight her way through the minions guarding the base and the stairs when they suddenly were thrown away by an unseen force.

Faith was running before she'd even finished processing what'd happened, and yet Spike was ahead of her. Didn't matter how or why, all that was important was that one of them reached Dawn in time. If they both did, better.

Except neither of them saw the minion scrambling on the outside until it threw itself at Spike, causing them both to fall. Faith cursed silently, but didn't stop running. It was down to her now. That was okay. It was, after all, why she was there.

The guy Glory had put on the tower with Dawn was nothing to take down – literally, as one punch had him flying off the ledge. Knowing what she did, of how it'd gone the first time, Faith was pretty sure she knew what Xander'd been up to. And yet, as easy as the minion was to take out, she was still too late.

Dawn's hand was covered in blood, and even though it could, technically have been the minions, from her fighting him, Faith just knew they weren't lucky enough for that. B might have been, but not her. And, judging from the way things had been going, probably not Dawn either.

And then, as if on cue, the sky rippled. Not much, easy to miss, but there. Glory's portal was opening.

Hell was coming.

Her mind flicked back to Giles talking about the consequences of the ritual starting, trying to justify killing Dawn, and then to B's response. “The last thing she'll see is me protecting her.” Only B's not here, and fuck, if Faith wasn't a lousy substitute. Once again she felt like the lesser Slayer, the budget version, the almost-but-not-quite good enough one. It was supposed to be B here.

And that thought shook her out of her spiral. Yeah, it was supposed to be Buffy. Only that was why Faith was here, so B wouldn't. So the world wouldn't be saved from Glory just to get fucked up anyway.

The weight of it all rested heavily on Faith's shoulders. This was it. This was her time to step up and be the best that she could. She'd been Chosen for a reason, Chosen over hundreds of other potential Slayers, and this was when she had to prove that the universe hadn't fucked up in that.

She just didn't have a clue how.

Well. Step one had to be to send Dawn down, to the Scoobies and to Buffy. Whatever happened, B would keep little sis safe.

Wait.

There was something about that phrase, about calling Dawn “little sis” that made her... It was almost like a memory. She focused with everything in her, despite feeling like she was wasting precious moments, chased the tail of something until she reached a hazy memory, like the ones left by Slayer dreams. Her and B, making a bed in what she was almost sure was Dawn's bedroom, her own voice... “Little sis coming.”

 Then, on the heels of that, an actual memory. B telling them that Dawn was more than her sister. That the monks had made Dawn from her. Then another, of Xander talking about Dawn searching for her second parent, and... and... and... And then, a book she'd read in prison.

And suddenly it all seemed so clear. Just as it must have for B. That explained why B had died, didn't it? Just as it explained why Faith had been needed.

It explained everything.

“Faith!”

Dawn's scream ripped her out of her thoughts, and the Slayer looked around. The ripple was back, and it'd brought friends. Lots of them. And was that a flying lizard? They were running out of time.

“Listen to me, okay? Get down, and find B. Or Spike. Find one of them, and stay safe. I'm going to fix this.”

“How? Faith? How do you fix this?” Dawn was panicking, and Faith wasn't good with that. You couldn't punch panic, as she'd learned. She had to try though, because as it looked Dawn would fall off and break her damned neck before she reached the ground, and wouldn't that just be peachy?

“Listen to me. This is what I do, okay. I know I've been shit at showing it, but I'm a Slayer, and this. Is. What. I. Do. Stand against the forces of evil and all that. You? You stay safe. That's your job, and it's just as important. U-uh, no protests. I need you to be on the ground and safe so I can focus on what I need to do here. B needs you to be safe because otherwise it'll break her. Alright? That's a good girl.

“Now go. As fast as you can, while still being safe.”

“Thank you, Faith.” Then the teenage girl ran down the stairs.

Faith on the other hand went in the opposite direction, walking slowly out on the ledge until she stood in the same spot Dawn had occupied earlier. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. After all, the world rested on her shoulders. So this was how B felt all the time.

So. Everything pointed to Dawn having two mummies, her being created from not one but two Slayers. That meant that Faith’s blood would also get the job done. All she had to do was jump.

Buffy would do it, easily  – sacrifice her life to save the world and her little sister. That was just the Buffy Summers way of doing things. Faith didn’t know about the world. She still didn’t feel that connection, that responsibility. But for Dawn? She thought about the terrified teenage girl she'd sent running and felt the connection to her. This girl belonged to Faith; there was no other way to describe it. She knew, just like she sometimes just knew things about demons, vamps and Slaying. Screw the world, Faith thought, but her, her I’ll die for. And she guessed that might just be enough.

She took a minute to focus completely on her task. When she was done she embodied her name. Ironically, here at the end for the first time ever she was Faith.

She took another step closer to the edge, and then took her leap.

Falling free felt like being loved.

~ The End ~

End note: The book Faith is thinking about is “Blue Genes” by Val McDermid, from her Kate Brannigan series and I very much recommend it.

[dyaz-stories]

The classic 154

Aaah,bless you for sending this, this is honestly one of my favoritetrope I was so happy to get this!

154. “There’s only one bed”

So this is more or less a follow-upto my Pregnant from a one-night Stand AU, which I hope you won’tmind! It’s not a direct follow-up, and I’ll probably write moreone-shots around this in semi-continuity. I’ll tag people whomentioned they’d be interested in reading more of this here, feel free to let me know if you’d like to be tagged for this… or not (this would be updated super irregularly to be honest). Hopeyou enjoy!

@cammysansstuff @tsukinohimeusagi @umacaking @inuyashaeienni @coquinespike

“Yeah,yeah, I’m coming!”Inuyasha growled, walking to the door. “Ain’t no need to teardown the fucking— Kagome?”

Shit.That woman needed to stop surprising him like that, because here shewas, standing on his doorstep with her son — theirson — in her arms, and he had probably just made a total ass ofhimself. Again.

“Hi,I’m sosorry to come here without a warning but—”

“Notat all,” he managed to mumble. “Don’t stay out there, c’monin. Ah, and don’t pay attention to the mess.” He wasn’t exactlyknown for being organized and, well, the place could definitely haveused some cleaning, but Kagome didn’t say anything when she walkedin, holding Hoshiki tightly against her.

Shestill took in the small apartment. The room when they were in barelyhad enough space for a table and two chairs, plus a TV and aarmchair. There was nothing on the walls, and it all felt somewhatimpersonal. From where she was, she could see the door opening onwhat she assumed was his room. It wasn’t big or anything, but shedecided it suited him. Despite knowing him for a short while, shecould tell it wouldn’t have been like him to have more space thanstrictly needed.

Inuyashagrinned when his son reached out for him, recognizing him not onlyphysically but in his scent, just like he had identified him quicklywhen they had first met. It was then that he really looked at Kagome.She wasn’t even wearing a coat, even though they were in autumn,and she looked surprisingly lost.

“Here,let me take ‘im,” he offered.

Shehanded the boy to him without a word, then rubbed her arms, and hecouldn’t help but frown. He felt strongly protective of the woman,though they had only known each other for a while — and even then,saying they kneweach other seemed like a very strong term to describe their actualrelationship.

“What’sgoing on?” he asked her, his voice deep and serious while hemotioned to grab his red jacket and put it on her shoulders.

Atthat, she started, but there was an ocean of gratitude in her eyeswhen she looked up at him. Something that made him feel a littleuncomfortable, or at least, that was how he interpreted this strangestir in his stomach.

“Therewas a fire at my apartment complex,” she mumbled, wrapping herselftightly in the garment. “We had to go out in a rush, though theythink they’ll be able to minimize the damage, apparently but— Myfamily’s out of town and I didn’t where to go and—”

“Don’t,”he interrupted her, ignoring the feeling of dread he’d gotten whenshe mentioned the danger they had both been in but holding his son alittle tighter against him. He felt the fierce urge to protect themboth, probably a normal instinct among other demons, but its strengthtook him by surprise just now. “No need to apologize. If ya don’tmind, you can spend the night here, and then we’ll see tomorrow howthis turns out, if that’s fine with ya.”

Shegave him a weak smile. “That sounds good,” she replied softly.

“Helooks exhausted anyway,” he said, pointing at Hoshiki whose headwas already resting on his chest, “so, erm, I— I have a cradlefor him. We can put him in the living room. There’s only one bed,but you can take it, ‘kay?”

Hefelt weirdly self-conscious for how small his place was. Not that hewould have had any need for more; but still, somehow he would haveliked to be able to give them more than this.

“Youhave a cradle?” Kagome asked, tilting her head.

Hefelt himself blushing a little. “So what?” he growled, probablymore defensive than he needed to be. Yeah, he’d bought one, just incase, or quite possibly in hope,that they would come to an arrangement when he would spend more timewith the kid. Up until then, they had seen each other a few times,and she had even left him with Hoshiki for a couple of hours at apark. He understood that she wanted to make sure he would be good forthe child, and he respected that he had to earn that trust, but thatdidn’t mean a guy couldn’t dream, right?

“Nothing,”she said, shaking her head, trying with little success to hide herbright smile. She loved that he was getting more involved inHoshiki’s life, and that he clearly wanted more. The more love thekid could get, the better. “Just… I’m afraid he’s making histeeth at the moment, so the night might not be easy.”

Hefrowned a little at the information. He couldn’t help but feel alittle… Maybe not hurt, but sad that he didn’t know that. Hewanted to be there for that stuff too; not just the happy moments,but also the crappy ones. Because it was his son, sure, but alsobecause he wanted to take parts of that burden off of her. “Yeah,that ain’t easy for us,” he mumbled. “Because we heal so fast,y’know? So it can take a while. Anyway, don’t worry ‘bout it. Idon’t mind.”

Kagomenodded, uncertain of what she should say now, swaying on her feet. Itoccurred to her that she was in a near stranger’s apartment, andfor a second, she was genuinely worried about it. But seeing the manholding her baby — again, theirbaby — so gently and carefully, knowing he’d bought a cradle forthe kid, she just had that strange conviction that everything wouldbe alright. She was rather good with her intuition, most of the time.Not to plan what was going to happen to her, clearly, but she wasrarely wrong when she saw good in people.

“Wannause the bathroom while I get him ready?” he offered, taking hermind away from her thoughts. “Y’can borrow one of my shirts ifyou’re okay with that.”

“Oh,sure, thanks!“

“Just—Grab one in my room, ‘kay? The bathroom’s over there,” hepointed out, though it really wasn’t necessary considering howsmall the place was. “There are clean towel under the sink if youneed any and—”

“Thankyou, Inuyasha,” she chuckled lightly, resting a hand on his arm fora moment. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Oh, and I’ve started usingthe gloves you gave me! He doesn’t really have claws yet, but Ithought better safe than sorry, right?”

Hewatched her as she reached in her bag and then handed it to him. Thefabric had survived the years without any problem, and he suspectedhis father had owned it for a very long time, until his mom had usedit for this, after his dad no longer needed it. His throat tightenedas he watched her putting them on the kid carefully.

Itfelt weird. To see someone actually loving a half-demon, it felt…It felt weird, but it also felt good.

Hecouldn’t help the way his eyes followed her in the bathroom, butthen he shook his head, attempting to get himself back on track.

“Let’sget you in bed before your mama comes back, buddy,” he toldHoshiki. He earned a happy babble, and he couldn’t help but smileas his heart swelled with the most intense sort of love he’d everfelt. Nothing could compare to what he felt for this little guy. Itwas very different from anything else he had ever experienced, but heknew he’d do anything for him, do anything so he wouldn’t behurt.

Andsurely, what he was feeling for Kagome was just an extension of that.

Whenshe came out of the shower, she found him sitting on a chair next toa sleeping Hoshiki, and once more, a new warmth filled her chest. Itwasn’t like she had thought she was lackingsomething,nor that she believed she wasn’t giving enough to her baby, butthere was just something truly special about seeing Inuyasha herewith him.

Helooked up almost immediately, and an unusual tension seemed to arisebetween them. She noticed the way his eyes took her in, the way theywidened just a little and then how, when he glanced away, hisshoulders and his jaw had tensed. She herself found she needed torepress a shiver.

Yeah.Things… Things were weird. It would have been useless denying theyfound each other attractive. Hoshiki was truly the proof of that,wasn’t he? But they hadn’t planned on a tomorrow. Well— if shewas honest, she wouldn’t have minded, that night. Sure, he’dgotten on her nerves a bit, but she had thought there was so muchmore to that broody guy under the surface, and she would have lovedto discover more. She had even considered bringing it up in themorning. Except that he had been gone when she woke up. Hotel roomwas paid, which she appreciated, but the encounter had still felt abit bitter.

Sheguessed she understood him much better now. Still, they had avoidedweird moments in the time they had spent together since theirencounter, but it probably couldn’t last forever. Sooner or later,they would have to address it.

“Whereare you going to sleep?” she asked him softly. She hadn’t givenit much thought, but he didn’t have a couch, after all.

“GuessI’ll take the floor or something,” he shrugged, avoiding hereyes.

Whata fucking moron he was. Offering her to take a shower? He should haveknownit would make her scent come out, and he already found itirresistible the rest of the fucking time… And the shirt? What waswrongwith him? This was basics for a dog-demon. The mix of his scent withhers just made him feel more… More… Ah, dammit.

Worstpart was, maybe it had been intentional, to a degree. He already knewthe way his instincts considered her, after all. Still, it just feltwrong. She didn’t know about it, and he didn’t how to express anyof his emotions when it came to her.

“Ohno,” she protested, frowning. “I can’t let you do that! I’dfeel horrible!”

Heblinked a couple of times, looking at her in confusion.

“Thenwhat d’ya suggest?” It came out more agressive then he’dintended, and he cursed himself. He needed to fucking work on that.At least around her, and particularly around the kid. He would hateto snap at him like that just because he couldn’t do better.

Kagomedidn’t seem to be bothered. She simply rolled her eyes. “We’readults, Inuyasha. We can share a bed.” Weliterally have a child together.

Heswallowed, then nodded. “Keh. Yeah. You’d better not take all theblankets.” Shit, why was he so ridiculous? “Go ahead. I’ll trynot to wake you up when I arrive.”

Shegave him a satisfied smile, but before stepping out of the room, shetook a few steps towards him. “I really appreciate how much youtake care of Hoshiki, and that you’re letting us stay here for thenight” she said gently. “I just want you to know it goes bothway, okay?”

Fuck.He had… He had a really hard time dealing with people being nice tohim. Thankfully — or, well, maybe not — it didn’t happen often,but he hoped he didn’t look ridiculous when he didn’t sayanything back and simply nodded.

Onlythen, looking like someone happy with a work well done, did she walkout of the room.

Whenhe joined her after a long, coldshower, she was on her side, and based on her soft, even breath, heassumed that she was already asleep. Which was a relief, probably, hethought as he silently slipped in bed next to her. Despite his words,he pulled most of the blanket on her. She had looked really cold whenshe had walked in, and he, as a half-demon, wasn’t really sensitiveto that sort of stuff.

Afterwatching her back for a few moments, wondering what was going throughher mind, and also how she could fall asleep at a stranger’s placeso easily, with an anger he couldn’t quite understand but which heassumed to still be part of his protectiveness, he finally closed hiseyes.

Heexpected sleep to be hard to find, particularly with her by his side,but while her scent made it impossible to focus just a few momentsearlier, right now, he found that having her and his son close to himmade him relax easily. Probably still something that came from hisinstincts, at the thought that his family — his pack, perhaps —was around him, where he could protect them. Not that the priestesswho was sleeping next to him would have needed any, but still.

Itonly took a couple of minutes before he was sound asleep.

Kagomejerked up as the first cry broke through the night. For one second,she felt panicked and bewildered, not recognizing her surroundings,but still hearing her son screaming. Hoshiki!She needed to— Ah, right, she was at Inuyasha’s place. Still, shetried to get herself out of bed and pull herself from under theblankets she seemed to be entangled in, despite his warning.

“That’sokay,” a sleepy voice mumbled, next to her. “Don’t move, I gotit.”

Sheturned around to find Inuyasha’s back, sitting on the bed, hissilver hair reflecting the pale light of the moon.

“Heprobably needs changing,” she said. “I have—”

“Don’tworry, I have everything I need,” he yawned, standing up andstretching himself, giving her a nice view at his back, and shedidn’t know what impressed her more, the muscles or the fact thathe had apparently truly thought this through and was taking this soseriously. She picked the latter as she let her head fall back on thepillow. Wow. It had been an eternitysince she had been able to do that. She watched as he walked out ofthe room, and listened as the crying stopped, replaced by his deepwhisper.

Aftera few moments, she got up and tiptoed to the room. She found Hoshikichanged, and Inuyasha holding him in his arms, maybe somewhatclumsily but very tenderly, trying to get him to go back to sleep.She took a moment to watch them, as she was filled with warmth onceagain. When Inuyasha looked up, she finally approached them, leaningtowards the kid over his shoulder.

“Youcan put him back in, he will fall asleep soon,” she explainedsoftly. “He’s a very calm baby, and he doesn’t fall asleep aseasily if we’re around.”

“Erm,yeah, I just— I guess I just wanted to—” He stopped himself,embarrassed. He was probably being ridiculous, but he had a hard timeadmitting how much he cared for the kid out loud. He hadn’t knownhim for long, but he would still die for him.

“Tohold him?” Kagome rested his head on his shoulder for a moment,holding out a finger for the kid to catch in his hand, but she pulledit out of reach before he could put it in his mouth. “No honey,”she cooed, “you know it took a week for mama to heal last time!”

Inuyashagrinned. “Keh, already a fighter, aren’t ya? But you should pickbetter opponents, buddy. Your mom isn’t exactly a threat.”

Kagomelaughed at his words. “Don’t listen to your dad,” shecontinued. “Trustme,I’m the most dangerous person you’ll encounter.”

“Bythat, she means she’ll be the one who’ll say no when you want togo out late.”

“Exactly.”

Thentheir eyes met, shining with the complicity of a moment shared. Shewas smiling brightly, and even he was smirking, and somethingpassed between them. They didn’t have the time to identify it, butit was probably at that moment that it became obvious that theycouldn’t walk away from each other. It wasn’t just about theone-night stand — they sharedsomething. Hoshiki, obviously, but it became clear thenthat it was about more than blood. It was about the love and the carethey had for him. They wouldbe together in this, one way or another.

“I’mgoing to bed,” Kagome said, still keeping her voice low. “You canstay with him if you want, but just know, he’s going to wake upseveral more times during the night. If I were you, I’d enjoy thesleep while I can.”

Hesighed, but followed her advice. These were things he wished he knewalready, but the best thing he could do for Hoshiki was to learn. Andboy, did he want to.

Helaid the kid back down as she walked out of the room, stroking hisface gently and earning a happy little laugh for it. Fuck. Was itpossible to love someone so much you could die? Because he definitelyfelt like that right now. He took a few more moments there, juststaring back in his son’s eyes, silently promising him that hewould neverlet him go through the same things he had experienced. He’d movemountains for him if he had to, and right now, he felt like he couldchange the world for him too. But he wouldn’t let him get hurt. Notever.

Hejoined Kagome once more, trying to be as silent as possible. Still,only a few seconds after he had laid down, she called out “Inuyasha?”

Herolled around to find her facing him, and she stared into his goldeneyes with a happy expression he didn’t recall ever seeing whensomeone was looking at him. “I’m really glad you’re here,”she said. “I think it’s really important for Hoshiki, and I’m—I’m glad it’s you.You’re doing a great job with him already.”

Damn.He didn’t know why, but he felt like crying. He hadn’t cried whenhe had found out he had a son, maybe because of all the ways he knewhe could fuck this up, but this?This was getting to him.

Beforehe could reply, as he willed back, she leaned in and kissed him onthe cheek, softly. “So you won’t mind getting up for him for thenight, right?”

Therewas a teasing tone in his voice, and he chuckled in response. “You’relucky I like the kid.”

“He’sa great kid,” she said warmly. “We can try to make you meet more,if you’d like to. I’ll see what’s happening for my apartment,and then we can figure that out, okay?”

“Let’sdo that.”

“Youshould really try to get some sleep.”

“Iwould if you stopped talking.”

Therewas another laugh. It wasn’t that different from Hoshiki, hedecided, and this had to be why he liked it that much.

Yeah.That hadto be the reason.

Kagomewoke up as the sun was rising after the first good night of sleep shehad gotten in forever.She looked at the arm around her waist in confusion, and when shetried to turn around, she found Inuyasha pressed against her, hisface buried in her neck. He seemed deeply asleep, and she couldn’tblamed him. He had gotten up several more times in the night, and sheknew of experience how hard that could be.

Shetried to get up without waking him up, but he jumped the second shemoved. For a brief moment, he looked horrified when he looked at her,but before she could gather why, he had removed his arms and wasscrambling back.

“Shit,‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’sokay,” she soothed him immediately. She hadn’t minded, really. Infact, if she was honest, it had been… rather nice. “Just stayhere. Do you have something to make breakfast?”

Therewas a moment of silence.

“Ithink I have eggs. Want me to help?”

“Youshould—”

“I’ma half-demon,remember? I don’t need nearly as much sleep as humans.”

Hermouth dropped open. Oh wow, that explained a lotaboutHoshiki, and she had no idea about that.

“Imean, you don’t have to,” she said hesitantly. “You let us staythe night, that’s the least I can do.”

Andthis was how Inuyasha found himself in front of scrambled eggs whileKagome proceeded to breastfeed Hoshiki. This felt good. It feltright. It felt… It felt like a family.

Well,up until she took a look at her phone, gasped, and got up. “Ireally need to go. Apparently they saved most apartments, but I stillneed to check it as soon as possible. You have my number, right?Just— Call me and we’ll figure something out for Hoshiki.”

Already,she was hurrying to gather her stuff. Before he knew it, she was atthe door, where he joined her to open it.

“Thankyou,Inuyasha,” she said as she walked out. “I mean it. I owe you.”Her hand brushed against his for just an instant, and withoutthinking, he briefly squeezed her fingers. The contact lasted a fewseconds more than necessary, and he hoped that it conveyed what hecouldn’t say out loud. That he didn’t want her to owe him, thathe wanted to become a part of her life, of theirlife, and that he wanted this to be normal. That he wanted her to beable to count on him.

Whenher smile widened, he decided it did.

Hehad a hard time going back in his apartment, even long after she hadleft his hallway. It felt strange now. Empty. Like this wasn’t hisplace, because his place was with them. Not— not necessarilyKagome, well, maybe not or— shit, he had no idea what was goingthere.

Still,his place was definitely by his son’s side.

Hehad never expected that the two of them would change him this much,when they had walked into his life, and now, after just a night athis place, he couldn’t stand the idea that they were gone.

Hegrinned, remembering Hoshiki’s laugh and what it had felt to holdhim.

Hewouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Wow  I hadn’t realized I loved papaYasha that much, but writingthis isgetting to me. Expectan “origin story” for this at some point ;) Hope you liked it!

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2019 Day 28: Soulmates

Too Many Zeroes | @isolemnlyswear-iamsuperwholocked Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2896 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates Castiel & Dean Winchester, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Strangers to Lovers, First Meetings, Castiel and Dean Winchester First Meet, Lonely Castiel, Misunderstandings, Sexuality misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending Summary: Honestly, Castiel doesn't have any idea why he turns away from the familiar apartment block and enters the local bar on the corner. He tells himself it's because it's cold outside and his coat isn't keeping him warm enough, because his apartment is too dark and lonely, because it's a Friday night and he hasn't gone out anywhere in ages. He tells himself that it doesn't matter if he goes, that it won't delay the inevitable disappointment that's going to happen tonight. But now he's walking through the door, and sitting at the counter, and ordering a drink, so he might as well make the most of the terrible night his soulmate clock finally reaches zero.

Near Misses | @imbiowaresbitch Rating: Explicit Word Count: 27212 Main Tags and Warnings: Cheating, explicit sex, consent, light bdsm Summary: Five times Cas and Dean almost met, plus the time they finally did.

Meeting my roommate...damn he's fine | @roobear68 Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 9725 Main Tags and Warnings: Underage, soulmates, past abuse, social anxiety Summary: Dean Winchester is a genius, who has horrible nighttime anxiety which manifests itself in nightmares. Castiel Shurley is a genius who has social anxiety which manifests itself in him being awkward. Columbia University decided to make them roommates. Fate decided to make them SoulMates.

Collapsed Rainbows | @suckerfordeansfreckles Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 6125 Main Tags and Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, soulmate AU, soulmates, first touch leaves a mark, nurse!Cas, hospitals, blood and injury, hurt/comfort Summary: Dean wakes up on his 18th birthday, giddy and a little scared, and rips his blanket off of himself to start searching his hands for the soulmark that is supposed to appear somewhere on his body today. Nothing. His arms. Nothing. Shoulders, upper body, legs. Nothing. It’s okay, he tells himself, don’t panic yet. But then he rushes to the bathroom and braces himself on the edge of the sink to look up into the mirror, and it’s right there. Black streaks and blotches along the edge of his jaw, dark like ink. Marks like the imprints of knuckles meeting Dean’s chin. It takes him a little while to fully realizes what this means. That his soulmark is there, for everyone to see, right on his face, impossible to hide. That his soulmate’s first touch will be a punch to Dean’s face.

Birds | @lemonsorbae Rating: General Word Count: 1542 Main Tags and Warnings: Soulmates, First Kiss, Fluff, SPN Universe - Canon Divergent Summary: Dean’s just been rescued from Hell by an angel who’s making outrageous claims and staring way too much.

I Knew All Along It Was You | @pherryt Rating: General Word Count: 3157 Main Tags and Warnings: Soulmate AU, Soulmates, blind!cas, self worth issues, Angst, Fluff, Low Self Esteem Summary: Almost nothing is actually known about the new phenomenon of Soul Marks, but one thing is certain - no one's ever gotten one past the age of 30. Dean's 29 and in love with his best friend when his finally appears. His only hope is that Cas has the matching one. He has to, right?

J Train | @drawlight Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7129 Main Tags and Warnings: Soulmates, Romance, Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Feelings Realization, AU - Human Summary: If you want to be somebody, you have to go to the Chelsea Hotel. In 1979, aspiring writer Castiel Novak takes room 109. His roommate is not quite what he expected.

Syncopation | @thebloggerbloggerfun Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 14900 Main Tags and Warnings: Celebrity!Castiel Summary: Dean Winchester is almost fine with not knowing who his soulmate is. He's got a good life, good family, and doesn't mind the one night stands with others who also haven't found someone with their same soulmark. It isn't until Sam shows Dean a picture of the pop-star Castiel - a celebrity infamous for hiding his soulmark among hundreds of other tattoos - that Dean thinks he may have found his soulmate. But how is he supposed to let a worldwide phenomenon know that they belong together - and will Castiel even care?

Fate | @galaxystiel Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1338 Main Tags and Warnings: Anti Soulmate AU, homophobic John Winchester, established relationship Summary: “C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Dean tugged Castiel towards the storefront. “Don’t you want to find out who your soulmate is? Who you’re fated to be with?”

Timer | @galaxystiel Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2147 Main Tags and Warnings: Human!Castiel, Soulmate AU, angst with a happy ending Summary: Dean doesn't have a soulmate, but if he did, he swears it would be Castiel Novak.

Written in the Stars | @lunastories Rating: Mature Word Count: 36900 Main Tags and Warnings: Wing fic, Alien Castiel, Domestic fluff Summary: In the beginning of time itself, there were many Celestials, stardust beings that populated the galaxies. Then, the Fallen came into existence, devouring them. Castiel, one of the last of the Celestials, descended onto Earth by orders of his garrison leader. What he finds there is the soul he lost long ago, the other part of him that he'd been searching for. Dean was a normal guy, living his life and trying to take care of his errant researcher brother. When his brother asks him for a favor, claiming that an alien wants to speak to him, he's of course skeptical. He didn't expect that meeting to change the course of his entire life, throwing him into a war that he wasn't prepared for.

By Any Other Name | @funnywings Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 36695 Main Tags and Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Soul Mate AU, Societal Issues, Established Relationship Summary: After a home invasion ends in the deaths of Amelia and James Novak, Dean and Castiel think the worst of their problems is going to be handling their grief and making sure their niece Claire adjusts to living with them. Unfortunately, despite both James' and Amelia's wills indicating they want to pass on guardianship to Dean and Cas in the event of their death, they are denied as legal guardians since they can not confirm whether they are a soul mates. After hearing this, they contact Charlie, a lawyer who promises to help them.

Duck Duck Boots | @almaasi Rating: Explicit Word Count: 92927 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmates, Biker Dean, Teacher Dean, Crossdressing Dean, Dean in Panties, Bisexual Dean, Soft Dean, Switch Dean, Bottom Dean, Veterinarian Castiel, Lonely Castiel, Depressed Castiel, Agoraphobic Castiel, Switch Castiel, Dominant Castiel, Matchmaker Rowena, Animal Care, Tantric Sex, Impotence, Magic Realism, Wet & Messy Sex, Accidental Watersports Summary: Castiel doesn’t do one-night stands. Once he hit forty, he figured his time was up, his life had pretty much come to a halt, and there was nobody out there for him. He lives in a cute little village, riding his bicycle between his vet clinic and his cottage; that’s his world, and he’s given up on expanding it. But in one last, desperate attempt to find someone, he contacts Rowena, the local witch, and asks her to summon his soulmate. Rowena brings a storm. The storm washes up a trio of ducklings, huddled for shelter inside the rainboots of the new-to-town kindergarten teacher (and retired motorcycle daredevil), Dean Winchester. Ducklings in hand, Dean seeks out Castiel’s veterinary expertise. Somehow, in a flustered, spontaneous burst of attraction, they spend the night together. And just like that, Castiel’s life starts again. With every passing week they become better friends, sharing deeper intimacies, caring for their duck babies as well as each other. But staying together requires taking risks which neither of them planned for. Dean’s risk puts him in extreme physical jeopardy. And Cas? He has to overcome fifteen years of emotional hurt, just to follow where Dean leads.

Serendipity My Ass | @sternchencas Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 12104 Main Tags and Warnings: doctor!Cas, nurse!Dean, enemies to lovers Summary: Dean Winchester has a particularly bad day. Not only does he have a thousand things to do, like grocery shopping and getting to a doctor’s appointment, he also keeps running into Castiel Novak, an annoying and impolite douche who’s only reason to exist is making Dean’s live a living hell. When Castiel also shows up at Dean’s workplace, things are about to get ugly. After all, Castiel is neither cute nor nice, and definitely not Dean’s type.

Dean, 2 pm | @sternchencas Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1464 Main Tags and Warnings: suicidal thoughts, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: Cas is done with his life. He's ready to end it all. The only thing that might be able to change his mind is one little note in his calendar that says 'Dean, 2 pm'.

Calm, at Peace, Happy | @suckerfordeansfreckles Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1352 Main Tags and Warnings: Soulmate AU, Soulmarks, Circus AU, Getting Together Summary: In a world of color and noise and constant action, Dean often has a hard time grasping just how much calm and ease Cas brings into his life. It shouldn’t be this easy, really, not with how stressful Dean’s life has been ever since he joined the circus two years ago. But since the very first day, since the very first time Dean got to watch Cas perform in the ring, this has been his happy place. The only time he gets to calm down, except maybe for the few hours of sleep he gets every night. It’s been two years, and Dean is still not over it. Will never get over it, probably.

[hypexion]

A Pile of Fanwalkers (Part 3)

Part three of all these fanwalkers. Now it’s time for all the ones who are mean, and should not be trusted. Sometimes because they’ll stab you, and sometimes because they’re just... kind of massively evil.

The basic format for each planeswalker will be a Name/Colour Identity/Pre-Ignition Typeline/Homeplane blob of information, a quickish description of them and some “fun“ facts, and then some hits and misses for extra flavour. Also, I’m going to split this into three posts - “Heroic“, “Okay“ and “Villians“, for I believe I have the moral authority to judge my creations.

Also some of these are going to be from fanplanes, which will go undescribed beyond whatever tidbits come out the character flavour. Others will just have a ?, representing a lack of knowledge and/or sufficent worldbuilding. With that out of the way, let’s go!

Villians

Evil is not a state of being. It is a form of intent, and a form of action. Some of these Planeswalkers can be trusted. Some of them may even appear to be nice. But make no mistake. They have caused suffering. They have altered lives for the worse. Either by design or consequence, their effect upon the multiverse marks them as villians.

Aster - B, Human Warlock, Zodyas - Aster was born under the influence of a bad star, which granted him the ability to draw power from negative emotions. But don’t think that makes him a bad person. Aster’s powers do not compel him to perform evil deeds. They simply enable him. Motivated by nothing greater than his own self-interest, Aster is the truest example of a disaster with a point of view. He was, while it lasted, a member of the Infinite Consortium. After Tezzeret forget how to run it, Aster managed to… convince a number of cells to accept his leadership. While lacking a grand plan for his splinter group, he’s interested in expansion, if only for the sake of increasing his own personal power. Aster may possess a certain kind of charm, and some level of restraint when compared to other ‘walkers, but do not be decieved. The moment harming you becomes worth the effort, Aster will be ready to do so.

Aster is often described as being pale of skin and dark of hair. There’s some weird magic causing that, since different cultures usually focus on different things when describing others. Aster prefers to dress in the fashions of power, whether that happens to be expensive robes, hand-tailored suits, togas or other such clothing. He preferes to wear darker colours, but if opulence is the style of a plane’s elite, then opulent he shall be. While he does carry a mean looking dagger, his primary form of defense are his so-called attendants - humanoid shades he commands via magic. These can perform many tasks, such as “fetch me more wine“, “open that door“ and “kill them“. When Aster planeswalks, he dissipates into a fine black mist. Interestingly, if he’s thinking about planeswalking, his magic generates a similar mist, that trails from him as he moves.

Hits: Power, influcence, tormenting his enemies, using people’s guilt to literally physically crush them. Misses: The undead, constructs, Loxy, Constellation Cults trying to recruit him, being around Ashiok for too long.

Galina - WB, Human Advisor, Ithmorne - In her early life, Galina leaned much more towards the White aspects of her personality. Even as a member of the Zoriac Imperium, she valued their goal of peace greatly, and was one of those that saw certain practices as a detriment to that goal. However, this did not last. When the outpost she was in was raided, everything changed. The ignition of her spark saved her life, but not her right eye. Fortunately for her, Galina arrived on Ravnica within dragging distance of a Simic emergency care clinic, where it was assumed she was an Azorius member who had suffered a run in with the Gruul. This was a role she was happy to take up for real, once the chance provided itself, seeing the Senate as an obvious parallel for the Imperium of her homeplane. In fact, Ravnica seemed to have many similarities with Ithmorne. This could only be due to the work of Azor, the great Sphinx who had brought peace to her warring plane so long ago, and whose Compact still enforced it now. Galina soon realised that her ability to traverse the multiverse would allow her to find more worlds ‘saved’ by Azor, and in turn learn more from them. Ultimately, she decided, those factions on Ithmorne too small to be affected be the Compact would be forced into co-operating. And if not? Then they would perish. Such would be the price of peace. The process had already begun, Galina believed, and if accelerating the pace was necessary, it would be done.

Galina has white skin and long brown hair. Additionally, the events that led to her ignition left her with a noticeable scar, running from her temple, across her right eye, to halfway down her right cheek. Many wonder how her right eye survived such a wound, and the truth is that it didn’t. Instead, she had it replaced by the Simic while on Ravnica. Galina generally wears the standard uniform for those in her position in the Zoriac Imperium - navy blue military robes, kept in the best condition possible. Rather than carry a weapon, Galina relies on her mastery of law magic, using it bind and impede her enemies. She is also capable of many of the standard black mana abilities, especially those which weaken her foes. When combined, these make her a formidable, and potentially deadly opponent. Galina’s planeswalking effect is a jagged and chaotic burst of darkness, which can cause minor damage to living things that nearby.

Hits: Peace through power, Azor, law and order, her own take on the concept of justice, Simic biomagic. Misses: “Barbarians“, insubordination, traumatic memories.

Malius - UBR, Human Wizard, Innistrad - In every profession, there are those that push boundaries. They look at the rules, and wonder which are truly needed. These are the kind of people the majority of Innistrad distrusts. And in the case of the stitcher pariah Malius, they are completely right to do so. While his fellow skaberen found his “wolf with werewolf arms“ experiment a daring new idea, even they had limits. Rumors began that he had started to use demons as a source of parts, and that he consorted with diabolists for unknown purposes. These rumors contained some truth - Malius was interested in demons and had, for a time, used them to “improve” his creations. But over time, he had become interested in the nature of demonic pacts, and how one might acquire the benefits without having to pay the price. Somehow, he was able to construct a device that extracted the source of a demon’s power, and began using it to infuse himself with dark power. For a time, not demon, nor mob, nor torch-wielding monstrosity could stop him. The destruction of the Helvault was an opportunity to Malius, bring him yet more specimins. Everything was going well, until an angel arrived. She cut through his creations, and had both the strength and motivation to kill Malius. In an act of desparation, he activated the extractor, aiming it at the angel. She exploded (don’t worry - she got better (sort of)). This would have been incredibly fatal to Malius had his Spark not ignited, sending him across the Blind Eternities to Zendikar. And so, he soon discovered all sorts of new things to stitch. Including Eldrazi. In fact, Malius was straight-up ecstatic during the events of Eldritch Moon.

Malius’ various experiments have left him with sickly, pallid skin, and pale white hair. His eyes no longer appear human, and those who spend time around him soon feel uneasy. Malius wears the standard dress of the stitcher, a white labcoat, brimming with tools and notebooks. Malius often manipulates his tools via telekinesis, either to work upon a new creation, or as a method of attack. In dire situations, he calls upon the demonic powers he has infused himself with, physically taking on the form of a demon. This grants him signifigance strength, speed and endurance while it lasts, but prevents him from planeswalking, making it as risky as it is useful. When Malius planeswalkers, he disappears in cloud of dark and burning ash, crackling with lightning. This occurs even when he cannot actually planeswalk due to being a demon.

Hits: Extracting demonic power, demonic infusions, terrifying creations. Misses: Angels, torch-weilding mobs, basic medical ethics.

Skath - WBG, Naga Assassin, Orpheri - At first glance, Skath is like any other planeswalker assassin you might meet. She kills people for money, and she does it well. However, she is still a member of the organisation that trained her, a religious order of assassins on Orpheri. So Skath will not kill those standing on sacred grond, those not old enough to be an adult of their kind, and she requires more than just a payment before targetting a diplomat or member of a religious order. Beyond the rules of her faith, however, Skath kills without hesitation, selling death for gold and jewels. When not killing, she is surprisingly thoughtful, a writer of poetry and cultivator of interesting plants. And while unrepentant, she not always unrelenting. Put up enought of a fight, or simple hide in a shrine for a few days, and Skath will move onto easier targets.

Skath has copper-brown scales, and no hair, because Naga don’t have hair on Orpheri. She wears light armor on her torso, which is engraved with protective magic. Her favoured weapons are two scimitars, enchanted to deliver venomous strikes. She also carries a dagger, and a number of poisons, so that she might have the perfect tool for any assassination. In a pinch, she can bite someone, however the Naga Assassins of Orpheri consider this an act of last resort. Mainly because once you identify the cause of death as Naga venom, finding the killer is fairly simple. Skath planeswalks with a flash of pale orange light, leaving behind traces of sand. Interestingly, she is capable of being incredibly precise with her appearance on a plane, and has sometimes managed to planeswalk into a room based on it’s relative position to a know location.

Hits: Getting paid, botany, the statisfaction of a job well done. Misses: Cold places, oath-breakers, Locke, people attacking her from sacred ground (this is actually a bad idea - her religion sees this as an act of desecration, meaning you ultimately forfeit the protection provided).

Look at all these not nice people. It’s probably best to keep a distance between you and them. Of course, their motivations differ greatly, so if you were to find yourself in close proximity to them, you might be able to avoid getting stabbed. Or worse.

[danganxastrologyimagines]

Ryoma, Yusuke, Futaba, Kirumi, and Miu with s/o who struggles with sodium valproate syndrome (more deets in first paragraph)

Basically, I have a condition that acts as a barrier between me doing well in classes, keeping friends and being by myself with my own thoughts due to my emotional state. I don’t have any distinctive facial features, nor do I have any of the associated problems, like heart and bone conditions. So people think I’m just antisocial bc I feel like it, when I truthfully feel embarrassed by my emotions. My brother also has the condition and he has a LOT of the obvious physical signs of the condition. 

-Mod Miu

Ryoma Hoshi:

He was drawn to you due to how distant you were to people. It was almost as if you had something you were hiding, either due to embarrassment or due to not wanting to be found guilty of something.

You didn’t have many people you showed your more vulnerable side with, and you seemed fine with just getting straight C’s. Ryoma did, however, notice how long you would lie in bed doing nothing for the first 2 hours of the morning. He also spotted how people spoke about you behind your back, making the assumption that you were simply a “self-centred brat”.

So, He wants your point of view. He could tell by looking at you that you had something going on emotionally, he just couldn’t quite identify why.

“Hey, s/o.” He growled out casually. “Come over after your stuff is done and we can hang out or whatever.”

You felt your ears tingle in a familiar yet vague warmth. You hated the feeling your ears got whenever you could tell you were going to get told off.

So, you hesitantly agreed to do so.

Arriving at his apartment, he walks you through into his office.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” Ryoma started.

There went your ears again. Your body tenses up, preparing to get told the same stuff your ex-friend said to you.

“I noticed how long it takes you to get ready for the day.” Ryoma stated. “It’s almost like you don’t care about yourself.”

You started to cry, expecting Ryoma to just tell you to grow up like everyone else had done with you.

“I haven’t heard nice things about you lately, s/o. I can tell you’re deliberately sabotaging your social life.”  Ryoma lets out in a sigh, rubbing his temples. “So please tell me what’s going on.”

You pause, looking down at your feet.

“I suck at embracing my emotions.” You let out, unsure how to explain your next sentence. “I’ve always struggled with it, and I know why I am the way I am.”

You take a deep breath, expecting Ryoma to chew your ear off with you not looking like the condition.

“I’ve got a condition that acts as a barrier with emotions for me. It has a lot of other things to it, but I somehow only picked up shitty emotional stuff. I’ve got sodium valproate syndrome, Ryoma, and I’ve been working hard at it to deal with the condition.” You let out, knowing it’s been stuck in your mind for ages. “If you don’t believe me, I seriously don’t care. I’ve had enough people only going to easy answers.”

Ryoma doesn’t change his expression at all after hearing this, but internally he was glad that you at least knew why you struggled with emotions. Additionally, he was glad you didn’t have a recent traumatic emotional experience.

He makes sure to support you with what you need, and your happy Ryoma is as open as he is.

Yusuke Kitagawa:

You and Yusuke got together because you were both classed as difficult to read. After all, both of you had straight faces, and it was rare to see you guys smiling.

However, Yusuke was more open about his strange personality than you were. It became apparent that you struggled more with your emotions than others did. You could maintain an average appearance, but Yusuke did note how little you would study in favour for distracting yourself from your emotions.

One day, when you returned from school to get away from your inferiority complex, Yusuke sent you a message inviting you over to act as a model for a new painting he was working on. He had everyone else involved as models as well, and you  found an excuse not to go.

“Ah, dear! Come in, I’m glad you came.” Yusuke let out softly, letting you in as he closed the door.

You noted the lack of art supplies in the room, and this set you off into a bad state. 

“Ah, I forgot to get the canvas out.” Yusuke let out, placing the blank canvas on the stand. “Now, my dear, please take a seat and we can get started. Would you like something to drink as I paint you?”

You politely turn down the offer, placing yourself down.

“Tell me about what’s going on in your mind, s.o.” Yusuke started as he painted you. 

You started to slump in the chair you were sitting up in, letting out a shaky sigh.

“I’ve always struggled with my emotions, Yusuke. I recently found out I was diagnosed as a child with a condition that explains this to me.” You start.

Yusuke looks at you, curious about what condition you had.

Explaining the condition, you allowed Yusuke to listen and watched for any negative reactions.

Unsurprisingly, he hid any bad facial expressions.

“I see.” He let out after you explained it. 

He was slightly more forceful, yet encouraging, as he invited you out for any friend gatherings. He now knew why you didn’t like to be alone, while you were very quiet for an extrovert.

Futaba Sakura: gonna write as a friend instead of s/o

You were originally the person that supported her to get better with controlling her anxiety, and you now were the best of friends. Her quirkiness would improve your mood almost immediately, and the few times she wasn’t with you she sent you loads of memes.

You never had to really tell her about your condition for her to understand how you were, as she understood what mental health is like.

There were some times when you would get overwhelmed with emotions, and Futaba would be able to pull you out of your daze before it became uncontrollable in the moment.

She found that when she needed to go out, she would always feel safe by your side due to how analytical you were of your surroundings as well as how good you were at preventing harassers due to experience.

Both of you needed the other as a friend, and this created a strong bond. She was there if you needed someone to sit with you, and you were there to help Futaba in public situations.

Kirumi Tojo:

She didn’t see you for a few days, and she was getting worried. Knowing where your spare key was, she lets herself into the house while announcing herself to you.

You heard her, but you just didn’t have the mental energy to sprint into a hiding place.

Of course, even if you did this, you knew Kirumi would hear your rustling into your chosen hiding place. So, you just layed in bed. It had been days since you took proper care of yourself.

“s/o, I’m coming into your room now.” Kirumi warned you, entering the room that was unkempt. 

“Is everything okay?” Kirumi queries, rubbing your shoulder.

You just look at the blank white ceiling.

Kirumi cleaned your room with your permission before coming through with herbal tea and talking to you about your condition, as well as how it affects people differently and how others have misconceptions about how the condition is identified.

After you explain yourself, Kirumi reassures you that she is open with knowing about people’s health, as well as appreciating your co-operation in helping her understand a complex condition that had mental and physical effects on a person’s well-being.

Miu Iruma:

Miu was outspoken, while you were introverted. Both of you didn’t like to show emotions like sadness to others, as it made you look vulnerable and/or like you wanted to play a victim in a situation.

For the most part, you were able to hold back the urge to cry.

Until it became uncontrollable at times. Once time Keebo was saying things, comparing you to him in the way of not showing a vulnerable side. Miu was around the corner as she heard Keebo say “Maybe you are a robot like me, and you’re embarassed about it.” triumphantly. 

Miu knew what he was talking about, and it pissed her off to hear him of all people talking to you in the way he was. She was disappointed in him for thinking as analytically, until she realised you were a rather analytical person as well.

She walks up to the two of you, stopping when she’s next to you and she realises you’re starting to tear up because of the confrontation.

“Jeez, you sound like Kokichi when you say that, Keeboy!” Miu exclaimed. “Let’s just talk about what’s going  on in that big fuckin brain of yours s/o!”

You eventually spoke about the many difficulties you grew up with, also stating you managed to not be put in a special unit like your sibling did, who was less fortunate with their academics but more fortunate with emotions.

Once you explained yourself, Miu raised her brows. 

“Jesus christ, that explains shit!” Miu exclaims. 

“I must apologise for my comments, s/o.” Keebo sheepishly let out, rubbing the back of his head.

You got a closer connection to Keebo, and Miu was more understanding of you as a person.