#also by keeping her short and easily confused as someone younger than she is i can keep the parts of

[oathofkaslana]

☼ for theresa?

☼ - appearance headcanon

WOO!! ok see. i haaaate the fact that she's canonically in the body of a 13 year old it makes me want to strangle the team sometimes bc you know part of their intentions w that one. BUT from a narrative standpoint i really enjoy how it compares otto and theresa as two beings in a body that isnt theirs physically stuck at a particular age which only makes her explicitly not being like him sososososooooo much better. id much prefer it if she just. aged slower or didnt grow taller or sm. in my head i wanna give her smile lines. she's short and has a bit of a round face. she looks incredibly young still so much so that people still feel like she's a child, but i think theres something in the way she carries herself or the slight wrinkles in her forehead and her eyes show her true age. if you squint you can see a young kallen but when you focus again you know its not her.

[boralogues]

i should be doing japanese hw but whatever i managed a 100% on a written test last year ill be fine. anyways, hc's about candi! this time just general relationships w the others >:) Joe- pretty chill. she understands that joe doesn't want to talk to her, or anyone besides bora, and doesn't mind. the two just kinda chill around eachother and bond over a shared dislike of zubin. she tries to help him if he needs it

Zubes- very complicated. y'know how i said she really hates zubin. well she kinda doesn't. she's more upset at her situation and that zubes got her stuck there in the first place, than at him for being the way he is. candi doesn't really talk if he's in the room, but will say a few things. she's very vocal about her frustration and dislike of the situation. she just needs a target for her frustration and it happened to be zubes. she doesn't actually hate him deep down

Andy- neutral. doesn't really mind him, but doesn't know why he likes zubin so much. she has to ask him for most things, since he's the only one who can get them. sometimes, if he bites candi, she freaks out but now she doesn't rlly mind since it happens a fair bit. (also whats with the goop coming off of him in all of that art he's in? i just wanna know what it is)

Rob- concern and confusion, but also friends. really worried and confused as to why he's always crying, but understands it may be something she can't influence or control. she's a pretty good therapist when she wants to be, and just kinda makes sure rob isn't going too badly. she'll talk to him a fair bit since he always wants to talk to joe, and gets denied every time.

Ross- doesn't really know him. ross is by himself, playing the drums most of the time, so candi doesn't really see him all that often. he was her favourite band member before they went all obsessive over MK+A, so is a bit annoyed she doesn't see him more, but she keeps it to herself and understands he might not want to talk to her or the others.

Bora- friends. candi thinks bora is cool. they talk a lot about random stuff they like. idk why but i think bora is good at cooking stuff, so candi might take lessons from him sometimes. she often babysits some of his rats if he can't carry them around or is busy preforming.

Steve- Pretty good friends. candi and steve get along really well, like casey and steve do, since candi's also on the quiet side, and is pretty accommodating for steve's needs. she thinks he's basically just a house cat, but that it's very entertaining. sometimes he'll just be sitting somewhere weird and candi wont mind. she's prolly trying to learn sign language or something similar to more easily communicate with him. she probably vents to him a lot bur feels bad for it

casey- probably the most healthy relationship in the au. casey and candi are both in the same boat, struggling with a lot of the same stuff. the two spend a lot of time chatting, doing random stuff, or being eachother's therapists. candi's got a lot of pent up frustration and sadness, and they only feel comfortable sharing it with casey and steve. they probably have a kindof family dynamic, like cousins or older brother/younger sister relationship since there'd be an age gap. candi is most like their pre-death self around casey.

Ryan- mysterious. seen him like, twice, maybe. thinks he's chill though, but gets scared when he just shows up like "hey lmao wanna check out this letter i got?" all of a sudden

misc head cannons:

candi is biromantic/ace bcz why not. if u gave her a hug she'd be really thankful, the poor girl needs therapy asap. she probably likes hugs a lot, but if someone just suddenly hugged her she'd just be like "wtf get away from me" before realising "damn i rlly needed this" and crying a lot. her hugs are super comforting, but a bit short. she hates sudden loud noises, like slamming doors or sirens, in fact she just hates anything happening without warning. she's super jumpy and gets anxious a lot, and copes by fiddling with whatever she has on her, or just by fiddling with her hoodie. her right eye is a little blurry from the scar over it, but it's not enough to need contacts/glasses. (sorry this is so long lol im hyper fixating on this stuff and im going thru art block but a sudden writing unblock so yh lmao. i might draw the others in the au soon, but i have a swimming carnival soon since im aussie and its still summer and a bunch of tests coming up. anyways, if u have any hc's please do share them im rlly interested in what u think :D)

Joe could totally relate w the zubin&Andy relationship. He Dislikes zubin and doesn't really understand why Andy likes him so much HSHFHD Joe and Candi would def bond over that and Joe would give understanding nods in response to Candis vents abt Zubin.

Oh yeah Andy is a biter HDJDHDHD he will bite anyone who talks to Zubin (especially if him and Zubin were in a convo and were suddenly interrupted) or anyone who doesn't rlly like Zubin (Joe avoids Andy for the most part) and the goop is just goop!!! He's just a melty boy idrk why I made his design like that but I've been drawing two wuv Andy like that since 2018 :p

Awww yeah :( I love the Rob relationship, that is very real Rob will almost all of the time just be like "oh haha okay cool I'm gonna find Joe" and just walk away 😭

AW OMFG I love the idea of Candi taking care/babysitting Boras rats that is so cute 🫶🫶!!!!

Love the family dynamic with Steve/Casey/Candi that is so real :)) they'd def hang out a lot upstairs in the two wuv house (most of them live downstairs) and spend a lot of time venting to each other or chatting about random stuff :)) I think that is very sweet <3

Candi being scared by loud noises is so real I get it. She'd def ask Andy if he can go get her earplugs or like headphones, something to dull the loud noises in the house (Andy eventually is able to steal earplugs from some hunters in the woods)

That's all okay !!!!! I love reading ur headcanons n stuff abt ur oc it's so sick that ppl r so interested in my au it makes me so happy ^w^!!!!! Ooh good luck w ur tests !!! BTW so sorry about how late I responded to this, I've been really busy with midterm (I just finished writing a 4 page paper. Someone get me outta here!!!!!) But it's spring break now so I should reply faster :))

[caeca-iustitia]

Vincent's Children - A Masterlist

So... I have completed this list for future use on my blog in case someone gets confused or needs to reference one of Vincent's 10 children during a thread/ask.

Keep in mind that any information provided below the cut is based on my headcanons and my interpretation of a HEAVILY Canon Divergent Vincent Valentine.

Do not use this information to bother other Muns (unless they are okay with you referencing them when talking about their muses). I will not tolerate it and I value other Muns and their creative takes on characters.

With all that said, enjoy!

Firstborn Daughter -

Name: Felicia Thandolwethu Nieuwoudt Meaning of Name: Felicia meaning “Happy” or “Lucky” and Thandolwethu meaning “Our Love”Age: 35 (Post Dirge of Cerberus)Birthdate: 1st April 1975 Father: Veld Adem Nieuwoudt Step-Mother: Calypso Medea Nieuwoudt

3 Short Facts:

- Felicia was always interested in her father's job and emulated him. - She is unaware of her connection to Vincent (only knowing them as her Godparent). - Runs a relief aid group that helped out immensely after Meteorfall with her father.

~

Firstborn Son -

Name: Genesis Rhapsodos Meaning of Name: Genesis meaning “Beginning” or “Creation” Age: 34 (Post Dirge of Cerberus) Birthdate: 4th November 1976 Mother: Gillian Hewley Adoptive Mother: Mrs Rhapsodos Adoptive Father: Mr Rhapsodos

3 Short Facts:

Genesis is older than Angeal by 34 and a half minutes exactly.

His obsession with LOVELESS was a coping mechanism he used to get by in a loveless household.

Even though he’s the eldest twin, he’s far less mature than Angeal and is often treated as the younger.

~

Secondborn Son -

Name: Angeal Hewley Meaning of Name: Angeal meaning “Angel” Age: 25 (Died in November 0001) Birthdate: 4th November 1976 Mother: Gillian Hewley Step-Father: Rupert Hewley

3 Short Facts:

- Rupert was his father, at least that’s how he saw things, despite sharing no blood with the man. - Was incredibly fond of dogs, admiring their loyalty, and wanted to adopt a puppy before he died. - Never truly resented either Sephiroth or Genesis for what happened; being more than willing to forgive them.

~

Thirdborn Son -

Name: Sephiroth Meaning of Name: Sephiroth meaning “God’s Manifestations”Age: 24 (Died in October 0002)Birthdate: 25th December 1977 Mother: Lucrecia Crescent Step-Father: Hojo [REDACTED]

3 Short Facts:

- He inherited Vincent’s schizophrenia which left him struggling to discern reality from hallucination. - Sephiroth shares many traits with his paternal grandmother; including her fiery temper and love of nature. - It was actually Vincent who chose Sephiroth’s name, not Lucrecia or Hojo.

~

Secondborn Daughter -

Name: Persephone Meaning of Name: Persephone meaning “Bringer of Destruction”Age: 33 (Post Dirge of Cerberus)Birthdate: 25th December 1977 Mother: Lucrecia Crescent Step-Father: Hojo [REDACTED]

3 Short Facts:

- Persephone is now Jenova’s primary host but her inability to be easily manipulated is proving to be an issue. - She’s a former Turk with a chip on her shoulder regarding ShinRa and its treatment of her twin brother. - Her name was also picked out by Vincent when Lucrecia discovered she was having twins.

~

Thirdborn Daughter -

Name: Argento Meaning of Name: Argento meaning “Silver”Age: 32 (Post Dirge of Cerberus)Birthdate: 21st October 1978 Mother: Helen Farran

3 Short Facts:

- Argento had never known freedom from ShinRa until Vincent storms Deepground and frees her. - She has two children with Azul, Gwyndolin and Aeres, who she protects with her life. - Lost her eye in a training accident with Nero that nearly had half her head absorbed into his void.

~

Fourthborn Son -

Name: Weiss Meaning of Name: Weiss meaning “White”Age: 26 (Post Dirge of Cerberus)Birthdate: 24th March 1984 Mother: Julia Miseno

3 Short Facts:

- Is a very protective uncle to Gwyndolin and Aeres. Would kill for them.  - Has Jenova cells through Vincent (since the DNA taken was after the experiments done by Hojo). - Quite childlike since he lacked a proper upbringing and never had a childhood.

~

Fifthborn Son -

Name: Nero Meaning of Name: Nero meaning “Black”Age: 22 (Died in June 0010)Birthdate: 22nd September 1987 Mother: Julia Miseno

3 Short Facts:

- Inherited Vincent’s shadow-walking abilities but they grew out of control rapidly and engulfed his mother. - The shortest of Vincent’s adult children and was relentlessly mocked for it by his heathen older siblings. - It was the poor treatment of Nero that made Weiss want to rebel against Deepground.

~

Adopted Daughter -

Name: Azalea Dominique Valentine Meaning of Name: Azalea meaning “Dry” and Dominique meaning “Of The Lord”Age: 13 (Post Dirge of Cerberus)Birthdate: 14th February 1997 Biological Mother: Mallory Gough Biological Father: Amos Gough

3 Short Facts:

- Was adopted shortly after Vincent returned to Edge following the battle with Omega. - Is frighteningly perceptive and picks up on clues quite quickly. - Protective of Cassia and Vincent.

~

Adoptive Daughter - 

Name: Cassia Kayleigh Valentine Meaning of Name: Cassia meaning “Cinnamon” and Kayleigh meaning “Pure”Age: 8 (Post Dirge of Cerberus)Birthdate: 20th April 0002 Biological Mother: Mallory Gough Biological Father: Amos Gough

3 Short Facts:

- Cassia is the youngest and yet also the bossiest of all of Vincent’s children- which comes from her being a child still. - The Mun and Cassia share a birthday (April 20th 2002). - Wants to be a doctor like Vincent who helps people and makes them better as she idolises her adoptive father.

[f3itansgirlygirl]

drivers license - suna rintarou

part 2 right here

inspired by the song driver's license

his house is right there, right in front of me. 

sitting in the car biting my lip holding back the sob that threatened to escape, how did it become like this? how did i end up sitting in here alone while you went off with her? that was supposed to be me, you said you would wait? 

suna rintarou

a beautiful boy, his smile never failed to warm your heart. the way he would hold you in his arms, pout when you weren't paying attention, brush your hair behind your ear, the way he would kiss you and buy you your favorite drinks or take you to that little park you loved so much as you guys watched the sunset and fell in love all over again.

then how did it get like this? 

----------------------------------------------------------------

“hi my name is l/n y/n and i'm your new manager!,” you introduced yourself. was a first year at inarizaki and needed to get into a club, atsumu decided to introduce you to the coach and give in a few words.

looking around the team you felt a nice presence, and that's when your eyes landed on his, those green piercing eyes. having his knees to his chest laughing at atsumu for trying to punch him for showing him something on his phone. 

the way his laugh died down but kept a smile as he looked at you. 

you blushed but became distracted as kita called you over.

“thank you guys for accepting me have a good night!,” you said grabbing your bag and leaving. “wait up i’ll walk with you,” you heard a voice behind you say. you turned to hear the voice and it belonged to him.

you guys walked under the stars, you shivered forgetting a jacket and that's when he looked at you and smirked. “the old jacket technique huh let me guess you want me to take mine’s off and give it to you,” 

you gasped and looked right at him, “no i actually forgot you weirdo whatever i guess i'll walk faster,” you said speeding up. “wait i’m just teasing here i have a hoodie it’s my sleeping in class hoodie so better not ruin it.”

you took it hesitantly but put it on either way, it was big and burgundy and my god the scent you can still remember to this day how good he smelled like. “looks good on you maybe i’ll let you keep it,” he said as you guys continued to walk.

that was your first interaction, your first words to each other and one of the many nights you guys have come to spend together

---------------------------------------------------------------

everything else came easily, even though having a age gap it didn’t stop your feelings whatsoever, and also never stopped him from showing affection.

you still remember your first kiss

how he kissed you by surpised on the slide of a old park where you guys sneaked out to get ice cream.

still remember how he started bringing extra hoodies and hair ties since you had a habit of forgetting both.

still remember that night under the stars in the backseat of his car when he looked at you and told you he was in love with you.

you teared up staring at him as he giggled softly caressing your face, holding your waist even more closer to his chest as your bodies connected.

“i love you rintarou,” you smiled crying softly. 

he looked at you rubbing your tears away, “and i love you y/n l/n,”

--------------------------------------------------------------

how it was such a good 6 months. looking back you should have seen the way you guys would only hang out around the night or weekdays. 

how he wouldn't hold your hand in school or only be affection around the team.

and how you guys weren't exactly official, never asked you officially to be his but hey because of the memories spent together you thought of course your his and he’s yours.

you first saw her when she came through the doors, holding his notebook as she apologized but nevertheless gave him a smile and he gave one back. she was pretty- like really pretty. 

pretty blue eyes, blonde long hair, beautiful body.

“so this is what overthinking feels like huh,” you mumbled as you shook your head and went back to setting the net up.

after practice you and suna as always walked home 

you guys decided to take a detour heading to your park where many memories were made. 

“hey rin,” you asked as you looked over the river that was by the bridge. “yes love?,” he replied. “what are we?,” you asked him.

please say im yours...

“well your younger than me, i want you to be mines and you already are, always and forever sooo how about this,” he turned to look at you and bent down so his head was right at yours. “when you become a 2nd year and get your driver's license we can officially be together yeah? i'll get down on one knee and ask you to be mine,” he rolled his eyes as you giggled. 

he stuck out his pinkie and you stuck out yours. “you’ll wait for me?,” you said.

he wrapped his pinkie around yours, “always, make sure you just don't crash don't want you dying before your mine but yes i promise i will wait for you l/n,” suna smiled grabbing you and pulling you in for a kiss. 

-------------------------------------------------------------

finals came up and yes you and suna got distant due to you studying, yet you weren't nervous you were excited to finally walk down the halls holding his hand.

looking back you should have seen the signs of him not texting you often or wanting to help you, you shrugged it off maybe he was struggling in some classes too.

finally the day was here, texting osamu all morning about how you would pick them up for school so you can show off to suna. 

laughing driving up to school with the twins, you got out the car and seeing suna’s back against one of the walls

 you were about to call out for him until you saw her again. this time she was wearing the burgundy hoodie, and he was the one holding her hand. he was smiling? the smile he gave you specifically to you he was giving to her. 

tears filled your eyes. 

“y/n chan.. i’m-” , “its okay atsumu just get to class okay?,” you turned around hand shaking as you hold your keys, tears spilling down your eyes. “i'm going to be okay,” you smiled. “no, you’re crying,” 

“i said i’m okay, i’m just going to leave,” you said running to your car and getting the fuck outta there. 

leaving you saw atsumu go up to suna and scream at him. 

your heart felt like it was being pulled, this can’t be real? 

you headed home, slamming your door and falling to the ground, how could you rin? 

flashes of him and her passed your mind seeing how happy he was. 

you looked underneath and saw a photo on the ground. your grabbed it and sat on your bed, it was you and him in a photobooth smiling and then kissing. underneath in his handwriting he wrote “my love always and forever,”

you felt like throwing up, so this is what heartbreak feels like. 

you were hurt mad even at the fact that before anything was able to happen it was already ruined. you cried yourself to sleep wanting to ignore the pain/

---------------------------------------------------------

you woke up around 9 p.m, you were confused but remembered all that happened today

“so that wasn't a horrible dream?,” you tried to laugh it out but really couldn’t.

you needed fresh air, you changed into sweatpants and a baggy shirt.

going for a drive blasting music, you didn’t know where you were going but you just needed to feel the air flowing past you. you stopped at the red light, everything was getting blurry tears now leaving as you hit the steering wheel. 

you kept driving and ending up parking in this neighborhood, being very familiar but automatically knowing where you ended up. you looked to your right and saw his house.

you were about to get off trying to get closure you said, needing answers still trying to doubt everything and thinking maybe this was a horrible joke from the twins and him but then you got all the closure you needed. seeing as the door opened revealing the girl coming out.

your heart dropped seeing how happy they were and dare you say actually look good together. he smiled down at her and grabbed her for a kiss. 

you gasped as a heart wrenching sob escaped your lips, she walked away as he never took his eyes off her figure.

that was me.

 he then looked turning his head and made eye contact with you, you just silently laughed as you shook your head at him and turned on the car leaving. “y/n wait!,” you heard him say as you left.

you headed to the small park and sat in the slide looking up as you laid down and finally let everything out. “never knew your waiting was just a short trial did i have to pay for millions of hours?,” you cried as you looked up in the sky seeing your memories replay in your head

‘Cause how could I ever love someone else’ And I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever now I drive alone past your street’

your phone dinged as you look who texted you

suna rin: y/n we need to talk... suna rin: please, i am so so sorry just hear me out. suna rin: i really did wait i just, please let's just meet up.

you texted back 

“im really happy for you suna, goodbye rintarou.”

you then deleted his contact as you took a deep breathe and sat up.

“i still see your face

In the white cars”

you grabbed your head, “was i not good enough?,” 

“We crossed I still hear your voice In the traffic We're laughing”

flash back

“you know i think we're meant to be,” suna said from your bed as you were on your laptop finishing some things. “wow such a hopeless romantic,” you smiled at him as you were putting back your earphones. “just maybe right person wrong time,” he said softly. you looked back at him, “i'm sorry did you say something,” you asked him. he just shook his head, “nothing i was just saying your a nerd,” he said as he threw a pillow at your face. “you know what,” you got up and jumped on top of him both laughing.

flashback over

‘God, I'm so blue Know we're through But I still fucking love you, babe’

you finally realized what he said, right person wrong timing 

you looked up at the cherry blossom tree and softly smiled

“your right suna we really were meant to be just right person, wrong time.”

i guess not every love story is meant to be complete.

the end.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.1

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.2

Beautiful artwork was created by @starstruck-loner​! THANK YOU SO MUCH SWEETIE I LOVE IT!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Snow freckled the chilly January day lightly, like powdered sugar over a freshly baked pastry, sticking to each layer effortlessly and creating a blanket that completely covered the woods and the cabin nested between the trees. The atmosphere was still and stiff, like frozen icicles that were not going to start dripping any time soon. The air was bitter and unwelcoming, which was probably why no living thing was outside today. Today was the perfect day to burrow and sleep and keep warm with your own body heat.

A crack through space-time cut through the air. The crushing of tiny ice particles followed as two twelve-year-olds ran, one chasing the other, as the time-tape was heating up and buzzing. “This thing is getting hotter! Hot! Hot, hot, hot!” Mabel attempted to save her palms from burns by bouncing the tiny machine between her hands.

“What are you doing?!” Dipper demanded as Mabel bounced the tape-measure too hard and her twin reached a hand to catch it. He managed to catch it perfectly, like an athlete catching a baseball, and then was gone in a flash of baby-blue lightning.

Mabel’s eyes widened in sheer panic and she held her arms as a gust of wind blew and nearly froze her to her core. It felt like her skin was being pricked by mean sewing needles. She looked around wildly for her brother, for him to come back to this time and place immediately, because surely he would use the time machine to come back, but seconds ticked by and she was still alone.

Puffs of smoke decorated the wintry scene as she held her shivering body and looked at the shack. It wasn’t as colorful and welcoming and loud as the shack Mabel remembered, but she made herself consider that it was because there was no big sign or tourist-y things, and it was winter. Then a light turned on, the hall if Mabel remembered her summer home correctly, and the door opened.

The hope that Mabel had in her chest of seeing her great-uncle was gone, and replaced with fear and confusion. This man looked very much like Stan, though much younger, quite chubby and youthful, wearing a black t-shirt and blue plaid pajama-pants. He had the same face as a young-Stan, but with a more pink than orange nose, a cleft chin, fluffier hair that reminded Mabel of her’s when it was short, and different glasses. 

Mabel didn’t know what to do or how to react or how to feel. People change a lot when they age, sure, but this much? It was possible this person wasn’t Stan, but who else would look so similar to him and live in this house? Maybe this is the guy who lived here before Stan, and they just happen to look very similar. This is Gravity Falls, and though she and Dipper were still new to the town, it was a weird place where something like this could happen.

It also came to Mabel how odd the situation was for the man: a little girl was standing in a sweater and skirt outside his house in the winter. Would he try to send her home? She had no home to go to. She didn’t know what year this was, but if it was a time Stan didn’t live here, it must have been way before she was born, maybe even before her parents met. She was stranded.

But the man looked at her sympathetically and he seemed kind and worried. He grabbed a trenchcoat and called gently, “Hello. Are you okay?”

Mabel bit her lip. His voice was definitely not Grunkle Stan’s. A gust of wind made her shiver and her teeth chatter, and the man stepped into some slippers and walked up to her, draping the trenchcoat over her shoulders. “There there, that’s a very nice sweater, but it doesn’t seem to be keeping you warm, is it?”

“N-No.” Mabel shivered. “I… I used breathable yarn for…” She stopped. She was going to say how she used breathable yarn for the warm California weather, but she decided not to.

“You used?” The man repeated, rubbing her shoulders to try to make the trenchcoat work faster. “You made this?”

Mabel saw his excited grin and she smiled nervously. “Y-Yeah. I knit sweaters.”

The man bent his knees in front of her and studied her sweater. She held out an arm so he could see and his brown eyes sparkled. “That’s very impressive! I love sweaters!”

Mabel gasped happily. “C-C-Can I m-make you one?!”

The man looked taken back, but chuckled and stood. “Of course, but first let’s get you warm. How does hot chocolate sound?”

“Y-Yes, p-p-please.” Mabel shivered, and allowed the man to walk her into the house.

It was scaringly like the Mystery Shack, but so much was different. It was the same layout, the same house, but there was so much that was different. A coat rack stood by the door, holding a white lab coat with black rubber gloves in the pocket, some safety goggles like the ones in Mabel’s science classes, and Stan’s fez. Mabel stared at it. Well, okay it probably wasn’t Stan’s fez, but it was a maroon fez with a golden fish and a black tassle. 

There was a wood-burning stove alive in the living room, with a small box full of wood by it and a tiny stool. Instead of Grunkle Stan’s armchair, there was a red-velvet couch, a large writing desk, and the room was decorated with books, desks, papers, and jars and experiments. It was all strange, but warm and cozy with the fire going.

Mabel smiled as the man pulled out the tiny stool and gestured for her to sit by the stove. She obeyed and the coat was removed from her shoulders, but quickly replaced with a dark-green blanket.

“There, do you mind warming up here while I make your hot chocolate?” He asked, draping his trenchcoat over his arm.

Mabel shook her head and held her cold hands in front of the stove. “Thank you.”

The man smiled. “You’re welcome.” And he turned and left for where Mabel knew the kitchen was.

Sitting alone and feeling better as her body was getting warm, Mabel thought it all over. This man was clearly not her Grunkle Stan, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nice or couldn’t help her. Any minute Dipper was going to come back for her, but until then she had to stay where she was. That’s what grown-ups told her to do if she was ever lost. Stay where you are until you’re found.

By the time Mabel was very comfortable, the man returned with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and handed one to the girl. “Here you are, my dear.”

“Thank you, sir.” Mabel sipped and hummed in delight as the man sat on the floor next to her.

“You’re very welcome.” He sipped his drink and added, “Now then, I have to ask, what were you doing out there? Did you get lost?”

Mabel’s face dropped and she nodded. “Uh, huh.”

“Hm, very well. That can easily happen when playing on a snow day.” The man said with a smile. “Why don’t I call our parents and we can arrange to have you back home safe?”

Mabel swallowed nervously. She bit her lip, looking down at her mug. She didn’t know what to say to that.

The man looked at her and noticed how scared she was. “Is something wrong?”

Mabel looked up at him, was met with a kind face, and whimpered, “I can’t call them.”

The man smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure you won’t get into too much trouble. Maybe a little, but it’s for the best to call them so we can get you home soon.”

Mabel shook her head and squeezed her stinging eyes shut. “They’re… not around.”

The man’s face dropped as Mabel scrubbed at her eyes. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Mabel only replied with a sniff and she sipped her hot chocolate.

“Is there someone I can call for you?” The man asked. “I’m sure there’s someone out there worried about you.”

Mabel bit her lip. “M-My brother… He’s still out there…”

“Is he lost, too?”

Mabel shrugged.

“Well,” The man held his cleft chin in thought. “I’m sure he’s out there looking for you. Perhaps then you should wait here until he comes here, and then we can send you to your guardian.”

“It’s just us.” Mabel muttered. “Just us.”

The man smiled. Mabel hoped he believed her brother was much older than her, or at least old enough to take care of her. That way she wasn’t really lying, just letting this man believe what he wanted to believe. Nothing wrong with that. “Okay. Still, you may stay here until he finds you.”

Mabel sniffed and wiped her nose with her sweater sleeve. “Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Ford.” He said and held out a hand to her.

Mabel smiled and shook his hand. “I’m Mabel.”

“Mabel, huh? That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thanks.” She looked down at their hands and her eyes widened. One, two, three, four, five, s-...

Ford pulled his hand free, his cheeks reddening as he sipped his hot chocolate, but Mabel was grinning at him happily and she gasped with joy, “You have six fingers?!”

Ford blinked at her, reminding Mabel of a startled owl, and he cleared his throat. “Um, y-yes. It’s a birth defect.”

“Nuh, huh! It’s cool! Can I see, please?” Mabel sat her mug on the floor by her feet.

The researcher didn’t like people staring at his hands, but this young girl wanted to look, it appears, in admiration, so Ford hesitantly gave her his hands and she held them lovingly, her eyes sparkling like stars.

“Wow! That’s neat! No wonder your hand shake was so friendly! It’s a whole finger friendlier than normal!” Mabel was then reminded that Dipper’s journal had a six-fingered hand on it.

The girl’s eyes widened as she wondered if she was meeting Dipper’s idol. It was possible. The journal Dipper had dated it in the 80s, and Dipper said that the author mysteriously disappeared. As exciting as it was to meet the Author of the Journals, all it did was put Mabel more at ease. If anyone can help her, he can.

Ford laughed and gave her hands a soft squeeze. “I like you! You’re weird.”

Mabel grinned, distracted from her thoughts and grateful for it. “I like you, too, Ford!”

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Slumbering Hearts (Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T for language, implied cannibalism (because Vampires)

Warnings: Aforementioned implied cannibalism

Summary: In a wicked twist of fate, you find out your soulmate is none other than your employer, Lady Dimitrescu. To your misery, she (at first) seems equally displeased, her heart already belonging to another. But in time, the two of you find yourselves wondering… could the universe be right, after all? Soulmate AU in which every person has a unique “soul mark”, which they share with their soulmate.

Notes: Features a cameo of sorts for my OC, Avaskian Caldwell. Not beta read.

Previous Chapters: 1: In The Shadow Of Giants, 2: Uncertain Destinations

3: Eat Your Heart

“Well,” Bela says, only moderately sounding hostile, “I do believe that marks the end of our tour. Unless you would like to see the dungeons? Perhaps get a proper look at where you might end up, hmm?” Resisting the urge to roll your eyes is more difficult than you would have preferred. Somehow you manage, though, and reply in a relatively relaxed tone.

“I think I’ll have to pass. After all, I wouldn’t want to be late for dinner, now would I?” You incline your head towards a nearby clock to emphasize your point. For a split second Bela seems surprised, as if she hadn’t been keeping track of time at all. But the look vanishes as quickly as it came about, soon replaced with a calculating gaze, and she gives a short nod. “Is it safe to assume that you eat together, as a family?” Another nod, this time accompanied by a small look of confusion. “Mmm, sounds wonderful. It’s been far too long since I’ve shared a nice family meal.”

That certainly wasn’t what Bela had expected you to say.

“Oh? I do hope that you can stomach the sight of blood, then. Otherwise it might not feel so nice,” she replies, after a slight pause. Her earlier confidence had returned, further bolstered by the resulting giggles from her sisters. They were a chaotic bunch. Regardless, Bela soon takes your wrist in her hand, pulling you towards the dining room, grip only tight enough to be slightly uncomfortable. Both of her siblings followed closely behind, occasionally whispering unintelligible jokes to one another. One in particular leaves Daniela pausing in the hallway, hunched over laughing, with an unnerving edge of something else you couldn’t quite place. A backwards glance in her direction leads you to make eye contact with Cassandra, who gives you a knowing smirk. Deciding that you didn’t want to know what she had said, you turned back towards Bela, and stayed facing that way until you reached the dining hall.

Inside, Alcina was already sitting at the head of the table, in a chair that would have seemed a throne to anyone else. On either side of her are two more seats, far less ornate than her own. For a moment the sisters and you hesitate in the entranceway. Evidently they weren’t accustomed to this particular arrangement, unsure where to sit. It’s not until Bela clears her throat that Alcina speaks up.

“On my left, dear,” she says, eying her eldest daughter, before turning to you. “You may sit to my right. I trust that you’ll find this agreeable?” Well, you weren’t exactly about to argue with her, so yes, you found it agreeable. Even if it meant sitting across from the more ‘direct’ member of your opposition. Though perhaps ‘judge’ and/or ‘jury’ was a better word for the Dimitrescu daughters. Regardless, you were going to have to sit with them, and in the end it hardly mattered who was where. As such, you semi-awkwardly made your way to your seat, hoping that you’d eventually feel less out of place. Soon enough Cassandra takes the spot next to you, giving you a concerning smirk as she does. What did she have planned? Before you can even contemplate her intentions, her mother is talking again, drawing both of your attention towards herself. “Splendid. I’m glad to see that you’re already finding your place here.”

It’s not hard, you think, when you’re directing my every step. Despite your biting internal commentary, you do not speak out loud, merely giving a polite smile and nod. Across from you, Bela gives her mother an affectionate expression before fixing you with a subtle disapproving look. Taking some small comfort in the fact that she wasn’t being openly hostile, you forced yourself to keep smiling, meeting her gaze with as much confidence as you can muster. Within moments both of you have your attention drawn elsewhere, thankfully, as servants begin carrying in various food platters. Most of the dishes appeared to be perfectly normal. But looks could be deceiving, and you knew that at least a handful had to contain less “traditional” ingredients. They remembered to cook something normal for me, right?

Soon enough your fears are somewhat alleviated, as one of the servants places an already filled plate in front of you. Admittedly you don’t recognize xer, despite xer oddly silver hair, or the red bandana xe wore. Something told you that xe wasn’t just another maiden, however, especially with the way xe brazenly made eye contact with each of the Dimitrescus. Before you could inquire about xer, you’re distracted by the arrival of Juniper, who instantly smiles when she sees you. In her arms she carries the last two side dishes and several empty plates, which the unknown servant gently takes from her. Together the two of them set the final items into place. Wordlessly, the grey-haired person removes a notebook from xer back pocket, handing it to Juniper with the barest sliver of a smile. Clearly having done this more than once, she accepts it readily, opening it to a bookmarked page.

“My Ladies, and our dearest, most esteemed guest, I present to you another fine selection of traditional Romanian dishes, for your sincere enjoyment. Today we will be drinking one of our more popular styles of wine, known as Febris Amatoria, meaning ‘fever of love’ in Latin,” she reads, only somewhat shakily. Next to her, the stranger inclines xer head to your employers, then does the same to you. At this point you have to assume that xe doesn’t speak, and that Juniper was serving as a translator of sorts. “Due to the unexpected nature of our guest, the dishes are not clearly marked in regards to their ingredients. You have my- as in Mx Caldwell- assurance that this will be handled by the next standard mealtime, where the shared dishes will be color coded. In the meantime, I- again, Mx Caldwell- will remain here, in order to prevent any… unintentional ingestion of human remains.” Gulping, Juniper returns the notebook to the stranger (Caldwell, apparently), then exits the room alongside the other servants.

“Isn’t Febris Amatoria also another name for a type of anemia?” Bela asks, slowly swirling the contents of her glass as she does. Caldwell, who had moved to stand several feet behind Alcina, gives a nod in response, and appears mildly amused.

“A clever allusion to our family’s nature, isn’t it? I know Daniela has certainly drained a number of ‘lovers’ over the years, perhaps causing a case or two,” Cassandra teases, much to her younger sister’s irritation. Personally you were surprised that she was willing to admit such a thing in front of her mother. Unless you were reading too much into the word ‘lovers’, due to the rumors you had heard regarding Lady Daniela. Nonetheless, the Lady in question is aggravated enough to sit up, looking ready to lunge across the table at Cassandra. As soon as Daniela moves (with frightening speed), her sister easily catches her wrist, using her other hand to wave a finger back and forth. “Ah, ah, ah, Dani, we have a guest. Do try to behave yourself.”

“Oh, because you’re the epitome of table manners? I’m amazed you haven’t already managed to spill wine all over your dress,” Daniela counters, before ripping her arm away from Cassandra. They both huff, but are quick to quiet down when their mother sends them a look. “Dinner looks delectable, as usual, Ava,” Daniela continues, after clearing her throat, accentuating the end of her sentence with a gesture of her wine glass. Then she takes a long drink from it, perhaps thinking that a little intoxication might make the evening easier to get through. Deciding that maybe she had the right idea, you take a sip from your own glass, relishing the subtle hint of lavender.

In the minutes that follow, things slide into easy comfort. Caldwell once more moves closer to the table, helping pass along side-dishes from person to person, quietly pointing out which ones you could safely consume, occasionally chuckling in response to the jokes that the daughters shared. A strange warmth built itself up within the center of your chest, heart yearning for age-old memories of your own family. Three months had passed since the last time you felt this way. Really, it felt so much like family that you didn’t catch the way Cassandra’s lips twitched into a smirk, or the way she met Bela’s gaze, or the way she pushed a dish just a tad further towards you than necessary. All it had taken was a single second of your gaze turned elsewhere… then you were reaching for the castle’s special variety of forbidden fruit.

“Ayye, nyet, nyet!” Caldwell snaps, voice oddly strained, hand wrapping around your wrist in an instant. All eyes are on you now, though Alcina’s soon flicker over to the servant. “Cass. Bad girl,” xe continues, going so far as to shake xer finger disapprovingly. Understandably, you’re rather shocked to see a butler be so bold with someone so dangerous. Even more shocking is the way that Cassandra backs down without a hint of a fight, refusing to meet her mother’s steely gaze, not even pretending that she hadn’t attempted to trick you. Satisfied with this outcome, Caldwell wordlessly fades back into the background.

Although you had almost committed an unwilling act of cannibalism, you managed to slowly relax again, content to listen in on (but not participate in) the conversations around you. ‘Twas somewhat awkward, admittedly, to be the odd one out in a family so close. Yet a part of you had gained a new sense of hope by meeting Caldwell. After all, if a human such as xerself could become so close as to chastise Cassandra of all people, why couldn’t you?

---------------------------

“Once again, I would like to… apologize, on behalf of my daughters,” Alcina says, rather softly, still keeping a gentle hand on your back to guide you along. “I must admit, I do not wish to dwell on what might have happened if not for Avaskian.”

“Believe it or not, I think I actually understand where they’re coming from. Though, of course, I am also grateful for Caldwell’s intervention. But really… your family has been together for several decades now, right? Any addition is guaranteed to stir things up,” you respond with a shrug. “Besides, I’m more than aware that I don’t exactly stand at the same level as your other romantic interest.” Suddenly both of you are halting in the middle of the hallway, unable to meet each other’s gaze, regret rumbling like butterflies in your stomach. You hadn’t intended to bring up your soulmate’s somewhat obvious affections for Mother Miranda.

“Hmm. So you are… aware of that,” Alcina murmurs, finally turning her head to look down at you. There’s no small amount of pain in her eyes, though you can tell she’s holding as much of it in as possible. “I would prefer it if we did not speak of this. I do hope you have no qualms with that.” For once, there is no hint of force or commanding edge to her tone. For once, she is letting you act as an equal, the first step towards actually accepting your role as her soulmate. It’s enough to make the corners of your lips turn up, if only for a moment.

“Alcina… I understand. I merely want to say that it won’t affect how I feel, or how I act. Love is a blessing, even when it ends in pain. I… have loved before. People whom I will never see again, people who never felt the same way, and maybe people who I really only thought that I loved. I’m trying to think of those experiences as lessons. Situations that taught me something about myself, or about what love is, that I can keep in mind and use going forward. Just as I promised to your daughters, I will try to love you. I will give you an honest chance, regardless of our past circumstances. Because we’re soulmates. Because this is the world offering us a shot at something amazing, and I’m not about to give that up,” you explain, placing one of your hands in Alcina’s. For a moment there’s silence, but you see both surprise and happiness in her expression. Still, there’s a hint of tension remaining in the air, so you do your best to dispel it. “Also your daughters threatened to kill me if I didn’t, and I’d hate to perish before lasting a full year here. I heard a rumor that one of the senior staff members makes cards to celebrate.”

Next thing you know, you’re hearing a beautiful sound, a light, genuine laugh from Alcina, who all at once releases the tension in her shoulders.

“Yes, I do believe Ava, or Caldwell as you said, still makes those. Always with strange little drawings of felines…” She trails off, voice fading into another chuckle, before at last resuming her walk, never letting go of your hand. “As much as I have enjoyed our chat, I do believe it is about time that I retire for the night. We will see each other once more in the morning. For now, I bid you goodnight. Sleep well, my dear.” With that, the two of you arrive at the entrance to the servants’ quarters, and you find just enough courage to bring her hand to your lips, for a brief kiss.

“Goodnight, Lady Alcina. May your dreams be as sweet as your company.”

[extremelyblackandwhite]

ascendance - 04

PAIRING: mob!bucky barnes x reader

WARNINGS: abduction, age gap (reader is 23, bucky is 37)

A/N: hello!! i hope you enjoy this new chapter as i dive more into bucky’s past. italics in this work symbolise a flashback in case anyone’s confused. hope you enjoy it xx

> NEXT CHAPTER | MASTERLIST

The entrance hall of the Barnes household was pilled up with people. Between his mum barking orders left to right and caterers bringing food in and out, the once silent room turned into a busy crossroads which meant James had retreated back to his room. He was sat down in his bed, cashmere black suit on and hair pushed back, Dead Souls opened on top his legs. He was lost in between the small black letters printed on the yellowing paper, so lost that the sound of his window opening went by him until a loud thump woke him up from his literary daze. Bucky looked up to see his younger sister, sat on the floor of his bedroom by the window with her dress partially on and hair messy due to the windy weather outside. He sighed, closing his book and putting it off to the side.

    - Can’t you climb into your own bedroom? - Bucky got up from bed, leaning down to help her back onto her feet.

    - Yours is closer. - she brushed the dirt off her baby pink dress picked by their mother. - Shouldn’t you be downstairs?

    - Shouldn’t you be in your bedroom? 

    - Touche. - she pointed. - Can you not tell mum? She’ll freak out if she discovers that I went out on dad’s big day. 

    - Go on, I’ll keep mum occupied while you sort out that bird’s nest hair. 

    - Thank you! - she smiled, giving him a short hug. - What am I gonna do when you go to Princeton? Who’s gonna cover for me?

    - I guess you’ll just have to form an alliance with the maids.

Y/N and Bucky were silent, barely speaking to each other if even looking into each other’s eyes. She merely remained there in her operatic costume, the corset doing the best of jobs at enhancing her female features and almost making her look like a femme fatale out of a classical movie in rich red and green fabrics decorated with what he guessed where heavy metal gold pieces resembling precious jewels and golden rings. He did not know which production they were putting on, he hadn’t even heard her sing before but she looked like she belonged in that stage, like she would have been showered in praise the moment the spotlight grazed her. 

She paced around the living room not exactly sure what to do, the beads which made up her skirt and would suddenly peak to show her legs making a slight rustling noise as her eyes studied the book shelf which was filled with tons and tons of books from the classics to mere economy books. Maybe she could read them whenever the tension between of them wasn’t so apparent. She couldn’t help but sometimes look at the badly fixed window and wonder if she could make it, maybe when he wasn’t looking, maybe when he was sleeping yet looking at him; tall, muscular, fast, definetely much stronger than her, she knew that even if she managed to get outside, he would easily get her back. Her mind battled her positive side as she wondered if this was it, if this was home now. Suddenly, her old flat no longer seemed old and she would give everything away if only she could go back, back to being told to do errands that really did not concern her, to stepping on bobby pins laid on the ground, to way too strong makeup which looked ridiculous in proper daylight. She would give everything, if she could go back to what her life had been. 

The man whose name he hadn’t even dignified himself to tell her yet was sat on one of the high chairs by the kitchen with his eyes trained on her. She briskly turned around, arms crossed under her chest with an almost child like pout of someone who had just been punished. In reality, I’m the one who’s being punished here, he thought to himself.

     - You could tell me your name. - she said, not looking into his eyes, instead rubbing her worn out ballet shoes against his hard floor. 

     - You don’t need to know my name. - he was quiet yet imposing. Y/N could not deny he seemed to have a strong presence despite barely raising his voice. It was almost magnetic as if he was made to be looked at, yet she felt he didn’t want to be seen. 

     - What if I need to call out for you? 

     - I would know. There’s no one else here, is it?

Y/N did not reply to this, instead rolling her eyes and sitting down on the couch. There was not much to do in the small one bedroom apartment other than pace around, eat and watch television. Her hand flew over to the remote, pointing it at the TV to turn it on which opened on the news channel. She guessed this was the way she had of now knowing what was happening outside the four walls she was being held captive in. There wasn’t much happening and even if it was, all the local news could talk about was about the upcoming mayoral election. It was a circus with advertisements and rumours flying around about each and every candidate and while it was almost painfully enjoyable to see men over thirty acting like gossip mean girls in school, everyone knew who was gonna win. 

She’d always been told that behind every great man, there’s a great woman and in this particular election it couldn’t be anymore true. The favourite candidate to win, Robert Moore, also known as Bobbie, was married to an senator’s daughter but not just any senator, Senator Barnes. She was too young to remember his policies or even his public persona, yet from what she knew, he had been a very well liked and well respected Senator, coming from a prominent family and building an even more prominent family. Being married to Rebecca Barnes, now Rebecca Barnes-Moore, was a one way ticket to a good career in politics. The two stood in the television screen, side by side in an almost JFK and Jackie Kennedy fashion with sunny smiles looking like the picture perfect Americana couple. It seemed all his ads showed him, his wife and their new born baby. High school sweethearts, it seemed.

    - Are you gonna watch that the whole day? - she turned her head around, looking at his annoyed expression, whiskey glass in hand. 

    - They look good together. 

    - It’s a circus. - he snickered, sitting by her side. 

    - What are you? An anarchist? - those words flew out of her mouth without any filter, mostly out of nuisance. - Her father was a great politician and he is young and likeable.  

     - Young and likeable ... sounds like great political traits. 

     - What do you know about politics?

     - What do you know about politics? Do they have a crash course in politics at whatever company you were in? 

She rolled her eyes, turning the volume up to listen to the broadcaster tell the love story of the future mayor and his wife. Her face softened as she heard what was probably a highly modified version of the actual truth yet she couldn’t help but slightly smile at the idea of it. They seemed in love and as someone who had a degree in pretending to be in love while singing, it warmed her heart to see it. She liked that idea, the idea of Ms and Mrs Americana, the idea of having someone to lean in. Well, she liked the idea of someone. Sure, maybe the man whose name she still didn’t know and was starting to believe was never going to learn was right, it was a circus, all elections are but she couldn’t help but be pulled by the myth of it, by the we against the world mentality no matter how morally wrong it was. 

She continued to watch the coverage of the election run as the man next to her got up from the couch to pick up a phone call. Her hearing slightly moved towards what he was doing, mind always thinking of escaping but even though he was talking on the phone, his gaze was trained of her as if she were his prey. He mumbled something on the phone before turning it off and moving his eyes to text someone yet after that his eyes were on her once more. 

    - Try not to escape for the next hour.

    - Do you have a nameless anarchy convention to attend?

    - Billy is coming to watch over you. No funny business. 

    - Will. - she corrected him. - He doesn’t like being called Billy. 

    - As long as you don’t pull a mission impossible on him, I will call him whatever you want. 

Will didn’t take long to arrive, dressed in a tennis-like outfit as if he had been pulled away from tennis which sounded like something he’d do. Bucky exchanged a few words with him before leaving the two of them together. He trusted Billy, or Will, was smart enough not to let her escape or run away. God, he didn’t even want to think about what John would do to him if she escaped, much less what he would do to her if she escaped. He made his drive to John’s condo in fifth avenue, parking his bike somewhere before making his way up. The condo was always weirdly filled with chatter talk yet he could see no people, it was as if the ghosts of the people he had taken out followed him in his own home and Bucky couldn’t say he pitied him. After all, he had his own ghosts too. 

He looked into John’s office where he was sat in the couch, the coverage of the election run on the television on low volume. John’s eyes immediately found Bucky’s figure looming at the entrance, never really entering, just standing behind the line which separated the hall from the office. 

     - How’s the roomie? - he motioned his hand for him to come in. - Still pretty?

     - What do you need?

     - I just got an invitation to a fundraiser. Zemo’s going so I want you to go. 

     - I can’t, I have her to watch over Y/N. She’s not very keen on remaining in the flat.

    - Chain her up for all I care. It’s in two weeks and I’ll be damned if I’m there by myself with Zemo. Besides it’s your sister’s fundraiser, I always love to see Rebecca. 

    - She’s not gonna be there. - his jaw locked. - A fundraiser for the mob? It’s mostly free alcohol and networking with them not showing up. 

    - Maybe you should bring your roomie. She’s pretty and if anything I’m sure she can sing and if not maybe she can entertain in another form. 

    - The NYPD is probably looking for her, it’s not wise ...

    - Do you make the rules? - John interrupted him, leaning against the couch with arms crossed. - You seem to have forgotten who makes the rules, soldat. 

    - I just don’t think ...

    - You don’t think. - he interrupted him once more. - This election is important and since I do not have the right person here to get ahead, I will make do with what we have. I don’t give a fuck about what you do when you’re at your flat but she is mine. She is my get out of jail card. Are we clear, soldat?

    - Yes. 

    - You can go now. - he dismissed him. Bucky turned around, eyes open wide yet emotionless face as if he were disconnected from his own consciousness. He guessed it was for the best to remain disconnected, to not know what was going on.

He drove himself back home, standing alone at night looking at his flat; the window still broken while the lights were flickering. He thought about running off, starting his bike and running off into the night and just drive until the tank was empty but he couldn’t. He had strings, strings which kept him tied to where he was right now. He guessed that now she was another string keeping him here. 

Bucky sighed as he walked back to his flat, opening the door to a rather serene sight. Will was by the kitchen watching the football game while Y/N was laid across the couch, book in hand which he recognised as one of his old ones. Her hair was different, she probably had taken off her wig and for the first time since those few minutes in the costume room. It looked soft, framing her face and getting in front of her eyes as she herself got lost in the room. Will excused himself, leaving just as he noticed Bucky before he could be yelled at by using his television. Yet again, Y/N and Bucky were alone in that small flat. She looked up from the book and at him before returning to read.

He left her with the book, walking to his bedroom which was probably now more hers than his to grab one of trousers and hoodies before returning back to the living room. Still reading. At least she wasn’t trying to break any more windows. He put the hoodie and trousers by her side, turning off the television as more screams for the football match came through. 

   - You can change into those. - he pointed at the clothing, getting her attention as she closed the book. - Those beads can’t be comfortable. 

   - Oh 

   - The bathroom’s there. - he pointed at one of the few doors in the flat. - You can shower too, there’s towels. 

   - Thank you. - she grabbed the things he had put out for her before leaving him in the living room by himself.

And then it was just him once more, alone, tied to this city which screamed everyone’s name but his.

TAGLIST: @lookiamtrying​ @buckyswillows​ @blossomslibrary​ @juliesland​ @iloveshawnieboi​ @unmagically​ @red-head011​ @poisonous00​ 

[bakingandbooks3]

A Court of Song and Serpents

A bit short but the begging of a project I'm SO excited for- hope you love this as much as I do.

Summary: What a time to be alive as Nesta Archeron, going backward to move forward and finding that the places she once called home are now empty tombs.

Nesta

Nesta held her breath for a moment, a pause, and stilled entirely. The Court of Nightmares. She knew the verdict would be severe, but never would she have expected exile to a world of terror. The horrors of that place, of how it was once the main residence of the High Lord- till Rhysand.

Rhysand, the man who boasted of lands bountiful with choice and reason, now sat across from her donning unmasked hatred. A look he kept shielded from his mate, reserved just for Nesta. The kind that rips one apart from the inside out, would carve out the belly of a beast, burn a witch on a wooden pyre.

Nesta felt nothing, she always did. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking of her, how his beautiful wife’s wretched sister was little more than a gambling thief who slept her way through his glorious city. Now, fingers smeared that blank canvas so pure of her darkest shades.

Eyes flicking back, she studied that same sister. The Cursebreaker, the Savior.

How small and insignificant she became next to the glimmering shining thing Feyre was. The lands spoke of her beauty and kind touch, and how she sacrificed everything to save a world of people, and Fae that she was raised to despise.

Nesta wished it’d be known that her touch wasn’t always kind.

She built her bricks firm enough that her house of grace never shattered; Held firm, it was all she had left in her. Too many eyes on her filled with grief, excitement, retribution-Nesta was keenly aware of how this Court of Dreams felt of her.

“This is an exile.”

Rhysand's smirk peaked so slightly, his mate tensing.

“No, no. This is an intervention, a chance for you to find yourself away from bad influences and habits. You can’t keep living like this, and I refuse to let it continue happening and I take the fall for it. Your decisions are impractical and immoral. You are sober much less than you are drunk and-”

“If you’re going to condemn me, do it. But don’t sit here and act as if this is out of kindness.” Nesta snarled. She hated the barbed words, but it’s what she felt. “Who are you to question my morality?”

“I think I can speak for my wife when I say that your presence here is….” Rhysand growled but pulled back, like he forgot Feyre was right there, too.

Nesta wished he would’ve let go, so maybe that facade Rhys reserved for Feyre was broken. No, that’s cruel. As much as she hated this and him, he was making her sister happy.

Something Nesta could never do.

“I do not give a shit what my presence is doing. The decision has already been made, so stop scolding me like a child and make good on your word, Rhysand.” Bile rose in her throat, the words feeling nothing but slimy and disgusting. Foreign, yet habitual all the same. Sometimes, she forgets there once was a woman called Nesta who was so much more than the viper living in her now.

Sometimes she remembers that she can’t ever be her again.

Home was nowhere for her, not in a person, not in a place, certainly not in this bombastic group of “heroes”. Nesta didn’t need a hero, she just needed someone to care. But Nesta knew better, no one would. She was taught to be unlovable, just a woman to be sold off and married- to climb her mothers' ever-growing social ladder.

But Nesta on her own was never enough, even with her mother six feet under and rotted away there were unsung expectations unmet. She was a catastrophic failure and a dark smear on a family name that never truly held weight to her.

Nesta looked up, felt everything all at once again, could only see one man pacing a worn-through tether between them. He wasn’t going to stop this, but she could see it, how it looked like he wanted to jump out of his own flesh, the veins of his arm prominent and knuckles normally so brown a new fresh fallen snow.

There was no prince to save Nesta, much less any will to save herself. So when Mor took the pleasure of bringing her to a living Hell, Nesta did not fight.

She was tired of fighting, after all, she fought an inescapable fate for the first twenty years of her life…

Flowers always made Nesta sneeze, but Elain lit like lights during winter whenever she could thread them through her hair. They all symbolized something, Laine would say. There are ones for good days, and hard storms, for sunshine and stars.

Nesta was always adorned in flowers that paralleled the estate. Astute, cold, tired, where she was warm, comforting, and smelled like cookies- ones that Celia normally baked for the sisters. She never asked Laine why she picked the ones for her that she did, her reasons would stay silent for now.

Spring was a high time of activity in the Archeron estate. There was always a flurry of activity, from preparing their mothers' obscene balls, to guests at every corner in every room. The halls were sprinkled in candles and on walls hung frames nearly kissing it was packed so tight.

They were in the gardens. It was an Elain day, as the girls would call it, and no matter how boring or mundane her wishes were they’d be fulfilled. Nesta was propped on the floor in front of Laine, who was bunching handfuls to weave in tangled auburn coils that gathered on Nesta’s head- as a bird's nest would.

Eventually, Nesta would have to learn braids or risk knotting the curls entirely.

The eldest basked in the silence she created from mentally muting her middle sister, and spared a glance at Feyre. What she saw was not surprising, but required far more willpower than she expected to not burst into laughter and risk the flowery rat's nest on her scalp.

Feyre appeared to be so bored out of her mind she was eating discarded flowers of Elains. Actually, ingesting them, as if she was a critique. When Elain wasn’t looking at Feyre, she’d grab another couple and study them- analyzing her next experiment. Glaring at the blues and yellows as if she was speaking to them, “Which one of you will make me puke the fastest so I can run away?”

In time, Feyre looked up from her taste tests to see Nesta grinning at her so violently you’d think Feyre hung the moon.

And Feyre beamed back, crossing a pinkie across her chest and pointing it back to Nesta. Then she viciously spit out the grass she’d just finished chewing, crying directly at Laine, “This MUST stop at once, my stomach hurts far too much to continue on here.”

Elain, in a garden so quiet, simply ignored her sister's poor attempts at escape. Making Nesta work even harder to stifle the shaking of her shoulders, covering her mouth and nose before she started wheezing. Elain would hardly hurt a fly but sent Nesta a glare that could’ve easily killed a man.

Nesta cleared her throat, “I do believe there are more of the blue flowers down that hill near the pond. Would you mind getting some more for Laine?”

Feyre was already on her feet, mouthing her thanks as Elain turned her back to get the next bunch of flowers, “Why of course I will!” And with a very bad curtsey, Feyre threw off her shoes and was rolling down the hill, spinning wildly, her laughter sure to be heard in meadows far beyond theirs.

You would find the Archeron sisters all together, or never in the same place.

Laine was the easiest to find, by the waters or pond on the east side, in gardens surrounded with bugs and willows calling to the young girl. She could hardly read but if the text included any mention of colors and blooms, suddenly she was a scholar. Elain was not simple or dull, but rather a passive spirit, like a summer wind- brief, fleeting, but teeming with love and hope.

Feyre, as their mother said, was a reckless wild child. Far too young to care, far too small to be whipped into shape. If you were sent to find her and your life depended on it, may the Mother bless you. Feyre liked the kitchen, because of the immaculate food and maids who would shove any sweet down the littlest Archerons throat. But, also for the immeasurable amount of sharp items to be found in there. If it was pointy and could stab a wall or scare their ice-cold mother, Feyre would be running the halls with it in hand or making targets of her fathers old trade route maps.

Then there was Nesta, the firstborn. Molded to be another woman that she somehow couldn’t fit, as if her feet were too big or hair too long, Nesta was outgrowing the standards forged into her being. You would see her as a ghost, floating in and out of rooms, comfortable in silence and slumber, but never escaping people. She loved the maids and could recite all of their names like clockwork, and the workers loved her in turn. Always stuck in new worlds between pages or willingly dragged by the two youngers, Nesta teemed with liberation. She was often alone, but never lonely, and found new loves in the library or in the fields beyond marble confines.

Adela was constantly dissatisfied with her eldest's progress inside these walls, as if at eight she should’ve already been engaged to a prince. Granted, Adela knew better. Nesta would never truly find another kingdom to buy into when she already had a crown waiting for her elsewhere. She was known as fair and beautiful beyond her years, would age like fine wine, and become so much greater than Adela ever was. What Nesta saw as fit would normally come to be, an instinct Adela was unprepared she would inherit. Nothing left her more confused than this daughter only by blood, who was hated by both her parents for reasons far from the same, and how at less than ten years had an entire mansion wrapped around her fingers.

But Adela would wait, and simply leave them be for now. When viper's strike, they kill. And even though the Matron of the house wanted her little queen gone, she had other ways to see this through.

Anyways, children's blood on her hands would stain her diamonds.

---

Cassian

Cassian was violently fucking ill. Watching whatever the fuck that was did not help in the slightest. The second she was gone, so was he.

The General and High Lord were not on speaking terms, his presence was an obligation and not a request. When Rhys first displayed his plans, Cassian just about murdered him. Had his brother on the table in a chokehold that the Shadowsinger had to come and release Rhys from. The way his so-called family planned her exile was… horrific.

Cassian was full of light and humor, but not dull the way his family made him out to be. He could see this for what it was, punishing an already broken female for not meeting every damn need of a fully grown woman that was no longer her responsibility. Cass knew better than to downplay the sacrifices Feyre made, but he was also well aware that Nesta's habits were hardly a financial problem and more of a reputation scandal.

That’s what the High Lord did best, when his Court was breaking at the bonds, the mess would “disappear”. Just like the Illyrians hidden in the mountains, the displaced families of Spring, the homeless warriors of Night.

Cassian loved his brother, but more often than not he wondered when Fate would come to bite them in the asses for Rhys’ neglect.

Now, here he was, in his mothers' cabin, wings dragging behind him wiping tears long since shed over a woman who was thrown to the wolves and torn into so many scraps he wasn’t sure how he could put her together again.

He missed his Nesta, the one who threw glares and begged for her people, not this one who hardly spoke and caved into herself enough that she couldn’t see where she was heading.

Cassian fingered for his mug in the wooden cabinets and hit his mark, soon placing water to heat over a small fire over the counter.

He was not okay, not okay at all.

When you look for something in the dark for too long, you eventually find what you need but not always in the way you expect. Cassian coped the same as Nesta Archeron in his first years post-war. It was suffocating trying to be the happy one while dying inside. He watched men he looked up to fall and a lover he admired take her last breath- too much in far too little time. Cassian was not an idiot, he was simply perplexed. Why was he allowed to grieve in unacceptable manners, but Nesta was a sinner in holy clothing?

Bright walls and unlit rooms in the house were silent, only the winds of the mountains singing outside. The newly dusted snow wrapped the dirt in a delicate kiss- a forbidden touch. It was the peak of winter, just after Feyre’s birthday and another insufferable party.

One that Nesta wasn’t invited to.

Cassian wished he wasn’t invited either.

The cup in his hands was dwarfed in comparison to the bulky Illyrian holding it, but at least it was warm. At least it wasn’t empty.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it could always be worse.

Cassian knew that if things were a little different, he’d be the one sitting in a prison of darkness and Hell because of mistakes made as a child. He’d be exiled by family, cast away by the only living remains of a life once lived.

Nesta didn’t know but long before this he had called it even, their sins atoned for in hurting each other equally.

She was the only one in the world who could tell which smiles he was faking.

To anyone on the outside, one kiss was merely that. How curious it was, the iceberg went far deeper.

So when the mug crashed against the wall, and in its wake resembled his inner turmoil, Cassian took to the skies and found himself at the door of a place far too familiar.

.

.

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AHHHHHHHH OMG OKAY hope you guys enjoyed this:) if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

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[keingleichgewicht]

WERE YOU KIDDING ABOUT THE ASK GAME if not i dont have any specific lyrics in mind but i always thought the lyrics to the mill were so cool and maybe you could get some thoughts out of them? :0

YEAH GOD OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE MILL. LET’S TALK ABOUT UHHHHHHHHH [THROWS DARTBOARD]

this line. this MIGHT go on for a while so i will............  readmore

so the mill feels kind of notably different to the rest of the pafl songs, which tend to be unusually literal for lyric, either straightforward retellings of events (punch it, punk!) or character piece monologues set to plot visuals (strike 3) or both (all of them, but for instance particularly comfort zone, which is just dmitry’s horrible manifesto until it gets hijacked by a death sentence in the second verse.) the mill is a lot more like what we expect from poetry these days, which is to say it’s heavy on imagery, low on clarity, and fucking confusing!

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold on to your battered hand Rocked to sleep beneath the snow, she is bathed in youthful glow ‘Strong enough to let it go,’ he says, but darling, I don’t know

a lot of the mill is about circles. this is in the name: a mill is something which turns. a waterwheel is a circle, a grindstone is a circle. it’s even in the melody: the chorus is a cyclic, pentatonic four-note riff that keeps going up and down and up its own ladder, chasing its own tail, not really reaching resolution. and then it’s also in, you know, the story:

the meat grinder!!!! everyone’s favorite fucking hellhole!!!! it is only semi-explicitly identified in the song but that’s because it’s a concept from the source material - both tarkovsky’s stalker and roadside picnic feature the meat-grinder, as a location nicknamed thus by stalkers because it is even more fucking deadly than the rest of the zone, all of which is already ridiculously fucking deadly, and if you’ve seen the movie:

it is more or less instantly recognizable in the mill as well. so here we have a circle! here we have a mill (the title has about seventy double meanings but this is certainly one of them,) and as it turns out, this mill at least will absolutely kill you. and horribly too. interestingly though, in roadside picnic (the book) the meat-grinder is not a tunnel, and it’s not round - it’s just a nondescript patch of ground which will wring you out like a dishcloth and kill you extremely dead if you walk into it. on the other hand what we have in the book in terms of circles is the golden ball, which is the equivalent of the movie’s the room, which is, well,

in short both stories ultimately hinge upon the idea that there is a something in the zone which can give you your heart’s desire. anything you want. everything you want. whatever you want. it is infinitely powerful; it is infinitely capable. the catch is that it will only give you what you want. the catch is that giving you what you want is not the same as giving you what you are asking for. the other catch is that in both cases you have to get through the meat-grinder first.

(so, by the way, what the fuck, right? does pafl’s zone have a wish-granting factory? is it also behind the grinder? where were the original trio going when they got themselves fucked up? and did they get there?)

but the point is: the golden ball, the wish-granting factory, is also a circle. it’s just sort of a sphere. it’s a big round fuckin yellow thing. you know, sorta like:

which is THE ONLY TIME yellow is used in occam’s razor not counting the full-colour shots, and it drives me CRAZY, but it is also me going full conspiracy board so let’s not even worry about it. THE POINT IS.

the circle is the death-machine and the wish-machine. neither of these things are really.... very good. the circle, or at least the arc, is also very closely associated with death:

(розовая дуга предрассветного, ‘rose arc of pre-dawn’. if i’ve fucked up that nominative please feel free to stone me to death!) 

in the gdoc notes to message lost ferry briefly refers to the dawn as if it were a good thing, the dawn of hope, which is a usage that sort of agrees with the desolate and deathless hope of strike 3′s ‘everything will pass / a day will come,’ but on the other hand it really is very closely associated with dying. nikolai bites it; nikita bites it; sergei and olga left significant chunks of themselves behind. and the thing about ‘this too shall pass’ is that it’s always true, as is ‘everything ends’, but of course that’s ‘cause the thing that ends might be you. and as we know

dawn is an ending. so that seems concerning!

i think the circle, the arc, the bolt falling back to the ground, is not a good thing. i am getting a little conspiracy board here in general but forgive me, i cannot make you a wholesome answer, my wit’s diseased. i think the circle is an enclosed space. it’s an unbroken cycle. it’s the grindstone. it’s the mill. it’s about what pafl’s always been about: about being trapped, about having no chances, about being bordered upon. the circle’s the geometric figure of equidistance from a given point, and you can walk on it forever, and nothing will ever change; you will never get closer, you will never get further away, you will never get out! the sun rises, the sun sets, and you are no closer to anything you wanted. it’s worth noting that anya’s borderline city, the zone-edge port town she complains is trying to crush all her dreams, her mill

is a circle. (a cog in a machine! a grind-wheel! a cage!)

and yura, whose dreams have already been burned out of him, who starts the series already resigned to never getting out of here, calls it ‘this dire deja-vu’, i am specifically resisting putting the accent marks back onto that, which is to say, it’s a repetition that haunts him. it’s going round and round and getting nowhere.

so if we bring it back around: drawing a line in the sand, as the phrase is generally used, means setting a border, means saying this far and no further. often it’s yourself you’re setting the border for. you hit some divide you can’t abide crossing so you say this stops here, it may be too early or too late, but i say it stops here. so logically: drawing a circle in the sand means you’ve locked yourself in completely.

I’ll draw a circle in the sand, drive myself around the bend in a desperate attempt to hold your battered hand

the whole first half of this song, i think, is olga promising to grind herself down in a hundred ways if it means she won’t be left alone. how hard can it be to never let it overflow? she may feel lower than the low, she may wish she could just disappear out here, into the postindustrial rust, but though it gets harder all the time she will keep pretending. she isn’t going to burden sergei, or indeed anyone, with her problems, her fears, her scars. she is hurt, but she’s used to it, she’s gotten used to being haunted long ago. she keeps her bad eye covered. she stays within her circle she has drawn. she keeps going round and round. she will take the smallest sliver of human connection and be happy, she promises she will be happy, she promises she won’t ask for more, she will take just the ‘hello.’

but you knooooow it’s not true. you know it’s grinding her down, that she’ll be milled to nothing pretty soon, and really she knows it too.

i am perhaps seventy percent sure that this line is a reference to the windmills of your mind by michel legrande, which features such lines as

Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind

which on one hand seems sort of obscure to be a purposeful reference but on the other hand would be a hell of a coincidence if it wasn’t, wouldn’t it. either way it characterizes circles ambiguously, but definitely unsettlingly. going around in circles is chasing infinity, but what in god’s name would you do with it if you caught it? what are you even hoping to accomplish? and: 

the second half of this song is bitterer, sharper - staring down the mouth of the meat-grinder she’s a little more willing to admit to herself that this is going nowhere. she is running out of cages to keep herself in. she is very tired. it’s easy to say why don’t you leave it all behind, it’s easy to say, she’s strong enough to let it go, it’s easy to say, too strong to die. it is a lot harder to actually live.

this is also where the flashbacks admit to us how badly hurt they really were - sergei with his whole side in shreds, she still hides her eye but at least we get to see it’s bleeding. this moral compass is forever misaligned, she says, so there is damage, and it is lasting. and she can’t settle for hello, she can’t live like this, she needs someone by her side. the trouble is whether she can believe she has any hope of getting that

as for who ‘her’ is, or the ‘she’ of ‘she is bathed in youthful glow’, i figure there’s two possibilities: either it’s nadya, who haunts olga too, because nikita’s abandonment of nadya represents exactly what she most fears for herself, or it’s olga’s younger, unbroken, binocular self - both of whom were so young, and so easily hurt, and are now unfindable.

and then there’s this conclusion: ‘the sun will rise, until then / i’ll be waiting for you on the other side.’ which maybe is a sort of hope after all? she’s reached no real conclusions in the zone - she knows there must be hope but she can only barely believe in it - she thinks she is destined to self-destruct. but on the other hand she still has that, a version of sergei’s own ‘a day will come’

you may be hurt, but if you can hold yourself together, you can hope for a dawn someday. an ending. a change. but the trouble’s that there’s more than one kind of ending. and there’s more than one meaning for other side. there are cages, and then there are cages. and you know what else looks like a tunnel, a circle?

staring down the barrel of the gun.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

And I Will Hold Onto You

Summary: They’ve never been apart for holidays since they started dating. That was until Spencer Reid found himself behind bars for a crime he’d never think of committing. Growing and healing, Spencer realizes that it’s not the holidays that matter, it’s the person. Because with that special person, who’s laugh he can recognize anywhere, even cleaning up the empty bottle the next morning is magical.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Author’s Note/Warnings: Body Image Issues (Male) nothing too descriptive, prison arc is mentioned/is central issue; loosely based of New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift

Also this is technically a part 2 to Drag Me Head First but it doesn’t have to be read that way.

And I Will Hold Onto You

There’s something special in the way that the first midnight of the new year feels. All that hopefulness and excitement packed into a 10 second countdown. The energy in the room slowly bubbles up, culminating as the ball drops. It fizzles out as loved ones share chaste kisses and friends hug. But all that remains are last year’s bottles and this year’s dreams. Maybe it’s something that Spencer always took for granted.

The cold midnight air is jarring, compared to his warm and cozy house. Spencer walks quickly, taking out the trash, filled with bottles of beer and wine. The snow crunches under his shoes and Spencer can see his breath in the air as he huffs to toss the bag in the black trash bin. Spencer, despite the way the cold air nips his nose, stops in his tracks and gazes up at the stars. It’s unfortunate living where he does, you can never really see all the stars. Maybe Y/N would like to take a trip in their cabin the next time he can get off? He could show her all the stars. But Spencer doesn’t need to go to the middle of the woods to see the stars; he can simply look into Y/N’s eyes and see all the magic the universe has to offer.

Spencer lets himself back into his house, just as Garcia and Derek are putting their shoes and coats on to leave. Y/N comes out of the kitchen carrying two trays of leftover food for their friends to take home.

“Penny, please kiss those sweet babies for me,” Y/N says, handing Luke the trays of food. She leans over to kiss Penelope on her cheek.

“They can only sweet when they are sleeping,” Penelope says, rolling her eyes and putting her coat on. It’s more of a cape in a spectacular plum purple color with cream colored faux fur trim.

“Don’t act so surprised, mi amor, look who their mother is,” Luke says, cheekily. He hugs Spencer and Y/N before grabbing Garcia’s hand with his empty one.

“Happy New Year!” Garcia and Luke call as they leave, shutting the door behind them. Spencer locks the door and heads back to the kitchen to help Y/N clean up. The plates sit in the sink piled high, with tall champagne glasses resting next to them on the counter. Glitter scatters on the floor, confetti in the shapes of “1s” and “6” lay littered on the tiles, remnants of the festivities just moments before.

Y/N stands over the sink, her hand rests on the ledge. She turns on the water and starts washing the dishes. Spencer walks up quietly behind her, nuzzling his hand into the corner of her ear and shoulder. He hums, the vibrations echoing into Y/N’s neck, causing her to giggle. He joins his hands together around Y/N’s waist, holding her tight.

“Happy New Year, my love,” Spencer whispers, his voice hardly audible above the stream of water. Even though Spencer can’t see Y/N, he can feel the way her cheeks grow against the side of his head. She’s smiling.

“It is a very happy, new year,” Y/N says, her voice strong, yet Spencer can tell it’s hard for her to keep it together. It’s not their first new year, far from it, it’s their 13th. But this time, it feels different to hold her in his arms and kiss her as the clock strikes 12.

They wash the dishes in silence, a comforting silence where certain things don’t need to be said. Like a well oiled machine, Y/N washes, Spencer dries. The sudsy dish soap smells like home and Y/N’s quiet hums sound like peace. Spencer really forgot how much he could love even the most mundane of tasks when Y/N stands next to him.

“Come on, Y/N we can do this tomorrow. Let’s just go to bed,” Spencer says, tugging on Y/N’s long sleeve of her thermal shirt.

“Hmm, I can’t argue against your cuddles, sweetheart,” Y/N murmurs tiredly, easily pushing the thoughts of clean up to the next morning. Her hand joins his, like a key finding it’s matching lock. They are cold from the water, but Spencer doesn’t really mind.

A tangle of limbs and hands, they make their way up the stairs to their shared bedroom. They pass the wall filled with pictures of their smiling faces or candid countenances in mismatching frames hung against the wall. It’s just a testament to how long they’ve been together, going back to their first date right before Y/N’s college graduation and Spencer’s fifth, leading up to their most recent Halloween. Each photo stuck in time, frozen with utter happiness and unadulterated joy. But there’s a gap in the collection, a gap that Spencer rather not talk about. A gap where, for the first time since they met, Spencer and Y/N were separated. Sitting in jail, all Spencer could think of was the personal mental prison that Y/N must have confined herself too.

They don’t like talking about the gap, but he knows they have too. Spencer knows that Y/N is proud of him, she tells him that everyday. Proud of him for keeping up with therapy, proud of him for letting go of the little things that he can’t control, proud of him for trusting her with his secrets and fears. It’s the strangest thing, to have someone be proud of you for just living.

“We’re going to need a bigger wall,” Spencer says, hoping that his attempt at referencing pop culture would land. Y/N stops to turn to Spencer, who in the moonlight that drips in from the window, looks much younger than he really is.

“Did you just make a pop culture reference that’s not from, like, 300 years ago?” Y/N says, her brow upturned in a quizzical stare.

“Come on, Y/N, you love when I recite all Sir Walter Raleigh to you,” Spencer says, reaching up to tickle Y/N sides, causing her to giggle and run up the rest of the stairs.

“Spencer! You know that I’m too ticklish,” Y/N says in between short laughs and gasps for air. She plops down on the bed, dragging Spencer down with her. He lays his head down on her chest and like a Rube Goldberg machine, her fingers come up and tangle themselves in his hair.

“Maybe our New Year’s Resolution should be to get some more exercise, Spence. Your heart is beating faster than mine and that run from the steps to our room is like a good 10 feet,” Y/N jokes as she continues scratching Spencer’s scalp lulling him into a peaceful, sleepy state.

“Two things, baby, one, we don’t exercise and two, that’s not why my heart is beating so fast, I think it has something to do with the beautiful girl laying so close to me,” Spencer murmurs quietly.

“Hmm, you certainly know how to charm a girl, even like 13 years later,”

“Actually it’s, 13 years, 7 months, 17 days, 17 hours, 58 minutes and 31 seconds,” Spencer says with a quick glance at his watch.

“And I’ve loved every single minute of it,” Y/N says, reaching up to sneak a pillow under Spencer’s head. She moves to get out of bed, much to Spencer’s displeasure.

“No, no, Y/N you’re so warm and I’m freezing,” Spencer whines, shifting so he can look at his wife, who has shrugged off her thermal shirt and jeans.

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N chides. Spencer, almost bashful at her teasing, attempts to hide his blush with the pillow that rests under his head.

“I only turn the heat all the way down at night so we’re forced to cuddle for body heat,” Spencer says, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“So you say,” Y/N tells Spencer, sitting down back on the bed. She pulls on Spencer’s legs, dragging him down the bed.

“Come on lazy boy, get your PJs on,” Y/N orders. Spencer, who under Penelope’s less than pure supervision, had enough shots to make up for all the college parties that he missed. There’s happy drunks, forgetful drunks, and then there're sleepy drunks.

Spencer stands in front of the mirror, inspecting his body. The low, yellow lamp light casts shadows on his naked torso. He’s filled out a little bit since they’ve started dating, especially within the last few months of Spencer’s healing. Y/N knew that it’s a sore spot for him, but there’s something about the way that Spencer’s dress pants sit tightly against his thighs or the way his shirt clings to his stomach that just makes him look so much older. Both of them, including their bodies, have changed so much since 13 years ago. Or 13 years, 7 months, 17 days, 18 hours, 5 minutes and 12 seconds ago. They’ve grown up together, and now Y/N can’t wait to grow old together.

But the look in his eyes is not pride over his growth or confidence over his physique. It’s confusion. Spencer stares at himself like he’s an unsolvable puzzle. Y/N knows he must hate that; Spencer hates things that he can’t find an answer to. Y/N walks up behind him, lacing her finger together so her arms clasp against his waist. For a moment, Spencer flinches. Even her gentlest touches and softest kisses can’t wash away the fear of much harsher contact. Their eyes meet in the mirror, but Y/N can feel that Spencer’s not looking at her. After all these years, she can still see the terrified young man who brazenly kissed her in her car in the middle of a rainstorm. After all these years, Spencer is still the only man she ever loved.

“Spencer,” Y/N says quietly. His name off her lips is more tender than any pet name in existence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m being immature, it’s just,” Spencer closes his eyes, trying to focus himself in the present. It’s something that his therapist suggested. In moments of distress, find your anchor. Luckily for Spencer, his anchor has been his anchor for quite awhile.

“You can tell, I’m not going to judge you,” Y/N says, her lips leaving small kisses on his exposed shoulders.

“It’s just I thought this whole nightmare of prison was behind me. Therapy has been helping, I’m better on cases and I love teaching,” Spencer says, the pain in his voice leaking out.

Y/N doesn’t say anything, instead she guides Spencer to sit on the edge of their bed. She rubs her hand down his back, tracing his spine and around the freckles that collect on his right shoulder.

“I thought that the emotional healing would be the hardest part, I mean it is, but physically, I don’t recognize myself. I can imagine you don’t either,” Spencer says, he turns to lay on the bed, bringing his feet up to his chest in a textbook self-protective position.

“Spence, your body is gonna change, baby. God, mine has changed so much since we met,” Spencer gives Y/N a confused look, like he’s not thoroughly convinced by her explanation.

“It has Spencer. We’re not 22 years old anymore, we’re going to be like 35 in a couple of months. But you know, this is something we can work on together, I’ve gone my whole life not loving the skin I’m in. But being with you makes it easier, Spence.” Y/N says, running her fingers across the bridge of Spencer’s nose and down to his lips, that always a ridiculously gorgeous shade of pink. Spencer doesn’t say much, he’s still trapped deep inside his mind.

“I don’t know how you put up with me and all my antics, Y/N”

“You do my taxes every year,” Y/N jokes, making an effort to kiss every freckle and dipple on the expanse of Spencer’s back.

Spencer turns in the bed so he’s facing Y/N, he cups her face all the way from her ear to her jaw. It’s an intimate gesture that somehow is more loving and vulnerable than saying “I love you,”

“You know you make me fearless, Y/N,” Spencer tells her, not blinking because he doesn’t want to miss out on any more time looking into her eyes.

“You say that everyday Spencer Reid,” Y/N responds, letting herself melt into the touch. She grabs onto his wrist, physically telling him to not let go.

“I have a lot of days to make up for,” Spencer says, solemnly.

“It’s not making it up if it’s the rest of our life, Spencer. Besides, there’s no one I’d rather spend New Year’s Day cleaning up all those bottles with,”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[shihalyfie]

A meta and analysis on Takaishi Takeru

Of all of the Tokyo Chosen Children, Takeru is lucky enough to get significant attention for two full series from beginning to end, and his character also goes through some drastic changes in the process, especially through Adventure and 02. There’s so much going on with him that it makes it hard to give a short answer to the question “what is Takeru like?” because there’s so much you could say about him at so many different times.

Fortunately, that’s what we’re here to talk about today!

Takeru in Adventure

At first glance, Takeru seems to be the “tagalong kid” -- the obligatory “little kid character” you have whenever you have a party in a fantasy story. Generally, these “obligatory kid characters” are the kind constantly struggling to catch up with the older ones. Adventure being a series that loves to play with tropes and expectations, though, very quickly says no to that.

Seki: ...We also mixed up the children’s ages, for a bit of variety. Kakudou: The oldest one would be the most unreliable, and the smartest one would be one of the third youngest. Just a little to throw you off the usual, conventional track. Seki: The youngest one would feel too much like a burden to everyone else, and conversely would actually have himself together.

Takeru “doesn’t want to be a burden” -- meaning his feelings on this issue are actually rather much like Hikari’s. Unlike Hikari, though, Takeru reacts to this compulsion differently -- instead of simply repressing things and pretending the problem doesn’t exist, Takeru’s reaction to his own negative feelings is to “have himself together” and act as if he’s got everything under control.

Or, more accurately, pretend he has it together and has everything under control.

Takeru, for all intents and purposes, was not supposed to be on the camping trip the others were on, not having gone to everyone’s school -- he had to get special permission to go. Takeru’s family is very, very split harshly at this time, with his mother not even able to treat Yamato comfortably. Yamato deals with the familial estrangement badly -- alternating between approaching everyone awkwardly and exploding like an emotional fuse bomb -- but Takeru tries to take it as a sign  that he needs to be “responsible”. A lot of his actions in Adventure are him basically exuding this aura of “I can take care of myself!”, and in fact he works very hard to “assert” himself as if he were yet another peer. We even see him make the complaint directly in Adventure episode 43 -- while he is correct in calling out Yamato for coddling him and him only while recklessly disregarding the others, the fact he specifically complains about Yamato approaching him as someone holding them back if he’s not protected reveals a lot about his own mentality regarding the situation.

One of his first major scenes in episode 2 is him offering his own food for the pile of supplies everyone has, even though it’s just snacks. Which is, probably, a pretty accurate summary of Takeru’s character at this point: on the surface he’s responsible, well-behaved, and capable...but, in fact, he’s still about as immature as an average eight-year-old child would predictably be.

Yamato spends his Adventure character arc pretty openly angsting about his relationship to Takeru and how his family’s split has affected them, but throughout the entirety of Adventure (and, eventually, 02 as well), not only does Takeru rarely if ever touch on it, there are indications that Takeru deliberately tries to dodge the subject or not dwell on it too much. In Adventure episode 12, he actually outright lies to Patamon about his younger childhood memories, claiming he “probably doesn’t remember” anything about it despite the audience very clearly being shown that he very much did, and in episode 26 he comes very close to leaking his actual feelings about the group being separated being tied to what happened to his family, before quickly covering it up and trying to move on with the topic.

In other words, unlike Hikari, who knows exactly what she’s feeling but is compulsively unable to vocalize them, Takeru actively suppresses his negative feelings and tries not to dwell on them too much. Again, this comes from his desire to “not be a burden” on others -- he’s got this situation under control! Everything is fine!

And this has a very, very nasty payoff. While Yamato clearly deals with his emotional issues badly, tending to get very explosive about it, Takeru’s way of coping isn’t actually all that much better in the long run, because Yamato’s frustration and openness about his emotions at least lead him to being very straightforward about his feelings, incredibly self-aware and sometimes even self-conscious, and ultimately able to get at least some degree of catharsis from the situation. Takeru...not so much.

Takeru is a child, no matter how much he tries not to act like one, and it ultimately results in him reacting disastrously whenever something hits him too emotionally hard -- which results in Takeru suddenly becoming irrationally stubborn and even angry. We later see what it takes to actually break through Takeru’s facade of “totally having this together” in Adventure episode 22, which is also the first time he openly breaks down wailing in front of anyone besides Patamon -- and it’s, of course, when PicoDevimon convinces him that Yamato hates him. The interesting part is that this is so blatantly a lie that even Tokomon is able to quickly call bullshit on it, but Takeru, previously having worked so hard to maintain this facade of being responsible, falls for it completely with utter irrationality -- and it really does suggest that Takeru’s fear of losing yet another member of his family, and being a burden to Yamato, runs so deep that it causes that entire facade to shatter in one blow.

Which is where the problem lies: Takeru’s habit of suppression is so bad that once one of his triggers is hit, he completely loses all sense of rationality and blows up, and it becomes nearly impossible to reason with him because he locks down on becoming stubborn. It’s also dangerous because even he isn’t particularly self-aware of what he’s doing when he blows up like this; at least Hikari was very consciously aware of her suppression problem, but Takeru never really seems to have any awareness of the fact that his covering up of his feelings is directly related to some of his worst moments. We see it cause problems between him and Patamon again in Adventure episode 33, when Patamon asks a rather innocuous question about the brothers, and it hits Takeru’s trigger so badly that he snaps at him, resulting in the fight that kicks off the plot of the episode.

Adventure episode 52 is basically a major test for Takeru as to whether he really can hold himself together in a situation where everyone else older than him is gone, and “having himself together” is something he has to actually do instead of just have the surface facade of. He does, ultimately, pass, and this is why the Crest of Hope glows this episode -- but it’s also made clear that it wasn’t quite as easy for him as he would normally pretend it is. Of course, it also helps that Piemon is genuinely the scariest threat they’d faced during that time, but it also reveals that, yeah, ultimately, Takeru is an eight-year-old child who still has to struggle to put on a brave face so that Hikari doesn’t get impacted by his own fear.

For all it’s worth, although we get a ton of depth into his background and mentality, Takeru does not actually change that much as a character over the course of Adventure. This incident is probably what changes him the most in terms of him gaining a more solid core, and he also learns to accept the inevitability of fighting after his stubborn refusal to engage in it all the way back in Adventure episode 12 -- but for the most part he still does remain a bit naive about the world at large, and, more importantly, his issue with trying to cover up his problems with a confident smile never really gets addressed. At most, he’s willing to admit his grief over being separated from Patamon in Adventure episode 54, but even that is something Takeru tries to bounce back from quickly, much like with the first time he cried with Patamon in Adventure episode 12. But there’s nothing to indicate that his problem with emotional management isn’t going to continue being a problem from here on out if left unchecked.

That problem ends up taking another three more years to get addressed.

Takeru in 02

Takeru is one of the first people we meet in 02 (for reasons that end up revealed in the final episode), and right off the bat we learn that he’s a bit...evasive. He leaves a cryptic line to Daisuke about his goggles without coming even close to what we all know is the full extent of what’s on his mind (that the goggles specifically remind him of someone important to him), and later just...deflects Daisuke throwing accusations at him with a mild dismissal. In fact, even though Takeru pretty clearly understands very quickly what’s going on with Daisuke and how touchy he gets with the Hikari issue, he keeps dodging the question and constantly saying things that are evasive about it and therefore never truly helps his case until episode 17, when the circumstances between why Hikari and Takeru knew each other are finally properly clarified to Daisuke and he stops getting on their case about it on his own.

There were multiple points in time before this -- especially in episode 7, when Daisuke is practically at his worst in regards to approaching Takeru -- when Takeru could have easily said something to at least attempt to get Daisuke to stop bothering him, but Takeru never even asks him to cut it out! He simply continues to handle everything with a “yeah, okay, sure! :)” attitude, which of course confuses Daisuke (who’s rather allergic to people not being straightforward) rather thoroughly, and you wonder if he’s practically enjoying seeing Daisuke’s antics to the point he’s just enabling it further.

As a point of aside trivia, the official 02 website adds the fun detail that apparently he's popular with the girls at school but doesn't show much interest in them himself, and the Animedia audio commentary CD for Armor Evolution to the Unknown had his voice actor even express the opinion that he saw Takeru as someone who wasn’t really the type to think about romance at this age (adding in a separate interview for the 02 DVDs that he felt Takeru was respectful of girls primarily due to having been taught by his single mother to be such). The latter part of course isn’t something that comes from the writing, but given the website trivia I’m inclined to personally agree with it -- and, more importantly, the implication is that Takeru is at least aware of these kinds of things, but actively chooses to not think about it and deal with it when the time comes.

So in other words: That part about how Takeru actively suppresses things that are negative or inconvenient to think about, all for the sake of keeping a smile plastered on his face? Yup, still there.

In fact, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment from 02 episode 17 implies heavily that, even with their parents having developed a more cordial relationship after the events of Adventure, Takeru is now emotionally dealing with the aftermath of his parents’ divorce worse than Yamato is, since Yamato is at least able to speak about it casually and even joke about it openly, whereas Takeru keeps his mouth shut and the framing of the shot heavily implies he’s still extremely sensitive and unable to vocalize his feelings on it. Takeru never brings this up as something eating away at him for the entire series -- but BelialVamdemon uses it against him in episode 49, revealing that, yes, this is a problem that’s still tearing away at him, and yet he’s refusing to be open to anyone about it, even to Yamato himself. (Especially since, again, Yamato seems to be doing a great job trying to move forward; why kill his mood and thus be a “burden” to him?)

Even so, Takeru is very different in 02 partially because his circumstances are completely different. Adventure had him as the youngest in a group of older kids, so in terms of “being a responsible child”, that naturally meant being deferential and polite to everyone due to standards of propriety. 02 is where we learn a lot more about how Takeru interacts with peers his own age and people who are outright younger than him, when he has a bit more leeway to be more assertive.

On top of that, back in Adventure, Takeru was a young child who had a very small “range of periphery” -- as a young child still rather naive about the world, his emotional investment in things primarily pertained to loved ones and the people around him. But now that he’s a bit older, he’s gained a certain degree of strong feelings about “what’s the right thing to do”, and now has very strong opinions on it.

These things ultimately manifest in, unfortunately, Takeru losing his composure much more often than he did in Adventure, and for reasons that pertain to much wider things than just his brother. Still not having recovered from the trauma of losing Patamon back in Adventure episode 13, Takeru starts physically fighting Daisuke in 02 episode 11 because he perceives Daisuke as not doing enough to prevent Patamon from potentially becoming a slave to the Kaiser, and in 02 episode 13 he lashes out at Hikari in frustration about her refusal to do anything about her situation (which he of course ends up deeply regretting later in the episode).

Takeru’s infamous scene of suddenly switching modes on the Kaiser and punching him out in 02 episode 19 is basically the pinnacle of this -- because, yes, the Kaiser really did deserve it, but this really is not a good thing for Takeru either. This is Takeru getting the closest we ever see him to being a genuine sadist, and it’s basically everything to do with his emotional stuntedness coming out at once -- blowing up in anger out of nowhere with a passive-aggressive demeanor, succumbing to the weight of his trauma in the worst way possible, and mixing the ^^ front he puts on with his tendency to blow up angrily at anything that cuts him a little too emotionally close.

And for the first time, we see someone actually acknowledge how bad this is. Iori, one of the most consciously perceptive of the group, witnesses, for himself, the sheer jarringness of Takeru seeming to only really have two modes between “all smiles” and “unreasonably angry”. Sure, Takeru had shown a penchant for getting active as soon as there was something he needed to protect, but the moment it got personal, Takeru suddenly blew up in front of his eyes and almost turned into a completely different person. (Perhaps he’s not that different from Yamato after all...)

This is a very important moment because it sets up the base for what ultimately becomes the Jogress arc between Iori and Takeru. Daisuke ended up reaching out to Ken because Ken was someone who needed someone to accept him and teach him to move forward instead of drowning in the past; Miyako ended up reaching out to Hikari because Hikari knew herself to have a suppression problem but had difficulty doing anything about it, so the extremely in-your-face and aggressive Miyako could go in deep. But with Takeru, since his personality is genuinely volatile, and because Takeru goes out of his way to hide the fact he’s having emotional problems, personalities like Daisuke and Miyako wouldn’t help much because they’re too straightforward for someone like this who’s a bit unpredictable -- whereas Iori, who’s assertive but also methodical and thinks through everything consciously, is eventually much better able to reach out to him.

Once the relevant arc kicks in, in 02 episode 34, Iori continues to observe Takeru, and quietly notes the many “contradictions” in Takeru’s behavior -- since, after all, Takeru starts to sometimes violate what you’d think would be common sense whenever he gets too emotionally compromised. The fact that ostensibly one of the outwardly “nicest” kids in this group suddenly blows up in certain circumstances and basically goes “absolutely nope, needs to be killed!” in the midst of a few moral debates over killing sentient Digimon disturbs him deeply, and really, it’s not even about the killing part (after all, it’s later established in 02 episode 43 and after that Takeru and Hikari have a certain degree of acceptance of the inevitability that the others don’t) as much as Takeru’s being pretty gung-ho about it. Not “I don’t like it, but we have to” like he said earlier, but NOPE, GOTTA DO IT.

Iori refers directly to the duality of Takeru that he doesn’t quite understand multiple times in this episode (including in regards to the incident back in 02 episode 19), and it continues to torment him until the end, when Takeru only gives a very cryptic “clarification” that he doesn’t necessarily hate the darkness per se.

Iori, too intimidated to ask Takeru about it directly, goes to ask Yamato in 02 episode 35, and Yamato finally clarifies the background that we as the audience knew but Iori didn't: the story behind Takeru's trauma regarding the loss of Angemon back in Adventure episode 13. Yamato also makes a conjecture about why Takeru has been acting so ambivalent towards Ken -- you'd think he'd still be under Takeru's scorn after the events of 02 episode 19, but in fact Takeru's judgment of him in episode 25 was simply that he was certain something had changed, yet he couldn't tell what he was thinking (really rich coming from someone who refuses to tell anyone else what he's thinking himself!). Yamato guesses that Takeru is inclined to be a bit more forgiving of Ken due to understanding the feeling of losing a partner -- and the ultimate conclusion here is, basically, that Takeru's behavior is contradictory because he's acting based on what's personal to him, not necessarily via principles that make sense. After all, back in Adventure, it was clearly demonstrated that Takeru isn’t exactly rational when things hit too close to home.

The other important thing that happens this episode is that Takeru learns that Iori is actively trying to reach out to him, when Yamato drops him a line informing him that Iori asked. Despite complaining that Iori could have just asked him directly, after Takeru witnesses the face-off between Iori and BlackWarGreymon and a demonstration that Iori is clearly trying his best to make sense out of this entire mess, Takeru actively reaches out to Iori and says something to comfort him -- “a life is beautiful simply by existing.” It’s still cryptic as hell, but it’s not something he would have said in the midst of his anger in prior episodes.

It would be one thing if it were simply that by itself, but the following episodes further push the idea that Takeru really is starting to change after witnessing all of this. 02 episode 36 has him explicitly acknowledge what Iori’s been doing this whole time in trying to understand him for the sake of their Jogress, and, finally, during their meal later that episode, he says, very openly and honestly, that he thinks they’ll be able to do it now. After two instances of Jogress, these kids are very aware of what that entails -- so this is basically Takeru consciously acknowledging to Iori “yes, I understand that you’re trying to reach out to me, and I accept it and want to understand you.” Because Takeru is such a convoluted sort of person, this “understanding” ended up being something that didn’t span a single magical moment as much as it took several episodes and a diplomatic, conscious affirmation on both ends -- but it’s a fitting way to go for someone who had always indicated some pretty poor conscious awareness of where his feelings were taking him.

This is especially because, in 02 episode 37, his statements to comfort Ken are in pretty significant opposition to the sort of anger he’d displayed in earlier episodes, and are now a more pragmatic view of the issue in light of Iori’s efforts and everything he’d just witnessed with BlackWarGreymon -- and to drive the point home, the episode has, at the very end of it, Takeru making his first true explicit show of goodwill towards Ken after having been a bit touchy with him for so many episodes.

Iori himself, being the youngest of the 02 group, still has a lot to learn, and so Takeru, who had previously been one of the youngest in the Adventure group himself, now has his role inverted to effectively be a guiding mentor to Iori as he finds his own way. Basically, Takeru becomes responsible for the welfare of this young child, and so his way of treating Iori is markedly different from the more detached and playful way he would treat others from here on out. This is especially because, earlier, Yamato had informed him that Iori had taken a very roundabout way to help understand him better, and so Takeru probably understands that he scared the hell out of Iori earlier and needs to do better. While the Takeru of 02 episodes 38-50 still has a way of being playful, and while he still isn’t completely straightforward about his intentions, he is definitely much better about being open with the others, especially Iori, instead of doubling down on his “everything-is-fine” mode.

And perhaps this is what the other meaning of “hope” thus became in this situation -- learning to be forward-facing even in the midst of truly knowing and understanding everything that’s wrong with the situation.

Post-02

Although Takeru’s Spring 2003 track is addressed to no one in particular, meaning that it’s the most likely reason he’s so willing to be open about it, Takeru outright admits he’s having problems with his emotions -- especially those pertaining to Angemon’s death. We do, however, learn that Takeru’s started writing the early, early drafts of what’ll eventually end up becoming the novels he writes as a future career.

This being only a year after the events of 02, Takeru’s position is interesting. His decision to start writing is that he wants to have a record of everything before it’s forgotten -- because these things are very personal to him -- but he’s not emotionally ready for the huge task of finalizing everything in words, to the point he still hasn’t told his mother he’s started writing yet. After all, this is a book we eventually find out takes upwards of twenty years, and so this is the presumable reason why -- being able to get this down in a rational way that’s not emotionally compromising is going to be an upwards battle for him.

Even come Kizuna, there’s still a long way for him to go, because an actual line (in a very fast-paced movie) is dedicated to establishing that he’s still uncomfortable with his novel progress to the point he won’t even let Yamato see it. His official character profile and background details are revealing, too -- although he’s currently taking language classes in university and is even part of a children’s literature club, he still hasn’t actually decided on what to do with his future, meaning that he hasn’t determined that he’s going to be a full-time novelist with these yet. That means that even though he’s clearly still clacking away at his novel (multiple indications in the movie are given as such), his memoirs are still at the level of being so deeply personal, and not something he feels comfortable telling well, just yet.

I’ve pointed out before that despite not appearing directly with them in the movie, Takeru and Hikari have more in common with the others in the 02 group than they do with their Adventure seniors, and this is fully codified in the drama CD when Takeru is content to basically just “do whatever” with the rest of his friends instead of having any particular concerns about his future. And as someone who has a tendency to kind of just let his emotions take him wherever they’re going, this isn’t too surprising. Although he approximates as the closest to level-headed during most of the group’s antics during the CD, he’s still completely guilty of enabling them full-force, after all...

So, with the 02 epilogue, we get the massive meta reveal that the entire series was Takeru’s novels the whole time. This was planned to be the ending for Adventure before recording for the first episode had even started, but was postponed to the end of 02 when the second series was greenlit -- and if you’d followed the Japanese version, there are a ton of meta hints scattered around from day one:

The narrator of the series is Hirata Hiroaki, who played Takeru and Yamato’s father, and is revealed in this episode to voice him as an adult as well;

Episode 12 of Adventure is named “Adventure! Patamon and Me” and is the only episode title in Adventure or 02 to use a first-person pronoun -- and it’s of course a Takeru-centric episode, with the episode title using Takeru’s boku;

02′s first episode kicks off narrated by young Takeru opening the story, with Takeru himself suspiciously omitted from the opening vignettes;

02 episode 18 suddenly has the narration cut in when discussing Takeru’s trauma from Adventure episode 13, with the younger Takeru even filling in part of it himself;

02 episode 49′s “next episode” preview for 50 suddenly also starts using “we”, which also includes Takeru’s boku;

Finally, Takeru starts narrating right after Oikawa’s death, which fades into what’s revealed to be his adult voice.

In the context of Adventure, Takeru was “the youngest child”, so the idea makes sense that “the littlest one” would be the one to grow up and reflect on all of the adventures they had as kids -- and once 02 was added, it practically made sense that Takeru would be the one to recap both adventures, being the one person who was there to completely witness both (it also explains why Takeru and Hikari’s character arcs remain somewhat unresolved by the end of Adventure compared to others, since by this time it was apparent their story would be continued in the second series). So on a meta level, Takeru is, in a certain way, one of the most important characters in both groups.

On a level relevant to his personal character arc, on the other hand, the point here is that Takeru finally managed to put together his book and story in a way that he was comfortable telling the entire world about, to the point of choosing to make his entire career into it. That’s something that requires a lot of coming to terms with what happened, how he feels about it, how others feel about it, and everything about the whole ordeal in general, without compromise or (too much) bias.

And in the end, that’s really a lot!

[xmalereader]

Thomas Shelby X Vampire! Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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This short imagine goes to my friend here!! @fanficsforheartandsoul They had such a wonderful idea that I couldn’t help but write it out! So please enjoy and have fun with the fluffy stuff!

Summary: Reader is a vampire doctor who works with the Shelby family but the Shelby family has no idea that they are friends with a blood thirsty vampire.

Warnings: fluff, bat traits, Thomas knowing everything, blood, gore, and slight angst.

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“Where are you going?” Thomas asks Polly as he watches her get ready. “What? Now I have to tell you everywhere I go?” She shot back as she fixes her hat and grabs her coat that hung by the door. “I’m going to see Michael, he’s been the hospital for awhile now and I want to make sure that he is recovering properly.” She explains to Thomas as she gives herself one last look in the mirror and turns towards the table to snatch up a small dbrown bag which catches Tommy’s eye. “What’s in the bag?”

Polly rolls her eyes. “Do you have to ask about everything?”

“Just want to be safe, Polly. Michael is in the hospital due to a rival of ours getting to him and I just want to make sure that you are safe. Don’t want to lose anymore family members.” Polly can only sign at Tommy’s words as she turns to face him. “These are just apples for Dr. Hemlock. Heard the young man likes fruits more than anything else—its like the poor man doesn’t eat at all due to him working late hours in the hospital.” She collects her things and sighs. “No wonder he is so pale.” She added before giving Thomas one last look. “Well than, off I go.” She says before leaving the house and heading towards her own car that Thomas had gifted her on one of her birthdays.

Tommy walks over to the window, pulling the curtain back he watches Polly drive away from the house. Once she turned the corner and disappeared down the road that’s when tommy steps away from the window and sighs deeply. “Dr. Hemlock, eh?” He murmurs to himself as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. He inhales some of the smoke before blowing it out, tilting his head up as he stares at the ceiling and hums. “I didn’t know vampires ate.”

On the way to the hospital. Polly makes sure to park her car close by, not wanting to park to far out and get into any danger If she were to be around an isolated area where she could easily be taken. She makes sure to take the bag of fruit before entering the hospital.

The Shelbys were known around town that even the hospital knew when a Shelby were to arrive, some of the nurses and doctors feared them since they were the ruthest and most troublesome people to deal with and lets not forget that gangsters are not to be challenged. As Polly walks through the hospital halls, her heels clicked against the hard floor as she makes her way towards Michaels room. Upon entering she sees Dr.Hemlock and Michael arguing.

“I already said that you are not allowed to do that here.”

“It’s just one smoke.” Michael exclaims as Dr. Hemlock shakes his head and sighs deeply. “Smoking can worsen your conditions—“

“I’m feeling better!”

Dr. Hemlock frowns and wacks Micheal behind the head with a folder. “Do not interupt me!” He says, glaring at the son of Polly Grey.

“Please don’t hit my son too hard, he can get a concussion.” Said Polly as she butts into the conversation that the other two were having. To be honest she wasn’t really upset about the doctors actions. He was doing his job which is to keep micheal healthy and to make sure that he is recovering from his wounds. “Miss Grey.” Said Dr. Hemlock as he give her a kind smile.

Polly still hasn’t gotten used to the doctors kind personality. It was strange seeing someone warm up to the Shelby family so quickly and without fearing them. Every time someone in town heard the name ‘Shelby’ they would run away in fear, but not this man. This man was different and it frightened Polly.

“I see that you ar scolding Michael once again, Doctor.” She says as she approaches the two once she had dropped her things on the small table that was in the large room.

“He should know better when it comes to smoking in the hospital, it’s not safe for our patients and it could also damage his wounds—and please call me Y/n.” Polly chuckles. “Very well y/n.” She says as she stand next to him and shows him the bag. “I got you something as a thank you for taking care of—not only my son but also the rest of my boys.” Y/n accepts the small offering and looks inside the bag, his eyes widening as he takes out one of the apples. “Thank you Polly, I haven’t had much time to eat but I’ll make sure to enjoy these as much as possible.” He puts the apple back inside the bag and turns towards micheal. “Very well, micheal is slowly getting there but we need him to stay a little longer, still need to make sure that he is healing properly and safe for him to return home but for now you may spend as much time as you want here.” He explains to Polly who gives him a nod. “thank you, again.” She repeats before turning towards micheal who was glaring at the doctor btu y/n ignores his glare and gives the two a fake smile before leaving the room.

Y/n has been working in the hospital for as long as he can remember, being immortal stressed him out. Having to see people that he knew grow old and die away, brings back the doubts and fears of him being lonely forever, but so far he has gained some friends. He’s gotten closer to the nurses in the hospital and would have small conversations with them whenever he has the time and he has slowly gotten closer to the Shelby family. The first time he met them was when Arthur got shot in the shoulder during one of their bar fights. The family quickly took him to the hospital where y/n could be the only one to help out the older brother. The Shelby family were stubborn people on that day, that he had to yell and kick them out of the room. He couldn’t concentrate with all the yelling and arguing that he had to throw out the family until Arthur was taken care of.

Y/n’s actions shocked the doctors and nurses. Everyone in town knows to never argue with a Shelby and that’s exactly what y/n did. Not only did her kick out Thomas Shelby but he also kicked out the entire family! He remembers the nurses murmuring about him and saying how they would pray for him to be okay once Thomas Shelby confronted him about his actions, but y/n wasn’t too worried. He’s dealt with worse things in his past life.

On that same day, Thomas Shelby had approached him and he expected the man to yell at him and to tell him to never disprespect his family like that again. But instead he got a simple thank you from the man before leaving to see his brother. Y/n was very confused that day, wondering as too why Thomas didn’t yell at him or let alone shot him right there and then. That’s because Y/n’s actions had gotten Thomas attention, causing the man to observe him during Arthur’s recovery and to figuring out who y/n really was.

Thomas found out about y/n being a vampire during one of his visits with Arthur. He remembers Thomas searching for him, wanting to ask how his brother was doing and if he would be return home anytime soon. He had searched the entry hospital and found no sign of the doctor, he had asked a few nurses if they have seemed him and they all told him the same thing.

“Dr. Hemlock usually heads home during these hours for a small break.”

Thomas can only scoff at the nurses words.

He once asked for Y/n’s home address but none of the staff members knew where he lived and had no information about his living space. This only caused suspicious to grow inside of Thomas as he leaves the hospital by taking the back doors, leading him exactly to Y/n.

He had found y/n hiding in the alley way, eating rats.

Thomas had witnessed y/n snatching up one of the rats that roamed around the alleys, gripping it in his hand as he stares at it with cold eyes as he slowly kills the small rodent. At first Thomas thought that he was some crazy sociopath but what he saw next was way worse. As he watached y/n from around the corner—the doctor could only stare at the dead rodent, bringing it close to his lips as he opens his mouth to reveal a pair of fangs that sunk into the rodent as he eats away.

That was the first time ever, Thomas felt real fear.

“I seemed to have found a lonely bat.”

Y/n looks up from his apple only to see Thomas standing at the other end of the alley. “Shelby.” He says back as he goes back to eating and leans back against the wall as Thomas approaches the younger male.

“Question.” He says, causing the other to raise a brow at him. “I thought vampires only drank blood, so how come your eating an apple?”

Y/n chuckles and shakes his head. “Not all vampires are like in your bedtime stories. Not every vampire drinks blood, some of us still have a bit of human inside and we enjoy the smaller things—for example;” he holds the apple up to show Thomas as he takes a bite.

“Some of us like fruit while other prefer to hunt and kill innocent people.” He replies back as he chews on his apple and swallows it down, smiling at the delicious feeling of being able to eat something that he really likes.

“What about blood?”

“What about it?”

“I thought that was the only thing you needed in order to survive?” Thomas stands next to him and leans back against the wall as he pulls out a cigerette to smoke.

Y/n sighs. “Some of us can last days, even months without blood since some vampires know how to control there hunger, just like me.” he says softly. “But your a doctor, your surrounded by blood for 24 hours straight, how come you don’t lose control?” The doctor didn’t know if he should ignore Thomas questions but also can’t help but explain to him how his species worked.

“The reason why I can control myself around patients is because I’m used to the smell of blood. I can smell it anywhere and everywhere that I have grown used to being around it but, some vampire can lose control by a simple drop and that’s because they don’t schedule out there meals.” He begins to explain as Thomas listen carefully.

Thomas has know about y/n being a vampire for almost a year now but he too doesn’t know very much about them. His mother would tell him stories about monster like them and how they are vicious creatures who only eat as they desire. He was a young boy around that time that he feared easily, but his mother always told him that they were stories and never true.

Maybe she was wrong the whole time.

“I schedule my meals every week, I tend to eat a current amount of blood that can last me up to a month. So that way I don’t have to starve myself and lose control. Some vampires can’t keep control that they go into a rampage, going from town to town. Devouring anything that crossed there paths—those are meant to be killed. They have lost their human side and shouldn’t be roaming around freely.” He explains to Thomas.

Thomas was always curious about y/n’s kind and hearing this new Information finally helped him understand as too why Y/n can work as a doctor without having to lose control. As he thinks about that another question suddenly pops into mind. He turns his head to see y/n eating the apple in silence as he blurts out another question. “Have you ever killed another human due to hunger?

He noticed y/n freeze, gripping the fruit right in his hand as he lowers it away from his mouth. “Once.” He answers back as he turns to give Thomas a glance. “I was just a teenager, I had no one to teach me how to control myself that I had to learn on my own...” he looks away from Thomas and sighs through his nose. “She was a mother of three—“

Thomas pushes himself off the wall as he stares at y/n.

“I saw her at the market and she was alone, buying food for her kids and husband...I was alone at that time so I used to steal rations from people. I am able to eat some human foods In order to survive but eating to much could cause a deep hunger from the lack of blood.” He stares at his apple and tosses it away. “I cornered her on the way home and tried to take her food but I hesitated. Not because I couldn’t, but because I could hear the blood pumping inside her body.” Y/n hated explaining this part but he trusted Thomas and Thomas trusted him. The two have secrets of there own that only they can share between eachother.

“I lost control and attacked her...I remember telling myself to only take a small amount but once the first drop of blood touched my lips I couldn’t help myself, so I drained her and took every ounce of blood she had inside her.” He pushes hismelf off the wall and tosses the empty bag away in the garbage, making his way back towards the back door that allowed him back inside the hospital.

Before he could head inside he looks over his shoulder to see Thomas standing behind him with a concerned look on his face.

“I became a monster that day and I wish to never become one again.” He added as he swings the door open and heads inside, he takes his coat and slips it on and takes his files. Heading back to work as usual.

Thomas, who stayed behind, can’t help but question himself as to why he decided to befriend the vampire.

Was it because he was lonely?

Or that maybe he was slowly growing a liking towards the man?

He can only shrug to himself as he puts out his cigerette and blows out the last bit of smoke that he inhaled. “I can’t be falling for a man who had died many years ago.” He tells hismelf as he chuckles. “Polly won’t be too happy once she finds out who y/n really is.” With that he enters the hospital to go see his Aunt Polly and cousin Micheal.

[soulmate-game]

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 1: Meeting for the first time

Not my best work, but decent. I hope you enjoy!

—*—*—*—*—*

Mari was intelligent. That much could not be disputed— and despite her dislike for the sciences in general, she was fully capable of comprehending them when she wanted to. She just usually didn’t care enough to try. But genetics? That was kinda cool. So, when she was ten years old and they began their short unit on it, she was obsessed. And by obsessed, she dove in head first. Like, the fact that her eye color didn’t match either of her parents or grandparents. How could she have blue eyes when none of them did? She delved in deeper and deeper until she uncovered a truth her parents hadn’t wanted her to figure out quite so soon.

She was adopted.

Mari never told her parents about her discovery, the epiphany only managing to sate her curiosity. Who needed blood relation when her parents loved her like real ones anyway? But as the years passed and certain life changes came up, she couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the mystery of where her DNA came from. The heroism thing had to have some root in genetics, right? Okay, so maybe she was just looking for someone to be mad at besides Master Fu. But still, could she be blamed?

So, when Marinette was thirteen years old, she traced her DNA back to her biological parents. And for a while, that was it. She had once again sated her curiosity. She didn’t need anything else. Her mother was dead, and she doubted her biological father knew a thing about her. So Marinette forgot about her discovery, or at least let it sink into the recesses of her brain. And there it stayed, until she was eighteen.

—* — * — * — * — *

It had to be one of the most accidentally dramatic days possible. Top floor of Wayne Enterprises, in one of Bruce’s massive conference rooms with every member of his large family in attendance. Even Kori and Mar’i were there, and Jason’s boyfriend Roy. Everyone was getting fairly restless, considering that Bruce had only informed a few of them (Read: just Dick, who was vibrating in his seat and not soothing anyone’s nerves) about what they were even all called in for. In their civilian identities, no less. It was very odd. Damian, not least of all, was sitting beside Bruce with his jaw clenched but eyes scanning the room in curiosity. He had come a long way from the surly ten year old, and he hadn’t even killed anyone in four years. He had well and truly become a Bat, and with that progress came the lessening of his old temper and brattiness.

Make note: lessening. Not erasure.

It wasn’t long, maybe ten or fifteen minutes of Bruce checking his phone and grinning secretively without answering anyone’s questions, before a businesslike tap-tap-tap sounded on the door to the conference room. Immediately, everything went silent. Kori, Tim, and Jason stopped trying to get Dick to say anything intelligible and went instead to just keeping the man in his seat at all. Bruce let out a rare, soft chuckle before raising his coffee mug to his lips. He called out:

“Come on in, miss MDC. We’re ready for our meeting,” before taking a long sip.

And as soon as the door opened all the way, admitting a short woman of asian descent with navy black hair brushing the bottom of her shoulder blades and piercing (familiar. Too familiar) deep blue eyes, he promptly choked. Trying his damndest not to get coffee everywhere, Bruce devolved into a coughing fit even as his eyes continued to flitter up to the figure just admitted into the room. The woman pretended not to notice his suffering, closing the door behind her and walking forward towards the side of the rectangular-set-up ring of tables that was closest to her and also unoccupied. She plopped a heavy bag down onto the table, reaching in and pulling out a large red and white polka-dotted journal from within, along with a black pen. But despite her businesslike movements and her silence, nobody missed the way that her far too familiar stunningly blue eyes twinkled in suppressed mirth. She didn’t seem surprised at all.

That was the last time Bruce was ever gonna let Tim do someone’s background check on his own. He should have at least looked at the file Tim had made, but of course not. Tim was capable, he trusted the boy with half of their entire family’s company. One background check on one highly reputable designer? Of course he could trust Tim.

Except apparently not. This is what Bruce got for keeping secrets.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Bruce spoke once he got a handle of himself, pushing back his chair almost hurriedly and standing. Damian followed suit, laser focused on his father along with everyone else who knew just how out of character the older man was being just then. It was hard to fluster Bruce at all those days, let alone make him choke and hurry to stand. “I— Welcome to WE. I’m—“ Bruce was cut off by a soft chuckle.

“Bruce Wayne, my biological father and employer for the next few weeks. I know,” Marinette interrupted, sending a sly smile his way. “I had a feeling somebody didn’t actually tell you my name. I was planning on coming to Gotham later this year after I graduated Lycee and demanding to get to know you, but it looks like you did the hard work for me without even knowing. But,” her smile widened in good humor as she walked up closer to Bruce, holding her hand out for a shake. “I do have to say, now that I’ve seen you in person I feel a bit cheated. With how tall you are, you’d think I would have inherited at least a couple more inches.”

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are, claiming to be a Wayne?” Damian asked, tone sharp and his emerald eyes glaring straight towards her. Bruce just took Marinette’s hand, shaking it gently from surprise, but his foot gently kicked his son in the ankle.

“Damian,” Bruce said simply, the single name laced with warning as it came out of his mouth. He turned his attention back to the girl in front of him. “It is nice to finally meet you in person, Marinette. I admit, I did not know of our relation until a few years ago, and I wasn’t in the right mindset back then to welcome another child. Besides, I had it on good authority that your adoptive parents are more than wonderful to you.”

Marinette shrugged. “I don’t mind. I didn’t look into who my biological father was until I was thirteen, anyway. I don’t think things would have ended well if you had just shown up in Paris one day asking to be involved in my life. Enough of that though,” Marinette turned to the sixteen year old by Bruce’s side now stiffened and wide-mouthed. His entire expression, subdued as it was, still managed to clearly telegraph betrayal. And then those eyes locked on Marinettes, and the emerald simmered into something much more vile and acidic. Marinette was not perturbed, merely giving the younger boy a smile and holding out her hand for a shake.

“You must be my half-brother, Damian. I expected someone carved out of stone, with how the tabloids paint you as unfeeling and cold,” she joked. Damian glared harder. She raised an eyebrow. “You seem pretty heated and angry, like a hissing cat, to me. And by the way, I never claimed to be a Wayne. My last name is Dupain-Cheng, and I don’t plan on changing it anytime soon. Having the same blood relation as you does not mean I plan to throw away the name given to me by the ones who actually raised me. But, it does mean that I will get to know you one way or another. I’m not easy to get rid of, and I’ve always wanted a sibling or two.”

That was when the room couldn’t hold it any more; everyone bar the three in the center of the room burst out laughing. It wasn’t too raucous, confusion dampening the hysteria that usually would have taken over, but there was a good round of chuckles and laughter. When it settled down, Damian’s shoulders had slightly relaxed but he still hadn’t taken Marinette’s hand. Instead, he turned to his father again.

“Explain.” He demanded. Bruce sighed, his gaze connecting with Marinette’s own identical one. He searched her for any hesitation, but only got a flash of a bright smile in return. Bruce straightened his shoulders, clasping his hands behind his back and turning to face Damian and the rest of the room.

“I found out about Marinette shortly after Damian was… introduced to the family,” Bruce admitted, resisting the urge to glance at Marinette after the hedged mention of how he met Damian. “I decided to scour every resource I had to make sure I couldn’t be surprised by another biological child. And, lo and behold, I found out that I was right to do so. Her biological mother passed away in childbirth however, so she was adopted by a couple in Paris. I did not see any need to contact her at the time. A friend of mine did happen to be in Paris back then though, and hung around to make sure Marinette was being treated well before leaving again.”

“You sent a friend of yours to spy on me?” Marinette asked, but she just sounded thoroughly amused. “Geez. Now I know where I get it from. When I was thirteen, I had a bit of a bad habit of spying on my friends when I was worried instead of confronting them head on. It took a while to grow out of, and even now I can easily slip back into the habit if I’m not careful. But, as great as this reunion is, it isn’t what I’m being paid to be here for,” Her grin turned downright wicked as she snapped open her sketchbook and clicked her pen.

“I am MDC, the owner and CEO of the up and rising fashion label Spotted Designs, where every look will turn heads and ensure confidence. Monsieur Wayne,” her grin turned into a sly smirk when she said his name, which visibly made Bruce twitch. “Has hired me today to design all of you a new outfit for his gala in four months time, as well as a casual outfit of your own choosing should you want one. Before I get started, I would like to ask you to please sign your NDAs, which my assistant and best friend will bring in for you in a few minutes, before we conclude this meeting. I go by an alias for a reason, I value my privacy, and I would prefer it if word did not get out about my being MDC just yet. Being CEO of a business I started from scratch when I’m only eighteen right now will garner attention that I am not patient enough to deal with right now.”

The silence was near palpable until Jason huffed in amusement and remarked: “Yup. I can see the resemblance.”

“Resemblance?” Duke asked, leaning forward with an incredulous look on his face. “It’s like seeing a tiny, genderswapped, innocent copy of Damian. Is anyone else terrified right now?”

“Tt,” Damian tutted, letting a heavy breath out through his nose before shoving his hand forward. He didn’t look pleased, but neither did he look venomous or betrayed anymore. “Miss Dupain-Cheng. I am Damian Wayne, and I look forward to working with you.” He greeted as if the past few minutes hadn’t happened at all. Marinette beamed, letting out a short belt of delighted laughter before clasping his hand firmly with hers.

“My competence always wins people over,” she teased.

“Only if they don’t see you trip over empty air first,” a new voice joined in, lightly joining the teasing. It belonged to a tall, blond haired green eyed man that looked about the same age as Marinette herself. He came carrying a large two-foot stack of papers as easily as if he was only carrying one sheet. Closing the door behind him with his foot, he went around the large square of tables distributing NDAs to everyone who hadn’t already signed one. “Mari’s the clumsiest person I’ve ever seen, but I’ve also seen her hand sew a double sided ball gown with a layer of knife-resistant fabric in less than thirty hours and still threaten anyone to come near with a needle to the eye, so I’ve learned to just not take anything about her at face value anymore.”

“Oh shut up,” Marinette snapped back cheerfully, rolling her eyes. “This is my best friend, assistant, and business partner Adrien Agreste.”

“I deal with all the paperwork and spotlight that she doesn’t want to handle,” he agreed, nearly blinding everyone with his beaming smile. “Now. Please sign these NDAs, and you can experience Marinette’s skill firsthand.”

After papers were signed and Adrien left, Bruce tried to start another conversation with Marinette.

“So, when did you find out—“

“I’m going to start with taking all of your measurements, if you don’t mind. You first, Monsieur Wayne.”

Bruce blinked, not used to being interrupted. “Ah. We can do this tomorrow, I wasn’t expecting—“

“That’s not my fault, Monsieur Wayne. I came here knowing exactly who I was going to deal with, and you want me to make a quite frankly horrifying amount of clothing in a very short amount of time. Any designer lesser than me would be completely incapable of meeting your deadline. I plan on sticking to my schedule, which means that we are going to get everyone’s measurements and a baseline of the kind of designs you all want done today before the end of our scheduled appointment.”

“Marinette, I would really like to talk about—“

“Arms out. And take your suit jacket off, I can’t get an accurate measurement with it,” she once again interrupted, businesslike and efficient as she took her measuring tape and lined it up against various parts of his body, jotting down the results. She didn’t entertain any of his attempts at conversation in the meantime, instead using the dead time to grill Damian on what he wanted for his suit design.

And, like a partnership that never should have existed, Damian merely smirked and played along with her game. He answered her questions thoroughly but precisely, never allowing their father a chance to make actual conversation. Next thing the poor eldest Wayne knew, Marinette had already taken everyone’s measurements and almost an hour had passed. No less than ten pages of her notebook were already filled with neat lines of notes and numbers.

“You really take this whole thing seriously, don’t you?” Tim asked, in the middle of describing his ideal suit to Marinette. She hummed, grinning up at him mysteriously. As if she was in on a joke he hadn’t heard.

“Designing is my life, Monsieur Drake. This company is something I’ve been building from the ground up since I was thirteen, I’ve made my own clothes since I was ten. Of course I take it seriously. Now. I believe that is everything I need,” she stood up, asking a few last second questions as she gathered up her things. Seeing his chance, Brucie walked her to the door.

“Really, Marinette, I would like to talk to you more. Would you like to come to the Manor tonight, for dinner maybe?”

Marinette smirked, opening the door before Bruce could and turning her head to say over her shoulder: “Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow. Do me a favor though, and try not to get too injured on patrol. I need you all in good enough shape to stand while I do your initial fittings later this week. Gotham might need it’s vigilantes, but you will all regret it if you break a bone before I can fit my prototypes to you.”

Nobody was able to say a word before she closed the door behind her and continued briskly to the elevator. Bruce stood, dumbfounded. Tim, Jason, and Dick, after a moment, started cackling.

“Oh yeah. That’s Damian’s sister.”

“Tt. At least this proves it.”

Bruce, suddenly very exhausted, turned to his son while rubbing his forehead. “Proves what, Damian?”

His trademark razor sharp smirk overtook his face as Damian replied: “Your blood children really are much more competent and effective than the strays you took in.”

“Hey!”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You didn’t have a full conversation?” Adrien guessed, looking exactly like the cat who caught the canary. Marinette had her head in her hands, her entire face red.

“I didn't know how to have an actual conversation with them, Adrien! You should have seen it, Monsieur Wayne—“

“You can just say your father, you know.”

“—Wanted to talk about feelings. Emotions! Gooey, family stuff and probably sentimental things. In front of so many people, too. I panicked!”

“You panicked and went full Business Empress mode,” Adrien agreed, patting her back in both comfort and condescension. “It’s okay. You at least agreed to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuck, I diiiiiid. Quick, let’s come up with a way to fake my kidnapping.”

“No.”

“Damn.”

[m-aster-of-spinjitzu]

error 404: answer not found

Akita and Zane talk after the battle in 'Awakenings'. The conversation... doesn't go as either of them expect.

Prompt: memories, from @ninjago-bingo​‘s warm board:D

Trigger warnings: implied self harm (one or two characters dig their fingernails into their hands), discussion and introspection about most of the crimes the 'Emperor' committed, a lot of talk and introspection about murder.

Word count: 4682 (I've literally been writing this for like a month lol, kinda disappointed it ended up fairly short:/)

"We have to talk."

The girl with red markings on her face - Akita, he heard Lloyd call her - unsheathes her short dagger, eyes narrowed to slits.

He glances around the throne room, hands pressed to his head. The memories were still trickling through; strange islands and a forest of snow, a dungeon and... a noodle factory?

"Alright," he says quietly. She bears the same red marks of the bear he can remember Vex convincing him was a criminal, many winters ago. That could only mean-

It wasn't you, he reminds himself. It was the scroll, and the actions of a power hungry traitor.

You gave the order, his now infallible memory supplies, and, honestly, he has no rebuttal for that.

"Alright," he echoes meekly, trying to muster some emotion into his voice. "I know-"

"No," she cuts him off roughly, her eyes scanning the room. It is just the two of them now - the samurai had fled once they had recovered from the strange trance he had put them in. Vex had been locked in the dungeon by Lloyd, who was helping any of the samurai who could not quite remember their old lives.

He had ruled for sixty years. Some of their families might dead, some by their own hands.

They know this. He knows this.

Irrationally, he wishes there was some way to fix this. A spell, or a way to turn back the clock; some way to yell at a younger Zane to just scout the cave-

There is no way backward; only forward, out of this winter - and, possibly, into another one.

He stares at the girl in front of him, taking in her tattered clothing, the ease with which she holds her weapon. She's not afraid to fight.

"I don't owe you an explanation, Emperor," Akita says definitely, forcing out the words. "But you will give me one, or you shall never see the light of day again. My brother-"

His heart lurches, eyes widening. Brother.

"Knows that the dungeon has many empty cells," she finishes sharply, barely contained anger flashing in her eyes.

He keeps the facts brief, concise. Once this is all over, he can dwell on them - agonize over what he should have done; use it to be better next time. Atone for his mistakes, even if he can never truly make up for them.

"A snake capable of sorcery used a magic scepter to blast me and a vehicle to this realm. I was sent here sixty years into the past, which is why it took my friends so long to find me. I was also holding a similar magic scepter - one which amplifies the holder's power, but if held for too long, it corrupts one's mind."

"I know what happens next."

How-

"I watched your message to your friends," she replies curtly, by way of explanation. "I did not know that you and the Emperor were one and the same. Continue."

"Vex interrupted a process I was using to try and fix a- vehicle, which caused me to lose my memories. He told me that I was ill. He said that he was a great friend of mine, and that this realm belonged to me. He convinced me that Formlings were warmongers, and that the rightful king had overthrown me. Just before he almost killed Lloyd, he said something that caused my memories to return."

She frowns. "I do not understand. How does one lose their memories so easily?"

Akita stares at his metal skin, her eyes widening as if noticing it for the first time.

"I am not quite like you-"

"I know," she interjects, eyes brimming with anger. "I am not a murderer."

"I was... created," he replies, quietly. "Out of extra materials. I can act like others, but I do not always understand emotions in the same way."

Akita frowns again, raising her dagger. Her voice grows a dangerous edge; sharp and cold. "You never realized that your actions were wrong?"

They're entering dangerous territory. Some part of him wants to derail the conversation; stick to the facts and leave his emotions out of this.

But he owes her an explanation - he owes everyone an explanation. He owes them so much more, if only he could give it to them; erase the past and leave their quiet realm in peace.

"Before I came here, I would never have done such things - if I had my memories, I would never have done such things. Vex convinced me that they were the only way I could defend my throne. I did not know that they were wrong. The moment I realized what I had done, I tried to help your side. The right side," he finishes, ignoring the temptation to stare down at the floor instead of into her blazing eyes.

An indecipherable expression crosses her face. "You never talked to another? One of your... army, perhaps?" "Vex gave all the orders. He just asked me for approval. I never left this room." "And you approved them," she muttered, but it seemed to serve more as a reminder to herself than it did to him.

"What was your life like, before you entered our world?" Akita asks suddenly, suspicion still coating her voice. He blinks, the question unexpected.

"My friends and I can control and create different elements," he began, hesitantly. Carefully. "We were taught to fight. We protect our city from those-" "You were built to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"Those who cannot protect themselves," Zane finishes, guilt making his vision hazy.

He quickly blinks away the tears, all too aware of her persistent gaze.

"Two more questions," she says quickly, glancing behind her. "This room makes me uncomfortable. And so do you." The accusation is clear, but her eyes are not quite as cold as they had been earlier.

"What do you feel now?" Akita asks roughly, taking a step back. "You mentioned earlier that you do not feel emotions the same way that we do. Explain."

I could lie, he thinks, fleetingly. What if my feelings convince her that I am the Emperor even more than I am Zane? A voice at the back of his mind points out that he is - was - the Emperor.

He knows this.

He knows that he will have to acknowledge it once they are back home.

He knows that he cannot dwell on it now, or the winter will go on - inside his mind instead of outside it.

"I feel... guilt," he begins. "For the terrible crimes I have committed. Horror, at my own actions. Anger, towards that traitor. Relief - that I am no longer under his influence." An eyebrow touches her forehead, ever so slightly.

"How guilty?" It is almost a challenge, her voice rising in pitch threateningly.

"I will spend the rest of my life working to atone for my mistakes," Zane answers sincerely, resisting the irrational urge to squeeze his eyes shut. "However, I know that nothing I can do will ever undo them. But I can help others from people who- who... seek to manipulate them," he finishes quietly, a remorseful sigh punctuating the confession.

Akita says nothing; lips pressed in a hard line. Her blank, steadfast gaze meets his. The dagger clatters to the ground.

He draws in a breath sharply.

Picking it up, she squares her shoulders defiantly. "My people will know that... that there were two prisoners within these walls," she sighs, the weariness in her voice all too evident.

Yet he does not miss her glare; a barely contained anger that lurks just beneath the surface.

Akita straightens her spine, frowning menacingly as her hand tightens on the dagger.

He resists the irrational urge to take a step back.

"My brother and I will never forgive you," she snarls.

You do not have to, he would like to say. But he suspects that she already knows this.

"Come near either of us again, and I will make you long for death."

She shifts to her wolf form, baring her teeth - but when she stalks closer, he does not back away.

Suddenly, he is all-too-aware of the fact that the throne room is currently empty - bar the two of them.

He does not move.

It is not as if she could harm him - titanium is not easily damaged (yet, some part of him wonders if that is a blessing or curse), but they have faced enough villains for him to know how it works.

The villains die at the end; rightfully so.

Why should this be any different?

"You will pay for your crimes," Akita growls, shifting between her forms as if it is second nature. It probably is. "Emperor."

Her dagger clatters to the ground once again.

He does not move.

Why should this be any different?

---

"What's taking her so long?"

"Who?" The Samurai asks, the confusion on his face only amplifying.

"No- nothing," he mumbles, wincing. The adrenaline is wearing off - and with it, the fleeting distraction from the pain coursing through his chest.

Broken ribs? Probably. But he's got bigger problems to worry about - his minor injuries don't really matter when there's a warrior (because after all that she's been through, he thinks that she deserves the title - even if it's one she would never have wanted) seeking vengeance, someone who could tear apart this castle, brick by brick if she wanted to, alone with his brother.

His brother - who'd taken hers; encased her village in a tomb of ice, leaving behind no one but a teenager consumed with blinding anger - rightfully so, he admits, a bit wearily.

What happened to you, Zane?

Are you even... there? The person who used to stay awake with me when all I saw was the building crumbling before my eyes, night after night? The one who swore to protect those who couldn't protect themselves?

Are you still there?

"Can I, er, go inside?" he asks no one, trying not to breathe too hard. The Ice Samurai he'd been trying to help had vanished, most probably to try and get answers from someone else.

He owes it to these people to help them - if he'd just been faster, stronger, better, Aspheera could never have-

Not now, Lloyd!

He should probably open the doors - try and diffuse whatever fight they'd gotten into. Akita reminds him of Kai; both of them fiercely protective of those whom they care about, yet sometimes clouded by rage so thick they can barely see out of it.

But he's hesitating - there's always the possibility that her anger; prison of its own, might extend to him.

Not that he even has the right to condemn her for it, though.

Unwillingly, a fleeting thought presses itself to the forefront of his mind; beautiful white hair, a soft voice coated in honey-

Broken ribs, he reminds himself stubbornly, grimacing at the flare of pain as he draws in a breath sharply. She's gone, she's gone, and it's-

He bites his lip until the tang of iron fills his mouth, eyes fixed determinedly on the floor.

Not now, Lloyd!

Slowly, carefully, he pushes the door open. It creaks softly - but he doesn't think anyone hears it.

Oh, no.

---

"Akita?" a voice questions, hesitantly. He's half-leaning against the door, blonde hair almost completely hiding wary eyes all but squeezed shut in pain.

She stiffens, ignoring the part of her that learns to hunt, murder, the- the monster-

Blinking, quickly, she allows her mind to embrace the sharp, cold air on her fur, and her harsh, ragged breathing - until she can almost feel the shift in her heart, trading instinct for a different type of clarity, white fur for skin and hair.

Grabbing her dagger, she halfheartedly swipes it at the boy who makes her cheeks redder than they usually are, the boy who travelled across the ice seeking a murderer-

Well. He is in no condition to help anyone - they both know this.

But he does not have the right to interfere with this conversation - her feelings do not matter when his friend is-

"Leave us," she snarls, fingers digging into the hilt of her dagger. "What makes you think you have the right?"

Her voice grows colder, but she can't quite keep the tremor out of it.

"You did not find your village half-dead, or spend months mourning your brother," Akita snaps, frustration seeping into the words. Why does he always have to make everything so complicated?

"I know," he replies, hesitantly, eyes flitting between the room and the door. "But... this isn't the right thing to do, Akita."

"Do you think it was right for your friend to seize power from our rightful ruler? Do you think he was right when he imprisoned an innocent child for so many years?"

She doesn't bother to keep the venom out of her voice, ignoring the fact that the light brown of her skin has almost faded to white where she grips her weapon.

Taking a step closer, she bites her lip.

If he will make this his fight, so will she.

"The girl I told you about," Lloyd interjects. "H- Harumi." He forces out the name, as if the very mention of it ails him.

She raises her eyebrows. "What are you going to do? Distract me with stories about your girlfriend while he," Akita glares at the Emperor with a sigh, "escapes?"

"No," he replies softly. Brushing the hair out of his eyes, she doesn't miss his poorly concealed wince.

This is the friend he seeks?

There's a fragile silence, one of which she refuses to shatter. Nothing he can say will erase the horrific actions of this- this power-hungry ruler who has abused the gift he has been given; persecuted their lands, and forced innocents into lives ruled by fear and hatred.

"I- er-" Lloyd starts, visibly uncomfortable with saying... whatever it is he is trying to say.

She does not interrupt, but does not take her eyes off the Emperor, either. He has not moved or even contributed to their exchange yet.

Good, she thinks fervently. She does not need to force herself to try and feel sympathy for a man she has hated for so many long winters, one who has taken a piece of her heart and locked it away in a tiny prison cell.

"Did I ever tell you that- that... I watched her die?" he asks, aiming for a casual tone.

The hurt subconsciously laced into it makes something in her heart twist, as if it had been pierced by a shard of glass.

Outwardly, she does nothing more than raise an eyebrow.

For all the days they have spent trekking across the ice together, it suddenly dawns on her how little she actually knows about him.

"No," she replies carefully, dragging out the word. "Why?" "She-"

Akita can almost see his internal struggle - anger and fear and indecision and something she can't quite place her finger on meshing into another thing entirely.

"She- tried to murder," Lloyd flinches at the word, nails digging into his palms, "my friends. And I was forced to watch, helpless," he whispers, so softly that she has to strain to hear it.

"But when she- she died in a crumbling building, I- was... the one who caused it to fall."

"Your point?" she snaps; voice as sharp as her blade. He is the only thing standing between her and the Emperor; between the growing hatred she had allowed to fester for all this time, because one day she would finally make him pay-

Her friend visibly winces.

Too late does she realize her mistake, a fact that leaves her a bit sick to the stomach.

That's nothing compared to the bout of nausea that accompanies another realization, juts a second later.

How could I let my anger hurt another - one who did not deserve to receive it? Am I truly any better than the one whom I have condemned?

Well. The logical side of her mind points out that it is her choice to forgive, for such unforgivable acts; that the anger that had doused everything in its hue, every day, was to be expected-

"I apologize... for my conduct," she says quickly, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "You have never hurt me. I did not mean to hurt you." "It's okay- this- this isn't my fight anyway," Lloyd replies quickly, fingers wrapped around the door handle - but she doesn't even think he's aware of the fact. "I just- I just wanted to share something with you, something I wish someone would've shared with me, because-" He's rambling, words practically coated in a jumble of shaky nerves. "What is it?" Akita asks softly, losing a little of the stiffness in her tone.

"Murder- it isn't right," he repeats, hands pressed to his forehead. "But... it'll hurt you more than it will anyone else. I can't go a week without seeing her fall in my dreams, over and over again. I should've been glad, I guess... she'd hurt my friends and I so many times. But- but I'm the one with the nightmares, and all this- guilt. And I care- I care you, Akita. I know that I'll never understand how you've been hurt by- by the Emperor... just, think about how it'll affect you." Akita's eyes widen incredulously, but he's not done. "Just- don't let someone else make you hurt yourself." His voice is about a pitch higher than normal, but neither of them really register it. "Sometimes, the best kind of revenge is refusing..." Lloyd trails off, his eyes squeezed shut (a second later, he opens them again, blinking profusely), "to let anyone... make you hurt them."

Irrationally, she wants to break something.

That advice offers... an entirely new perspective. One that she had never thought of.

One that is- is unwanted, she insists fervently.

And now his fingers are pressing into his hands again, so tightly that she almost wants to yell - stop it, idiot, you're hurting yourself! - at him. "Because... it might haunt you lot more. And if they- they- really want to hurt you?" Both of them ignore the erratic, painful looking way his breathing starts to hitch just then.

"Don't give them... the satisfaction of it - by- your own hands."

Her mouth drops open.

No words come out.

What?

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Lloyd slowly - a bit too carefully - push the door shut behind him. It creaks softly, but neither of the two left standing in the room really hear it.

She squeezes her eyes shut, far too many emotions almost crashing through her mind.

"You seek to rescue your friend. I seek revenge."

Blinking the world back into focus, her mind whirls and whirls; the storm unrelenting.

"I seek revenge."

What exactly did that mean to her?

She...

She did not quite know the answer now.

---

Akita does not speak for some time, her thoughtful expression plainly clashing with one of anger.

He does not speak, either, although it is for a different reason.

Lloyd's words have forced him to face the reality he has been avoiding ever since he smashed his scepter on the ground - ever since the decade-long winter had ended.

"And if they really want to hurt you? Don't give them the satisfaction of it - by your own hands."

"If they really want to hurt you."

There is only one whom Lloyd could have been referring to.

"You were built to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

Somewhere within his mind, he is aware of the fact that the second his memories returned, the staff lay in pieces on the floor; all of that corrupted ice shattering into nothing.

He is also aware of the fact that sixty years of tyranny will leave behind much more than an altered climate.

If they even get back to Ninjago, what will have become of his city? It took his friends decades to find him - what could have happened during all that time?

Friends. Does he even have a right to call them that?

He is not quite sure - or even sure if all of them will be as forgiving as Lloyd.

The Green Ninja had always strived to find the best in people - to believe that anyone could make up for their mistakes, that they would want to. It had been to his friend's detriment, once - yet Lloyd had never quite given up on the world, in the same way that many of them had. Maybe it was some sort of childish naivety - or maybe it was just in his nature to hope, even after all they had been through, that everyone had some good inside them.

Yet, he had never met anyone who shared his friend's mindset - or at least to that extent.

Kai knows what it is like to have a sibling kidnapped, taken from them for no rhyme or reason - other than the fact that a cruel ruler who seeks power and exploits those around them for it will stop at nothing to get what they want.

Cole knows what it is like to die (well, almost, his logic points out) - to be imprisoned within yourself; a husk of a person, unable to live your life to the fullest.

His mind flashes to the thousands of innocent villagers he had frozen in icy prisons, practically caskets-

Irrationally, his hands begin to shake.

He chooses not to focus on that.

Nya used to hunt down those who hurt others, he recalls - and then squeezes his eyes shut.

Is she not quite similar to Akita in that regard?

The realization leaves him more gutted than he thought was possible. Had he really become the very person his friends worked so hard to stop?

He clenches his fists, the titanium covering his fingers grating together.

At least I am no longer holding the scroll, he thinks, fervently. Before long, the memory of a clear, quiet night pulls itself to the forefront of his mind.

The echo of a whispered confession; a brief explanation mixed with tears and shaking hands. A voice usually so bright, silenced to the shaky murmur of "I watched her die, Zane, and it was all my fault, it's all my fault-"

It was then when he had learned of- of an alternate timeline, his processor had inputted seamlessly. Another reality, wiped from their minds and the press of time. One that only existed in the memories of two of his best friends.

One that resulted in poorly concealed winces, seemingly arbitrary flinches, Nya throwing out any dresses she owned and Jay practically shaking with fear when he was asked to do certain chores. One that resulted in scars that ran far deeper than those of venom or sword. His memories had been useless then, too, his mind points out. How could he have let two of his best friends suffer for weeks on end, when he was able to upgrade or encrypt his memory drive at any time? When he was a n- robot, and should be able to recover memories that had been deleted or erased? The others could never be afforded that opportunity - yet, he had let the team down when it mattered most. If he could not be there for others, try to help them protect them from a force unable to ever be completely defeated, would he ever even halfway fulfill his purpose? He had pondered all of those questions - had ignored the pang in his heart when many pieces of the figurative puzzle clicked into place, for many weeks afterward. He had almost immediately vowed to be better - to ensure that his purpose did not go unfulfilled.

His purpose, he thought bitterly, as he squeezed his eyes shut. What had become of it now?

Another question to ponder, he supposed. And the realization that Jay - one of his brothers, one who was always equipped with a weapon and a joke too - would forever know what it was like to be kidnapped, held hostage, simply because a power-hungry figure cared less for another than anyone ever should.

Akita's brother had been scarcely less than a child - after his imprisonment. How could he have strayed so far from his original goals - how could he have strayed so far from what he had supposedly fervently stood for?

---

Lloyd's words still ring in her ears, his weary tone not quite matching their crazy implications.

She rubs her temples, frustrated. This was definitely not what she had come here for! She had come for vengeance - vengeance for the terrible crimes the Ice Emperor had committed, against her village, her brother, even her-

But what was the point of revenge if she was the one left scarred? a small voice in the back of her mind points out, doing nothing but adding to her indecision.

I cannot do this, she insists fervently, thinking of her brother's worn face - and the years he had spent imprisoned; a lone figure silently mourning a sister he did not know still trekked the ice.

Just as she had been mourning him, she thinks sadly. The pang in her heart may have lessened since she had realized that he was still alive, but it was still horrifying to think that he had lost decades of his life - she had lost decades of hers, too, in a different way, she muses - saddened, alone, imprisoned.

But is this what he would have wanted? For her?

He had always been the calmer, logic-based one. She was always running into fights, the one fueled by emotion and anger.

Well. She spares a moment for the future.

The Emperor would leave their world - possibly, to haunt another. She would remain here - with her brother and her village, the woods and the towering peaks of the mountains.

I only have this one chance, she reminds herself firmly. She fixes her eyes on the strange blue ones of the Emperor, and sees a future ruled by that one decision.

Her gaze flits towards the doorway, and she sees a future there, too.

She sighs, dropping her eyes to the ground.

But Katuru would want me to- to-

Be happy, she realizes, jarringly.

Taking a deep breath, she bites her lip.

"Will taking your life make me happy? Will it make up for the years of pain we have endured at your hands?"

Her voice rings out, hesitant yet determined.

"I wish it were so," she confesses wearily, ignoring the ache in her hands. She's been gripping the hilt of her dagger for so long, the blade's almost pierced her skin. "Alas, it is not."

The Emperor meets her gaze, but not completely - out of guilt? Fear? Anger?

She does not have the time to ponder meaningless questions.

"I despise you with every fiber of my being, you coward," Akita snarls, some of the anger she has become so accustomed to bleeding its way into her words. "But I will not tarnish my hands on someone as worthless as you, when you presently pose no threat to me."

The words spill from her mouth, but she almost wants to stuff them back inside at that very second.

This isn't why I came here! This isn't what I was supposed to do-

Another voice cuts through the one in her head, a weary confession from someone she knew nothing and everything about.

"Don't give them the satisfaction of it - by your own hands.

The next words she utter fill the room - steady, unwavering.

"Leave our world, and never return. Never. You have treated my people as if you are a monster, yet you say that you are sorry. As if you could ever care - after everything you have done to us!"

Akita sheathes her dagger, indecision still weighing heavily on her mind.

"I hope that you are as haunted by your time here as we all are," she spits, walking towards the door. She does not look behind her, but packs as much bitterness as she can into the last word she utters before the door closes behind her.

"Emperor."

---

A/N - I know this wasn't great, but honestly, it was really interesting to write and challenged me to think about certain things quite a bit. If you did read it, thank you so much!:D

[sukunahz]

i.  been away .

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: what would you do? / a03

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your old friend, eren yeager had been gone for almost an entire year and you and your friends have all but moved on with life. in fact you have barely given him a second thought -- but when he returns, he's not the same passionate frat-boy you once knew; he's a stranger now.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.6k words

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, oral, fingering, eren is kinda’ mean, mentions of alcohol, intoxication and drugs. based on the absolute banger been away by brent faiyaz. i posted this on a03 two months ago and i swear every week my writing changes and when i look back i’m ashamed. i swear the chapters get better 😩

You were barely paying attention to the conversation around you, you were idly fiddling with your completely empty cup since Sasha and Connie had been arguing about the same thing for the past 20 minutes. You knew it was because they had both been tiptoeing around something; they were keeping something from you. What did you expect from the two people closest to you, but you weren't a sensitive, little baby bird? In fact, you had forced yourself to not shed tears over a night that was so insignificant that there was no point for these two to continue on with this desperate charade. “He’s back. Isn’t he?” You stated bluntly, your words were viciously slicing at their conversation. They both remained silent; their clear discomfort was painted vividly onto their expressions as they exchanged worried glances between each other. Eren had been gone for so long that he had faded from you and your friends’ lives completely, he was so easily displaced from your thoughts in such a short amount of time and you had felt the least bit of guilt for it. Time marches on, not even Eren would be able to bend time to his will. Your friends had adjusted to life without their friend, but you could sense the discomfort in celebrating Connie’s birthday in his absence.

“Apparently.” Sasha replied, her gaze darted towards the door as if his return was some impending doom, like a devastating natural disaster that would upset the balance of everything. You wanted to be confused as to why they were hiding this from you, but you knew full well that with the way he disappeared – you would be counting down the days till he returned. Sasha and Connie knew that you were now a minefield and one misstep by anyone would illicit a violently ruinous reaction from you.

“He’s not the same.” Connie added, interrupting your train of thought. “You know how he left… he's -- he's not the same guy.” There was a silence after that, you had lost the energy to keep fighting them about Eren. You could see the disillusion drain into Connie’s face, you weren’t the only one who Eren left, in fact – it was everyone in this room that he had left behind. Those two were inseparable a year ago and now it seemed like Connie could barely string together a sincere sentence about Eren. You couldn’t keep recounting your history with them, a history that was so minuscule that you had no right to expect anything from him -- right? You forced the two to return to their idle conversations, doing anything to drag the conversation away from someone that you had tried so hard to put behind you. There was load music droning through the common area accompanied by smoke from Jean’s vape that was dancing wistfully near the window.

You heard a pause in the atmosphere in the room, there was a break in the cluttered chatter of the house. There he was, speak of the devil -- Eren had finally returned after an entire year, surrounded by a group of people who carried the same troubled and unsettling demeanour as him. You had to force every muscle in your body not to respond to him, since all he did was glance languidly your way before he joined a group of people in the other corner of the room. You felt nimble fingers press a comforting touch upon your thighs as she was still engrossed in her conversation with Connie. “Don’t.” Sasha whispered to you; her gaze was still straight ahead. You scoffed at her warning; she knew you all too well, just how easily you were able to get tangled into Eren’s web.

“I won’t.”

You weren’t over Eren because there was nothing to get over, you had no feelings for him, and not a single thing would change just how much of a brazen jackass he was. The timing of your pep-talk with yourself couldn’t have been better since Eren and his friends found themselves occupying the vacant furniture around Connie, Sasha and yourself. It had been a while since you had even been able to soak in his presence, but you could tell there was a different air to him, he seemed indifferent now, his lids drooping low and he barely paid any attention to the conversations around him. You could hear Armin’s attempts to draw Eren out from his shell, his repeated calls to invite him to participate in the conversations but all Eren could do is brush him off or reply with a simple mumble. How did he manage to be so magnetic; he was surrounded by friends and yet he was completely withdrawn and isolated?

“Hey—” Zeke called out to you, his words were already slurring, and the smell of beer was swimming around the air around him. He was just as rugged as his younger brother and you could tell that he was a part of Eren’s recent downward spiral. Despite bearing the same haunted resemblance as his younger brother, Zeke’s blonde hair is tidy and taken care of in contrast to his unruly facial hair. You could tell that Zeke bears no regard for taming his beard or his alcohol intake, you could also tell that just like Eren, he probably didn't care about much at this point. Lost in your observations, you realised you must have been staring too long as Zeke’s gaze met your own. “You know he almost used up his one phone call at the station on you!” He wrapped his arm drunkenly around Eren’s shoulder. Station? You thought to yourself, did that idiot get himself arrested? You glanced quickly towards Eren and you could see the shame and irritation across his demeanour. He had barely even said a word since he arrived, yet he already looked drained and exhausted.  

“Why would he waste a call on me?” You muttered with a roll of your eyes. Your short temper was also about to blow. Why does everyone connect you two together, you were friends before he left and nothing more? No amount of history between you two would change anything, not even one alcohol-fuelled mistake. Eren didn’t owe you anything and he didn’t fail to hammer that notion into you when he left.  

“Eren, you might wanna’ take care of your wasted brother before he embarrasses you anymore.” Sasha jested with a tilt of her head, a futile attempt to diffuse the situation. With that, you decide that it would actually be you who embarrassed themselves if you stayed any longer.

“I’m gunna’ get a drink.” You whispered to Sasha before forcing a reassuring smile across your features in order to ensure that she doesn’t follow you. You weren’t in the mood to talk about Eren or whatever the fuck he’s been up to in his long absence. A better person would be concerned for him but all you could do was feel irritation, you heeded Sasha’s warning, you’ve been living your life – dealing with your own baggage and Eren doesn’t get to just return out of nowhere and take the reins of your life again. You pushed yourself onto your feet towards a familiar friend in the hallway.

“Not joining the welcome wagon?” You teased; a conceited sneer etched upon your features as you can see the displeased expression on your friend. You were provoking the obvious bad blood between the two, it was rather petty of you to seek him out for the sole reason of loathing Eren together, but who better to understand than Jean

“My bad, I better hop in the line and give that asshole a proper welcome!” Jean quipped back, his tone was overly dramatic and topped off with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. “I’m actually getting out of here; Connie’s got some weird black pepper flavoured vape that I’ve been dared to try – wanna’ come?”

“Yeah – I’ll join you in a sec’, let my grab my jumper first.” You replied, accepting any invitation that would lead you as far away from the impending disaster that lurks outside the hallways. As Jean made his way downstairs, you entered your room before the comfortable silence was interrupted by an all too familiar voice. The voice was deep and steady, but you noticed it lost its notable flare, the usual effervescence had lifted from him, all that remained was something dark and troubled. You couldn’t recognise who the man standing before you was. He had stray, brunette locks falling on his forehead while the rest of his hair was hastily tied into a bun. His broad physique was framed by an almost entirely black wardrobe with the exception of his large gold key necklace that sat perfectly upon his chest.

“What’s wrong with you?” He dimly asked, he crossed his arms as he pressed his weight against the wall. He had an air of disappointment surrounding him, as if he couldn’t believe that you wouldn’t want to be in his presence, he couldn't believe that you didn't press further on the comment that Zeke made earlier.

“What’s wrong with me?” You challenged him, was he so self-entitled that he thought he could guilt you from walking away from a conversation that you did not want to be a part of. You didn’t want to know what changed Eren and you didn’t care what it was that pulled him away.

“Wanna’ tell me why you’re so pissed?” His expression, or lack of expression didn't change. As your temper rose, Eren’s voice and demeanour stayed the same. Despite his words showing a genuine interest, his voice and mannerisms displayed nothing but a disregard for absolutely anything going on around him. This wasn’t the Eren that you knew, the man that you had known had life and zest spilling from his expressive eyes, he cared about the smallest things around him despite being just as haunted as you were. In fact, it was Eren who was able to keep you from falling into a dangerous spiral, but it looks like he wasn’t able to save himself.  

“Fuck off, Eren. Maybe if you could take a hint, you’d realise that you’re the one pissing me off.” The words came carelessly fumbling out from your mouth -- at this point you knew you were overreacting; you could tell he had gone through something, but he owed you much more than he was giving you and you relished the thought of humbling him.

Eren didn't respond to your rant, instead, he drew in a long, sharp breath of air before he stepped towards you. Your chest rose and fell, almost out of breath from your last sentence as you stumbled backwards from his advances, your back crashing against the wall behind you. His arm extended to reach out for the wall behind you as his face creeps in closer towards you. “You and your short temper.” He mumbled to you while you soak in his scent. At least there was something familiar about him, this same scent that you were once tangled in. It’s embarrassing just how easily he’s able to bend you to his will. Just like that you were under his spell again, itching to give him a proper welcome back even though you know he doesn't deserve it. But he was so close and tempting, covered with a new and mysterious aura, maybe it was your distaste and resentment for him that fuelled your next move.

Your hands tugged at the ends of his shirt to pull him closer to you as you connected your lips with his. It was a long and messy kiss when he slipped his tongue inside yours. Eren's movements were hungry, as if he had been starving for days and this was his first taste of food. You could see his features were radiating with passion, the colour from his eyes seeping back in. His movements were so robust compared with the apathetic display he had put on earlier. Just for a second, you could see the person you once knew before. Your arms travelled from the bottom of his shirt to wrap around his neck and Eren slips his arms around your upper thighs, inviting you to wrap your legs around his waist. He didn't break his lips away from you but instead he sends a wet trail of reckless kisses along your neck before he lowers you onto the desk nearby, your legs still wrapped around his body. You were ashamed that you wanted more, didn’t you promise yourself that you wouldn’t let him come back and take over your life again, you put him in the past the second he chose to walk away.

“We shouldn’t do this.” You mumbled; Sasha’s prior warning seemed to have fallen upon deaf ears. There was a room outside full of your friends and one stray noise could end it all for the both of you. Despite your weak attempts to convince yourself that you could walk away from this encounter, your body seemed to have a mind of its own and was telling him the exact opposite. Eren’s lips trailed lower and lower from your neck, to your chest and falling all the way to your thighs. Almost every inch of your skin was covered in his wet trails. Your neck and back arched as soft moans spilled from your unruly lips.

“Tell me to stop then.” He breathes, you peered down on him as his hands rest on your thighs while he was on his knees. You remained silent; however, your hands travel to his hair as an invitation for him to continue on. Eren inches closer and closer towards your centre, his fingers pushing the thin fabric guarding your core to the side. His tongue draws intricate and wet lines across your slit as you emit a loud moan at the sudden sensation. You could feel a forceful wave of euphoria rush through your spine while he keeps a tight hold on your thighs to stop you from squirming. He was assiduous with his ministrations and he didn't remove his tongue when he introduced his fingers to your wet centre, teasing your entrance to get a reaction out of you. You inhaled sharply at the newly added sensation, his tongue and fingers massaging your clit effortlessly.

“Ere—”

“Just shut up…” Eren interrupted, as he pushed two of his fingers into you, dangerously close to being knuckle deep inside you. As if your calls of his name were distracting him from his intricate work. His familiar cockiness has returned, the jovial frat-boy that you once knew was zealously tasting you. His ministrations contained a heightened bravado now and you were finally starting to recognise who the man before you was.

“You’re tighter than I remember.” He observed, his fingers were frozen inside you as his piercing eyes were connected to yours, you knew that he was about to have you wrapped around his finger again.

“Maybe I’m just not as turned on as you think I am?” You challenged, forcing yourself not to bite down on your lip in front of him. With your remark, he quickly pulled his index and middle finger out of your pussy. The movement was so abrupt, and it left you craving all the more from him, just when he was pushing you to arrive to your peak, you came crumbling back down. A punishment for your quip at his sexual prowess.

“Oh really? Why don’t I show you just how wet you are then?” The devilish smirk spread across his lips was almost maniacal, a gesture of his sudden surge of confidence. He wrapped his already wet fingers around your own and lead them towards your now notably, wet pussy. Your fingers lingered there, unsure of what to do as you refused to make eye contact with Eren.

“See for yourself, since I apparently am not up to the task.” You still stalled for a moment, heat racing towards your cheeks, despite you baring your entire body to him, were you so shameless that you would pleasure yourself right in front of him?

“Go on — touch yourself.” This time, Eren’s tone was posed as a dominant command than it was a request. Just when you had thought you had the upper hand; it took just one minute for him to have you at his beck and call again. You hesitantly began to rub around your slit, shame soaked into your thoughts as you realised that you are just as wet as Eren stated.

Quiet moans fell from your lips as Eren smugly watched you have a taste of your own medicine, it was bittersweet since despite the pleasure you were giving to yourself, all you were doing was proving Eren right. Once your high started increasing, he softly wrapped his fingers around yours to stop you from what you were doing before he rammed two fingers inside you abruptly, eliciting a high-pitched yelp from you. His other hand was still wrapped around yours, pinning your arm to the desk to stop you from squirming. “Jealous, are we?” You provoked him; your eyebrow raised to match your goading sentiment.

His pace begun slow as he pulled in and out of you in long and detailed movements, he knew exactly how to build you back up as you responded to his movements with moans and your back arched up against the wall, your arms still pinned down by his free hand. “God, stop playing around.” You called out in frustration, he was playing with you and you knew that he was keeping you just below your boiling point.

“I thought you weren’t turned on?” He questioned; his fingers were moving just slow enough within you. You sat there silent, breaking your eye contact with him and refusing to fuel his ego anymore. However, Eren can see the way your body responds to him. “You want it that badly? Then beg for it.” He removed his fingers from you hastily as he rose from his kneeling position, so his face and body were hovering over you. He was just high enough that the tip of the key hanging off his change was resting comfortably on your chest. Your fingers reached out for the collars on his shirt as you carelessly pulled him even closer to you, your lips angled towards his ear.

“I’m begging you… Don’t you want a taste of me?” You successfully coaxed Eren into returning to your core, however, it was not his fingers that revisited you but his tongue. Your game of cat and mouse continued on as his tongue explored every single crevice of your pussy, his hands were keeping your thighs spread apart and pinned to the desk. Your back arched higher and higher as you quickly approached your climax, your fingers were tangling themselves into Eren’s hair and your chest rising and falling as you were getting ready to cum. Eren’s tongue was hitting all the right spots, it was as if he could read your body like the back of his hand, someone with barely any experience with your body could still bend and twist it to his will. Your body finally released the cluster of sexual tension that Eren had so diligently built up with within you. As you fell back against the desk, Eren rose from his position again, standing up this time as the pad of his thumb narcissistically grazed the bottom of his lip, cleaning up the excess remains of your orgasm.

“You’re right, I did want a taste.” He buttoned the bottom of his shirt back up and ran his hand smoothly through his hair, a futile attempt at cleaning himself up. You knew he was about to walk out, and you should have known better than to try to stop him, you loathed him at that moment and yet your body and perhaps even your heart was yearning for him.

“Eren.” You sat up quickly and reached out for his arm. He stopped in his tracks, not a word left his lips just his wide, emerald gaze staring at yours. “I think you should fuck me—” Before you’re able to provide any explanation his lips had crashed onto yours, yet he remained standing, his arms were cupping your upper neck as you are pulled up to meet his height. You responded instantly; your arms wrapped around his torso as your tongue eagerly crashed against his own.

His lips met your neck, and you knew he was about to plant a blue and purple reminder of this very moment. Despite Eren’s greedy reaction to your kiss, you could sense his hesitation in his movements, and you’ve experienced this before, he’s going to walk away – again. “I can’t…” He whispered into the crook of your neck, halting for a moment before he pressed one final kiss above your now growing bruise before he straightened himself up and walked out of the door. He didn’t even give you one final glance before leaving you alone on your desk and once again you could see all the colour drain from him as he exits. He was about to return to the same brooding and apathetic person he had become. It was embarrassing that you thought one hate-infused tryst in your room would change that, you were never able to change Eren.

You had barely adjusted to the change in pace, one second ago he was tasting every inch of you and the next he was leaving you dazed and confused on your desk. How quickly the loneliness crept into you, why did you need him around you so badly? Hadn’t you just sworn to yourself that you would resist him, you wouldn’t make the same mistakes that you did before? You forced yourself not to delve into the dark mystery that was Eren’s year away, but you know he wasn’t relaxing and getting back in touch with his brother, he had lost himself, getting himself arrested and God knows what else – but for some reason he’s back now?

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy - Kikuta really deserved better [part 2] 277-279.

Can you tell by my title that I’m a fan of Kikuta and I have some choice words for Noda?  Chapter 277 starts out with an introduction to the regional politics of Meiji era Japan.  The entire political shift occurred with the marriage of convenience between Choushuu and Satsuma (the Sat-Chou alliance) and how that is playing out in government and the military. With Hanazawa on the Satsuma side a commanding officer is having Tsurumi deal with the damage control.  That being Lt. General Okuda (and Kikuta’s boss)

He discloses how he’s the person who helped to cover up the scandal for Hanazawa and more of the regional politics comes into play as he pulls Tsurumi into this.

Recall that Tsurumi is from Niigata and we know he is from a family that lost power and wealth due to political changes.  He assumes that of course Tsurumi would hold a grudge towards those from the Sat-Chou alliance.  Usami is also from a fallen samurai family in Niigata and we know that Ogata is from Ibaraki and also from a samurai family on the losing side.  Tsukishima is from the island of Sado where unwanted people were dumped in Niigata so he is also an outsider.  We learn of his ‘true’ feelings as the tells his core group his opinion on things.

I love how we get unhinged Tsurumi calling it all a farce and he’s over Central.  But most importantly Okuda confirmed his own intel about the gold he learned while in Russia at some point in time.  His gold plan can slowly move along.  So Tsurumi becomes in the Hanazawa scandal cover up looking for the young 2nd Lt. and Kikuta, working under Okuda’s direct orders.

Despite his best efforts, Kikuta’s plan is revealed by a secretary at the Military Academy, while we know that Sugimoto and Kikuta are en route to the engagement dinner.

Hanazawa panics and sprints out to determine what is happening. Right on his tail is Tsurumi and his key team of Ogata, Tsukishima and Usami.  Clearly this is going to become a huge mess.  The next few pages are amusing, but really don’t add value to the plot.  I am impressed that Kaeko has an excellent plot to get Sugimoto naked and I commend her efforts!  GK is never short of strong female characters.  Who enjoy sex.

This sets up a hilarious moment where he’s naked and trapped in a bedroom while she leverages the potential scandal to her advantage.  By that point Tsurumi has caught up to them.  What is most interesting is when Usami addresses Ogata as Hyakunnosuke and asks him what he thinks about meeting his brother.  It is clear this isn’t out of concern from Usami’s part, we know he hates Ogata to his very core.

But as usual, Ogata doesn’t respond and we just see only a part of his eyes, not even a glance of his lips to give us an idea of what he’s thinking.

Kaeko and Sugimoto continue to talk as she reveals what she knows from Hanazawa Hiro.  She had been a nurse during the first Sino-Japanese war so it has allowed her to reflect on the impact of war on individual soliders.

This tells us a few things;  Hiro’s patriotism is more nuanced.  If she were being selfish and just saying she doesn’t want her son to go off to war without experience it, that would be one thing.  Instead, she knows being a military spouse first hand what happens - no one could say she didn’t do her own duty and go likely above and beyond.  Ultimately, she wants to protect her son from her own experiences and observations and be a mother.

Sugimoto then realizes he needs to bail and leaves poor Kikuta confused.  And then bam! The 27th is there.

Of course this leads to the most Sugimoto situation of all time!  Tsurumi threatens Kaeko with his handgun and Ogata asks where Yuusaku is.  Of course Sugimoto flies out of the bathroom naked sans Kikuta’s hat and Ogata is just amused beyond belief.

This would be complete if he were relaxed eating a box of popcorn or something like that. 278 continues this absolute chaos and lots of fan service for Miss Kaeko!  I really don’t think the fight scene needs much meta.  Ogata just finds it amusing (and btw sucks at hand to hand combat) while Usami rumbles with Sugimoto.  Tsurumi realizes he’s not Yuusaku and Kikuta rushes in and gets shot in the shoulder by Tsukishima.

Somehow, Kikuta is able to get the rest of them to flee but not without running into the actual Hanazawa Yuusaku.  Awkward.  Tsurumi only then realizes that Kikuta was doing his job and they run out into the street.

Kaeko tries her best to convince Sugimoto to marry her.  Granted he is a very heroic figure and he fought to protect her.  However, reality wouldn’t allow that to happen and Sugimoto decides to join the army - thinking he won’t starve that way.

Kikuta looks so sad and disappointed when he hears this.

He’s definitely thinking of his younger brother who died b/c he told him to join the army with him.  I loved the fact that we learn that Kaeko got to be a successful woman who was also compassionate to others. 

There is a quick exchange that shows the first encounter between Ogata and Yuusaku.  Yuusaku notices Ogata and salutes him as a cadet.

Ogata doesn’t even return the salute and he look he gives him out of the corner of his eyes.  What is he thinking?  I’d say Yuusaku doesn’t know who Ogata even is.  But something has him very suspicious to be this leery of him.  This also makes me think of this previous encounter between Koito and Ogata in chapter 200.

This time Ogata is bolder when he walks by Koito who is also currently still in the Army Academy.  Except unlike Yuusaku who doesn’t seem to pick up on Ogata’s vibes, Koito does!  And the two of them stare each other down.  I think that this in part shows that Koito has more innate awareness of things and could be considered more of a ‘natural’ in the military.  Which Yuusaku isn’t.  We have no evidence Yuusaku has any sort of military talent or skills. 

The chapter ends with Kikuta asking Sugimoto if he’s serious about joining the military and how he’s already fated to go to hell based on what he’s done in his life.  279 continues the conversation between Kikuta and Sugimoto and he flat out tells Sugimoto about how his brother died of illness in the army during the Sino-Japanese war.

Sugimoto then becomes Kikuta’s younger brother telling him that it is time to move on.  This continues the trend in GK where a character that is speaking becomes someone else to the listener.

This is most evident with Asirpa when she becomes Yuusaku on more than one occasion to Ogata.

But this facial expression from Kikuta [sobs].

No wonder Kikuta worked so hard to save Ariko’s life!  He can’t just always be responsible for the deaths of others.

Sugimoto convinces Kikuta that he’ll be alright in the army and he relents and lets him keep the cap.  This shows that Kikuta has moved on from the death of his brother - a big deal!  In an unusual way, Sugimoto has helped Kikuta move on and take the next step in the healing process. Kikuta reports to his commander in the 1st.  Okuda wants him to keep an eye on Tsurumi.  Obviously, he knows now that Tsurumi interfered with Kikuta’s plans for Hanazawa rather heavy-handedly so he would need someone else to balance it out.

It then reveals that Ogata is also working for Okuda in the 1st.  This explains why when the two of them crossed paths in the brewery they did not engage but nor did they appear to exchange any information.

I can’t help but feel like something is still off with this.  Ogata does have skills from working in intelligence with Tsurumi.  He’s observant, makes himself invisible and can get others to talk easily.  But Ogata being a 100% willing spy - it seems like he wants something else out of this. Kikuta’s character screams secret agent - but Ogata, he’s something else.  I’m not sure if Ogata’s choice to be a spy on Tsurumi was a real choice.

When Ogata and Tsukishima had their shoot out in Yubari at Edogai’s, Tsukishima told him he was a pet cat for Central.  Ogata replied that they were part of a rebel element.  We know that Ogata was working with Tamai at the beginning of the manga.  I struggle to see how Ogata has loyalty to anyone honestly.  He seems to be moving throughout this game with again his own mysterious objective.  Ogata is cynical and has no belief in the nation state nor does he harbor any sort of deep patriotism towards Imperial Japan.

Since Okuda is friends with Hanazawa and is based in Tokyo, he may have known Ogata since his birth and has kept tabs on him after the Ogata grandparents took him back to Ibaraki with his mom.  Ogata’s existence might be a sort of trump card that Okuda is keeping . . . but others found out as well like Tsurumi.  Did Okuda have Ogata tell or leak information that Ogata is Hanazawa’s first son? The chapter jumps to the 203 meter hill in the war and we see Yuusaku fallen on the battlefield.  Ogata watches from distance, his face cut off while other members of the 27th run out to help Yuusaku.

This finally reveals Yuusaku’s eyes!  Not the anticipated reveal - I kept thinking this was something that Ogata was going to see but it shows us clear eyes.  Which look sort of similar to Asirpa’s eyes.

So many thoughts are jumping around in my brain about this reveal.

1.) These eyes are not the ‘trademark’ Hanazawa eyes.  Dark black orbs with those eyebrows!  This indicates his eyes aren’t from his father.

Seeing this, I can’t help but think that Yuusaku is not Hanazawa’s son.  Instead, Hiro had an affair with someone else.  A major theme in GK is that the children inherit the skills of their parents.  Asirpa is able to do many things as she inherited the intelligence of Wilk.  And that Ogata is the true inheritor of Hanazawa’s military skills.

Recall this from chapter 58.  Ogata leads the crappy local gang against Hijikata and acts like a commander.

We know that Tsurumi’s lie about Ogata wanting to avenge Hanazawa is to keep Nikaido in the dark.

This would also explain why everything we learn about Yuusaku is terrible at military things.  If he also isn’t Hanazawa’s son it would make it even more reason for Hiro to try to prevent him from entering the military since he’s not even genetically related to this great line of Hanazawas.  I wish we knew more about the Ogata side of things - I think we’ll also learn that the Ogata side had competent military men on it as well.  2.) Yuusaku’s eyes are the same as Asirpa’s and indicate their sort of innocence.  In this case, it would perfectly explain why Ogata sees Yuusaku instead of Asirpa when he has the fever and then the melt down on the ice floe.  Yuusaku kept himself naive and innocent to meet his father’s expectations.  A man who I don’t think is even his father at this moment.  Therefore, Ogata’s guilt on killing Yuusaku is tied to his sort of innocence in these situations and why he can’t seem to shake his mental confusion when it comes to Asirpa.  However, unlike Yuusaku, Asirpa has never forced herself on him to do things or guilt tripped him so it leaves things open for him to not link her to Yuusaku.

3.) Yuusaku was going to blow Ogata’s cover working for Okuda.  Now that we know that Ogata was working for Okuda while in the 27th it means he’d have to keep his role quiet.  If Yuusaku found out that Ogata was working for Okuda, I could see him going to Tsurumi and telling him this information.  Therefore, to protect his status, Ogata used this as his rationale to kill Yuusaku on the battle field.  I have never figured out if Ogata was nudged to kill Tsurumi by his ‘don’t kill him right now.’ comment as one of Tsurumi’s backwards motivations that lead Ogata to directly killing him. So many possibilities!  I want more Ogata backstory dammit!

Anyhoo, to not make this meta super long let’s get back to the action. Asirpa begins working out how to try to break the code.  Hijikata notes that Wilk could have used something other than kanji, since he’d know the Latin alphabet for Polish and Cyrillic for Russian.  Shiraishi makes a clear point that this could be a message from Wilk towards her, though it feels like he’s channeling Kiro.  Out of many of the Japanese characters Shiraishi time and time again comes out much more sympathetic to the minorities than others.

Asirpa begins to wonder how the coin is linked to the skins. She’s thinking things through and is on her way to solving the puzzle.

After saving Ariko, Kikuta is returning to Tsurumi’s group in the church.  Oh Roger, this is why I love you so much.

Look at that smirk with a slightly watery eye.  At the same time Tsurumi is also looking at the coin and realizes he’s figured it out.

Kikuta approaches the rest of the group and comments on if he’s found the location.  Tsurumi states that things are just getting started.  He casually pulls out his gun and fires two shots into Kikuta at point blank range.

And with this I am deeply saddened and shocked.  How dare you do that to Kikuta!!!  He was my Kiro replacement and now he’s also going to die.

First Boutarou died and now Kikuta.  [cries].  We know that Tsurumi is a shinigami but this is just brutal.  The bear death trio died early on in the manga.  Ogata escaped.  Kikuta now is the next link to Central that goes down.