#and that as such he has thus been persistently trying to make himself very very small in spaces

[muu-kun]

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

any thoughts on lilias parenting style?

I’ve long held the belief that Lilia is not the “best” or “perfect” parent in TWST, but I love that he’s so imperfect yet is willing to learn and grow from his failures and shortcomings. It’s really commendable how far he has come, especially considering that he used to be much gruffer and made claims like he never wants a child or he’s not suited to be a father and is repulsed by the very idea of it.

It’s sad to think about how, for the longest time, Lilia believed he was incapable of loving others—both receiving love and giving it in a parental capacity. He says as much to Meleanor before what could be her last stand. Bro has so much love to give 😭 and it’s so fascinating to see book 7 focus on that love between parent and child, blood be damned.

Of course Silver is the quintessential child we all think of whenever Lilia’s parenting is brought up. Silver says it must have been tough for Lilia to raise him as a single parent and with limited knowledge of human children—but Lilia still did it, and out of the kindness of his heart, for an infant who was essentially a complete stranger. However, as far back as the human-fae conflict of Briar Country, Lilia was literally throwing his life and reputation on the line for his “children”. He protected Malleus’s egg with his own body. He provided the magic that would shave off several hundred years from his lifespan to ensure that his prince hatched. He allowed himself to be chased out of the capital city but still made the time to be there for Malleus, as well as shielded Silver from the ugly truth. In modern day, we also see Lilia him imparting sage wisdom onto his boys and making efforts to help them with their own downfalls: advising Malleus on the differences between fae and humans, asking the other first years to watch over Sebek, inviting Malleus to events, reminding Sebek to be kind to his human peers, etc. Above all else, Lilia promotes understanding, and wishes for a world where all the races can live together. He leaves Silver with the same sentiments, and in him, Lilia’s legacy of love can live on.

As I said briefly mentioned before, Lilia isn’t perfect. He’s putting his own life in danger and taking the emotional brunt of the events of the past for them. He hides the circumstances surrounding Malleus’s birth, the truth behind Silver’s origins, and many other details pertaining to the warring period. In modern day, Lilia is quick to make an exit when the dark carriage comes for him, trying to save his boys the agony of a prolonged good-bye. There are also just general parenting failures under his belt: feeding babies milk through a cup (you’re supposed to use a fitted nipple, otherwise the baby could choke), not being concerned when Silver is missing + expecting him to come back on his own, general emotional insensitivity and unawareness (him laughing when Silver realized their ear shapes are different and they’re not actually blood-related), leaving Silver unsupervised in their forest cottage while he goes off to travel, taking his pranks and mischief too far (thus causing trouble for Silver, such as Endless Halloween Night), his… cooking… etc. He does manage to mend some of those issues (like having the Zigvolts help watch Silver or letting slightly older Silver housesit with the animals), but other issues like the milk in a cup persist. Additionally, Lilia can be inconsistent with his emotional awareness, as he does not realize his Halloween mischief would worry Silver as much as it did. At the same time, Lilia is overall more in tune with his son’s feelings (he’s one of the few who can read the notoriously stoic Silver’s emotions flawlessly). However, Lilia still prioritizes keeping his childrens’ eyes away from the truth and instead is shouldering the pain for them. We find ourselves circling back around to all the sacrifices Lilia has made for Malleus, Silver, and yes, even Sebek—and I’ll bet that Lilia is willing to go the distance and do more.

I actually wonder if Lilia’s “I’ll shoulder everything for you” parenting originates in part from him overcompensating for the love he never received as a child. He was an orphan taken in as a ward for his country, shunned by the Briar Valley senators for being some filthy bat with no proper lineage to speak of. He didn’t get the girl he crushed on and instead lost her and his best friend (still MIA) to the war. He was banished from the capital and loathed for his mere existence. He had things thrown at him and was chased out of cities. Lilia has experienced so much hatred and vitriol that I would not fault him if he turned bitter and sent that same hate and vitriol back. That would be the easy thing to do. But… he has also experienced great kindness and acceptance along his travels. Strangers inviting him into their homes. People telling him about their lives. Offerings of food and a warm bed. It is through these experiences that Lilia is shown an alternative: a world of love, not war. Then, upon seeing these children in need of guidance, he sees a younger version of himself in them—lonely (Malleus, isolated in his castle), lost (Silver, without his parents), confused (Sebek, about his half fae/half human identity). He knows what could become of them if he lets hate envelop their hearts. And Lilia doesn’t want what he suffered through to befall them, nor a future where the same vitriol is perpetuated. So… he throws himself into ensuring these boys have a guiding star, someone who champions empathy and cooperation between all races, at the cost of himself.

It’s fascinating to consider that Silver (the one who was most closely raised by Lilia) reflects his father’s teachings but also Lilia’s self-sacrificial behavior, even though Silver isn’t fully aware of what Lilia gave to raise him. Silver consciously believes that he hadn’t done enough to “pay back” his dad (similar to how Lilia may have taken Malleus under his wing to “pay back” his debt of Maleficia taking him as an orphan in and not being there for Meleanor in her final battle). To compensate, Silver keeps pushing himself to do things like suppress his own sadness at Lilia’s farewell party, taking physical blows for Lilia, and even believing that he isn’t worthy of Lilia’s love. I guess the sayings “like father, like son” and “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” are applicable here.

Anyway! Lilia as a father (whether literally or figuratively) will never not be interesting to me.

[yandere-daze]

I´m back to my Collar x Malice obsession (currently playing the FD) and so I just had to write something for my favorite boy! And since he already shows some yandere tendencies in the game, I decided to run with it. Hope you enjoy <3

gn reader

1.3k words

tw yandere, obsession, possessiveness, jealousy, manipulation, implied stalking, overprotectiveness, brief mentions of violence

General Yandere! Kei Okazaki headcanons

Okazaki strikes me as the type of person who could take an immediate liking to someone when meeting them for the first time but then needs a lot of time for true love to materialize. Or in this case, obsession.

He´s quite fond of you from the very beginning, he likes seeing you smile and enjoys being around you. But the true obsession only starts once you two get to know each other better.

He has been in a lot of relationships before and while he had liked all of his partners, he never felt like he could show them his flaws, he never felt comfortable being true to himself, always hiding away a part of himself in fear of rejection. It´s like that at first with you as well, he only wants to show you his charming and cool side as he wants to make a good impression on you. How would you ever fall for him if you knew about his past and his mental troubles? About his possessiveness and jealousy?

You inadvertently sealed your own fate when you encouraged Okazaki to be honest with himself and that you would accept him for all his flaws. That you wouldn´t turn away from him, no matter what. That you won´t judge him.

How can you say these things and not expect him to become absolutely obsessed with you?

For the first time, he feels this deep connection to someone else, he feels like he can be himself around you, even if it´s scary and difficult. So you wouldn´t mind if he let his obsession with you show, right? If he got clingy and possessive with you. You said you accepted all of him, right?

Okazaki for sure is a protective yandere. He works as a bodyguard so he´s an expert at making sure certain important people are safe. And you most definitely count as a very important person to him!

Whether you´re actually dating or just acquaintances, Okazaki will insist on accompanying you wherever you go so he can "keep you safe". And he´s quite persistent when it comes to this as well, not taking no for an answer and just tagging along anyway with a smile on his face.

It doesn´t even matter if you were planning on meeting up with him or not, he´s somehow always there whenever you go out to wander the streets. How does he always seem to know when you´re about to head out?

In truth, Okazaki keeps tabs on you even when you believe you are alone. Due to all his training, he´s more than capable of staying hidden in the shadows while still keeping a watchful eye on you. Even if you say you need some alone time, he just can´t risk anything happening to you. He´s still shaken up from that incident all these years ago where his inaction caused his coworker to die on the job. He can´t let something like that happen to you, his dearly beloved.

And next to making sure you´re safe from harm he also has to make sure you´re "safe". What does he mean by that? He has to make sure that no other men try to approach you to ask you out. He knows they´re no good for you, so just leave it all to him.

Okazaki has an uncanny ability to swoop in out of the blue whenever a man tries to talk to you, inserting himself in the conversation and making the other person uncomfortable with his unnerving smile and underlying threats. He can be quite scary when he wants to and thus it´s easy for him to scare people off. He also isn´t against using violence to get them to back off, whether it´s punching them or twisting their limbs until they crack, nothing is off-limits. Under no circumstances will he allow anyone else to sweep you off your feet, you´re meant to be with him after all.

Afterwards, he will explain that the person that tried to talk to you was dangerous. There had been warnings going around at work and so he tried defusing the situation immediately. You see what happens when you´re out there without him? Really, you were in luck that he just happened to be around! Maybe ask him to tag along next time again, okay?

Of course, that´s all lies. No such warnings about a suspicious person existed, he just needed a convenient excuse for chasing them away. He can´t let those people possibly get in between the both of you.

Okazaki is also just really really jealous in general. He doesn´t like it when you spend time with others and if you´re dating, then he would directly tell you this, though he tries to word it in a way that sounds more reasonable than "I want you to cut ties with all your friends". He hates seeing you smile and laugh around people who aren´t him, it makes him fear that you might be getting sick of him.

And he can´t have that. He vows to never let go of you. Strangely enough, he will actually tell you this many times (like he does in the game) but you just take it as a bit of cute possessiveness, nothing too concerning. You just don´t know how obsessed he is with you.

He canonically has thought about locking the player up so they´re for his eyes only so a kidnapping would not be completely out of the question I believe, though I do still see it as a last resort, something he would only do if he felt an immediate threat to your relationship or if he was close to snapping. For now, he would much rather use words to try and convince you to spend more and more time together.

It´s normal for a boyfriend to want to spend all of his time with his darling, right? He just loves you so much! He wants to spend every second of every day with you, aren´t you being a bit cruel by depriving him of that? Why do you insist on being with people that aren´t him? Isn´t he enough? Don´t you love him?

He can get quite manipulative if he feels like it will bring results. But also, he just genuinely feels like that. He just can´t fathom it, how can you bear to stay away from him when he feels like he´s being ripped apart every time he has to part from you?

So to no one´s surprise, Okazaki is very clingy, even before a potential relationship. He loves being close to you, wrapping his arms around you or resting his head against you. He also loves holding your hand in public, both as a way to show affection but also to show anyone else that you´re unavailable. He´s also shameless enough to kiss you in public while people are most definitely watching.

Resting his head in your lap while he falls asleep is also another favorite of his. He´s often exhausted from his job as a bodyguard and tends to not get a lot of sleep, so he treasures being so close to you while he gets to rest up. Please run your fingers through his hair too, he will sigh in bliss if you do!

Also very affectionate in the way he talks to you. Once he realizes his feelings for you, he won´t really try to hide that he likes you, perhaps only the extent to which he does. He loves calling you cute pet names, especially if they make you flustered. He loves teasing you, it makes him proud to know that he can have that sort of effect on you.

"You´re so cute when you get flustered. Tell me I´m the only man that gets to see you like this~"

He will truly never let go of you for as long as he lives.

[luvsturniolo]

ー ★ !! inebriated

pairing : chris sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis : after being dragged to a party by his brothers, chris finds himself stumbling into a very drunk girl — who looks like she's on the verge of either puking or sobbing. he can't tell which.

a/n : i haven't touched my keyboard in literal months so i wrote this purely due to the fact that i needed to get back into this writing lore ! if this is super shitty & bad, i apologize. this is ur warning !!

also ! there will be underage drinking, so if that sort of thing bothers you in any way i advise that you click off of this rn and find another fic.

also x2 , this will be switching POVs a bit. i'll put their names above each scene tho, so it's not confusing.

wc : 8k

CHRIS

"i don't know if this is a good idea." chris says, warily, as he and his brothers trudge up the stairs toward the loud dorm room. they're all the way down the hall, and he can still hear every single lyric blaring from the speakers.

"oh, don't be a fucking wuss." nick rolls his eyes, gently nudging his brother in the side with his elbow. nick laughs a bit, but when he notices the genuine uneasiness displayed on his brother's face, he feels a twinge of guilt in his gut. "okay, fine. i have an idea."

chris looks up at nick with a deep furrow in his brow, "i hope your idea involves us going back to our own dorm for the rest of the night."

"well, not exactly." nick tells him. "how about matt and i go to the party, while you wait out here in the hall all night?"

chris lets out a loud groan, twisting to sit down on the staircase. what annoys chris isn't the fact that nick is so uncharacteristically persistent about attending this stupid party. it's the fact that he offered this idea as though he genuinely expected chris to sit out in the hallway for hours.

nick rolls his eyes at chris's childish behavior, leaning against the wall of the stairwell, seeming to have completely given up on trying to convince his brother to come along with him. he simply watches with an amused face as chris throw a tantrum.

matt — who has become incredibly sick of listening to his brothers' bickering the entire walk across campus — finally decides to butt into the conversation. he sits down on the stair beside chris, draping an arm over his shoulders. chris glances at matt out of the corner of his eye.

"i have an idea, too." matt tells him with a gentle tone. "wanna hear mine?"

for a moment, chris looks uncertain. but matt is so good at comforting people that he can't help but give in, agreeing to hear his idea as well. "fine." chris mutters.

"listen. you come to the party with us for twenty minutes." he says, making chris immediately let out a fatigued sigh. but matt quickly continues to explain. "if you're still wanting to leave by then, let me know and i'll take you back to our dorm without any questions. but if you end up having fun, you'll stay with us and give us both twenty bucks for having to listen to you whine the whole way here."

chris doesn't hesitate to agree to this deal. he shakes matt's hand to solidify the agreement and the three of them continue walking to the party.

there's no way in hell chris is going to enjoy this. the booming music paired with the stench of alcohol and weed is undoubtably going to give him a splitting head ache by the end of these twenty minutes.

YOU

parties aren't exactly your cup of tea, to put it lightly. you've only been to a few throughout your entire collage career, and you've never found yourself liking them. there's always far too many people in attendance for you to be able to relax or enjoy yourself. so, you've managed to avoid them thus far.

but you've had an incredibly rough day today, and you're pretty keen on the idea of being able to drink your pain away.

you've been friends with jasmin and elaine since you guys were in middle school. the three of you were inseparable for years, and everyone knew it. you were always closer with elaine than jasmin, simply because your guys' personalities merged better. as a trio, you guys spent every single weekend together since you were kids. your families all knew one another. you gossiped together about boys and drama and school. you confided in each other, and didn't spend a second apart.

however, that all ended today. you found elaine making out with your boyfriend in your guys' shared dorm room a few hours ago.

you had been dating kade for two years now, and you introduced him to your friends immediately when you guys met. you were excited to show them the wonderful boy you'd fallen for. they seemed to like him, and you guys became a quartet. you, elaine, jasmin, and kade. it was perfect. for two whole years. but it's all ruined now.

as soon as you walked in on elaine and kade in bed together, you called jasmin to tell her the news. she seemed just as shocked and betrayed as you were, and she rushed to your side instantly. you'd been in her dorm ever since, marinating in your own pitiful sorrow.

the thing is, you've been cheated on before. yes, it hurts ; it hurts like hell. but losing elaine hurts far more than losing your silly boyfriend. plus, kade had always been a bit of an asshole. elaine was the one who disapproved of him the most. the two of them always argued and made banter playfully. god. now you feel like such a fucking idiot for not realizing sooner.

"hey," jasmin says with the softest voice imaginable.

she opens the door to the dorm with a gentle creak, carrying in your favorite candies along with her. she trudges across the room before sitting on her bed — which you've made into your own. the mattress dips under her weight before she sets all the sweets down onto the duvet.

you sit up with a quiet word of thanks. ever since the incident, you've been tangled up in jasmin's blankets with a pillow pressed over your head to drown out the noise of a nearby party being thrown a few rooms down the hall.

"where'd you get all this?" you ask jasmin as you shuffle through the candies, finding the sweetest ones and unwrapping them joyfully.

"paxton is throwing a party for his birthday, and he let me take a few things." she explains, picking up a few for herself.

you can still hear the music blaring from down the hall, along with the sounds of muffled voices and laughter. you immediately wonder if kade and elaine are there together. kade is fairly popular, so he was most likely invited. and elaine loves parties, so she would have attended with him.

the thought of them together brings a certain ache to your stomach, making you want to lurch forward and vomit everywhere. you don't, of course, but you definitely consider it.

"i really fucking love you, jaz." you say.

you look at her with nothing by admiration behind your gaze. she holds the eye contact before smiling gently. she sets down her candies and pulls you into a tight hug. you return the embrace, burrowing your face in the crook of her neck.

"you deserve someone who treats you like the most wonderful person in the whole fucking world." she says against your hair. "because that's who you are."

"i don't feel like that, right now." you tell her, pulling out of the hug to gesture at your appearance. your hair is greasy tangled, your face is puffy from crying, your clothes are twisted, and you probably smell like shit.

"how about this," jasmin says with a mischievous grin spreading across her lips, "i'll lend you one of my most gorgeous dresses, and then we can go to paxton's party together. every single person there will stop and stare, including kade."

jasmin stands from the bed and grabs you by the hands, giggling as she pulls you to your feet. despite wanting nothing more than to go back to rotting uselessly in her bed, you can't help but laugh along with her.

"let's show him what he's missing out on." jasmin declares with a glow in her eyes, that makes you feel like you're in a cheesy disney movie. but you're honestly loving every second of it.

CHRIS

"how long has it been?" chris asks, leaning against the counter behind him. he looks up at matt, but realizes that his brother is no longer in front of him. chris groans audibly. he should have assumed that he wouldn't keep his end of the deal. there's no way matt could walk him home if chris doesn't know where he is.

"it's almost ten o'clock." a random guy says from beside chris. he looks over at him and smiles gratefully, hoping he doesn't look too awkward standing by himself. "this party is shit, don't you think?"

"for sure." chris agrees, quickly. "i don't even drink, so there's nothing for me to do other than watch everyone else get shit-faced. which isn't exactly how i want to spend my saturday night."

the guy just watches chris with an amused expression. the way he's staring makes chris feel a bit uncomfortable, but he refuses to show any sign of uneasiness.

"you're nick's brother, aren't you?" he asks suddenly.

the guy has sandy blonde hair and a face splattered with freckles. his eyes are dark brown, and a bit intimidating. he has high cheekbones and a grin that would make anyone tempted to smile along with him. the stranger takes a long sip out of his red solo cup as he waits for chris to respond, setting it down on the countertop behind him without breaking their eye contact.

"yeah, one of them." chris replies, finally. "i'm christopher."

"mm. full name, huh?" the guy hums with a bit of humor laced behind his tone. chris doesn't say anything, simply nodding as a reply. "i'm paxton. this is my party, i'm turning twenty."

chris's face drops. he instantly wants to take back everything he'd previously said. oh, he fucked up big time. he knows that nick only wanted to come to this party because of the major crush he has on paxton. and chris just insulted the shit out of his birthday party, then acted passive aggressive when giving him his full name as an introduction.

god, nick is gonna kill him.

"right, well i have to go." chris says, quickly exiting the kitchen with no idea where to go next. he should probably have stayed and apologized to paxton, but he was too scared of possibly fucking up even farther.

while aimlessly wandering around the crowded dorm, chris bumps into someone. he instantly apologizes, looking down at her with remorse. but his eyes quickly soften when he recognizes her.

"y/n?" he mutters, shocked to see you. especially at a party like this, knowing how much you usually dislike them with everything in you.

"holy fuck." you reply, your voice slurred and intoxicated. "christopher owen."

YOU — fifteen minutes prior

"i don't even know what to do at a party." you complain as you examine at yourself in jasmin's mirror. she was right, you look stunning. but you don't look like you.

"we're not going to party." jasmin explains as though it's the simplest concept to understand. "we're going to make kade jealous, and then get super drunk so we're too hungover to face tonight's concequences in the morning."

she has to shout in order for you to hear her voice because she's in the bathroom, curling her hair. the bathroom door is cracked open, but yelling is still needed due to the party's music being louder than anything else.

you shrug even though she can't see you doing so. "well when you put it that way, it sounds like a lovely idea." you respond, also shouting.

"girl," jasmin says with an audible laugh, "all my ideas are lovely."

with that, she exits the bathroom. her dress is shiny and gold, contrasting beautifully against her dark skin. you watch through the mirror as she approaches you, her reflection standing directly behind your own as she begins to put on two chunky, gold earrings.

you're wearing a dress that's a bit shorter than you'd like, but jasmin claims that it's the longest one she owns. you keep pulling it down subconsciously, but it's riding up your thighs annoyingly. you're wearing shorts underneath, of course, because they make you feel less exposed by the lack of length the dress provides. jasmin also lent you a necklace, a few bracelets, and a pair of earrings to wear. the jewelry is all dainty and more jasmin's style than yours, but you couldn't deny how fucking gorgeous you looked.

"let's go!" jasmin says with a giddy smile, grabbing your hand as she pulls you toward the door. you laugh with your last remaining true friend, allowing her to drag you down toward the party. your guys' heels click against the wooden floorboards in the hallway, the sound making you laugh even harder.

jasmin doesn't even bother knocking on the door. the way you guys enter paxton's dorm unannounced makes you feel strange, until you're actually inside and realize that the arrival of two people means nothing in comparison to the amount of guests that are piled into the space.

for the first few minutes, you and jasmin walk around together, exploring. you've had a few drinks, but you're hardly feeling anything yet. you end up leaving jasmin when she starts flirting with a random girl on the dance floor, and you feel invasive to linger around with her.

now on your own, you head toward the kitchen for another drink seeing as you just finished your last one. it's kind of comforting to be in the kitchen because there aren't as many people crowding around you. it's easier to breathe on your own.

you find a cooler on the floor, wide open with ice overflowing the rim. wedged inside the ice are various alcoholic beverages to choose from. you think for a moment before bending to grab a jack daniels, deciding on something sweet rather than bitter. when you stand back up, you notice someone standing to your left. you nearly drop the drink in shock.

"god," you mutter with an airy laugh as you turn to face the person. but all traces of humor leave your face when you recognize the presumed stranger.

elaine's hair is beautifully curled, framing her pale face with elegance that makes you suddenly feel like your hair isn't done well enough. her icy blue eyes stare down at you with an expression you can't read — which pisses you off because you used to be able to read all of her emotions perfectly. but now it's like she's a complete stranger.

now feeling insecure in your own skin, you pull the hem of your dress down. elaine doesn't seem to notice, nor does she care how you feel at the moment.

"what?" you demand, clutching the bottle in your hand to ground yourself. "did you come in here just to stare at me, or what?"

"don't flatter yourself." she says bluntly, a tone she's never directed at you before. in all the years you'd known her, you guys have never gotten into a genuine argument. so it's incredibly weird to see her in this new light. "i came for a drink. and you're standing in front of the cooler."

you turn and notice that she's right. you're blocking her from reaching the cooler. you instantly feel embarrassed, but you're quick to hide it by crossing your arms and stepping to the side so she can get to the cooler.

you watch as she reaches for the strongest drink that's offered. typical. she wouldn't be elaine without being unapologetically herself.

"you might not have anything to say to me, but i have a lot i'd like to say to you." you tell her, keeping your voice level despite the way your hands tremble against your crossed arms.

"it can wait." she says, turning on her heel and exiting the kitchen without another word, her ash blonde hair swishing behind her with superiority.

"what the fuck?" you murmur, now alone in the kitchen.

your senses are suddenly overflowing with blinding rage. after years of being best friends, she sleeps with your boyfriend. and yet, she's the one avoiding you? there's no fucking way anything about this situation is logical. you're the one who's pissed, not her. she has no right to have walked away from you like that. you deserve an explanation. or at least a viable conversation.

you screw open your bottle and take a swig of the drink, deciding that you're going to need a whole lot more of this before your anger cools down enough for you to leave the kitchen. because if you were to leave now, you wouldn't trust yourself not to immediately go to elaine and start a fight that you're not sure you'd even win.

after about ten minutes of standing by the cooler, drinking away your anger, you decide to finally exit the kitchen. you leave the room, stumbling a bit as you do so. but you quickly turn back around, realizing that you left your phone on the countertop.

as you walk back into the kitchen, you bump into someone who's walking out of it. he quickly apologizes, seeming to be in quite a hurry. you decide not to look up at him, now being annoyed that someone even bumped into you. god, maybe drinking was a bad idea. now everything pisses you off, not just elaine and kade.

"y/n?" the guy mutters, sounding insanely shocked. you raise a brow before looking up to meet the man's eyes. you instantly begin smiling at the guy.

"holy fuck." you reply, your voice slurred and intoxicated. "christopher owen."

CHRIS

chris hasn't seen you since senior year of high school. and considering the fact that you guys are now in college, it has been quite a while since you've seen each other.

you guys weren't necessarily friends back then, but you knew one another well enough. you guys had math together for two years straight. you sat side-by-side, talking every day through the entire period. by the end of the year, chris had developed a crush on you, and you were completely oblivious to his feelings.

he had introduced you to his brothers and you'd hung out outside of school a few times. you spent the night at his house once or twice, when your home life wasn't the greatest. he had come over to yours a few times to study for upcoming tests.

you's met his parents, and mary lou absolutely adored you. she told you stories about her sons, including each of their middle names. following this encounter, you had begun calling chris by his full name — christopher owen. at first, you did it because you noticed how it annoyed him. but then, the name stuck. it became an inside joke between you and him, depicting a sense of intimacy in knowing his middle name. even more so since it was given to you from his mother herself.

but after graduation, you guys lost contact and haven't spoken since.

however, seeing you in front of him now, chris really wishes he had made more of an effort to stay in touch with you. you're just as gorgeous as he'd remembered, if not more so than before. your dress was incredibly flattering, and your hair was done up perfectly.

upon seeing you, he completely forgot everything that was previously plaguing his mind. he couldn't even form a sentence, leaving the two of you staring at each other wordlessly. he took on your appearance once more, suddenly coming to realize something about you.

"you're drunk, aren't you?" he says, not knowing whether or not to be surprised. on one hand, it's a college party and everyone is drunk. but on the other hand, you're you.

you were the most perfect girl he'd ever met, unaware that you were capable of having a single flaw. but as he looks at you now, completely plastered, he realizes that it's impossible for anyone to be flawless. even you. plus, there's something incredibly domestic, and human about seeing you like this. like it's illegal, like something is wrong.

"i think everyone's drunk, except you and your brothers." you tell him with a crooked grin that makes his heart begin to beat at an unhealthy speed. "plus, i deserve to drink after the day i've had."

it sounds like you're telling yourself that last bit more than you're telling it to chris. as though you're not even sure you believe it. he wants to question you, and ask what's wrong. but he decides not to. that'd be weird, wouldn't it? i mean, you guys haven't spoken in years.

"anyway," you say as your body sways from side to side, "i left my phone in the kitchen and i need to get it back before someone steals it. or even worse, before elaine steals it."

chris raises a brow at your odd behavior, but again decides not to point it out. you continue talking as if you can't help yourself. as if there's no off switch, keeping you from spilling too much. and even though you've begun to talk about random shit that means nothing, chris is listening to every single word intently.

"...but yeah, i think all alcohol should have screw on tops." you ramble, mindlessly. "if we could all simply unscrew the bottles without a problem, we wouldn't have to waste money on those shitty bottle openers. but- well, i mean, maybe that's the point. oh my god! maybe that's the reason they're made! so they can make even more money off the openers! even though we don't need to use them, and they don't need the money. it's still a profitable arrangement that they're more well off having created. oh, and-"

you keep talking and talking. and chris keeps listening and listening. the way you gesture around with your hands makes him happy, because you used to do the same thing back in high school. and the way your voice gets higher when you come to a realization is also a habit you've always had.

in the middle of your ranting, nick comes up to chris frantically. he doesn't seen to notice you as he steals chris's attention away.

"have you seen paxton?" nick asks his brother with an extremely worried expression on his face. "we were talking, and it was going good. great even. but then he left to grab a drink, and he hasn't come back. i'm scared i did something wrong to scare him away. it was going so well."

remembering his previous conversation with paxton, chris immediately is filled with guilt. nick looks so terrified of the fact that he fucked this up, not knowing chris is the one who ruined his chances.

"i saw him in the kitchen a little bit ago, but it's been a while." chris says. he's technically not lying. he did see paxton. he's simply leaving out a few details. sure, they're pretty significant details, but it doesn't hurt nick to not know. in fact, it probably would be worse if he did. he's helping them all, honestly.

"thanks," nick says hurriedly before patting chris on the shoulder and rushing into the kitchen behind them.

with nick gone, chris refocuses his attention on you. but he's taken by surprise when he sees that you're no longer in front of him. chris looks around, spinning in circles idiotically. but it's like you fucking vanished out of thin air.

YOU

you've missed nick. you haven't seen him in years. but judging by the anxiety-filled body language, you deemed that this was a brotherly conversation. quickly feeling out of place, you decided to take your leave and return to the search of your phone. but when you reach the counter it had perviously been abandoned at, you see that it's no longer there.

"there you are!" you hear someone say from behind you. the sickeningly familiar voice draws chills down your spine. even drunk, you could recognize kade's voice without having to turn around to see his face. hesitantly, you do turn around. kade is standing by the cooler, your phone held tightly in his hands.

"oh, you found it." you say casually, stepping over to your ex with an amount of false confidence that shocks even you. "i've been looking for my phone everywhere, thank you for returning it for me!"

kade clearly is taken aback by your nonchalance, making you feel extremely good about yourself. but when you reach to take your phone from him, kade holds it above his head. when you guys were dating, his height was endearing. you loved how much taller he was compared to you. but right now, it's really pissing you off.

"see, i was going to give it back." kade says, lowering the phone so it's now in front of his face. he begins to type in your password — which you haven't yet changed seeing as it all only happened this morning. "but i changed my mind."

"you're not fucking funny." you tell him. your voice comes out more emotional than you would have preferred, because now kade knows exactly how annoyed you are.

"hm," he hums, scrolling through your phone as though it were his own. "i think it is funny, to be honest. i mean, you should be thanking me. who knows who else could have found it? you wouldn't have wanted it to get in the wrong hands, would you?"

"it's too late for that." you say. "you're the worst hands for it to be in."

he laughs, audibly, at that. the sound makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. you want nothing more than to punch him in the fucking jaw.

it's so weird that your feelings could change so fast. this morning, you woke up and texted kade with enthusiasm. you guys kissed and cuddled so normally. similarly, you were hanging out with elaine at lunch today perfectly fine. but here you are now, with nothing but hatred for both of them.

"i saw you talking to that triplet guy," kade says, "i always get them mixed up. was that chris or matt? i think nick is the gay one. or is it chris who's gay? god. i can never keep them straight."

"why do you give a shit who i talk to?" you ask him, crossing your arms defiantly as kade continues to snoop through your phone with a straight face. "at least i didn't fuck your best friend while we were together."

this gets his attention.

"you know nothing about our relationship." kade tells you, an edge to his voice that would have scared you if you weren't so blinded by your anger. you watch as he tuts before turning off your phone and stuffing it into his back pocket.

"oh, so it's a relationship now?" you ask. if you weren't so drunk, you would have had the common sense to shut up and stop teasing. but your only goal at the moment is to get as far under his skin as possible. you want him to feel all the pain you felt this morning. "i thought you guys were just fuck buddies."

"i've known elaine longer than i've known you." kade snaps, taking a step closer to you. you back away, being forced to press yourself against the corner of the counter behind you. "she's the one who introduced us in the first place, you dumb fuck."

"yeah, and i'm eternally grateful for that." you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes with a light scoff.

"elaine has been my friend since middle school. we've been near door neighbors our entire lives." kade tells you, as though you weren't already made painfully aware of their intimate history together. "she means more to me than just sex."

again, anybody else would have been able to read the room by now. they would have stopped poking the bear and decided enough is enough. but you're far too inebriated for something so logical. so you continue to dig a deeper and deeper hole.

"yeah?" you question, tilting your head innocently. "you might want to make sure those feelings are requited. i saw her making out with ryan hart earlier."

you watch as kade's jaw ticks with irritation. the sight of him getting so worked up fills you with an inexplicable pleasure. you've been crying all morning over two people who betrayed you. and after arriving at the party, it's seemed like they don't even care about your pain. so yes, seeing kade get pissed off is extremely satisfying. and yes, you should have stopped there. but no, you didn't.

"she might mean the world to you, kade. but to her? you're just another quick fuck that she'll pretend never even happened come tomorrow."

this seems to have crossed a line.

before you even have time to register what's happening, you're scrambling to your feet with blood dripping from your nose. kade punched you square in the face.

now collecting yourself, you look up at kade with a scowl. but he's not there to meet you eyes. honestly, he's got it worse than you. he's currently on the floor, getting the shit beat out of him by none other than christopher owen.

chris must have seen what happened and decided to step in after you got hit.

and as immature as it sounds, you don't care stop him. you simply watch as chris tackles kade to the ground and punches him repeatedly. people are shouting at him to stop, but chris doesn't care. and nor do you. kade deserves this.

you suddenly hear someone yell your name from somewhere else in the kitchen. you look up and see matt. your guys' eyes meet, and he gives you a look that makes you feel guilty for not stopping the fight earlier.

"tell him to stop." he says wordlessly. "he'll only listen to you."

with a sigh, you end the fight with one single word. you say chris's name, and his entire body stops in an instant. it's as if you flicked a switch. he stands up, knuckles bloody, and turns to face you as the kitchen falls silent.

something you've come to like about college is the fact that people know to mind their business. they crowd around for the fight, sure. but as soon as the show is over, they leave as though nothing happened.

chris steps closer, so he's only an inch away from you now. he reaches around and pulls your dress up. you instinctively go to shove him away, but before you have the chance, he slides something into your back pocket, your guys's noses nearly touching as he does so. you feel the familiar weight of your phone in the pocket of your shorts before chris tugs your dress back down to cover them up.

"are you okay?" he asks, so quietly you nearly don't hear him.

you stare up at him, speechless. then, you glance down at his hands and decide to make a joke in order to ease some of the tension. "seems like your knuckles are in worse shape than my nose."

"you should see the other guy." chris says with a chuckle.

you crane your neck to look behind him. but kade is already gone. you're a bit disappointed that you weren't able to see the damage chris did, but you're sure everyone will be talking about it on monday when classes resume.

"let me do you a favor." you tell him, grabbing his bloody hand and holding it in both of yours. "since you did me one."

CHRIS

your favor wasn't what chris expected. when you took hold of his hand and pulled him upstairs, he thought you were going to kiss him or something. but you had other ideas — which he should have expected. from all the time he's known you, he should know better than to assume he knows what's going on inside your head. you're unpredictable. and he loves it. it's actually one of his favorite things about you.

"there should be a first aid kit under the sink." you mutter, dragging him into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you as if you were at your own house. "the code of conduct says you're required to have one under each sink in case of emergency."

"no way you actually read the fucking code of conduct." chris says with a laugh, sitting down on the closed toilet seat. he watches you with a gentle smile splayed softly across his lips.

"of course not." you say without looking at him, crouching in front of the sink and beginning to dig through the cabinet. "jasmin's roommate did, though. i've never formally met her, but jaz complains about how strict she is with rules and shit."

"right," chris says.

he's hardly listening to you, though. as much as he would love to involve himself in a conversation with you — no matter the subject — he's distracted. you look so fucking gorgeous right now, and he can't tear his eyes away. it's becoming a genuine problem. he's not only focused on your appearance, though. just the sound of your voice is enough to take his attention away from the words you speak.

it's been so long since he's seen you, and he's just trying to relish in the escapism that your presence offers.

"-- might hurt." is all he hears when he zones back in. and he doesn't have any time to think before you press disinfectant to his knuckles. the medicine against the open wound causes him to suck in a sharp breath. you watch the pained expression on his face, and you frown. "focus on something else. you have nine more knuckles to work with."

as soon as you tell him to focus on something else, his mind instantly goes to you. he pins his eyes to yours, and you return the favor. you continue to hold the eye contact as you move to the next wound. he clenches his jaw, but the pain is much more bearable this time round.

this goes on for about a minute or two. you guys stare at one another as his knuckles are slowly getting the attention they need.

this thing is, kade had piercings. and every time chris's fist wound come in contact with his nose stud or his lip ring, it would puncture his skin — creating the jagged injuries that you're treating so delicately, now.

"done," you say with a wide grin. the sight of you looking at him with a proud smile makes the stinging pain from the gauze worth every second. chris watches as you shut the first-aid-kit and place it back where you'd found it. as you stand back up, he looks down at his battered hands.

you did a great job, that much was inevitable. when you dragged him up here, they were bleeding and throbbing. but now they're numbed, and the band-aid you pressed across the hills of his knuckles are keeping them from bleeding. suddenly, chris remembers something.

"c'mere." he tells you. you look at him with a confused expression, raising an eyebrow at his sudden assertiveness. he instantly feels guilty, and quickly apologizes. "sorry, i didn't mean to snap like that. i just want to check your nose. make sure it's not broken or anything."

you let out an airy chuckle, "you don't need to do that. i'm fine."

"i insist." chris presses on, standing from the toilet seat and taking a daring step closer to you. he hears your breath hitch, and a smile tugs at his lips. "it's the least i could do after you patched me up like humpty dumpty."

you laugh at this, a bright smile lighting the dimmed bathroom as your eyes squint with joy. chris wishes he could bottle this moment up and replay it whenever he pleases.

"okay, okay," you say as your laughter dies down, "you can check my nose."

you move to sit on the toilet seat he had just recently occupied. chris doesn't crouch in front of you the way you did to him, though. he stands before you, his legs placed between your knees. he grabs you jaw, gently as ever, and tips your head up. he uses his free hand to graze your nose, feeling the damage. or lack thereof.

"yeah," his voice is so quiet you strain to hear it, "yeah, you were right. it's not broken."

despite the initial concern now being solved, neither of you attempt to move from your position. chris continues to hold your chin upward, and you continue to stare at him through your lashes. his thigh knocks against your knee, but again, neither of you aim to change anything about this moment — both of you being too afraid to lose whatever chemistry is going on.

suddenly, there's a loud banging at the door. "hurry the fuck up! some of us have to take a shit! oh my god!"

chris gets annoyed by the interruption, tempted to exit the bathroom and hurt whoever just ruined the moment. that way, his knuckles would be bloody again and you'd help him again. yeah, that sounds like a good idea to him. but just as the anger settles into his mind like a bird nesting, something rips his attention away.

you burst out in a fit of laughter. chris whips his head in your direction, desperate to watch the adorable scrunch of your nose, and the light reflect in your eyes. still laughing, you stand from the toilet and wipe at your eyes. you urge chris forward, saying it's a good idea to leave seeing as you guys have been hogging the bathroom for a while.

chris happily obliges. honestly, he would agree with anything you'd say right now. he would do anything for you, simply in the hopes that you'd glance at him for a moment as he does so.

as you both exit the bathroom and return downstairs, chris notices you stumble a bit. then it clicks in his head — you're still a bit drunk. sure, the fight may have sobered you up a great deal, but it's not instantaneous. the alcohol is still in your system, and it's still altering your actions in a slight bit.

this would explain why you're so giggly, and why your cheeks are so rosy. and for a moment. for an awful, awful moment, chris wonders if that's the only reason why you're even hanging around him in the first place.

"let me walk you back to your dorm," chris offers.

"you don't have to do that." you insist, staring up at him with wild eyes and tangled hair that he finds incredibly endearing.

"tell me where your dorm is, and i'll decide that for myself." chris says. "how about this. if you're in this building, i'll let you walk home alone. but if you're in the west wing, you have to let me take you back."

you groan with a laugh, tipping your head back as you do so. "i'm in the west wing."

"great," chris says with a smile, "let me take you home. again, it's the least i could do after everything you've done for me."

"you already made it up to me by checking my nose." you point out, tapping the bridge of your nose to prove your point. "you don't need to escort me home, i'm sure i'll be okay."

"i'm not just talking about the fight." chris says. "you've been great to me since high school."

"oh,"

YOU

the only reason you don't want chris to walk you back to your dorm is because of elaine. she's an incredible manipulator, and will talk shit about you at any chance she gets. especially if she sees you with a new boy. and you're honestly scared that chris might believe her.

but when chris brought up your guys's past, something in your gut ached. you felt an urge to hug him, and confide in him, and simply just exist with him by your side.

it's probably because you no longer feel like you have anyone to confide in. you lost your boyfriend and your best friend in the same day, and you feel bad about complaining to jasmin because she'd going through the same thing. she lost elaine today, too, and it's not fair for you to whine about it when she's probably just as upset as you are.

"thank you," you say as you and chris approach your dorm.

you guys talked the entire way there. well, more like you talked while he listened. you felt bad for speaking without giving him a chance to respond, but he insisted that he doesn't mind. and plus, you're only talking so much due to your nerves.

what if elaine tells him something bad about you, and it makes chris hate you too? what if she sleeps with him the way she did with kade? well, you and chris aren't a thing, so that wouldn't bother you. well. it shouldn't. but it does. the image of him and her? it's- ugh, it's fucking unbearable. and you have no reason to feel that way, since you guys aren't dating. i mean, he could have a girlfriend, and you wouldn't know.

"of course," chris replies as though he was doing something unquestionable.

you stand there for a second, waiting for him to leave. but he doesn't. he's waiting for you to let him in. but. god, you can't do that. what if elaine is in there? finally, you decide to bite the bullet. you fumble with your keys and unlock the door, holding it open for him to enter through.

chris thanks you quickly, walking into your and elaine's shared dorm room. it's decorated to be cozy and warm — a theme that the two of your agreed would make it homier. you love the interior designing, and it makes you happy. but now, you can't think about anything except the image of kade on top of elaine. on your guys's shared couch.

you enter after chris, not turning to facet before you lock the door with the key and stuff it into your pocket. but when you finally turn around, you instantly run into his backside. you side step, wondering what made him stop walking so abruptly. then, you see-

oh.

of fucking course.

kade is sitting on the beige-colored couch with a packs of ice pressed to his face in various spots. while elaine straddles his lap, holding the ice for him as she speaks in gentle, soothing tones. they don't seem to notice you and chris at first, seeming to be too busy flirting with one another. but this could just be an act. perhaps they're trying to look unbothered. and if so, it's working.

elaine leans forward and kisses kade passionately. it lasts long enough that you begin to feel uncomfortable. you turn to chris with a forced smile, "well. thanks for walking me back."

he looks at you with a worried expression, seeing directly through your facade. he knows you and elaine were best friends — your entire high school knew you guys to be the perfect duo. inseparable. and he also knows that kade is a dick. you're not sure if he's aware that you guys dated, but chris definitely hates his guts now, after what happened at the party.

"you can stay with me and my brothers tonight, if you want." chris offers. "we talked the school into giving us a huge dorm so the three of us could share. but it's bigger than we expected, so we have tons of room for you if you don't want to stay here for the night. and none of us would blame you, by the way."

he gives elaine and kade a side-glance. the glare that chris shoots them would likely have been deadly if they were to have looked up at him. but they're too busy with each other to even notice his eyes on them.

"i couldn't ask you to do that," you say with another forced smile, "i'll be fine for the night. you've done more than enough."

chris looks like he wants to protest against this, but he shuts his mouth and decides not to. he nods, agreeing with your decision. "i'm not going to force you, but the offer remains. even if you change your mind in the middle of the night, i'll let you in without any questions."

you smile at this. genuinely. chris has been so insanely kind to you, and you simply don't understand what you've done to deserve it. yeah, you guys were friends a few years back. but chris is being so generous.

overcome with emotion, you wrap your arms around his neck. you hug him tightly, and he hugs you back. you bury your head in the crook of his collarbone, and squeeze him as though you would break without him there to hold you together. like a vase that needs tape to stay standing.

when you finally let go, you're forced to wipe at your eyes to refrain from crying. that would be insanely embarrassing, so you refuse to let any tears fall. you're sure chris wouldn't mind, but you would. you'd rather die than let him see you sob over your ex best friend and kade. ugh. even his name makes your throat close up.

"this is so insensitive." elaine says, causing you and chris to both turn your heads in her direction. you'd forgotten about her. well, that's a complete lie. but you'd like to believe it.

she's still sitting on kade's lap, but they're no longer making out shamelessly. her arms are draped across his shoulders, and his hands are under her shirt, but it's better than before, at least.

"y'know that's the prick who did this to kade, don't you?" elaine asks, directing her question to you.

"i'm aware." you reply, keeping your voice as level as possible. the feeling of having chris behind you makes you feel ten times as more confident, knowing he'd back you up against kade. you don't feel small against her anymore like you did at the party. it's nice. having someone on your side as well. it's not 2 v 1 any longer.

"then why the fuck is he even here? it's not his dorm." kade asks with a scoff and an eye roll, as though the scoff wasn't enough. you feel as chris's posture straightens behind you, and you give him a side glance that only the two of you could notice. he understands, and instantly relaxes — knowing that this is your problem, not his.

"i was there when the fight happened." you tell her, ignoring kade's attempt to piss chris off. "where were you, elaine? having sex with damien? oh, or was it vance? sorry. i can't keep up."

elaine looks like she could explode with rage, her face turning red as her teeth clenching together. it's a sight that you'd love to relish in, but you learned your lesson earlier today. sometimes it's best not to add on more and more. that's asking for a fight.

so you simply give her a final smile, turning to chris. you give him an apologetic look before standing on your toes and pressing your lips to his.

the kiss was an attempt to make elaine and kade annoyed, but you find yourself genuinely enjoying it. you snake your arms behind chris's neck, and he places his hands on your waist, holding your firmly against him. time seems to slow around you guys, as if the universe had been waiting for this moment for as long as you were. it no longer matters who's in the room. you only care about chris.

"i'm so sorry," you whisper against his lips between kisses, "just go with it."

"don't you dare apologize for this." he says. you feel his grip on your waist tighten, and you smile against him, returning to the kiss with an entirely different intention.

before, it was just to piss off your two nemesis. but now, you're doing it for your own enjoyment. because you actually want to. because you actually have feelings for chris. well. you think? you never saw him as a crush before this. but now, you're not sure you'll ever be able to look at him in the same light.

christopher owen. your christopher owen.

@kasqnxx @lvrsparadise @prettysturniolo @strniolo @urmyslxt @cupidsturniolo @opheliaofficial07 @thetriplets3 @sturn1olo-ffics @uhnanix @deadxrx @kitaysworld @lovelysturniolo @wilmalovegood @ladylokilaufeyson5 @sturniolopepsi @strnilolo @knowingnothingnoel @its-jennarose @lea0518 @slaysturniolo @sturnlover @tcvazq @ifilwtmfc @poopydroopt @cl0esblogg @ellaynaa @itzdarling

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Akai Shuuichi isn't afraid of heights. Like any sane person, however, he dreads the fall.

Though he questions his sanity. Because try as he might to stay away from the edge, it calls to him. Staring into sweet oblivion sends shivers down his spine, the uncertainty of his fate a thrill like no other. Most days he trusts in himself, his ability to walk the razor's edge, but he's fallen before. And it hurt.

Of course, pain is just a part of life he's learned to live with. In his line of work, people get injured all the time. And if you can't handle that, you have to be very lucky to make it out alive. For the longest time, death wasn't an option.

(Now, it wouldn't be so bad.)

So he steadied himself, got smarter, hardier. Better at avoiding situations that result in pain. And better at shutting it out, too, when it did appear, in order to keep going.

Why, then, does his chest ache and burn?

It's quite simple.

Layers and layers of ice, degrees of separation in place precisely to protect him from pain like this, melted through by Rei's blazing heat.

What a stupid thing he's done, to get attached again.

He could've tried to resist, at the start. Before things had gone too far. Before he got to know Furuya Rei.

But maybe, by then, it was already too late. In truth, he probably doomed himself years ago, when he accepted Scotch's offer of companionship. It brought Bourbon into his orbit, and the man's never been any less than doggedly persistent. Once Shuuichi let him in, he was never going to escape unscathed.

Shuuichi let him get too close, and got burnt as a result. Could see it coming, too, for the longest time. But how was he supposed to escape Rei's brilliance? His touch, devastatingly kind? It would be like trying to block out the sun - an exercise in painful impossibility.

So he's stopped trying, and embraced the wildfire that is Rei. Of course he burns, it's his nature.

(There's some things Shuuichi will need to reevaluate about his own, now that he has time. Because he certainly never thought of himself as a masochist, and yet, despite the pain, he knows one thing for certain: he wouldn't want things any other way.)

(Not one that is available to him, at least.)

Thus, he resorts to clinging to the vestiges of patience and composure he has cultivated for years to keep working through the situation with a cool head.

To do what is right.

He's putting back together what he tore apart, unwittingly, some three years ago now. Their struggle is over. They deserve to rest and recover, nurse their wounds - together.

It doesn't matter that he feels like he's bleeding out. He's used to patching himself up, after all.

And he's glad that he can do this for his... friends. The term invokes a foreign, gentle joy. They're no longer team mates, no longer allies, no longer forced together by circumstance. That's in the past, now. They stick to each other by choice, these days. That makes them friends, right?

He's happy for his friends.

Shuuichi pours himself another glass of scotch.

.

He should've picked a different hotel than his family.

Rather, his family should've really looked into a permanent residence already, considering Masumi has decided she doesn't want to go back to Britain. It's not like mother could refuse, after all the things his little sister did for her - not least of which, coming clean to Shiho and convincing her to share the APTX antidote, when all was said and done.

They're certainly not lacking in money, and Shuuichi's sure the Hanedas have connections that would make finding a flat, or even a house, possible, even on short notice.

Then again, Masumi told him they've been living in a hotel for more than half a year - maybe they've simply grown used to the comforts. It's not for him, but he's rarely seen eye to eye with mother.

Regardless, none of this excuses banging at his door at seven in the morning, on the dot.

"Shuu, are you up yet?"

Well, if he wasn't, he surely would be, now. Years undercover have left him a light sleeper out of necessity - it's a habit he won't be able to break for quite a while, even if he wanted to.

Still, the splitting headache and nausea make him consider playing dead. He doesn't feel much better than it, in any case.

Another set of knocks shakes his door. He loves his sister, and her determination is one of her best traits. But some of these days, it's also highly inconvenient.

"One moment."

He drags himself off the barstool, checks the mirror. Can almost hear Rei telling him he looks like death warmed over. Roughly two hours of sleep half-draped over the hotel room bar certainly didn't do him any favours.

He buttons up his shirt in an attempt at modesty, combs back his hair roughly. Part of him wants to send Masumi away - she's idolised him for too long. His little sister doesn't deserve to have the illusion of composure shattered, shouldn't have to see him, like this.

But she told him, at her birthday party, trying alcohol for the first time in their family home, under his watchful eyes. Always direct, but, as it turned out, even more so when tipsy:

'When all of this is over, I want my brother back. Just...you, however you are.'

If Shuuichi waits for a time where he feels ready to talk to her, won't stain her merely by existing in proximity, they'll never get to meet at all.

(He can't have that. He's missed too much, already.)

So he drags himself to the door, dishevelled, morning breath and all. Opens it a crack.

"Morning." If his voice is a little rougher than usual, there's nothing he can do about it.

Masumi pushes the door wide open so she can step in, giving him a wide berth. Inspects him head to toe, worry clear in her scowl and the wrinkle of her nose.

"...is this a bad time?", she asks, a glint to her eyes as she notices the half-empty bottle of scotch on the bar's counter. She can't help it - a detective through and through, and not good enough at feigning nonchalance yet. The evidence at the crime scene is surely forming a rather damning picture - he really should have put the bottle back into the bar before letting her in.

She plops down on the small sofa, makes herself comfortable while he opens the window. That should at least give them some relief from the smells accumulated overnight in the room.

"No. You're just here early. Is something the matter?"

He doesn't bother with pleasantries on principle, but at this hour he finds himself even less inclined. Besides - she wouldn't be here this early if it wasn't important. At least Shuuichi dearly hopes she has more sense than that.

Masumi looks down at the floor, a little guilty. He settles on the barstool and waits for her hesitation to blow over. Must really be looking like shit, if he's managed to curb her usual enthusiasm.

"I was going to ask for a favour, but I'm really not sure-"

He gives her an unimpressed look, from up upon his perch. It's a little too early to beat around the bush.

"Masumi." A single word, aimed to cut her off with calm precision. "How do I help?"

He might not be feeling well, but he's a professional - he's worked in worse conditions, for less important reasons. He'll drag himself out of his slump, if she needs him.

"You don't have to. It's silly." She gives him a sheepish smile, fangs and all.

"That's for me to decide, once you let me know what you need. So?"

She steadies herself, looks up at him, and sighs.

"For context, it's been months now, but Ran's still down about the whole Shinichi fiasco. So, we've decided to surprise her with an outing, tomorrow night."

So far so good, although he doesn't see where that concerns him.

"It was gonna be just us girls, and I'm confident that between Ran and myself, we can handle anyone stupid enough to try and cause trouble. But you know how it is in Beika. There's always a risk."

He does indeed know how Beika has somehow overtaken Osaka in every single criminal statistic there is. If she didn't have friends here, he would suggest moving elsewhere. He hears Nagano is very lovely, all year 'round.

"So we were discussing if there's anyone we could bring for company. And, well-"

"Go on."

"Sonoko somehow - I'd really like her resources - caught wind that Okiya Subaru is back on 'vacation'. She might have suggested asking him to accompany us?"

Not entirely unexpected - miss Suzuki had taken something of a liking to him, for whatever reason. It's a testament to the improvement of his acting skills. Engaging with kids and teenagers is a far cry more difficult and involved than his cover as Rye, somehow.

"...she may also be under the inaccurate impression, you, well, he could be a potential match for Ran."

At least his sister's on the right page there. That's not happening, never in a thousand years. Even if Ran wasn't barely more than half his age, she's too innocent, selfless, kind. If something like love exists in his heart, it couldn't ever be for someone like her - not again.

"You want me to decline the offer, then?" Simple enough.

Masumi shakes her head.

"No, Sonoko's right. It's always good to have an extra pair of eyes, and I'd love to have you with us. Been too long since we last spent time together. Besides, I don't think Ran is even interested in you - or anyone, really, after that disaster..." It takes him a moment to place the bitterness in her voice, uncharacteristic as it is.

"And that is unexpected?"

"No. I get it, she needs time. But she's miserable, and I want her to cheer up already..." Masumi mumbles the latter half to herself, subdued. Shuuichi's not sure he was supposed to hear that, but, well. He did.

"You'll get through to her eventually."

Good back-up gets one out of the toughest of scrapes, he can attest to that. If his sister is determined to get Ran to feel better, her persistence will make it come true, eventually.

"I sure hope so." She smiles up at him.

He finds his lips quirking up in response. "You focus on helping her. I'll cover your back."

He's sure he'll manage not to indulge miss Suzuki's delusions too badly. Rei often let him know how off-putting he can be, after all - finally a good use for his skills.

"Thanks, Shuu."

She gets up. Stops a couple of steps away from him, hovering uncertainly. When he raises an eyebrow, he can almost see the 'ah, fuck it', and then she's hugging him. Shuichi pats her back, a little awkwardly.

"Any time", he says and means it. "If there's anything else..."

She tenses next to him, but shakes her head.

"No, it's...I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Well, now he is a little worried. He'll need to keep an eye out for whatever's troubling her.

"Alright." He won't push her; she'll tell him if she needs to.

Masumi lets go and scurries off, fleeing for the door.

"Text me the time and place, I'll be there."

"Will do. See you tomorrow." She nods and waves her goodbye. He follows to lock the door behind her, the bolt sliding shut with a satisfying clack.

There's just one small problem. He currently doesn't have Okiya's get-up. And Okiya doesn't live in this hotel.

After dropping him off yesterday, Shuuichi had planned not to bother him for a couple of days. Well. That plan has just been tossed out the window rather unceremoniously.

It can't be helped. With a bit of apprehension, he calls Scotch.

.

Under the cover of darkness, Shuuichi scales the garden wall, dropping into the Kudo's backyard without issue. The alarms have been disabled according to the schedule he provided.

He slips in through the unlocked backdoor, shutting it behind himself. The security systems of the place are too familiar; he reactivates them on autopilot. Better to avoid unpleasant surprises, wherever possible.

Clearly, Scotch had a similar idea - Shuuichi can barely see his outline in the darkened kitchen, but the revolver he gave to him gleams in the dim light. It's nice to see he's making good use of it.

Sharp blue eyes scan him.

"The passphrase?"

Nostalgia steals the air from his lungs. Between unsafe safe houses, a trigger-happy Bourbon, and working with people best described as shapeshifters, they needed a way to identify themselves, and quickly, when they returned home.

It's been years since he's last spoken it, but the passphrase comes to him as easily as breathing.

"Eat, drink, and be merry..."

Scotch had suggested the words, years ago. The motto he lived by, when not on the job, in order to not lose his sanity. The motto he'd imposed on Rye, as well, when they became partners.

A cheshire grin in the night.

"...for tomorrow we die." Scotch finishes their creed, lowers the revolver.

"Welcome home, Rye."

.

It's always been easy to find comfort by Scotch's side. Between the greeting, making gyoza together - which goes much better than their attempts years ago - and watching mindless action movies with a glass of bourbon, ripping apart impossible stunt work, it's difficult not to fall into a simulacrum of the fragile peace they'd carved out for themselves, away from organisation work.

Only this time, the peace is real.

Despite his apprehensions about meeting Scotch, Shuuichi's glad he's here - travelling with him is one thing, but he didn't realize just how much he's missed downtime with his ex-partner. Scotch's sharp intellect and easy-going attitude make for pleasant company.

It's exactly what he needs to unwind.

Which is why he doesn't see how Scotch has him cornered until it's too late.

.

The neighbourhood of the Kudo manor is quiet, at night.

As they head out onto the balcony for a smoke in the moonlight, their conversation turns to hushed whispers. Mellowed by an evening of pleasant company and several drinks, the world sharpens into focus between them, illuminated by the glow of their cigarettes.

Standing would be too visible, so they sit on the stone floor, side by side, like so many times before.

"Hey, Akai?" His name, not his monicker. A chilling sense of dread creeps into his chest. Please, no.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Shuuichi closes his eyes. He can take a good guess where this is going. Thus, he takes a deep drag from his cigarette, and braces himself.

"You know. For letting me meet Zero."

He'd been hoping against hope they could avoid the topic altogether. After all, they've made it several hours without addressing it. But unfortunately, it seems his luck has run out.

(Still, having seen Scotch in good spirits all evening makes it worthwhile, just a bit.)

Maybe they can just move along quickly.

"Think nothing of it."

"No. Akai, listen. I know you had to pull some strings to make it happen, and I want you to know I appreciate that. We appreciate that - even if Zero is pissed. First thing he did was slap me; told me I was late."

Scotch laughs, low and sweet in the night air.

They both know he let himself get slapped - Rei tends to telegraph too much, when he's angry, and surely it's even more obvious for someone so intimately familiar with him. The thought stings. And yet, through it, Shuuichi can't help the help the small smile creeping on his face. That sounds like Rei, all right. He would've liked to see it - someone else the target of his anger, for once.

Scotch seems happy to just bask in the memory, but Shuuichi's curiosity has been piqued.

"Did you manage to resolve your issues?" After all, that was the goal. If they didn't, none of this was worth it - several hoops he jumped through, bureaucratic and personal, for nothing.

"It's tentative, so far, but I have faith we'll get there. We've been through too much, together, at this point. This won't break us... I hope."

Shuuichi is reminded painfully of the bits and pieces he's heard of their childhood adventures. Fishing and fighting and being friends. It must be nice, to have found love so early in life. To get to keep it, too.

"I don't think so, it's clear how much he missed you. I'd be surprised if he ever let you go again." It leaves him a little cold, to no longer be the focal point of Furuya's burning determination. Chasing him was always just a means to an end for getting to Scotch. And now his wish has been granted. Shuuichi hopes it's worth it.

When he smiles, Shuuichi is sure this is Hiro, the person closest to Rei. It burns, but at the same time he finds himself glad that Scotch shines with such utter fondness when he talks of Zero. That's what Rei deserves, after all.

"I hope so. I don't intend to leave again, anyways. Every single day when I was hiding, I missed him."

It's a quiet, gentle admission Akai isn't sure how to handle. All these emotions are a bit too much - he's not used to being thanked, unless it's with useless medals, and he's not used to being confided in. He supposes it's nice that Scotch trusts him enough to lay himself bare like this, nowadays. Still, he can't help but wish for the old times, when they were much better at keeping their feelings out of his face. He's already happy for them; isn't that enough?

Scotch turns to look at him, blue eyes burning bright in the moonlight.

"And I missed you, too."

Cold wind tousles his hair. Shuuichi stares at Scotch.

If he didn't know what to say before, he certainly doesn't do so now. How can Hiro say that so easily? It's too personal. It's one thing to have his little sister say it, who only ever saw an idealized version of him to look up to. For Scotch to say this, despite knowing what he did, who he is - it makes Shuuichi nauseous.

Because he can tell Scotch is being painfully genuine.

'I missed you too', burns in his throat. But too many conflicting emotions keep it tightly sealed. His breathing becomes difficult, requires a conscious effort to take air in, hold, breathe out. Repeat.

And Scotch isn't even done yet.

"Akai. I have to get used to that name now, huh? Feel free to call me by my name, too, if you want."

With how his mind is spinning, it's difficult to figure out what he wants at all, besides for Scotch, no, Hiromitsu to stop. He's ripping apart the bubble of warm nostalgia that was enveloping them so nicely, leaving them exposed to the present. The night is cold and uncertain, without its protection.

"...you haven't been meeting my eyes all evening. Please, Akai - let me know what's wrong. We couldn't, back then, but I'd like to be your friend, now."

It's the kindest smile he's seen on Sc- Hiromitsu yet, and it's too much. Shuuichi has to avert his eyes, can't keep looking at his former partner, all earnest focus placed on him. A shiver runs downs his spine.

There's few things he wants more, in life.

"...we are", he manages to tear from his aching throat, choked up with emotion. This is a bad idea. He's not supposed to get attached. He's just making the same mistake, over and over again. He should've kept quiet.

(If he'd told Akemi how he truly felt, would it have mattered?)

"Then why do you seem miserable, whenever you look at me? Why do you try to avoid me? Don't think I didn't notice."

Of course he did, always too sharp. So helpful, on a mission, and occasionally in private too; he'd know they were getting sick before they really felt it, start treatment with soup and tea early. Taking care of them, even then.

"It's got nothing to do with you, it's-" 'me', he wants to say. Fear and bitter envy, the brunt of which Hiromitsu really doesn't deserve to face. So Shuuichi's been trying to avoid them, and, by extension, his former partner.

He manages to catch himself in time, before he gives voice to feelings that can't be unsaid.

"Yes?" Hiromitsu's voice is calm and patient and Shuuichi hates him for the attention he's paying to him.

He manages to correct his course in time, if barely.

"You and Rei deserve some time alone, now that you're finally back together." It's close enough, only a partial lie. They're so important to each other, and he truly wants them to make up. He'd only be in their way.

"Rei, hm?" Hiro smiles at him. Of course he picked up on Shuuichi's blunder.

He's had just about enough of being cornered. Gets up and is about to head inside and maybe hide in the attic for a while. The door can be barricaded from the inside. Hiromitsu rises after him, puts a hand around his wrist in a vice grip.

"Let. Go." It takes all his patience to not just break Scotch's arm and leave.

"I'm sorry for pushing you, Akai. Please, give me half a minute more."

Unfortunately, his best glare stopped working on Scotch several years back. Shuuichi looks at his wristwatch, starts counting down. As soon as Hiromitsu starts talking, he knows his time is better spent focusing on what he has to say, instead.

"Look at me, Akai, and listen up. You can't get between the two of us. I've offered you a place at my side years ago, and Zero... well, he's come around. The offer still stands. It wasn't conditional, but if it was, you would've earned your place easily, by now. I owe you my life, and so does Zero, several times over."

"We did what we had to, and you did the same for me." For the longest time it was that simple, their relationship purely transactional, because Bourbon could only ever deal in exchanges. A favour for a favour.

It's long since stopped working that way, and Shuuichi knows it.

"Oh, please. None us had to do anything more than cooperate on missions, and yet we all chose to do so anyways. You're one of us, Akai. Stop fighting it."

And he wants to, desperately so. The thought of spilling his rotten insides for them to see has him sick to his stomach, and yet, how much worse could it be than what they've already witnessed?

Hiromitsu squeezes his arm, a burning brand of human connection. It staves off the cold, just a little.

When he speaks again, it's soft, but firm.

"You should've joined us for dinner, yesterday. Both of us missed you."

Shuuichi doesn't know what to say to that, too busy fighting his internal battles, but surely something shows on his face, because Hiro laughs at him.

"As amusing as it is to see you flush, no, that wasn't an invitation to a threesome."

...he isn't quite sure whether he's supposed to be relieved, or crestfallen, at this.

"I didn't think-"

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't." Hiromitsu's smile is too sly and knowing. It's a testament to the fact Shuuichi's spent too much time with Furuya, because wiping it off his face in a fight sure sounds appealing, right about now.

He's always been better at expressing himself through deeds rather than words, anyways.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't need to set the record straight. Zero's furious, by the way. Count yourself lucky that I'm the one breaking the news to you. He doesn't appreciate being set up on a date with his best friend."

Hiromitsu pauses, presumably to let that sink in. Shuuichi stares him down. That is supposed to be new information, how?

"Let me be perfectly clear: I love Zero."

He says it easily, with a sweet smile. It stings fiercely in Shuuichi's chest. By now, he thinks he knows what Hiromitsu is playing at, but unfortunately that knowledge doesn't prevent it from being an effective tactic.

(If this is how Hiromitsu treats his friends, he doesn't want to be his enemy.)

"He's my best friend, I love him like a brother. But he's family. Nothing more, nothing less."

There's a small pang of guilt at the relief that floods his system, but he needs it said explicitly to really believe it.

"You aren't a couple, then?"

Hiromitsu raises an eyebrow, as if to ask 'and why would that matter to you?' But thankfully he's done teasing, or Shuuichi really would need to break something, or rather, someone.

"No. I can see how you got the idea, but there's never been anything between us. Zero says you have a brother? Imagine we presumed the same about you two, just because you're close."

The confirmation lets him breathe more freely, even if it will need time to settle. His mind is still spinning, too many thoughts fighting for control. From this mess, of all things, his long-forgotten manners emerge as the failsafe. "Sorry."

Hiromitsu waves it off with a grin.

"I don't mind too much, we got excellent dinner out of it. Thank you for that, by the way. But do make sure to apologize properly to Rei."

Hiro winks at him, then straightens, looks him in the eye.

Squeezes his arm a final time, before he lets go.

"I mean it, Akai - you're our friend. And I hope you rest a little easier, knowing the truth."

Shuuichi does.

.

He's five minutes late to the requested location downtown - through little fault of his own, this time.

Masumi's text arrived a mere twenty minutes ago, and the things PSB liaison Akai Shuuichi might get away with, such as speeding, don't apply to the civilian Okiya Subaru (though that would admittedly be a very nice perk of the job).

He can hazard a guess why Masumi didn't send the details earlier as he drives past the building in question to find a parking spot - she probably didn't want to give him time to reconsider and back out.

Because she's dragging him to a goddamn karaoke bar, and, standing in the huddle of girls waiting for him, is Miyano Shiho.

His instincts tell him to cancel, to take up position on the rooftop bar across the street - it would provide easier surveillance options.

(But he's tried to protect Akemi from afar, and failed her, miserably.)

Besides, he promised, and he really does try to be better, these days.

So he smiles, all awkward and apologetic Subaru, as he joins them. It's going to be a long night.

(He's soothed by the smell of Rei's hypoallergic fabric softener clinging to the sweater he picked. Can't help but feel that there would be a certain appeal to sharing them, if Rei were open to the idea.)

.

The evening goes better than he imagined, all things considered, even if there's crying involved - as is often the case when he meets Mouri Ran.

It's a pleasant distraction, if nothing else.

He keeps an eye on Masumi all night to see what could possibly be bothering her, but as far as he can tell she's genuinely happy to spend the night with her friends. In fact, considering she told him how it had been too long since they'd last seen each other, she pays surprisingly little attention to him.

He prefers it this way.

(Although he would've liked to ask for her advice on how to apologise properly. Alas, this is probably not the right time, or place.)

.

Mostly he stays at their table, watching the girls' drinks and the crowd, occasionally giving guys who seem to consider chatting the girls up cheerful glares. Masumi made her wishes very clear, after all.

It's a good thing he talked to Scotch Hiromitsu yesterday. Enthusiasm permeates the bar, but unfortunately confidence doesn't equate to talent. Several of the loud, out of tune performances would've been torture with a hangover.

He finds himself humming along to the classics regardless.

As it is, it's almost pleasant. Sure, Shiho keeps ignoring him when it's just the two of them left at the table, but that's better than open hostility. Probably.

(It feels a little worse.)

.

Two hours in Sonoko ushers Ran to stay with Subaru rather conspicuously.

Smalltalk is stilted between them, lacking in common ground, and it doesn't really help that their connection is through the Kudo family, the memories of which she's here to escape for the night. She's polite as ever, but without the other girls as buffer, the conversation quickly runs dry.

Thankfully, the girls' singing distracts them soon enough. A cutesy pop song about moving on, dedicated to Ran.

She seems about ready to cry halfway through, and by the time they're done she's sniffling and trying to discreetly wipe her tears. Shuuichi gives her a handkerchief and pats her back rather awkwardly in an effort to try and soothe her. He hopes the girls will be back soon to take care of this. He's woefully underqualified to handle this kind of situation.

When they finally do get back, he plans to excuse himself, but before he finds a good time he's swept up in a group hug instead.

Turns out he might have misread the situation - what with Ran being overjoyed at her friends' continued support, and needing to express that, somehow. How exactly that translates into him also being included in their huddle is beyond his comprehension, but he's not going to struggle and cause a scene.

(It's kind of nice to see her smile again - gloominess doesn't suit her.)

.

It might've been a bit too much excitement for Ran, because around midnight she's almost falling asleep at their table. At this point, the rest of the girls declare their mission a success, and the focus shifts to trying to figure out how to get back in the middle of the night.

Shuuichi volunteers to drive them home.

It's crammed in his little Subaru, but the girls manage, and once he's dropped off Sonoko, things quiet down considerably.

Masumi makes him swear not to tell their mother how long they were out.

He agrees, of course, knowing he got up to much worse as a teen - back when he was still susceptible to peer pressure and living abroad in a fraternity, alcohol made him do very stupid things indeed to prove his worth.

If this is how Masumi chooses to defy their mother, he'll take it - she could be up to so much worse.

She's arranged to stay with Ran; thus, he's released from his services for the night. He watches as they help each other up the stairs, leaning in close, whispering and laughing to each other.

He would make an assumption, now, but Hiromitsu's words are still clear in his mind.

So for now, he refrains, and is simply glad they're supporting each other.

.

In the end, predictably, Shiho is the only one left in the car.

"Didn't dare to join us wearing your own skin, cousin?"

He shrugs. "Masumi requested Subaru."

"Well. At least you didn't creep on us from several buildings away. Baby steps." 'But progress, nonetheless', her small smile says.

He doesn't know why he says it. Maybe because it's late. Because Scotch Hiromitsu has chipped away at his protective tissue. Because it's Shiho.

"Staying away didn't save her." He doesn't need to say who - the same wound is carved into Shiho's heart, after all. And judging by the songs she chose to sing today, it still bleeds just the same.

She sighs, long-winded and too world-weary for a girl her age.

"No. No, it didn't. All it did was rob us of the time we had with her. Utter idiocy, in retrospect."

Shuuichi hums in agreement. Lost opportunities they'll never get back, all thanks to lies and the wish to protect her.

"I tried to push her away, you know? I was too involved - maybe, if she didn't know what I was doing, she could retain her innocence. Maybe she could even leave, one day, I'd hoped. But she clung to me stubbornly."

Never backing down from what she wanted, from those she loved. That's the women he fell for.

Shuuichi finds himself smiling, somewhat pained.

"She loved you dearly, to the bitter end."

He hands her the flip phone that has been his constant companion for almost a year now. Past the lockscreen waits Akemi's last message to him. With its P.S., asking him to protect her dear little sister, if the worst should come to pass.

He never got to reply to her, to promise that he would, of course he would.

It's short, so Shiho doesn't take long to read it. She attempts to hand it back, eyes glistening, but not crying.

Always composed, in front of him.

"Keep it."

It hurts to let go of it, but Shiho deserves to have assurance of Akemi's love, even in death.

(Unlike himself, who only ever lied to her.)

She looks up at him, uncertain, but what she reads on his face seems enough to convince her. She snaps the phone shut, cradles it to her chest.

Smiles grimly at him. "Thank you."

The rest of the car ride passes in silence.

They split up in front of the Kudo mansion.

"...I was planning to visit her grave on the weekend. You should come."

.

Shuuichi knows where Akemi's ashes have been laid to rest - he was the one to pay for her funeral, after all.

(Once upon a time, he'd dreamt of a future with her, of being family. Cruel irony, how that turned out to be true.)

Since her parents were never officially buried, and he hadn't been able to reach Shiho, he'd made the selfish decision to have Akemi's ashes stored in the Sera family grave.

He hasn't had the time to visit, yet - first, things had been too dangerous, then too busy, and by now, he's really just been unable to face her, alone. He's glad he doesn't have to, now.

Shiho sets down an incense stick, and some cut flowers - white gladioli. Shuuichi squats down next to her, puts down his flowers - lilies, also white - into the vase and lights the incense.

"Hey, sis. Look who I managed to drag along."

"Hello, Akemi." Sorry it took so long.

They stand, side by side, in silent prayer.

He's had days to prepare himself, to think about what he wants to say to her. But as he stands before her grave, all that's left is sorrow, a hollow in his chest where she should be.

(Filled with regret, and someone else. Jodie's right. He's a terrible partner.)

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth.

I'm sorry I left you behind.

I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.

I miss you.

The gentle smile when she talked about her little sister. The sweet blush when he'd kissed her hand. The way she'd awkwardly apologize for flipping the pancake she was making for breakfast into the sink. The ikebana arrangements she'd spend hours and hours on, decorating her flat. Her kind hands, mending his body and soothing his soul. The way the sunlight would turn her hair into gold.

A thousand small joys she gave to him, and all he had for her in turn were lies.

He doesn't remember the last time he cried - maybe as a child, when he fell and scraped his knee. It feels so far away.

His body doesn't remember how to, either - otherwise he surely would be, now.

How cruel. Even in death, he can't show her his honest feelings.

Shuuichi shows her cold comfort, instead.

Takes out a plastic evidence bag he requisitioned from the PSB, and places it on the altar as an offering. In it, the shattered scope of a rifle, splattered with its owner's blood. Gin's. It was found by his side, together with his Beretta, the instrument of his voluntary destruction. As the PSB forces had closed in on him, he'd chosen to kill himself, rather than surrender.

When Shuuichi lies awake at night, it irks him that Gin had a choice, at the end, where he took it away from so many others. He didn't deserve that kindness. A part of him is furious that he wasn't there to see his enemy's dying breaths, preferably through the scope of his rifle.

But it was probably for the best - if he'd been there, he's not sure he could've reigned himself in. Might've murdered Gin with his own two hands, and become the kind of monster he swore to hunt. (And if he's completely honest, there's another possibility: caught in a struggle with his enemy, he might have lost sight of his surroundings and slipped up. Facing Gin, that would've been a death sentence.)

Instead, and he's got the boy to thank for that, he was tasked with keeping their allies - Rei - alive and breathing. He can't help but feel like that matters.

I'm sorry I couldn't avenge you; you deserved better.

But he won't be making anyone miserable, anymore.

It's over, and they're still standing, in defiance of the bloodlust of their enemies. He's managed to keep one promise to Akemi, at least.

I'll continue to watch over her, if she lets me.

Shiho claps beside him, done with her prayer.

Thank you for everything.

The incense stick's stump turns to ash and scatters in the wind.

I hope your spirit can find peace, Akemi.

.

When he lights himself a cigarette to calm his mind, Shiho holds out a hand, wordlessly, expectantly.

He regards her with mild curiosity, but offers the pack regardless.

"What. You think I haven't done worse?"

She snatches his lighter, and with a hiss of flame, lights up her own cigarette.

"Akemi used to tell me to stay away from drugs, but I deserve this for bringing you here."

She takes a deep drag, managing not to cough. It's clear, from her posture and practiced ease, that it's far from her first foray into smoking.

"I hated you, you know? For the longest time. For playing with her, breaking her heart, leaving her behind, all alone. Leaving her to die."

It burns his lungs, to have his own thoughts voiced out loud, by Shiho of all people. But he deserves every cruel word dropped from her lips - she speaks nothing but the truth, after all. He needs to bear her judgement.

Shiho smiles, grimly. Doesn't look at him, focused on the grave instead.

"But not Akemi. She saw through you, and loved you still. Forgave you, even, because that's the kind of person she was."

A cold spring breeze plays with her hair. The sweater and cap protect him from the worst of it, but it still bites at his face, makes his eyes sting.

"I don't think I can ever be as forgiving as she was. You were, and still often are, an unrepentant jerk."

She turns to look at him, eyes as hard as steel. So familiar his eyes burn. He can't look away.

"But her death is not your fault."

It's cloaked in insults and pain. But it's an absolution he could never have asked for, one no one else could have given him. His breathing stops, then comes a little easier.

"Neither is it Kudo's. Did he ever tell you? He was there, watched her die. For the longest time, I blamed him for not saving her. He's brilliant when he puts his mind to it. Did he care so little, as to not even try?"

She shakes her head.

"It is a cruel thing to begrudge him for having witnessed her death. He was just a kid - small, powerless, afraid. Up against enemies that tried to kill him, too, only failed through sheer luck. I had to first be put into the same shoes to understand that."

As if she's not just a kid now, too. Neither of them should have gone through what they did, and yet it happened, has left them weathered and worn, tired beyond their years. They're still young - he hopes they can recover from the worst.

"I'm trying to tell myself it's not my fault either. She died for me, for us, trying to get us out of there. But I didn't know. She kept it from me, in case something went wrong. And I lie awake, going over conversations, wondering if I missed any signs. If I could've warned her or stopped her. If she could still be here, that way."

He's familiar with the spirals and hypotheticals, repeating the scenario over and over, to look for a way out. It never changes the facts.

"That kind of thinking gets you nowhere."

She gives him a sharp glare, a wordless threat to 'shut the fuck up'. He takes a step back, raising a hand in surrender.

"I know it's useless. Because she is dead, and no amount of analysing can bring her back. At least the one person who truly is at fault will not be a problem any longer. That's a small comfort."

She glares at the scope with barely concealed hatred in her eyes.

"And that's all there is. Akemi was proud and strong-willed - she chose her path. Not reaching out to any of us for help was a choice she made. I can't take away her agency in this matter."

Shiho smiles, pained and beautiful in the setting sun.

"The worst thing is that if she hadn't done what she did, I might still be a prisoner of the organisation. I'd like to think she didn't want to die to achieve it, but she'd be so happy to see me living in the sunlight, once more."

"She would be overjoyed." It's an obvious and simple truth he can't help but confirm.

Oh. Shiho's crying, now, quiet tears trailing down her cheeks, reflecting the sunlight in streaks of gold. It shaves years of her worn face, makes her look as young as she truly is.

He gives her a handkerchief, is glad to see her accept it. She wipes her face, smudging some of the make-up - he'll need to let her know before they return to the public. She doesn't usually like it when people can see past her composure. Shuuichi's pretty sure he, too, shouldn't be here to witness this.

But she doesn't hide from him, today, so he'll take all she gives to him, and treasure it.

"I brought you here because I'm trying to be better. I got a second chance at life, and I want to take it, all of it, for myself and for Akemi. But I won't be able to, if I hold on to useless grudges."

She looks at the handkerchief in her hands.

"You're a jerk, but you're not horrible. And you're trying to be better, too."

She holds out her hand.

"I want to get to know you, Akai Shuuichi. Maybe we could start with meeting for coffee?"

He waits for her to take it back, to reconsider.

She just looks at him expectantly, raises an eyebrow too when he doesn't comply immediately.

Shuuichi is many things, but he tries not to be a coward.

So he fights the vertigo, takes a leap of faith.

"I'd like that."

And shakes her hand.

.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

yellow rose with idia? ^^

Idia Shroud:

Yellow Rose - a happy thought that causes a smile.

Today was a day to celebrate memories.

Idia awkwardly fumbled with his tie, feeling it was so tight it might strangle him. Ortho had checked at least three times and confirmed it was fine, but had since left the room to focus on other tasks that needed to be done. Idia had practically thrown him out as the constant reminder of his quickened pulse and high blood pressure only made his anxiety feel worse. He could only stare at himself in the mirror for so long, though he did admire his handiwork as his hair was neatly braided with his brushed aside to prevent his face from being covered. There weren’t many stylists gifted with the ability to style cursed hair and he’d really rather do it himself anyway.

Today was too important for anything to go wrong.

“It’s time!” Ortho floated into the room with an excited look on his face, gesturing to the hall where there would be many people awaiting his arrival. It made his knees knock together as he’s about to be thrown into an ultra-stressful situation, like he was desperately climbing ladders and avoiding barrels to reach a princess who didn’t even want him.

But you did want him, because how else would he have ended up here?

He has a lot to thank Ortho for, including the embarrassing situation that had got you here to begin with. They had been playing a silly little otome game together, meaning Idia was on a CG collecting journey and Ortho was helping him remember which path led where. There was a scene between two main characters where a note was exchanged, something very juvenile with a ‘do you like me, y/n?’ written on it.

“Have you ever tried that?” Idia was carefully reading the dialogue, making sure there were no flags being raised that he was on the wrong route and thus locked out of a precious CG that constantly eluded him due to the specific choices that had to be done in a very specific order and—

“Tried—Eh?” Idia hit his keyboard and accidentally began to skip already seen dialogue, panicking and back tracking to his previous save while Ortho patiently waited next to him. “Wh-what are you saying?”

“Writing a note!” Ortho pointed at the screen where a crudely drawn note was, suddenly looking around the room as he tried to find a physical example for Idia to use. It took some snooping but he found a few crumpled pieces of paper with madman scrawling on only half of it, tearing it apart and handing over the blank piece. “Ask them if they like you, and then I can deliver it! If they say no, you don’t even have to see them!”

It wasn’t like Ortho to indulge in his brother’s extreme introvert nature, and Idia was nearly swayed before remembering it could also implode the fragile balance of his online friend group. You, him, and Crimson Muscle made a formidable group, often being enough to on most raids together so he didn’t have to interact with other idiots online. It was much less painful to speak with you through a screen, knowing he could erase a message over and over until he got it just right. He couldn’t sacrifice that, could he?

He should’ve known Ortho’s mercy was only temporary.

Idia was forced out of the solitude of his room, a luncheon being held to celebrate the hard work of each dorm leader being held. He’d rather eat his own hands than celebrate but Crowley wouldn’t budge, persistent and irritating about the whole ordeal. The only good part was seeing your face in high-def rather than via a pixelated avatar online. He still didn’t sit directly across from you but diagonal was good enough for him; not the center of your attention but just within your peripheral where you could notice him.

“Psst, brother! I brought it!” Idia has a piece of paper hastily shoved into his hand, “I wrote it last night! Now you can give it to them in person for an even quicker response!”

He’s suddenly certain the entire world is conspiring against him, trying not to attract your attention as he frantically responded to Ortho.

“That won’t work!”

“Why not?” Ortho tilted his head in a clueless gesture, “In 4 out of the 6 good ends, the note is the pivotal moment in all of them! The Bad End only triggered if you didn’t build up your characters confidence enough to pass the note in class!”

Ortho is just quiet enough that you can’t make out exactly what he’s saying but you can hear him speaking, your eyebrows raised as you looked at the Shroud brothers. Idia saw the dialogue options appear before his very eyes as reality blended with video games for a moment: he could either pass the note to you now and accept the consequences or allow Ortho to reveal it was from the plot of some 3-star Otome game since he wasn’t creative enough to come up with his own way to confess.

He had tossed the paper at you, watching it land right in your half-open bag before he dashed, moving quicker than his physical body had ever moved before. He’d personally expel himself if Crowley tried to drag him back out of his room, he’d just take his parents business over and that’d be the end of that. He didn’t know how long he’d been curled up on his bed, face in his pillow as he considered just smothering himself rather than facing the light of day again. Life’s built-in autosave meant his fate was sealed and, somehow, he felt even more cursed than before.

Until a note slipped under his door, the side the writing was on turned upward so he could see it from his bed.

A little ‘y’ circled in red ink had led to this.

A grand hall decorated with flowers, STYX employees in their finest clothing filling most of the seats, the smell of expensive but most likely delicious foods just waiting to steal everyone’s attention away. When Idia entered the room he could see some of his and your family, along with a few friends dotted throughout but he can’t look for long as he felt like he might pass out.

He stood tall at the front of the room, glancing at the entry way anxiously, like he was truly afraid a too big primate would come through beating his fists on his chest and kidnapping his lover. He had been in a position like this before, albeit less willingly, and he began to understand now why it was so important to put his feelings out there even with the chance of rejection. A bell chimes and the music begins, and Idia can’t wipe the smile from his face.

The pointed grin remained even as you approached, your expression mirroring his as you smiled right back; he suspected by the end of the night his cheeks would ache with how happy he was, but he supposed he could put up with it for a day, for you.

[horizon-verizon]

Emma called Daemyra grooming, which to me means they both don't understand what that actually means and they don't understand the relationship, so sorry GREAT actor but I don't listen to their thoughts on them :)

Anon talks abt this post.

i mean, I guess? Grooming, yes, needs time and much more psychological manipulation than what we see b/t older Daemon and 19 year old Rhaenyra. It requires much more than showing explicit sexual content the one time (bc these two).

Some might point out that he was also giving her gifts as young as 15, which I mean...eh. He wasn't trying to deceive her with that particular act/acts or had ulterior motives which again is what is required in grooming situations. Daemon with the necklace wasn't having some master plan to entrap her or use her. He was just giving a necklace. That moment was more charged with the knowledge that such a thing just wouldn't fly in our own world, so the observation of what's actually happening int this particular scene is put aside for the audience wanting to and applying an immediate boundary by claiming that he was grpoming bc he gave her gifts in this very 1st episode and has thus been grooming her ever since she was what, 7ish if you asked some of them?

At the same time, Daemon has done wrong/manipulated to Rhaenyra both in bk and show when she is older and in her teens when he comes back from the Stepstones--even if we can't solidify or define it was real grooming.

For me, their relationship is one big "grey area" than anything solid and that has the potential to swing dark to light often bc that's simply who they both are. And I don't really fault or resent people for having the impression and final stamp of grooming, since it's such an age gap and she's a teen when they first kiss. (I suspect in the bk they also kissed and that was when she was actually 15ish). *EDIT 11/4/24* AND Daemon was using heer against Viserys at her young age of 15. I just don't think he was out to prey on her exactly.

GRRM already does make it a point to show that 13 yr old Dany getting impregnated, 15 year old Viserrra engaged to a man who could be her father and dying trying to live her last moments as a girl, AND Daemon messing w/Rhaenyra then getting the boot are all obviously bad things about this system--thus a critique of said political environments, but it's still does not mean Larra Rogare, Viserys I, Daemon, and a few others were necessarily bonafide "pedos" like Robert Baratheon, Craster, Walder Frey, or Aegon II bc...

it takes more than the presence of a marriage between 15 yr old and a 23 yr old or a mere relationship of such to rule one of them as an actual hand-rubbing "groomer" (although this particular label on Daemon fits more back in 111...he definitely was using her against Viserys) or a "pedo", bc of how marriages are an arranged affair AND these teens aren't as considered "adults" in ASOIAF--It's not a part of their conscious OR they were forced/socially pressured to marry

The boundaries are looser; again GRRM does criticize that, but he doesn't try to break away from the consequences of that by only writing characters who are closer in age fall in love or become closer or get into sexual relationships.

Example: He still has Dany have the much older and adult Daario as a lover so she can pursue her first self-determined relationship at her 15/16 years of age...which canonically she uses to heal even as she has her doubts about Daario's feelings for her. Perhaps he could have gotten her with one of her khalasar instead, like Jhoqo, but Dany is also still very much a teenager still and Daario was exciting and persistent when she wanted to feel desired. Daario is fine prostrating himself but not totally being her soldier like Jhoqo. Eventually, their relationship will not pan bc Daario's interest in her is still wrapped up more in her being a queen and she herself has the higher goal of freeing slaves, getting back her throne, later the Others, etc.--this doesn't mean that Daario wasn't a critical person in a particular point in her life or that she didn't love him. And all this is consequential to the sort of world she lives in and her particular circumstances.

*END OF EDIT*

Such relationships of real history and Westeros just don't jive with what we know can come of them and present so many possible fallbacks and mostly on the younger, and people want to avoid prevent justifying such things to impressionable audiences. I think, though, that people tend to eschew any and all signs of Rhaenyra genuinely finding strength AS GRRM WROTE IT in Daemon and vice versa. And that we simply do not live in their world so people have to be a little smarter and maintain a degree of intellectual separation as they also assess what makes these characters tick/their environment's affects on them as the actual text suggests. Basically, Watsonian vs Doylist readings and to stop making as if what's happening in real modern life will always happen in text. Slow down.

[dailyanarchistposts]

A.2.2 Why do anarchists emphasise liberty?

An anarchist can be regarded, in Bakunin’s words, as a “fanatic lover of freedom, considering it as the unique environment within which the intelligence, dignity and happiness of mankind can develop and increase.” [Michael Bakunin: Selected Writings, p. 196] Because human beings are thinking creatures, to deny them liberty is to deny them the opportunity to think for themselves, which is to deny their very existence as humans. For anarchists, freedom is a product of our humanity, because:

“The very fact… that a person has a consciousness of self, of being different from others, creates a desire to act freely. The craving for liberty and self-expression is a very fundamental and dominant trait.” [Emma Goldman, Red Emma Speaks, p. 439]

For this reason, anarchism “proposes to rescue the self-respect and independence of the individual from all restraint and invasion by authority. Only in freedom can man [sic!] grow to his full stature. Only in freedom will he learn to think and move, and give the very best of himself. Only in freedom will he realise the true force of the social bonds which tie men together, and which are the true foundations of a normal social life.” [Op. Cit., pp. 72–3]

Thus, for anarchists, freedom is basically individuals pursuing their own good in their own way. Doing so calls forth the activity and power of individuals as they make decisions for and about themselves and their lives. Only liberty can ensure individual development and diversity. This is because when individuals govern themselves and make their own decisions they have to exercise their minds and this can have no other effect than expanding and stimulating the individuals involved. As Malatesta put it, ”[f]or people to become educated to freedom and the management of their own interests, they must be left to act for themselves, to feel responsibility for their own actions in the good or bad that comes from them. They’d make mistakes, but they’d understand from the consequences where they’d gone wrong and try out new ways.” [Fra Contadini, p. 26]

So, liberty is the precondition for the maximum development of one’s individual potential, which is also a social product and can be achieved only in and through community. A healthy, free community will produce free individuals, who in turn will shape the community and enrich the social relationships between the people of whom it is composed. Liberties, being socially produced, “do not exist because they have been legally set down on a piece of paper, but only when they have become the ingrown habit of a people, and when any attempt to impair them will meet with the violent resistance of the populace … One compels respect from others when one knows how to defend one’s dignity as a human being. This is not only true in private life; it has always been the same in political life as well.” In fact, we “owe all the political rights and privileges which we enjoy today in greater or lesser measures, not to the good will of their governments, but to their own strength.” [Rudolf Rocker, Anarcho-syndicalism, p. 75]

It is for this reason anarchists support the tactic of “Direct Action” (see section J.2) for, as Emma Goldman argued, we have “as much liberty as [we are] willing to take. Anarchism therefore stands for direct action, the open defiance of, and resistance to, all laws and restrictions, economic, social, and moral.” It requires “integrity, self-reliance, and courage. In short, it calls for free, independent spirits” and “only persistent resistance” can “finally set [us] free. Direct action against the authority in the shop, direct action against the authority of the law, direct action against the invasive, meddlesome authority of our moral code, is the logical, consistent method of Anarchism.” [Red Emma Speaks, pp. 76–7]

Direct action is, in other words, the application of liberty, used to resist oppression in the here and now as well as the means of creating a free society. It creates the necessary individual mentality and social conditions in which liberty flourishes. Both are essential as liberty develops only within society, not in opposition to it. Thus Murray Bookchin writes:

“What freedom, independence, and autonomy people have in a given historical period is the product of long social traditions and … a collective development — which is not to deny that individuals play an important role in that development, indeed are ultimately obliged to do so if they wish to be free.” [Social Anarchism or Lifestyle Anarchism, p. 15]

But freedom requires the right kind of social environment in which to grow and develop. Such an environment must be decentralised and based on the direct management of work by those who do it. For centralisation means coercive authority (hierarchy), whereas self-management is the essence of freedom. Self-management ensures that the individuals involved use (and so develop) all their abilities — particularly their mental ones. Hierarchy, in contrast, substitutes the activities and thoughts of a few for the activities and thoughts of all the individuals involved. Thus, rather than developing their abilities to the full, hierarchy marginalises the many and ensures that their development is blunted (see also section B.1).

It is for this reason that anarchists oppose both capitalism and statism. As the French anarchist Sebastien Faure noted, authority “dresses itself in two principal forms: the political form, that is the State; and the economic form, that is private property.” [cited by Peter Marshall, Demanding the Impossible, p. 43] Capitalism, like the state, is based on centralised authority (i.e. of the boss over the worker), the very purpose of which is to keep the management of work out of the hands of those who do it. This means “that the serious, final, complete liberation of the workers is possible only upon one condition: that of the appropriation of capital, that is, of raw material and all the tools of labour, including land, by the whole body of the workers.” [Michael Bakunin, quoted by Rudolf Rocker, Op. Cit., p. 50]

Hence, as Noam Chomsky argues, a “consistent anarchist must oppose private ownership of the means of production and the wage slavery which is a component of this system, as incompatible with the principle that labour must be freely undertaken and under the control of the producer.” [“Notes on Anarchism”, For Reasons of State, p. 158]

Thus, liberty for anarchists means a non-authoritarian society in which individuals and groups practice self-management, i.e. they govern themselves. The implications of this are important. First, it implies that an anarchist society will be non-coercive, that is, one in which violence or the threat of violence will not be used to “convince” individuals to do anything. Second, it implies that anarchists are firm supporters of individual sovereignty, and that, because of this support, they also oppose institutions based on coercive authority, i.e. hierarchy. And finally, it implies that anarchists’ opposition to “government” means only that they oppose centralised, hierarchical, bureaucratic organisations or government. They do not oppose self-government through confederations of decentralised, grassroots organisations, so long as these are based on direct democracy rather than the delegation of power to “representatives” (see section A.2.9 for more on anarchist organisation). For authority is the opposite of liberty, and hence any form of organisation based on the delegation of power is a threat to the liberty and dignity of the people subjected to that power.

Anarchists consider freedom to be the only social environment within which human dignity and diversity can flower. Under capitalism and statism, however, there is no freedom for the majority, as private property and hierarchy ensure that the inclination and judgement of most individuals will be subordinated to the will of a master, severely restricting their liberty and making impossible the “full development of all the material, intellectual and moral capacities that are latent in every one of us.” [Michael Bakunin, Bakunin on Anarchism, p. 261] That is why anarchists seek to ensure “that real justice and real liberty might come on earth” for it is “all false, all unnecessary, this wild waste of human life, of bone and sinew and brain and heart, this turning of people into human rags, ghosts, piteous caricatures of the creatures they had it in them to be, on the day they were born; that what is called ‘economy’, the massing up of things, is in reality the most frightful spending — the sacrifice of the maker to the made — the lose of all the finer and nobler instincts in the gain of one revolting attribute, the power to count and calculate.” [Voltairine de Cleyre, The First Mayday: The Haymarket Speeches 1895–1910, pp, 17–18]

(See section B for further discussion of the hierarchical and authoritarian nature of capitalism and statism).

[wutheringskies]

"Well, personally, I don't think MDZS characters are on the spectrum?"

oh. not even Lan Zhan? (or Song Lan?) I'm autistic and it's genuinely impossible for me to not read him that way. Especially the part where your personal morals clash with the chaos and messiness of the outside world. He's my favorite because I felt his journey and growth as a character deep in my soul. Idk about other autistic people but to me it was always the most painful thing: holding on to my values while trying to be more flexible and not attacking people or cutting them off for minor offenses. Over the course of the story,Lan Zhan manages to mature,understand Wei Ying better,and become more flexible without becoming disillusioned or passive,so he's really an ideal in that sense.

Sorry,I ranted too much again

"No wonder why Jiang Yanli, though a little more aware due to her sex and standing, gives the same vibes? like a sort of lost, good, kind vibe?"

Yes! yes! Those are exactly the vibes. I was just joking to someone a while ago that both Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have been raised by the exact same older sibling figure. Honesly that puts Yanli and Xichen's achievements in perspective,cause they both encouraged or allowed their younger siblings to be idealistic and righteous,instead of stifling those impulses,which is a choice and a great thing.

And yes,unlike Lan Xichen,Jiang Yanli is that passive mostly because of her status and sex. And because of being traumatized by a horrible abusive narc mom.

They should have been allowed to have like a soup and flute club together every sunday or something. The friendship would have done them good. (Maybe let Wen Ning join too)

Anyway,thank you for replying! It was fun talking to you!

Hey! I'm really sorry for not seeing this before. I forgot to open my inbox.

Yes, I personally do not perceive MDZS characters on the spectrum. There are two reasons for this - firstly, Lan Zhan's character is very well written. Personally, I did not feel the need to enhance him. I think you can call me a bit of 'canon purist,' that is, I derive most pleasure from improving my understanding of a literary work to be as close as possible to authorial intent (I am of course, open to divergences, enhancements, and all sorts of stuff. But if we go by my 'default' setting, it is this.)

Secondly, I would count as a neurotypical person. I think you'd agree that in many fandoms, the 'quiet' or 'just a little bit weird' person, as well as the cheery, energetic person are often immediately headcanonned as neurodivergent. Thus, I guess I felt like doing so to Lan Zhan etc might be me leaning heavily into stereotypes! In my personal experience, my close cousins - though diagnosed similarly on the spectrum, had extremely varying thinking processes.

However, it is enlightening to know more about why you characterized him as such - especially about becoming more comfortable in his skin. Lan Zhan is also my favourite character, though for different reasons. I can relate to his desire to perform each task with excellence, preference for quietude, and struggle with his dominant orientation. How he tried his hardest to be a liberal, before becoming radicalized. The struggle of being someone who respects traditional and societal values, but has his own strong personal ideals, morality and desires that cannot co-exist with them :( It's tragic how he wished to protect the one he loved, tried but wasn't good at expressing himself, wasn't powerful enough to guarantee peace, wasn't politically smart enough to change things, wasn't strong enough to fight the whole world for him, and eventually, he was even unwanted by his lover, who was hurt by him. Thus, exiled by love and punished by his clan, he really had nothing to look forward to. Yet, he choose to rise up, day after day and make the differences he could make.

I think his persistence and his healing is the most impressive thing about him for me. How he was inadequate but then, became someone who could protect Wei Ying.

There's no need to apologize! I quite love your takes and rants. (PS - please don't take my stating I am a canon purist as a form of discouraging thought. That is only for my personal satisfaction!)

I totally agree. I wish to add Xiao XIngchen to this club. In a highly tense political environment, these characters were adorably in need of some splash painting and crafts sessions. I'd love to put all of them together in some club in a Modern AU. Jiang Yanli will cook, Lan Xichen will paint and play sad, and funky melodies, Wen Ning will help and Xiao Xingchen will laugh at everything.

[disruptivevoib]

I fell asleep immediately after I asked you about Vis, but if you’re ever still in the mood…

Pleasspleasepleaseplease talk about Ennui I’d love to hear about him- I’m very (not) normal about your guys /pos

-🛩️

Ennui is DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE. He's the Mind as the Heart and though he doesn't know it, its why he has such a deep struggle and disconnection with his emotions. They cause him more pain than he considers it worth.

Ramble under the cut!

But. I guess before that notion, Ennui is someone who is stubborn, a bit petty and initially very argumentative. Something as their loop comes to an end, phases out of him in respect for Viscera's dislike of conflict over communication.

Ennui does try to stab Judge occasionally. Judge is physically far stronger though and thusly makes it a point to usually turn that back on Ennui.

Ennui is very creative though. He has an affinity for organized charts, the piano and acrylic painting. However the emotions that come with being Heart are overwhelming and uncomfortable to him. He thinks of himself as fairly useless for a set of emotions if he cannot control them.

Which comes to his...allegory for self sabotage and ultimately, harm. In a way. In which Ennui tears or cuts off the strings of emotion that come from his source, which is the little jaggedly shaped blue heart he has.

Like any Mind, his reasoning and his motives are... All he is going to listen to. So, if to fix this malfunction of his ability to control himself he has to render his emotions useless, he will do that.

And typically, even after he is finished fighting with Judge, he continues this behavior. Its a high point of tension between them because Judge and Viscera both explain to him in numerous ways that this is not an answer, and that they can help him learn to manage the overwhelming feed.

Ennui never listens. And thus his name meaning dissatisfaction is only ever apt. He is insatiably searching for a fix on his own. Independently. And it is worse for him because Mind, Judge, does not do this. Ofc Judge has his own issues. Mainly anger and social avoidance or communicative avoidance but. He isn't so flawed that he has to do this. Ennui is envious of that, deeply.

Eventually, he tears away at himself so much there is nothing left. Typically a loop can end before it gets to that point but occasionally, and especially should Astray choose to remember, he becomes desperately apathetic and numb. Only then, is he actually scared or capable of accepting his mistakes or faults. Only after he has fundamentally screwed himself over. And hurt his Soul and Mind in the process. Their overall well being.

Which pushes him to keep what little emotion he has left over. His source stutters in its stunted state, always longing to be what it was and more than it can be now. It makes him try more, and though he doesn't believe he'll ever be or do enough to make up for it, Ennui persists on.

Of course.. this. Need to make it up to them comes from his envy of Judge and respect for Viscera. He's failed himself and the parts of himself that tried to help every step of the way.

Neither of them is cruel or unkind. Judge is harsh, and has certainly fed into certain beliefs Ennui has, but he still considers Ennui his closest friends. And furthermore is proud of him for continuing to try and coming out the otherside..not unscathed, but as alright as he could've been.

Vis and Judge both hold their own guilt over the inability to ever prevent Ennui's behavior. Viscera more so in the fact that despite remembering every loop, nothing has ever worked to stop Ennui. But he cherishes his Heart for who he still is. Which is very driven and very charismatic too.

Ennui post everything is far more easy going. He tries to be a bit of an everyman and is.. very good at making friends with pretty lonely or stand-offish folks like himself. More so in the chatroom rp. But, suppose he does run the day to day life for them too. Vis and Judge are a bit too, guess, invested in being in their own head to do that? More invested in the Psyche ig. Mental maintenance.

[number-1-kuaidul-fanboy]

I am not exaggerating when I say that every character, every single solitary one in Arc V and VRAINS are the wrong fucking age.

The other series I can make some concessions for or they at least look their age but these two? There is no excuse.

Yuya, Yuzu, Yugo, Shun, everyone in the lancers really should have been at least 18 if you wanted them to be drafted into war and ride fucking motorcycles in a major tournament, both of which you need to be 18 to do. Even going by YGO logic, everyone in 5Ds that rode motorcycles in tournaments were at least 18.

And Declan? He's a fucking CEO of a company, principal of a school, and general in a war yet the Wiki is trying to convince me he's 16. If he's not at least 18, he shouldn't be running a company like some seasoned adult when his mother is alive and perfectly capable of running the fucking company and s chool herself. Declan should still be in school studying if you want me to believe he's that young. 16 isn't old enough to drop out dammit. Declan should be in his twenties considering how much taller and just older looking he is than the main cast.

And Riley's age is never said but she's said to be in the youngest duelling league, so potentially as young as 8. The fact that anyone ever considered making Riley ride a fucking motorcycle is psychotic.

And if that sounded bad well.

VRAINS might just be even worse.

You're telling me Yusaku, who only occasionally goes to school and even more occasionally works at a hot dog truck, and has been defending the VR world from hackers vigilante superhero style for years and lives alone in his own apartment (so paying all the rent himself) is a SIXTEEN YEAR OLD IN HIGH SCHOOL?! HOW MUCH WERE THESE WRITERS SMOKING TO COME UP WITH THIS SHIT?!

And this problem persists for every Lost Incident and Lost Incident adjacent kid, many of which are key players in the plot, since they're all supposed to be the same age even though the narrative wants us to side with Aoi when she says "No, big brother. I'm not a child, I'm an adult and can take care of myself" even though she's A MINOR WHO'S FINANCIALLY DEPENDENT ON HIM! Or Takeru fucking off from his grandparents with no say of when or if he'll come back and not being reported a missing child to the police?! Or Spectre's pre Lost Incident memories being so young that it sounds like he's lying out of his ass about remembering anything from that age when he gives his tragic backstory that we're supposed to take seriously?!

And don't even get me started on Revolver. You mean to tell me this clearly very experienced programmer and hacker leading a massive cyberterrorist organization is only EIGHTEEN?! And thus looked exactly the same as he did five years ago when he was THIRTEEN AND ATTACKED AN ENTIRE NATION'S PEOPLE?! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

[deathandnonexistentialdread]

Ryosuke Kira and the Stages of Grief

So where were we?

ah yes, Kira lost.

The 5 stages of grief are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. These feelings are not linear and might intersect with each other. So let's accompany Kira through these non-linear stages of grief.

Denial (ft. Isagi)

Look how as soon as the buzzer rings, he questions Isagi about what happened even tho he knows what happened himself. He doesn't want to admit that he lost. He is in denial about what happened, subconsciously at least.

2. Anger (ft. a disgruntled Igaguri and a shocked Isagi)

He is outright angry over here questioning Ego on why his future is being destroyed when he has so much potential [on that note, someone seems pretty entitled over here.] He is pointing out how Isagi and Igaguri are less talented than he is, seeing that they are the lowest ranked here. I would like to point out that he is also showing his anger at the fact that those two have passed the test despite their mediocrity by shifting the blame for his loss onto the two of them. This is pretty out of character for the Kira that we know and Isagi feels the same way. This is anger, and it is just going downhill from here.

3. Bargaining (ft. an annoyed Ego)

Now let's see what the definition of bargaining is. "In the social sciences, bargaining or haggling is a type of negotiation in which the buyer and seller of a good or service debate the price or nature of a transaction." (source: Wikipedia).

If Kira's loss is the output of the game of football death tag, then in this case football death tag is the transaction. And Kira is now debating the nature of the transaction (football death tag) with Ego.

Since on the surface, the game of tag has nothing to do with football, Kira latches on to that. And Ego is here to tear each and every one of his arguments down.

Ego points out that the size of the room is the same size as the penalty area on a football field (which is 16.5x40.32 meters or 54x132 feet). Those who are running away from the ball must have awareness of their surroundings. The person who is 'it' must have the ability to aim and shoot at the same time, and precise dribbling skills, making this excellent football practice.

But Kira is not taking this lying down.

He tries to reason with Ego (which is futile) by saying that the total time should have been longer. Ego breaks that argument with cold, hard facts, cutting off all his arguments. This is bargaining.

4. Depresssion

Depression is characterized by persistent sadness which is present in undertones throughout all of Kira's actions thus far. but I think that this scene captures the despair and numbness of depression pretty well.

Now we are going to retrace our steps backward as Kira goes through..

3. Bargaining pt.2 (ft. Bachira)

2. Anger pt.2 (ft. shocked Isagi)

and..

1. Denial pt.2

In the end, he leaves the facility and can never represent Japan internationally.

But at least he will get his phone back.....so it's not all bad?

You might ask, where is acceptance, the 5th stage in all of this? One could say that Kira leaving is him accepting the fact that he lost but I think that it happened at the very beginning: when he lost the game.

Grief is not just a singular emotion. It is the combination of different emotions that intersect with each other in different ways. Humans have this characteristic of simplifying everything, putting everything into neatly labeled boxes, where there is a method to feel things, and ticking complex emotions down into a grocery list where there is a checklist to be followed. So what I am trying to say is that there are a lot of things in this world that cannot be divided neatly and concisely. Emotions like gender, sexuality, and colours are on a spectrum, which makes defining what one feels a lot harder, especially when it comes to complex emotions.

Also bye-bye Kira. It was nice knowing you.

[transmimir]

for gabe: SIREN, Technique of Relief, Love Song, Clear Mountaintop, Bandiria Travelers, Rotation for your new unnamed shapeshifter guy: An Expert Mountain, Bridge Builder, Venus

:))

Gabriel

SIREN: How do they deal with being apart/distant from each other or people they love?

One of the benefits of being a vampire, I think, is time starts to lose meaning. It makes the weeks or months of not seeing someone feel like only a few days instead. It makes the loss of someone's presence easier to cope with. When he does miss people, he knows how to cure the physical loneliness enough, but he struggles with the longing.

Technique of Relief: What would each character do to save each other from destruction? Would they try at all?

Gabriel would fight tooth and nail, even to his own detriment, to try and protect Carver. The Bond does things to your mind: he wouldn't be able to stop himself even if he wanted to.

Love Song: How do the characters express love for one another?

Physical contact. They're a digustingly PDA-friendly couple and have little concern for others discomfort at that. A lot of sex as well. Insulting each other playfully. Sometimes not so playfully as well.

Clear Mountaintop: What does the characters’ perfect day look like?

I'm not certain he really knows himself. Perhaps a day where he can practice his art and just be with the ones he loves. He finds little purpose in most other things anyway.

Bandiria Travelers: What memory is central to the characters?

It's hard to answer that for a character with the extent of memory loss as Gabe has. He has little to no memories of his mortal life, the the most impactful memories are the first ones created during his second life. The memory of his Sire and the legacy that he left will never stop haunting him. Whether or not he chooses to stay in that shadow is for Gabriel to decide.

Rotation: What would each character be reincarnated as? Would they meet in every timeline?

Please GOD let them be little street kitties in love 🥺

Little Rat

An Expert Mountain: What was the characters’ first meeting like?

Technically, their first real meeting was long before Davy had known, because they spent a long time just Observing him and his ship. I think they follow him for a long time before actually coming aboard, taking the form of a man adrift that they try to have join the crew. Of course, what really happens is he shifts from his bonds, dances circles around the crew as they fail to catch him, and then nick something from Jones himself (perhaps his pipe?) before laughing and diving back into the sea below. And thus, he's now immediately on top of Davy Jones' shitlist. Oopsie!

Bridge Builder: What was the connection that brought these two characters together?

I'd talked about this in the discord before, but it was just the loneliness they both felt. Two creatures, different from anyone else, and all alone. It takes a very, very long time for something to build between them; both on account of their initial antagonization, but also, Davy's fear of feeling Anything anymore. But with persistence and seeing that same motivation in each other, the trust began to form.

Venus: What do they dream of?

I think they want to see more of the world, particularly I think they dream of exploring the land. They were born of the sea, and most knowledge of humanity came from sailors or being in port towns. There is so much to the world they do not know, but they're also afraid. Humanity has not been kind to them, and they don't hold it in the highest regard. Curiousity drives them more, though, and they can't help but wonder what's there. A bit of shame, though, that they have something else keeping them to the sea now.

[legilimenace]

WWTG - 8th of December, Archery Shooting

Orpheus' time at Winbourne had thus far been a bust. As much as he held affections for the Northmoors he did not endear to Amantha stepping on his toes during the welcome ball, and the croquet game went about as well for him as removing a niffler from a mountain of gold. But, fate seemed to smile on him and the rest of the Kenways as they glanced over at archery on the agenda. It seemed, at long last, he would be in his element.

As the guests headed over toward the arranged targets, Orpheus was flanked on either side by Charis and his sister. It seemed that he had been alone in his discomfort as both ladies and the rest of their combined family members had been nearly jubilant since the ball.

"Well I'm sure your spirits have now been lifted," Crescentia smiled as she looped her arm around his, the poinsettia red skirt of her dress gently swishing with each step taken to match his pace. "Dear Charis has told me you've been absolutely miserable. I admit I did notice your maudlin gaze in the gazebo...I was almost inclined to slip a potion in your glass, you know. There's a charming little legend I'd heard from the lady of the house about the magic of midnight proposals..." she chuckled and shared a side glance with Charis who rolled her eyes.

"You're carrying around love potions? Here??" Orpheus uttered in shock. His sister, ever the calculated risk-taker, would surely not dare to do something so bold and unconscionable. Not while they were here. Not when their father would've cautioned her against carrying her concealed stash with her for the weekend.

Crescentia feigned a guilty look, hovering her hand over her mouth with a wide-eyed stare. "Oh, did I say that aloud?" Callous yet amused, she let out a short gasp when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Orpheus is right, do try to be respectable," Charis added. "We don't need our hosts questioning a spiked cocktail."

"That's true, but they may instead question why it is that this one is such a great marksman after seeing his dreadful work with the mallet." Too hard, then too soft, and a few bumps in the terrain later that paved the way to disaster, and Orpheus had resigned from the game of croquet, earning a pat on the back from Oswin and Charis' father.

"Kenways don't play croquet," Orpheus grumbled. The two women laughed.

"That's a new one. Did you divine that from the runes?"

"I could've divined that from his playing," Charis grinned. "But I'm counting on your win this time. Planning on putting your hereditary 'gift' to the test, cousin?" Kenways had very few claims to fame, but an affinity with a bow was one that had persisted thanks to the work of one of their ancestors: a spell to make arrows fly straight. It had served them well across the years for discretion in the absence of wands, though many family members became accustomed to the item regardless, and Orpheus didn't take too kindly to the suggestion that he would have to cheat to succeed.

"I don't need any gift to hit a target, Charis. I think I can manage."

"I know you can. Go on, then. Earn your legacy; impress our hosts," she said, pointing to where Malcolm and Primrose stood not so far off.

With a gentle pat on the shoulder and a troublesome smirk, Crescentia retreated to her elder brother's side who had opted to sit on the sidelines for the competition. "Shame the family gift doesn't work on croquet balls," she whispered over her shoulder to Oswin. Although he didn't respond with more than a twitch of the mouth, their thoughts were aligned in a moment of sibling understanding. Even if it had, he wouldn't have used it.

Charis had taken it upon herself to converse with Primrose and Malcom as Orpheus readied himself with a bow. He had previously displayed himself as rather awkward throughout his time at Winbourne, but the moment his stance has shifted into a confident alignment and his gaze was solidly focused on the target. His back heel nestled into the snow as he nocked an arrow, an air of calm proceeding his aim. And then....whoosh! The arrow was set loose and swiftly buried itself along the outer rim of the center circle.

"He may not look it, but Orpheus is rather grand at archery," Charis praised, gently applauding the shot with gloved hands. Perhaps, she considered, some damage control was necessary after he had fumbled to truly promote himself in an acceptable manner. "Fancies himself a bit of a hunter but doesn't like to say it all too much. A shame, is it not?" She continued to watch as he then landed a bullseye. It seemed things were going both their ways, and she couldn't wait to receive her betted galleons from Crescentia...

Credit to @endlessly-cursed for the event (+ mentions of Primrose) & @gaygryffindorgal for Malcolm

[medicus-mortem]

@abyssusinvo​ asked: (Fantasy!AU Dragon!Drake) - The delightful scent of burnt flesh and melted armor washes over the dragons' senses. The giant being of scales and fire relishing in the destruction surrounding it as it laid upon the treasure keep of what was once a bustling kingdom.

He had descended upon the castle with ferocity not known to these lands for a long time as dragon sightings where extremely rare and thus nearly impossible to predict the appearance of nor build the proper defenses against. And oh, did they try! Knights and soldiers alike had scrambled to build a towering wall of steel to block out the flames, but it did nothing more but bake them all with the sheer heat of the wall melting before them. And in the aftermath, he would grasp those that were notable in worth and plaster their melted flesh and armor to his hide as a sort of macabre reward for the dead warriors.

Very pleased with himself, the dragon had settled its massive head to the bricked ground to rest before a scent not of recently vaporized dead could produce. It made the dragon shake its head and snarl vehemently at the familiarity. A primal rage seemed to consume him then at this brief remembrance and with a violent roar hefted itself up and towards the source of the stench.

That could only be the scent of a Lich. And one the dragon could recall from so long ago when it did not have control over the human body it now completely possessed mind and soul. The only remnant there ever was of the human knight was of a set of bronze armor greatly damaged in its chest piece and deeply embedded within the scales of the dragons' scales, so different in its abnormally nonmelted appearance as opposed to the corpses clinging to his scales.

"You." The dragon rumbled deep within its chest at the Lich when it came into view.

"I remember you."

Unprompted

   The Lich can smell the death on the air. It mixes in with the scents of smoke, embers and blood. How his bones rattle in excitement, the undead monstrosity drawn to such unrestrained slaughter. How could he resist that delicious aroma when his entire existence subsists on the agonising end of his own victims? He most certainly cannot. Thus, he makes no attempt to hide himself, dropping his fleshy disguise the moment he turns his path towards that calling despair.

   His true glory on display as his pure magical power allows him to float through the air, and soon the Lich descends upon the city. Hollow eye sockets sweeps the destruction, searching for any lingering life force he may devour. He’s more a carrion creature in this moment than a predator. The conflagration persists in places but has died down in others and he sees a likely place to set himself down. A spot right next to the creature the Lich knows caused this destruction.

   Gaze locks onto the great crimson beast, the thing lounging about as if this devastation is his kingdom. Perhaps it is now. After all, there is little left to oppose the great dragon. It turns it’s head to him, snarling recognition and perhaps hatred. The Lich draws closer and his perpetual skeletal grin seems to widen.

   “Do you now?” The undead creature asks, head tilting as he stares at the dragon. For a moment there is no recognition in his ancient mind, but soon enough the swirls of magic moving through and about the creature begin to tell a story, one he was perhaps a witness too.

   With an easy grace the Lich sets down in the courtyard before the dragon and it’s treasure. Bony toes touch tiles and he knows flesh would be burning if he had any. His robes flutter about him, slithering with a life of their own as he looks up at the dragon. A bejeweled bony fingers rises to point at the breastplate embedded in the dragon’s scales.

   “The cursed dragon knight. Yes, I do recall that encounter,” he says, magically charged voice echoing to be heard. His burning eyes seem to flash, an interest entering what little expression he can produce. “It has been too long since I last witnessed a curse such as this reach completion. How fascinating.”

[rosavulpes]

" Because your right ... she needs it "

Carefully setting down the aluminum tray he'd been carrying with him after Weiss had taken her cup of tea from it , it would be laid to rest on the wooden lamp table between them .

Maybe he ought to have made some cookies to accompany the tea ? Ruby did say that she had a fondness for chocolate chip . He'd have to remember to ask his mother later on for any recipes she might have so he could pick up the ingredients for them after class tomorrow . It might help ease tensions between them all a bit further ... maybe if they were to all go together as a sort of group trip to the city too ?

A question he could pose to them all later .

Taking the open seat next to Weiss , with his own cup of tea now in hand , he'd turn his attention towards his books and notes from their classes that he'd taken .

Taking a quiet sip of tea to let the warmth of the drink ease the tension of the day , he'd raise his gaze towards their team leader . Amber eyes looking her over as she studied .

" You aren't wrong to feel the way that you do . I understand why and what you were expecting . If I were to assess Ruby given on what I've seen of her thus far ? I wouldn't be able to recommend her for the role of team leader if it were my choice to make . While Ruby is certainly a very capable , skilled fighter ... that's only part of what's needed to be an effective leader . She doesn't have the experience , and she doesn't have the mental discipline needed to make hard decisions under pressure . She still has some growing to do on that end , and even more to learn about the world we live in but ... we all need that too "

Setting down his cup of tea on the table , he'd start to thumb through some of the notes he'd taken during their history class . Some of the topics that had been brought up for them to study he was already familiar with , others he needed to refresh himself on .

The courses offered here admittedly weren't as intense as what Atlas had to offer but that didn't mean Blake wasn't going to apply himself to his school work as much as he would have back at home in Atlas .

"But , she is trying . She's working hard to make up for what she doesn't know . Even if she makes mistakes , she's not afraid of them . There's not a single person on Remnant that ever was born ready to be a leader . We all struggle . I wouldn't trust a leader that didn't have a single failure underneath their belt . For someone to have a perfect record , it means that they were never challenged enough to know how to handle defeat in the first place . Meaning that it would be all the more likely for the defeat to be more devastating when it comes "

Turning his head to look at her now , he could hear the vibrating of her scroll against her skirt . Feline ears remaining at attention as to not draw attention to his awareness of it .

" Ruby being the leader of this team doesn't need to detract from your own successes , your own victories , and your own growth . We all stand to benefit more if we can learn to trust one another , and work with one another to be better than the other teams here . We can be the best . You can be the best huntress on Remnant ... but that can only happen if unity towards a common goal supersedes . And ... you shouldn't allow his expectations , to be yours "

He didn't need to mention him by name , as Blake knew that Weiss would able to deduce who he was referencing . He could only suspect that Jacques persistent badgering was likely adding to the pressure Weiss was feeling .

Adding to , if not a major source of Weiss's feelings of distress .