#but I don't want to become bitter even though I already am. I want to be better but my mind is sinking and maybe I'm as bad as my ex friend

[sschmendrick]

Maybe I should go back to seeing my therapist, he was a good person, à l'écoute, but maybe I should explain why I stopped seeing him (on top of work load becoming unbearable).

Same with my psychiatrist though I think it'll be harder to see her because of the summer.

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

As You Wish

Pairing: Aemond x wife reader

Summary: Aemond's new wife has a moment of reflection wondering if her new husband truly cares for her. Aemond is determined to prove to her that he is utterly devoted to her.

Warnings: smut, some slight angst? maybe idk honestly haha, Aemond loves his wife he just has issues expressing it lol, p in v, oral (f receiving) man is a champ when it comes to that, praise, 18+, vulgar language lol, slight breeding kink

AN: hey y'all! long time no see haha, I finally watched the season 2 hotd premiere last night and had to finally write something! this is my first go at a legit fic and not just headcanons so don't be too judgy haha. but I hope y'all enjoy it! :)

PS: it is unedited rn, but I was just too excited to post it, so I'll edit it later!

The rose-scented bubbles of the bath water lapped soothingly against your flesh. This had become your routine, after the evening's supper or feast you would call to your handmaid to draw a bath. Scalding hot water, warm enough to turn your skin pink upon contact. The boiling water and the familiar scent of the roses were one of the few things that brought you comfort after your marriage to Prince Aemond. Your family had come seasonally to court for many moons now, your mother being a friend of Queen Alicent. As your brothers sparred with the young princes in the training grounds, you took more kindly towards the gardens. Wandering around the maze of flowers and bushes searching for faeries and nymphs. Of course, you had been only a child then and had not yet known that such silly things don’t exist. 

It had been the Prince himself that informed you of such. You had been crouched on your knees before a bed of yellow roses, looking between the stems and leaves for the little creatures. The skirts of your dress soiled and stained brown from the earth beneath you. You had been so preoccupied with searching for them, that you hadn’t heard the crunching of grass and footsteps behind you.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” Aemond had asked you, voice bitter but curious. You stood up hastily, nearly tripping on your own two feet as you spun around and curtsied clumsily. 

“I am searching for faeries my Prince. Mother said that they can be found amongst the stems of the most beautiful flowers!” Your small hands began to nervously dust themselves off on your already dirty skirts. Aemond’s eye followed the motion, his upper lip curling in disgust. It had only been a couple of moons since the young prince had lost his eye. The scar was still fresh and red around the edges, the eyepatch clearly bothering him. For it appeared to be fastened too tight around his head. 

“Don’t be absurd, such pathetic things don’t exist. All you’ve succeeded in doing is soiling your clothes.” He motions down towards your skirts, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. Feeling ashamed to be talked down upon by someone you hoped to be a potential friend. Even though his eye, or lack thereof, scared most, you had found it intriguing. Your father had told you stories of men in faraway places who wore their scars like badges of honor, like trophies of war. The marred skin being a testament to their victories in battle. Your father however did not return to tell the tails of his own scars, for he had passed in the Stepstones, aiding Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon in their war. 

“My apologies my Prince, for I-” you dared a look up into face, his brows knit together, arms crossed over his chest. You lowered your eyes in shame once more “I shall go change my skirts at once.” And with that you darted off, not waiting for a response from the young Targaryen. 

That had been many years ago though, and you were no longer a child, and nor was he. Prince Aemond had grown into a handsome man, not just physically, but intellectually as well. The water of your bath had grown tepid as you recalled the memory, a slight frown adorning your features. Why had he wanted to marry you? He hardly had shown any interest, more likely it was because his mother and grandfather craved the military prowess your family possessed. They needed it for the impending war. So a proposal for your hand had been made, and your eldest brother eagerly accepted. After your father’s passing, and your mother grew older in age he had taken it upon himself to attend to the coming and goings of your house. 

It wasn’t that Aemond was exactly an unkind husband, he just wasn’t present, ever. There was always a reason or excuse for him to leave a room once you arrived. The only full night you had spent with him had been your wedding night, in your marital bed. He wasn’t rough, nor was he gentle, but he possessed an air of duty and responsibility when it came to the consummation. For once he spilled his spend inside of you he had fetched a cloth for you to clean yourself. Then turned his back to you and slept, not uttering another word. 

The sound of your chamber doors creaking open drew you from your thoughts. The clanking of a sword and heavy footsteps made their way towards you in the bathing room. You were met with the sight of your rather disheveled lord husband. Before you could offer him a greeting, however, his eye lifted to your face, and he asked: 

“May I join you?” Taken aback slightly by the question there was a pause, the room silent. Then, you nodded, “Yes, yes of course you may husband.” 

Aemond had waited for your approval before stripping himself bare of his clothes, riding clothes by the looks of it. He must have been out on Vhagar. You observe him as he untethered his belts and the laces of his boots. The years of training had done him well, his arms and back muscles lean and corded. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to drag your nails down them, as he fucked into you–

“Wife? Did you hear me?” Shit, he must have asked you something, looking up from the muscles of his arms to meet his eyes you shook your head. He chuckled a bit, smirking, you had been caught in your staring.

“I asked you, how was your day my lady wife.” A hint of amusement laced his voice, he had rid himself of his clothes, having placed them neatly over the back of one of the armchairs in the rooms. 

“Oh, well, it was alright. Nothing too exciting I'm afraid. I did have tea with your mother and sister though. That was quite pleasant, Helaena was telling me of the butterflies that come for the roses this time of year. She said we must go see them once they arrive.” As you spoke Aemond made his way around the tub, to behind you. It took an embarrassingly great deal of effort not to stare as he had presented himself bare before you. To look only above his waist and not let your eyes drift down towards his cock. 

“Mmh, yes we must see them then,” his cold hands met your shoulder blades, rubbing small, soothing, circles on them. This was his way of telling you to move forward, so that he may join you in the tub, taking his place behind you, and pulling you onto his lap. 

“You take such tepid baths wife. You’ll catch a cold one of these days.” He mumbled into your ear as he made himself comfortable behind you, his legs outstretched beside your own. It wasn’t that such small talk was uncommon between the two of you when he was around. Besides, you two did share chambers, so despite his avoidance during the day, he was bound to return to you at night. 

Turning fully to face him now, with a surge of annoyance, the water sloshing around the two of you with your sudden movements. “Why do you care? You are hardly even here to see me as is, I doubt you would even notice.” Aemond’s singular lilac eye widens, not from anger, but rather from surprise. His lady wife was always so sweet, so silent, this was new, and dare he say exciting. 

“A woman can only take so much you know–” You go to stand, to leave the tub, and go to bed, done with whatever this conversation is. Aemond’s hand shoots out to grasp your wrist, stopping you from doing so. 

“Wait!” It came out more harsh than he had intended. “I do care for you my lady, truly I do. I did not know that you–”

“Prove it.” You say interrupting whatever he is about to tell you. You keep your eyes level and voice steady. “Prove it to me then husband,”

Aemond says only one thing before attacking your lips, “As you wish,” He is not gentle in his kisses, he does not know how to be gentle. Perhaps you could teach him. His grasp on your wrist moves to your waist as he continues his assault on your lips. His hands roam the flesh of your waist, your hips, your thighs, his lips move down towards your neck. Biting and nipping at the flesh there, sure to leave a mark for all to see.

“Aemond–” 

“Shhh, let me take care of you tonight. Let me prove to you how much I desire you, my love.” He murmurs between bites and kisses. He pulls back, only for a moment, “You are beautiful, I am sorry I have not told you this enough,” his lips attach themselves to one of your breasts, suckling at the nipple. You let out a surprised breath as he bites down, a wave of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

His roaming hands have found purchase on your ass, his deft fingers kneading the plump flesh. Suddenly his grip becomes tighter as he rises from the tub with you in his arms, water spilling over the sides and onto the floor. You hurriedly wrap your arms around his neck, in an attempt to steady yourself. 

“Aemond! You’ve made a mess–” He laughs, fully this time, not just a chuckle. It’s a lovely sound you think.

 “Fuck the mess, the maids shall deal with it in the morning. I’ve neglected my dear lady wife and that must be rectified immediately. One of the hands on your ass pulls back and gives it a small slap. You gasp in surprise, tucking your face into his neck, peppering small kisses there, just as he had done to you moments before. You could get used to this side of your husband. Aemond lets out a hum of satisfaction at your ministrations, soon after playfully throwing you down onto your shared bed. 

“Aemond the sheets, they’re soaked now–” you began to protest cut off rather abruptly by his grip on your ankles. Pulling you down towards the end of the mattress, your cunt now level with his lips. 

“That should hardly matter, we have others–” he places a kiss on your inner thigh. “Besides the only thing I care to see soaked is your cunt after I am done–” Without another word or hesitation, Aemond licks a hot stripe up the center of your core. Then a second, and a third, until he loses all control. He devours you like a man starved. His strong arms wrap themselves around your things, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His tongue continues its assault on your cunt.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia–” the vibrations of his voice sending shock waves of electricity to your clit. Aemond is only spurred on further by the sound of your sweet moans. His name falling from your lips like a chant, like a prayer to the Seven. His lips find purchase on your clit, sucking and licking till you're writhing beneath him. Your hands shoot down, finding purchase in his long silver locks.

“Aemond, oh Aemond–” the words spill from your lips like nonsense. The only thing you are able to focus on is his lips and tongue lapping at your cunt. The man between your thighs devouring you like this is his last meal alive.

“Cum for me, cum on my tongue. And then I shall reward you with my cock. Cum for me my love–” As if on command, you feel the muscles of your lower abdomen contract, and then all that lovely pleasure overflows, and bursts from you. With a strangled cry of his name, you cum on his tongue. You look down at your husband between your thighs, his lips glistening in your release. 

“Good girl, my good, sweet, perfect girl. You did exactly what I asked,” he crawls up your body, stopping only to place the occasional kiss to your hot skin. His lips return to your neck, sucking love marks into the skin over the faint ones he had left before. A newfound favorite of his perhaps. He gives his cock a few strokes, his thumb collecting the beading drop of arousal from his tip. Wordlessly, he brings the digit up to your lips, pressing down gently on your bottom one. You open your mouth, sucking the essence from his finger, swirling your tongue around it, eager to please him. He groans in response, resting his forehead on yours, 

“Perhaps another night my love, I need to be inside of you now.” You release his thumb with a slight pop. 

“Fuck me then, husband–” Not needing any further encouragement, Aemond sheathes his cock inside of your cunt. The warm, velvety walls squeezing him perfectly. “Fuck–” he moans breathlessly as he slowly begins to thrust into your weeping cunt. The squelching noises from his movements turn your cheeks red, you move to hide your face in the crook of his neck once more, but a hand on your chin stops you. From above, Aemond’s lilac eye bores into your own, like a spell, you are unable to look away.

Aemond’s thrusting becomes faster, harder, like a man starved. The grasp on your chin returns to your hips. As Aemond rolls back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brings your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations. 

You look beautiful like this, he thinks. Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin. He had been a fool before, not indulging you more often. Not being by your side, it was a mistake he would make no more. He had been too afraid of your rejection, too afraid you would find him repulsive because of his scar. The scar that he himself found so disturbing. But clearly, the way his name fell from your lips, as your face contorted in pleasure, this was not the case. 

“Shall I cum inside of your perfect cunt? Shall I plant my seed, and watch you grow and swell with my child?” He barely recognized the words coming from his lips, too lost in carnal desire to notice. 

“Yes, yes Aemond, yes–” the words leaving your lips like a hymn, a prayer to your lord husband. Aemond’s fingers began to circle your bud as he continued to rut into you. 

“Together then, I can feel you little wife–” As if he possessed some kind of magic, you did as commanded. Aemond’s release coating your walls, both of you warm and well sated. Once more he leans down, leaving a small peck on your lips before resting his forehead on yours. 

“I have been a fool, a complete and utter fool. I am not a great man in many ways my sweet lady wife. But for you perhaps I could be,” He places another kiss on your lips. 

“I would like that very much Aemond,” you smile a bit as you say this because it is true and it would be unfair to not allow him to prove as much. After all, that is what you asked of him is it not? Without pulling out or away from you, Aemond rolls to his side, tucking you into him, desperate to keep you in his arms. 

“Stay like this with me tonight, please?” He asks, afraid you’ll send him away. 

“Tonight and every night if you behave,” you give him a slight pinch to add emphasis to your comment. You feel his chest vibrate against your cheek with laughter. 

“As you wish,” he says one final time, as the two of you drift off to sleep, held safely in the arms of one another.

[cityofmeliora]

Cardi wishes he could've had a real father-son relationship with Nihil 😢

despite the obvious bullying / disrespect / hostility between them, Cardi accepts Nihil as his father much more easily than he accepts Sister Imperator as his mother.

after Cardi found out they're related, he actually started to acknowledge Nihil as his father. at concerts, he's referred to Nihil as "my dad", "my daddy", "my daddy-o", "my papa", "pops", "my old man", "my father", and "my old pop" dozens of times. but he's never once referred to Sister Imperator as his mother in any way. did you notice that? because i think about this a lot.

Cardi is bitter about Nihil having been an absent father.

PAPA EMERITUS IV: You know… my dad… not much of a dad. Bristow, Virginia, USA (August 24, 2023)

PAPA EMERITUS IV: That’s my old man. Or was. Pretty sucky father, but he still can blow. Syracuse, New York, USA (August 18, 2023)

but i don't think Cardi's bitterness about Nihil being an absent father is anger or hatred towards Nihil for failing to be a parent... i think it's a lamentation of the fact that they never even got a chance because they didn't find out they were father and son until Cardi was 51 years old and Nihil was already dead.

every time Cardi said Nihil was a bad father / an absent father, he always ended up saying "it's okay." or "he's okay." Cardi wants things to be okay. at the show in Sydney, in particular, Cardi genuinely sounds so sad and disappointed about their situation.

PAPA EMERITUS IV: My old dad. He wasn’t much of a father –he kind of sucked at that– but he sure as shit blows really good. Yeah, no, he– he’s fine, he’s fine, except for being dead. Auburn, Washington, USA (August 4, 2023)

PAPA EMERITUS IV: My old man… First, he was just a fart that I met. And then I got to know that he was my dad. Yeah. He's– he was okay. Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA (August 12, 2023)

PAPA EMERITUS IV: You see– I’m your Papa, but that’s my papa. He’s an okay papa. Or he was. He’s dead now, but we sort of drag him out for the good shows. Buenos Aires, Argentina (September 24, 2023)

PAPA EMERITUS IV: That’s my old man. Well… He never was much of a papa to me, but… it’s okay. Sydney, Australia (October 3, 2023)

i think Cardi, deep down, wants to forgive Nihil. he wishes they could've had a real father-son relationship. Cardi still longs for the parent he always wanted and needed but never had.

Cardi frequently talked about how Nihil used to be a singer / entertainer like Cardi is now, and Cardi said he thinks he must have gotten his talent from Nihil. as someone so proud of his own accomplishments, someone who's been shown multiple times to believe he's better than all the other Papas before him, it's strange for Cardi to say he got his talent from someone else. Cardi never said these kinds of things before he found out Nihil was his father, never even acknowledging the fact that he was allowed to become the frontman of Ghost because of Nihil's blessing. but he's saying these things now because he clearly wants to feel a connection to Nihil– to his father, even though he doesn't like to admit it.

PAPA EMERITUS IV: He was, once upon a time, a singer like I am. And he did a few tunes. I don’t know if you’ve heard them. They’re okay– they’re okay. Bristow, Virginia, USA (August 24, 2023)

PAPA EMERITUS IV: But you know, he used to sing, like I do! And he was an okay singer, actually. I must have got it from somewhere, I guess. Athens, Greece (June 25, 2023)

PAPA EMERITUS IV: You know, back in the day, he used to be a singer. I hate to say it, but I think I got it from him. Yeah. He was an okay singer. Auburn, Washington, USA (August 4, 2023)

PAPA EMERITUS IV: That was my– my old papa. He’s okay. He’s not that good. And I guess the apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree… So he’s okay. Mexico City, Mexico (September 18, 2023)

Nihil and Cardi never got along, but there was still hope that it wasn't too late for their relationship to develop. in RITE HERE RITE NOW, as Cardi struggled with confusion about his life and feelings of anxiety over his time as Papa ending, Nihil offered Cardi some "entertainer advice".

PAPA NIHIL: Son– You seem to think of your life as a zero-sum game. As if you living in a house means that nobody has ever lived in the same house before you. That nobody will ever live there after you. That even before there was a house there, nobody walked that ground it now stands upon. It's not pleasant to think about that, I know. You have to be more here. Right here. Right now. I have also lived a long life that I was precious about. Life is not always how you scripted it. I am almost 80 years old, and I'm dead. But I still am part of it. Making the people rock. Look, I always wanted to entertain people… and be a part of the night, be a part of the world of magic and wonder– showbiz. And I am. Even now that I am dead, I can still entertain those people for a brief moment every night. And that is meaningful. Do you think that is how I wanted it to pan out? PAPA EMERITUS IV: Thank you, dad. RITE HERE RITE NOW

while i think Nihil's advice is kinda terrible considering the context that Cardi was legitimately afraid his parents were going to murder him and put his body on display for his successor's fans (which was not an irrational fear, because they literally actually did do that to his older brothers), i do think Nihil was genuinely speaking from his heart, and it got through to Cardi. that was the first time they had ever addressed each other directly as "dad" / "son".

so it seemed like they were starting to make real progress in their relationship. unfortunately, they're right back to bullying / disrespecting / being hostile to each other in the post-credits scene, so who knows how much that moments of sincerity and vulnerability actually affected them. 🙄

but yeah. ugh. it fucking kills me the way Cardi so clearly wants to forgive Nihil and wishes he could've had a real father-son relationship with him. they cannot fucking stand each other. but i think they could have loved each other. in a better life.

[cosmiccrushes]

Consequences

Lucanis x Rook || 2.0k words

on ao3

summary: Shadow Dragon Rook confronts Lucanis about his anger towards her after she chooses to go to Minrathous.

notes: wanted to explore the idea of what lucanis' anger at rook might mean, if their relationship were to continue developing (since you're just locked out of the romance option in game booo lol)

Lucanis lifts his head out of his hands at the knock on his door. His shoulders stiffen as he calls “come in.” He already knows who it will be. He stays seated on his bed, rooted down by the fear growing heavy in his chest. 

Rook enters. A guarded expression on her face that erupts an ache in Lucanis’ already tender heart. She halts several paces away. 

“We need to talk, Lucanis.” 

“Rook…” Lucanis begins. “I am not sure there is anything to say.” Not anything he knows how to put words to, not anything he knows if he’s allowed to put words to. 

“I disagree. I think there's plenty to say. If you'd stop giving me the cold shoulder.” 

Lucanis rubs his temple in agitation. Doesn't she understand? He has avoided and brushed her off out of fear of how Spite might twist his pain if Lucanis lets down his guard, lets her back in. 

“So this is what we are to become?” Lucanis might miss the slight quiver in her voice if he had not come to know her so well. “People who barely acknowledge each other's existence? I thought we were friends.” 

“I don't know what else to do, Rook.” He wonders if she can hear the plea in his words. He'd give anything for her counsel, for her to show him the way through this confusing mess of emotions. 

“Talk to me!” She clenches her mouth shut as if surprised by her own outburst. “Please,” she whispers the word and it could undo him. But undo him into what? He’s not sure. 

“I don't know what to say, Rook. What is done is done. I don't-” Lucanis sighs heavily. “I don't blame you for what happened to Treviso.” 

“Don't you, though?” She tips her nose into the air and Lucanis recognizes the familiar set of Rook issuing a challenge. The desire to trace his finger along the bridge of her nose stirs him angrily to his feet. 

“You made a hard choice. As all leaders must.” 

“And you are never going to forgive me for it are you?” She says it with a tone of resignation but Lucanis sees the question in her eyes. 

“It's not- It isn't that simple.” He wishes it were. He wishes he had enough power over Spite to face her with what her choice made him feel.  

“But it's that simple with Neve?” There’s an undercurrent of emotion in her words that feels like accusation. Lucanis doesn’t know how else to place it.  

“It's not like that.” He’s not entirely sure what he’s denying, but he feels like that’s what he should do. 

“That seems to be exactly what it’s like. Neve gets forgiven and I-” She jerks her gaze sharply away from him and Lucanis wonders if she is hiding her tears behind her curtain of hair, if he warrants that kind of response from her.  

“You are not Neve.” Lucanis says, because it's the truth. 

A bitter laugh from Rook. “Right. I am not.” 

Lucanis shakes his head in frustration. He can't tamp down the anger he feels at how little Rook understands. “This changes things, Rook. How could it not? Treviso needed you and you abandoned it.” He had needed her. She had left him and it had petrified him to realize how much he'd come to expect her beside him. In such a short span of time together, Lucanis had shaped himself around her constant presence. Lucanis did not feel those things for people and, as he looked out at his blighted city and thought only of facing it with Rook, he had felt afraid- and angry. But at himself or at her? He couldn’t say. 

“I didn't abandon Treviso, Lucanis! That is unfair and you know it. I chose to stand with my home. With my people! Just like you did! Just like Neve did. What would you have done in my position?” She stabs a finger into his chest. He hadn't even noticed the way they'd drifted together. 

He knows he would've chosen his own family too. But this anger he feels- like careening off a cliff and it's all his fault for not being more cautious- it sparks a truth in him that he's never been faced with. They had been presented with the same choice, and they’d both chosen their homes. But Rook wasn’t mad at him for going to his people as she went to hers. His pain didn’t feel like that of a man let down by his leader. It felt like the sting of betrayal by someone he trusted. And Lucanis only trusted his family. So what, did that make Rook to him?  

“I would’ve chosen my home.” He finally answers her. 

She drops her hand, fingers curling into a fist before falling limply at her sides. “You've reconciled with Neve. But you can't even look at me. You won’t even be in the same room as me.” He has to lean in to catch her next sentence, exhaled on a breath. “Why is she different from me?” 

Lucanis' blood rushes in his ears, his heart lodges in his throat. Understanding dawns over him. Does she think it was easier to forgive Neve because his friendship with Neve meant more? He almost wants to laugh at how absurd this situation is, how ill-equipped he is to navigate the complexities of relationships. Lucanis doesn’t really have friends, Illario notwithstanding. And whatever has been brewing within him since Treviso was attacked feels so unfamiliar he’d almost attribute it to Spite. If the demon hadn’t coiled around the emotion and cackled, as if he understood what Lucanis couldn’t quite grasp.   

“She is not you,” Lucanis winces at his words when Rook flinches away like she's been hit. He reaches out shaky, tentative fingers to gently lift her chin so she'll meet his eyes. “You are the one who is different.” His cheeks blaze with embarrassment and his fingers tingle where they connected with her skin. His pulse thrums with his nervousness that this was not how friends touch each other. 

“I don't-” She shakes her head in confusion. 

“Neve chose to go to her home-” 

“As did I!” Rook interrupts. 

“I know. But,” he swallows around the lump in his throat. “You didn't choose me. And I am so angry at myself for expecting you to.” He feels horrifyingly fragile under her gaze. 

Her eyes dart back and forth between his own. “Oh, Lucanis.” She gently places a hand against his chest, over his heart. “I am so sorry. I never meant for it to feel like I wasn't choosing you. It wasn’t a choice between friends. I just…Minrathous is the only place I’ve ever known.” 

Lucanis wills his heart not to race under her palm. “I know it's not fair of me to place those expectations on you. I know you didn't do anything wrong, but Spite-” Lucanis doesn't know how to finish the thought, how to voice his fear. 

“Spite makes you, well, spiteful of me,” she finishes for him with a sad smile. “I understand, Lucanis. I won't force my friendship on you.”

She turns to walk away and a new fear grips Lucanis tight. He doesn't pause to think of the consequences. He reaches out his hand, snagging her wrist. She looks back at him questioningly. 

“I don't want to lose your friendship.”

“Nor I yours. Tell me what I need to do, Lucanis.” 

A creeping panic crawls over him. He is this twisted and tangled up, having had her in his life for this blink of time that feels so much more substantial than his last year locked in the Ossuary. What will become of him if he asks for more? What would become of him if he didn’t? 

“I don’t know if I will be angry,” Lucanis warns. 

She nods slowly. “That’s okay. Your anger doesn’t scare me.” 

For some reason this makes him angry. “It should,” he says gruffly. “I cannot predict what Spite will do.” 

“I can handle your Spite, Lucanis.” Her voice drops in a gravely scrape that sends an inexplicable lance of heat through him. His mind, befuddled, as he races to sort through what his response means.

It’s the moment of distraction Spite has been waiting for. The demon seizes on his dazedness, and, in a flash of purple, thrusts an arm to Rook’s throat and pins her to the wall. Lucanis watches himself as if he’s at the bottom of a very deep well looking up, as Spite speaks with his voice. 

“You think you can handle me, little Shadow?”  

“Hello, Spite.” Rook does not miss a beat and does not look nearly as afraid as Lucanis needs her to. “Lucanis and I were in the middle of a conversation.” Lucanis wants to beg her to please not chastise the demon with its hands at her throat. 

“You. Mock. Me!” Spite howls. 

Rook looks genuinely affronted. “I do no such thing.” 

“You think you can subdue me. I. Want. Out!” 

Rook tilts her head thoughtfully. “And I want to not be tasked with hunting down my ancient elven gods and stopping them from blighting the whole bloody world. But we don't always get what we want.”

Spite hisses, but Lucanis feels his surge of glee, not anger, at Rook's words. “Yes. You have malice in you.”

“Oh most certainly.” Rook chuckles darkly. “I don't mock you, Spite. I understand what it means to be trapped within something you don't want. Neither you nor Lucanis deserve what was done to you, but you're stuck with each other now. I won't begrudge you your anger for it.” She reaches up to wrap her fingers around Lucanis' arm pressing into her lungs. “But I also won't let you hurt Lucanis. If you need to bloody your fists against something,” her nails dig into his forearm and there’s that tilt of her nose again as she challenges a demon. “Here I am. Do your worst. But I will not hurt Lucanis for you.” 

Spite tilts back his head in a bellowing laugh. “Oh, I like her!” 

A warmth blossoms in Lucanis' chest as he falls upwards from a great height, crashing back into his body. Spite's laughter continues echoing across his mind, but now it's Lucanis' weight pressing Rook into the stone. He stares at the determined set of her jaw, the fire blazing behind her eyes. The warmth seeps through his chest, wrapping around his throat, squeezing at his air supply. 

Love. Spite laughs harder. Mierda, it is love buried beneath his anger and fear. Lucanis didn’t think it was possible, didn’t think he could fall in love. But he’s listened to Illario ramble about it enough to be certain that is what has been pushing its way out of his chest. He is falling in love with Rook. Or has he already fallen? He’s not sure how it works or what he can do about it. Though it is painfully apparent now why he has felt so scared.

He drops his arm from Rook’s body, stumbling awkwardly back from her. He stares down at his own hands. These are the consequences of getting too close to her. If this were a contract, he’d have failed it spectacularly by not noticing that it was already too late, he’d already come much too close to the danger. 

“Lucanis?” The sound of her voice snaps his gaze back up to hers. He must wear his panic unchecked on his face, because alarm flashes over her own. “Lucanis,” she says more urgently, stepping forward to grasp one of his hands. “What’s wrong?”

He is frozen in his body. Spite may no longer be in control, but Lucanis doesn’t feel like he is either. 

“Hey, hey,” Rook soothes. “It’s okay. We will get through this. Together. That’s what friends do.” Her hand tightens around his. 

Lucanis would quietly take whatever wretched consequences fate wrought upon him. But he would not allow them to befall her. If that meant he had to bury away this strange, budding love to keep her safe, he would dig deep until his fingernails were ragged and bleeding. 

“Friends?” Lucanis breathes out. Want. More. Spite inhales. 

Illario liked to wax poetic about how much love could hurt. But even his cousin’s dramatics could not prepare Lucanis for the consequences of a demon falling in love.  

[myocsfanfictions]

Under the Devil’s Eye

MASTERLIST

Selethryth, a young lady with strange eyes and prophetic dreams, is both feared and revered in King Ecbert's court. Though he sees her as a powerful tool for his ambitions, it is Ivar, the brutal and unpredictable son of Ragnar, who is drawn to her. As their fates collide, Selethryth finds herself entangled in a dangerous game where her gifts may lead her into the arms of darkness.

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 2

Selethryth felt utterly exhausted, as if her body had been forged from lead. Ever since the night she dreamt of the raven, sleep had become her enemy. Every time she closed her eyes, the nightmare returned—always the same. The vision of the bird, flying alone in the darkened sky, tired and abandoned. Then the serpent, coiling around the raven and swallowing it whole, its death slow and inevitable. And after, the earth trembling beneath her, decaying and foul, while a dark figure appeared in the shadows, familiar blue eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. The sea—the sea that devoured men and castles alike. And always, always, she was powerless, a silent witness the doom around her.

Each dream left her heart heavy, suffocated, as if a dark force had wrapped around her chest and was ready to crush her at any moment.

The King had grown restless after hearing about the raven, and since then, he summoned her every morning to ask what she had dreamt the night before. It was the only topic of conversation between them these days.

"Why do you keep pushing her to speak of this curse?" Her mother's voice broke the silence one night, trembling and low, as if she feared being overheard.

"The king has asked," her father replied quietly but tensely. "Who am I to deny him?"

"That man is a sinner. A dangerous, mad man," Lady Oswyth retorted, bitterness heavy in her voice, but also fear.

"Don't speak like that!" Lord Godric's voice was sharp, almost a whisper, but there was an unmistakable fear in it. "If the king hears—"

"If the king hears, it makes no difference," her mother whispered back. "We're already lost." She paused, her tone breaking. "But he doesn't see what I see. He doesn't understand the sign in her eyes... what she is."

"And the king doesn't want us to intervene. There will be no exorcism for her," her father said, trying to end the conversation, though his frustration was clear.

Oswyth sighed, her voice cracking. "You are condemning your daughter's soul for your own ambitions, Godric."

"Her soul has been lost since the day she was born!" Her father's words were harsh, like an old wound reopened. The anger was raw. "We knew it! She nearly killed you when you gave birth to her! And after her, you couldn't give me another child. We've always known, Oswyth!" His voice trembled with bitterness. "I thought we were cursed because of her. But the king... the king sees something else. And we've risen, like my father never could. I won't let anything ruin that."

Selethryth remained silent, hidden behind the ajar wooden door, shrouded in the darkness of her chamber. Her eyes lowered, and her heart ached as the cruel words pierced her. She had always known the truth of her birth—that she was the reason her mother had been unable to bear more children. The moment they had seen her eyes, they had known it was her fault. And now, hearing her father speak of it so openly, the weight of her existence pressed down on her, heavier than ever.

She slid down onto the cold floor, drawing her knees close to her chest, struggling to keep the sobs trapped within her. She could not allow herself to be heard, not even a sigh, as silent tears welled in her eyes. She didn't understand what she had done to deserve this. What had she done wrong? How had she offended the Lord, for Him to bring so much pain and dishonor to her family?

Selethryth had always tried to be a good Christian—going to church, learning everything that a noble lady was supposed to know—but none of it mattered. To them, she would always be a sinner. Always to blame. And there was nothing she could do to change their minds. To everyone, she would forever be a witch.

This pained her heart gravely.

"You're so quiet, child." Judith's voice broke through the silence, making Selethryth look up from her book. The lady was painting with careful hands, recreating a scene from the sacred scriptures. It was something Judith loved to do, though it was considered inappropriate for a lady—an indulgence that, by her position as the King's mistress, she was free to pursue. Women of her standing had the freedom to do things that others could not, like drawing or reading.

"Forgive me for not being good company, my lady," Selethryth apologized, her voice barely above a whisper. But Judith turned to her with softness in her eyes—eyes that no one else ever showed her. She was the only one who ever looked at her like that.

Selethryth still remembered when Judith had first feared her, when she had been labeled a witch—an accusation that had followed her like a shadow. But it didn't take long for Judith to grow fond of her, to see beyond the rumors and the fear. For Selethryth's mother, this was fitting. Judith, after all, was a woman with many flaws, living openly in her sins. To Oswyth, it made sense that she would not have ill thoughts about her daughter.

"Nonsense, Selethryth. You're always good company," Judith said gently, her gaze soft as she observed the young lady, who, after a long pause, found the strength to smile. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" she asked again, her brush never faltering as she continued painting.

Selethryth hesitated. She wanted to confide in Judith; she felt that the woman was the only one who might truly understand her. Judith had been the one to push her to read and study, to learn things she was never supposed to. And whenever someone spoke ill of her, it was Judith who had defended her without hesitation. But Judith was too close to the King for Selethryth to be completely honest with her. She could never speak of what had been said in her family's chamber, nor could she risk the royal family thinking her ungrateful. So, with a quiet breath, she decided to change the subject.

"I was reading about the Vikings," Selethryth said, her gaze dropping to the book in her hands.

"Vikings?" Judith asked with a curious tilt of her head. "What made them so interesting to you?"

"Magnus says he's the son of Ragnar Lothbrok," Selethryth replied, her voice soft.

Magnus, the son of the late Queen Kwenthrith, had been fathered by Ragnar Lothbrok during the war for Mercia. The very fact of his parentage had been the only reason Ecbert had agreed to raise him as his own.

"You've met him, haven't you?" Selethryth asked, her curiosity piqued. She saw Judith's expression shift to one of quiet nostalgia, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"You know I have," Judith replied, her voice tinged with something unreadable, though her smile was warm.

Selethryth, worried she had overstepped, realized the question had likely seemed unnecessary, considering Alfred's father had been one of Ragnar's most trusted companions.

"Was he truly as impressive as the stories say?" Selethryth asked, her voice full of wonder. She had read so much about the Vikings—their fierceness, their legends—and yet it was hard to believe such men existed outside of myth.

Judith nodded slowly, her eyes distant for a moment. "All of it is true," she said, her voice low and reverent. "He was an impressive warrior... with an even more impressive mind."

Then something on the page caught Selethryth's attention. She leaned in closer, her fingers tracing the edge of an illustration—a man, with a raven on his chest. She frowned, the image feeling oddly familiar. She turned the page back, her fingers trembling slightly, and found the same drawing, the same raven.

"Why a raven?" she muttered under her breath, unable to tear her eyes away from the image.

Judith, having noticed Selethryth's intense focus, hummed in curiosity and leaned in to see the drawing.

"You're looking at Ragnar," Judith said softly, almost as if speaking of an old friend. "The raven was his sigil."

Selethryth's breath caught in her throat as her gaze moved from Judith back to the drawing.

A raven...

She kept repeating to herself, It's just a drawing. There was no reason to think of it as anything more than what it was. She had dreamt of a bird dying. Nothing more. But she couldn't shake that strange feeling—like the image made sense. As if she were meant to look at it. But why would that be true?

She had never cared about Ragnar Lothbrok, why did she feel such a strong connection to that figure now?

She had never believed Ecbert's words. She had never believed that she had been blessed with prophetic dreams. They were just dreams, read by others, their meaning always coming later. Like with the first dream she had told him.

She had dreamt of a woman with black hair and a crown on her head, but suddenly the crown turned to ashes and the ground beneath her crawled away, as if it wanted to escape from her. But then, the same earth formed a bridge that led to King Ecbert, wearing an even bigger crown than the one he already wore. Both the people around him and those on the other side of the bridge bowed to him.

It held no meaning to her. There was no way she could have ever truly believed that the King would interpret this dream as a sign of his kingdom growing. But he did. And it happened again, and again. Every dream she shared seemed to follow a chance for Ecbert to expand his lands. And now, he ruled over the largest kingdom in England.

She had never wanted to believe that she had prophetic dreams. And she didn't want to believe it now. If she did, then the Devil really was her lover, and she didn't have a soul.

That thought terrified her. Was her destiny to be a dark creature? An empty one, causing pain and despair? Did she really have no soul? What would become of her when death came? Was she condemned to Hell?

But I have done nothing, she kept repeating to herself. She always did what her family expected of her, what the Lord had taught them to learn. She had done nothing to be hated like this.

And yet, that raven... that raven had scared her. The feeling it left behind terrified her even more.

"Why are you looking so pensive?" Eadgifu's voice made her look up from her needlework. Her sister was having her new dress fixed by the hands of Hilda. It was a gown of pale pink that matched perfectly with her sister's skin. On Eadgifu's face there was an excited smile as she observed herself in the mirror. "Are you worried about the feast of tomorrow night?"

Selethryth found herself smiling bitterly. She really wished that her mind could fix on those things, pretty dresses and feasts to meet suitors, but her mind kept coming back to the raven. The sadness that she felt in her dream, and the fear she had felt during the entire day.

"There's no reason to," Selethryth answered, meeting her sister's gaze through the glass, "You, however, must be excited."

Eadgifu's smile grew larger, "Mother said I'm ready to wed." She said with a dreamy expression. Marriage had always been her sister's greatest dream as they grew up.

"I'm sure you'll find an honorable man," Selethryth's words were enough to make Hilda look at her with unspoken fear. But Eadgifu didn't notice, as she giggled again.

"And handsome as well, I hope," she said before turning to Selethryth. "You could meet someone as well," Eadgifu insisted, but Selethryth looked down at her needlework again, with a little shake of her head.

"Only the Lord knows what plans He has for me," she said, folding the needle between her fingers. "For now, I must wait until He speaks through Father's mouth."

Eadgifu regarded her with a sad look, "Father knows that you'll have to wed, it is a woman's duty." Selethryth would have liked to ask her if it was the Witch of Wessex's duty as well. But she decided against it. Smiling at her sister to keep on with her needlework.

She was in the right age to marry, to be looking for a husband at least. But it was never the time. Lord Godric loved his high position at King Ecbert's court, but his presence was required because Selethryth was there. If she was to marry and leave for her husband's lands, what would become of Lord Godric? He would have to return to his own dark castle, and the king's attentions would be long forgotten. That, of course, if she would ever find a man daring enough to not be scared of superstitions. But Selethryth wasn't sure of it.

That night, her sleep had a form again, vivid as if she were awake.

Selethryth found herself standing at the edge of a vast and frozen lake, its surface smooth as glass, reflecting a stormy sky above. The wind howled through the barren trees at the lake's edge, their branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal hands, clawing at the air. The whole landscape felt dead, as if the world itself were holding its breath. The cold bit deep into her skin, and she shivered, but there was no warmth, no shelter to be found.

In the distance, two figures appeared, walking toward her across the frozen expanse. One was tall, shrouded in shadow, his form hidden beneath a dark cloak, but a raven flew beside him—its wings cutting through the air with a steady, rhythmic beat. The raven's presence felt both ominous and powerful, like a harbinger of change. The figure walked with a slow, deliberate pace, as if burdened by the weight of years, yet still possessing a quiet strength. He was the older figure, the one who had lived through much, but was now nearing the end of his journey.

The second figure was on the ground, but he radiated intensity. He slithered on the floor fast and urgent, almost as though he were driven by an unseen force. He seemed to move with a fury that contrasted sharply with the calmness of the first figure. His eyes, burning like blue fire, glinted with a sharpness that cut through the dim light. There was something in his gaze that was both haunting and intense, as though he had been touched by something beyond this world. His path was not one of peace, but of revenge.

As the figures drew closer, the sky above began to darken. The raven circling the older figure let out a sharp cry, and in an instant, a bolt of lightning struck down from the heavens, splitting the sky in two. The older figure stumbled, his cloak billowing around him, and fell to the ground. A cloud of shadow seemed to rise from the earth, swirling around him, until he was lost within it. The raven disappeared into the night, and the storm that had raged above seemed to swallow him whole.

But then, the second figure—the one with the burning blue eyes—stood tall, his face drawn in a fierce expression of grief and anger. He lifted his arms to the sky, and a great thunderclap followed, shaking the earth beneath her feet. He called out, his voice full of pain and rage, but also a powerful resolve. The sky above him seemed to tremble, as though the very heavens themselves were answering his cry. The storm intensified, lightning flashing with increasing frequency, each strike illuminating his face, now set in a mask of vengeance.

The power of the storm—the grief in his eyes—struck something deep within her, even if she could not quite understand the reason. She wanted to reach out, but the storm raged too fiercely, and the dream began to fade, pulling her back into the dark void. Her eyes shot open, and she realized she had been crying.

******

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[deathvalleyqueen]

listen no matter how convinced in my bones it was Illario that betrayed our beautiful mullet man, it could be someone else. Maybe but really logically think about this. Who within the Crows would gain the most with Lucanis gone? Not emotionally - I am talking about position and power. Illario. Viago and/or Teia potentially but from what we have seen them already through the expanded media - they are so much lower on my suspect list. Honestly, Viago ain't even on it - if he really wants to bruh could become King of Antiva but that's whole different theory I have. Teia could, but she has never given me vibes of someone with a level of ambition for power that you would need to betray someone close to you like this and she calls Catarina 'Nona' so I am guessing she was close with the whole Dellamorte family. Illario though - from the wigmakers job to the scenes we have seen with him - he reeks of ambition. For all we know a rivalry could have been ingrained him by his parents when he was small - maybe Illario's parent and Lucanis's parent who were siblings were bitter rivals both grasping at the positon of their mother's heir - maybe there is more for us to find out why Catarina ended up raising both boys... I even think I remember one of the Devs mention we will learn more about Lucanis's parents in later parts of the game.

This isn't a new thought of mine. Honestly since the Wigmakers Job -I didn't trust Illario. The whole heir talk never sat right with me. Lucanis is either named heir or would be named Catarina's very shortly. While Lucanis doesn't want the position (and my guess the neon target on his back that comes with it) of First Talon, he would take it if that's what his grandmother wants (Wigmakers Job) even though Lucanis thinks Illario maybe is better suited for the position. But like the good Antivan Boy Lucanis is - if his Nona asks him - he will. Illario on the other hand seems to want this more than anything else. To me the whole 'who is heir' thing reads sooooo a Game of Thrones in my mind - it just gives me such strong Targaryen infighting energy.

Also Illario while he has a very handsome face - it just gives me "don't fucking trust him" energy. Also from the recruitment mission video (maybe mild spoilers here) but that man is putting on act - he sounds way more upset than I think would be called for given the fact Lucanis is very likely alive now, there is this anger in his voice that feels out of place. Would you not be excited to find out your beloved cousin who was more brother to you - is in fact - not fucking dead? I also think the fact he doesn't go with Rook on the rescue - is so telling. The excuse made - super lame and I don't think it's bad writing. I think it's breadcrumbs and foreshadowing. And what has honestly been said about the Crow related questline - we are going to see the politics of it all...

Lastly - Why Spite? Wynn was a Spirit of Faith and she in fact had been a woman who believed in what the Circle was doing - Faith makes sense. Justice with Anders - makes so much sense because of who he is and what he experienced. Compassion for Cole also makes sense if you read Asunder. So why was Spite of all things able to be bound to Lucanis? They had tried others but Spite is what took. I think it's connected to the person who betrayed him, put him in the position that he was in for year... that whatever Love he may have had for that person turned into Spite... get what I am throwing down.

IDK this is living in my head in a nice 4 bedroom condo rent free right now.

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXIX. “uncanny valley”

parts: previous / next

plot: you and Bruce dance around the horrors of the weekend, desperate to make things right—or, at least, better.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, angst, mental health issues, descriptions of violence, descriptions of injury, grief, anxiety

words: 6.1k

prev. chapter summary (XXVIII): You go to Wayne Tower on Saturday night to talk to Alfred about ways to get Bruce help. Alfred is hopeless. Bruce intercepts, bitter at your intrusiveness, and storms off. You call Dr. Crane, who tells you to refrain from following him for fear of escalating the argument. On your walk home, you run into a panicked, horrified Bruce in an abandoned alley near his house. He does not recognize you, and after calling Alfred for him to be picked up, Bruce begs Alfred not to tell his parents about him being out so late. After a brief heartfelt (and teary) conversation with Alfred, where he expressed thanks and reassured you were not making things worse (as you thought, and still think), you went home. The next day, Bruce has no recollection of the night before, brought up to speed by Alfred. At Alfred’s urging, Bruce visits your apartment on Sunday, begging you to see his side. The argument becomes heated, and, convinced by Dr. Crane’s horrifying prognosis for Bruce and his own erratic, dangerous behavior, you do a last hail-mary to get him help: you lie about being the person who saw Bruce jump, expressing how terrified you were at thinking you’d watched him die. This immediately triggers Bruce to his childhood, and he does a hard reset on his denial, horrified he’s repeating the cycle, reassuring you he will accept help.

Outside of receiving some calls, you hadn't checked your phone since Thursday night. Texts, socials, it had all been abandoned trying to remove the noose snaking Bruce's neck. After the phone call with Alfred you were able to relax into bed and pull out your phone—immediately smacked by a bazillion texts from Mar, a few from your parents, and some mentions on Scypher. You clicked on Mar's texts first.

Thursday, 11:50pm: OMGGG just now seeing thissss i got so lit tonight. sorry!! idk if i can make it to help you move. def can't drive in the morning tho!!! ttys!!!

Friday, 1:20am: ok lolz i went to a second club 2nite and yahhh i don't think i can make it 2morrowww

Friday, 12:30pm: if ur still in town i could help, i just got a massive headache hahaha have you left yet

Friday, 1:22pm: ur prob on the road byeee

Friday, 1:30pm: wait ur still in Gotham??

Today, 12:58pm: BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!! you didn't tell me you did the interview with him!! like actually!!!!!!! okayyyy too famous to respond to me I see? i'll make sure to visit to get your autograph lol.

Today, 2:15pm: bro i got so many more friend requests already today???? some are Bruce Wayne fan accounts. wtf!!!??? this is like blowing up

Today, 6:15pm: MISSED CALL FROM MAR.

Today, 6:16pm: MISSED CALL FROM MAR.

Today, 6:18pm: LOOK !!!!

She'd attached a Buzzfeed article titled: Bruce Wayne's First Interview Came Out Today, and Our Jaws (and Clothes) are on the Floor

You couldn't read any further though, seeing as you had a handful of texts from your parents to sort through.

Friday, 1:45pm: Hey hunny! Your mother and I are home from the second shot. She told me to text you 'I am fine'. We will call you this evening after I finish up the deck.

Friday, 6:37pm: MISSED CALL FROM DAD.

Friday, 6:40pm: Deck done. When you visit next I'll show you. Walter likes it. Love you

Today, 3:13pm: MISSED CALL FROM MOM.

Today, 3:20pm: Hi kiddo. Wow! Congratulations on the article! Debbie showed it to us when she visited earlier. I thought you said you were done with that guy. Love you sweety!

You responded to your dad about your mom, and your mom about the article. You refused to comment on her mention of Bruce, wanting to purge your mind as much as you were able to after the weekend you'd had. You resigned to calling her first thing in the morning, miserable over forgetting about her second shot. After responding to Mar to update her on staying (and to express faux excitement about the article's release), you stayed up a few more minutes to see if your parents might still be awake and responsive. Sleep.

You woke up late that day, around two in the afternoon; the only reason you hadn't slept even longer was a phone call from Dr. Vry startling you awake. "Y/N! Have you seen your article? I can't believe it. Over a hundred applications just TODAY to the journalism program!"

You fought your way through the conversation, the gears in your head finally harnessing enough energy to start worrying again. The call ended quickly, as she 'had a lot of applications to get through', and you called your mom without a second glance at your phone notifications.

"Hey sweetie. I saw your text last night, but I couldn't respond. Walter was finally curled up in my lap, you know how sensitive he is." She sounded fine, neither ecstatic nor miserable. Her energy picked up when she started talking about your article. "Your dad was looking into that Wayne guy, and ran across that article of yours. He didn't know it was you that wrote it until Debbie brought it over!"

You'd padded out to your kitchen to make some toast with the butt of the bread. "Since when is dad researching things about Gotham?"

"He's been very intrigued ever since graduation. He—"

Your dad sounded off in the background. "Hun? Hey! I saw that article of yours! His first interview ever. That's a big family, you know. The Waynes. It's a big deal sweetie!"

He continued without leaving space for you to change the topic. "You know about his parents, right? God, poor kid. Seems to have recovered from it well enough."

You stifled a laugh at him delivering the most famous lore of Gotham city like it was breaking news. "Yeah, I know about his parents."

"You know, I knew I sensed something between you two. When's he coming to visit?" You heard a meow in the background, and you could only imagine your dad was munching on some sandwich he desperately wanted.

"Dad,"

"People don't give their first interviews to just anyone. Must've really impressed him."

"He's never coming over, dad."

"You don't have to be embarrassed honey. He seems like a stand-up guy! Next visit, bring him."

"It sounds like you want to meet him." You rubbed your temples, having temporarily abandoned your peanut butter spreading. You didn't know if you were right, but you could've sworn you heard him shaking his head. Walter meowed again. He definitely had some sort of food in his hand.

"What kind of dad would I be if I weren't excited to meet my daughter's boyfriend?"

The juxtaposition of the past few days to his chipper, nonchalant demeanor was stark, reducing you to a teary mess. No, you wanted to snap at him. I actually visited him in a psych ward. Had to stop his future from becoming a funeral.

"Hey, whoa now..." Your mom spoke in a hushed, frustrated tone in the background. "I'm sorry sweetie. I get it. I won't talk about him anymore."

You continued to cry, unable to get any words out. It was like you were finally able to feel the weight of what had been placed on you, feel the piercing stab of the fear it instilled. Your sobs were so pathetic and deep that your mom kept asking if you could breathe. It took much longer than you were comfortable with to even begin steadying, and when you did you knew it wouldn't last. You told them you had to get back to work, and that you'd see them in two weeks.

Vanity Fair. Vogue. People. Cosmopolitan. Us Weekly. Elle. Glamour. Seventeen. Marie Claire. Your eyes had fuzzed over as anxiety nestled into your gut. So this had been... this had been huge. 600 followers had turned into 13,000, and that was just on Scypher. Instagram had 300, now 6,500. So many mentions, so many comments, you started to panic even more. You tossed the phone across the bed and wrapped your arms around your body, rocking slowly back and forth, squeezing your arms so hard they began to ache. Flashbacks to Saturday night pulsed between your eardrums, projected on the back wall of your mind. You'd never seen someone so out of their element before. The image of him in the fetal position on the ground. The screaming. The nearly incomprehensible rattle in his voice. The stitches that bulged, the skin sloughed off his fingers. The blood. The sweat. The panic. Dread. Fear. Hysteria.

Your hands shook just the same as they fought to text Alfred. Your fingers garbled the message, but you couldn't handle another second without knowing if he was alive or dead. What if he'd taken the whole fucking bottle? What if he was on the floor of his bedroom, the last dregs of his functioning body procuring foamy spit out of his mouth for him to choke on? What if he flung himself off another building? His house was so fucking tall. So empty. So huge. So many places he wouldn't be seen, he wouldn't be found, so many places someone could hide if they needed, or wanted. What if he was strung up by his neck on a ceiling bar?

You shrieked in pain as waves of fear ravaged you. If it were real water you'd be swept under, and you wouldn't even fight it. The water would take away all your troubles, your worries, your fears. But he couldn't know that. They couldn't know what this was doing to you.

You set the phone down.

If he knew, he'd feel guilty. He couldn't feel guilty. Guilt would hurt him more. Guilt could push him over the edge.

Instead, you dialed Dr. Crane. He answered on the second ring, always so quick. "Y/N. I was about to call you. Before we get into it, why did you call?"

Anxiety lurched up into your chest, eager to overwhelm and incapacitate. "Get into what?"

Dr. Crane laughed, a discordant sound that chilled you. "To thank you. Whatever you did, it was successful. This is strictly confidential, but he is accepting treatment."

So he's alive? "I wanted to talk to you about that." You swallowed hard, yanking at a loose thread in your comforter. "I uh, he wasn't going to get help until I, until I lied."

"About what?" Dr. Crane's composure was always strictly maintained, and this time was no different. He never gave away his feelings. "I had to tell him I was the witness. I said I saw him jump."

"Oh."

That was quite possibly the worst thing he could've said.

"Well, that changes things."

"What things?"

"For one, that's a secret you must keep. Glad you clued me in." You heard a rustling of papers, a hushing of his tone. "Usually that would be unacceptable, but if we're both being honest," His candor was unsettling. "I have yet to see someone as deeply in denial as him accept treatment. I went to sleep fully anticipating waking to news of his passing." His tone was suddenly lighter, almost singsongy. "I can't say I'm disappointed in you."

You had no concept of how to respond to that. Guilt ulcerated your stomach and strangled your chest, but at least Bruce was breathing. After a silence that was too long, long enough you were surprised he hadn't yet hung up, you spoke. "Are we, are you, sure?" Words were having trouble finding you. "About the lying? I didn't see it, and what if the real witness,”

"There is nothing to be concerned about regarding the witness. Mr. Wayne has begun treatment, and will soon be stable. Incredible work."

"I—"

"You saved Bruce Wayne’s life, Y/N. It's only a shame it's a badge you can’t share." You could hear the smile in his tone, but you weren't happy. The reassurance you’d been seeking was far from assuring, leaving you situated in an uncanny valley of suspicion. How could he be so joyful? Why wasn't he drilling you about going to such lengths? Had it… had it really been that fucking hopeless? Anger boiled in you at the prospect of Dr. Crane knowingly sending you on a suicide mission. Before you burnt the bridge, you thanked him for the update and hung up. It took everything in you not to throw the phone against the wall.

The shower was scalding. You barely felt it. He must have thought he wouldn't make it. He seemed so fucking resolved to Bruce's death. Fully anticipating waking up to news of his passing? But there was 'nothing he could do'? Not a word of tangible advice besides 'don't go after him'. If I listened to him, who knows who would have found him out there! Would he have attempted again? You also wrestled with the uncomfortable reality that Dr. Crane had been correct; you had played a vital role in him accepting treatment. Had Dr. Crane psychoanalyzed you, deemed you the sort of person to lie if needed? Someone he could push to do things outside of personal liability? A sort of reverse hitman?

As you toweled off, your anxious mind continued its rumination. So he took meds. But did he take just one? Alfred will watch him, right? Hold onto his meds, only give him them as needed? Is he employing a system, making sure he checks under Bruce's tongue, locks the bathrooms, listens for retching, making sure the medication is accurately and genuinely consumed, as prescribed? You needed a break, but you couldn't find one. Sitting on the edge of your bed you knew you wouldn't be able to rest until you knew he was alive right now. And the next day. And the next day. And the next. A boulder jammed down your shoulders knowing you wouldn't be satisfied unless he personally slept on your couch so you could monitor him like a newborn. His attempt and general discontent were affecting you far more than you'd initially internalized.

Bruce sat in Alfred's study by the fireplace, staring out the window towards the grounds. Over breakfast with Alfred he took the first dose of the medication, and only a few hours later he swore he could feel the effects. He'd done some quick googling on olanzapine, and it appeared he was having a placebo effect. At minimum he'd feel effects in a few days, more likely after a week or two. He had to stop researching after that, too freaked out about having to be on antipsychotics, too much still in disbelief about how he'd done something so drastic yet had no memory of it. Alfred convinced him to stay 'home' from Batman for the rest of the week, which was an unusually easy feat considering how he hadn't taken a voluntary night off since beginning the project years ago. It broke him how upset you'd been, and he knew he wouldn't be able to see Alfred cry again. That was unbearable.

He didn't have much to do; he quickly realized he had been living only for the night. There really wasn't anything to do in the tower; no games (outside of a dusty chess board in Alfred's study), one old television (also in Alfred's study, off to an adjacent corner), no gym (he overextended himself enough as Batman), and the house was generally kempt from Dory's attentive cleaning in a house that didn't need more than dusting anyway.

Alfred told him to skip the meeting this week; Bruce initially hadn’t cared much either way, but realized that wasn't an option after misery frayed his nerves with just half a day of sitting around. In order to go in public, he needed to not be scarred and scabbed to hell; he wanted to walk the grounds, but worried about doing it in the daytime in the state he was in. Your article’s release had also prompted a patch of reporters to hang around his house, increasing his surveillance. Give an inch, they’ll take a mile. He and Alfred briefly discussed the contingency plan they kept at the ready: staged police photos of a nasty car crash on the edge of the grounds, but he couldn't share them yet—he wanted to leave you as much time as possible to soak up the success of the interview. You deserved that much, you deserved more after what he'd put you through. At least once an hour he thought about calling you, and he very nearly did a few times. He worried about you. Were you safe? Did you need anything?

On some level, he theorized focusing so much on you was a coping mechanism to escape his failing mental capacity. The more he focused on you, the less real estate his panic had. Last night had been miserable. He'd stayed awake staring at the ceiling, his mind swirling with shock and fear. He’d wondered if this is what his mom had endured, but he didn’t have the mental fortitude yet to go digging through Arkham Asylum records. He didn’t know if he ever would again, so he simply sat. Watched the clouds move along the skyline. Watched the shrubs sway in the backyard. Followed the occasional crow floating past the windows.

As soon as darkness fell he couldn't contain himself any longer. The nagging feeling of someone he traumatized being alone in it was too much. He grabbed a hoodie and walked to the elevator, sure he could make a free escape through the old subway route. His hand hesitated before pressing the button. What if you didn't want him to visit? What if it was too stressful? He couldn't keep coming over unannounced, it was weird. Not normal. Alfred had heard the metal rustling and walked into the kitchen. His brow furrowed. "I thought you were taking a break from him?"

"I am." He stared at the ground, lost in thought. "Would you call her?"

"Miss Y/N?" Alfred's voice was soft, concerned. "Sure, why?"

Bruce had conveniently kept to himself that you'd been the one to watch him jump. That you were the witness, that you'd called 911. "I want to give her an update."

Alfred pulled out his phone and Bruce walked closer, bridging the gap between them. "Ask if I could talk to her." He didn't blink until you picked up, hiding a wince at how you'd done so before the end of the first ring. You were scared. Desperate.

"Miss Y/N, I hope this isn't a bad time." Alfred paused with the phone to his ear, his expression faltering before he let out a small chuckle. It was hollow. "No, he's alright. He wanted to see if he could speak to you now."

He handed the phone to Bruce, who quickly scurried up the stairs and into his room. He only put the phone to his ear once the door was closed behind him. "Y/N?"

"Bruce." It was so nice to hear your voice when it wasn't panicked. You sounded a bit tired, breathy, but miles better than yesterday. A sigh of relief heaved out of him, to which you had a reflexive response. "Are you okay?" Your voice rose, both in volume and octave.

"Yes. Are you okay?"

"I really don't think it matters,"

He bit back a part of him that wanted to say you were the only thing that mattered. He'd broken you. "Are you?"

You sighed. "Yes. Did you uh,"

"I got the meds."

"Good. Did you take them? Or, one, or, whatever the dose,"

"Yeah." He could hear how clouded your mind was, and it was excruciating being so limited to the phone. He remembered the first week after the murder. His mind had been a hazy minefield, everything running on autopilot. The tears, his limbs, his voice, nothing had been a conscious decision for weeks. Sure, he hadn't died, but you'd thought he had. If… his parents had survived, he figured he would've been in a similar state regardless. He wanted to help you, but he didn't know how.

"How long does it take the medication to work?"

"A few days. Maybe a few weeks." After his parents died, everyone brought him food. Random strangers had brought flowers, and food, and even stuffed toys for him to cuddle with. He'd only kept one, a stuffed dinosaur, now tucked into the back of his linen closet. Alfred checked on him constantly. No longer did he have to do his chores; Dory and Alfred picked up the slack. No longer did he have to deal with hearing his mom demand he eat his veggies and sides before getting another helping of soup, he only had soup. And juice, and soda, and warm blankets fresh out of the dryer. He remembered the warmth. Of the blanket, the soup. Those, paired with the scraggly dino in his arms, were the only things that made a decimal of impact on his devastation. "Do you need anything?"

"No. Do you?"

"Do you want anything?"

"I'm good. What about you?"

He didn't believe it. You were trying to spare him, just like you had by making yourself anonymous. Would it be wrong of him to come over? This late in the evening... probably. But he remembered the nights were the worst part. Alone in the empty darkness. Less cars, less lights, even the reruns on tv were stale at that time. It left no room for distraction. And honestly, he worried if he didn't distract you from your pain, he'd be gridlocked by his.

"Can I stop by?"

Onion, celery, carrots, butter, flour, curry powder, chicken broth, an apple, rice, chicken breast, thyme, and heavy cream. He didn't know how to make much, and Alfred didn't keep much variety around, but you hadn't balked at mulligatawny the first night you'd stayed here, and it was one of the few things he knew how to make without a recipe. It was also one of the few things the old man always kept fresh and stocked, especially now that Bruce was in recovery mode. Most importantly, it was warm. It was only nine, he could get this done before ten, and be gone before midnight. Just in time for you to get tired and go to sleep, without hours spent tossing and turning alone in bed. It was the least he could do for you.

He'd never felt more ridiculous than he did when he opened your door. The backpack was heavy and a reminder that he hadn't asked if he could cook, but assumed he would waltz into your kitchen and work some magic. You invited him in and he went straight to the island, setting down his pack and taking out the supplies. Your face scrunched with confusion. "What are you doing?"

He kept taking out food while he thought of how to phrase it. It was like his mind was slowed down, your apartment a pool of tv static. "I wanted to cook." Pause. "For you." Another pause, and he took out the apple. "It's warm." Fuck, could he have explained it any worse?

He paused and you watched him slowly move to meet your eyes. "Can I?" His hand was hovering above one of the drawers, ready to get to work. "Sure." You didn't understand why he couldn't cook at his house, but you couldn’t complain; still coming down from the nauseating blend of relief and guilt that gnawed at you when you finally saw him in the flesh. Like being attacked by a wave on a hot day; soothing, but bitterly cold at the same time.

You had reassembled the chairs today, and the table. You'd anticipated calling Mar later tonight if she weren’t already at a club, offering to order some takeout and have a movie night. When thinking up a distraction, you certainly hadn't anticipated Chef Bruce appearing with fixings for a mystery meal. Did billionaires even know how to cook? Did billionaire Bruce Wayne ever have to fend for himself in the kitchen? A brief image of him staring confusedly at a box of cereal made your mouth twitch into a grin.

Good. Your humor was still there, thank god. With his back turned to you, facing the burner, you could finally, finally, finally, finally unclench your jaw and drop your shoulders. He was here. It was weird, and uncomfortable, but undeniable. He was here, not hanging from a rafter or god knows where doing god knows what in the city. He was putting butter in a pan, and grabbing a wooden spoon. He was alive.

But... this was still out of character, which raised an orange flag. You waited for him to reach an impasse before speaking, tapping his fingers on the countertop while he watched the rice cook. An apple sat cubed to the left, the chicken sizzling on the back burner. "How are you? Really?"

Bruce needed to toe the line. Too honest and it would shift the focus to him, further distressing you; too dishonest and you'd dismiss it before he finished speaking. His body didn't just ache, it screamed at him. Every step, even every time he spoke, felt like torture. He'd teared up at multiple points between the lobby and your unit. His spirit was entirely crushed, shattered into irredeemable smithereens. He hung his head and let all the air out of his lungs, letting his weight fall into his wrists as he leaned over the stove. "Not great."

It should've pained you to hear that, instead it felt like wind in your sails. He was being honest. You could work with that. Honesty didn't need to be interrogated or sleuthed upon. "How can I help?"

He wanted to say you've done enough and don't want your pity, but it felt too real. You didn't need that tonight, not so close to the event. "Taste the soup and tell me if it needs anything." He prayed you wouldn’t keep asking.

"How would I know?"

"I want it to suit your taste."

"I don't know what it's supposed to taste like." You were hyperaware he hadn't answered you, not in the way you wanted. Maybe it was too close for comfort right now. Maybe all you needed to do was focus on him being here, and ask questions later.

"Pepper, curry flavor. Creamy." He stirred something fragrant on the stovetop.

"What's the apple doing?"

"It's necessary." It felt good talking about something else with you. Something normal. Not Batman, not his legacy, not the attempt. Still, all of it clouded and constricted the conversation, a constant tension you both wittingly ignored. "Smooths the spice."

I barely tasted it that night. Too scary being trapped in the house of one of the most powerful men in the world. You watched as he stirred, chopped, and fluffed. You were brought back home with your parents, watching them make dinner while you sat at the dining table and talked at them. He glanced around and looked at the can of heavy cream. In an instant you were up and grabbing a can opener, desperate to do your part. He instructed you to pour it into the pan, and for a half second he was just another guy; an acquaintance, someone passing through; someone regular, unassuming.

After a few more minutes of sitting around, you grabbed some bowls and spoons. After a quick taste he required you take ("Need to know if I missed something"), he ladled the bowls full, and you both walked slowly, carefully over to the table to set down the steaming soup. Bruce dug in without waiting, while you blowed on a single spoonful until every bit of steam hesitated to rise from it.

He watched you apprehensively. Your eyes widened a bit, and he could see your jaw moving like you were savoring it. "How is it?" It tasted fairly similar to how Alfred made it, which was fairly similar to how his mom had made it. At the very least he hadn't royally fucked up. Who knows, maybe olanzapine changes tastebuds.

You nodded, blowing on another bite. "Mulling it over."

God, that was so droll... it tugged a whispering grin to his lips, his bite slipping back into the bowl at the gentle movement of his dry chuckle.

He was laughing. Not really. Kind of. Weird, but yay! "I've never tasted anything like it. It's good."

"Don't have to placate me."

"It's peppery. Curry. Creamy."

He rolled his eyes and tossed another spoonful into his mouth. "Creative. What's the apple for?"

The tension never left, though you both did your best to selfishly soothe it through dry humor. The most either of you did was grin, breathe a little extra air through your nose. When he wasn't looking your eyes wandered to his purple and green bruises, and the complementary crusting scabs along his neck and hands. You wondered if he was suicidal right now, but wasn't saying anything. When you weren't looking, he studied your body language, hoping it would betray you. Were you scared right now? Did you think this was the weirdest thing ever, like he did? Did you think this was creepy? Was it creepy? Was it helping? Was he helping you?

You both finished and walked your bowls to the sink. He started rinsing them and reached for the dish soap, and you let him for a little. After he pat dry the first bowl, you couldn't sit with this worry on your chest any longer. The food had been warm and energizing, the mood made less intimidating with the joking, and all of it together held your hand as you broached the topic. It made you sick how concerned he was about your wellbeing; yes, he scared you, images of his frenzied, panicked face waking you up in the dead of night, but you hadn't watched him nearly die like he thought. His worry felt like rain on a hundred degree day: unsettling and unwelcome. You inhaled fully, hoping enough oxygen would get to some brave neurons and force the words past your teeth. They caught in your chest and by then he'd finished the second bowl; anxiety palpated your heart, bullying it into silence. You overrode it. "Bruce."

At once he abandoned the silverware and turned toward you. His analytical gaze peppered your face and the fingers that annihilated your cuticles. The stench of something burning singed your nostrils, your eyes tracking the source to the hem of his sweatshirt draped over the hot stove, smoking as small flames burnt through the cotton. Perhaps waiting to be seen, it erupted into a blazing ball of flame. You yelped and jumped toward the sink, grabbing the adjustable faucet and spraying him down. The flames went out, he turned off the burner, and you looked around for some magazines or papers to fan away the tendrils of smoke wafting toward the fire alarm.

"Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

You glanced back and saw Bruce sopping wet, his hair having gotten in the mix too, draped over his eyes; the singed, ripped edges of his shirt that he clutched between his hands. You bit your lip to reign in your laugh. He started hurrying the shirt off his back, and gently shook it out to see if it had juice left in it. That was the kicker, sending you bolting toward your bedroom. You couldn't be laughing at him all the time. Get it together! He's hurting! But the laughs escaped your tight-lipped prison, and soon his shadow was in the doorway. As quickly as you'd laughed, you began to cry. You dropped to your knees at the whiplash; what once was dead, was now making soup in your apartment. Dancing around it wasn't helping, it was exacerbating the pain. He didn't hesitate to walk over, his long legs getting him across the room in only a few strides.

He didn't think you were crying about the fire. He stood helplessly beside you, unable to make a decision on what to do next. Guilt bloomed angry, self-flagellating thoughts, wishing he hadn't ran with his ego and coddled his denial. He placed a light touch to your shoulder and you jumped up. "I'm fine." He didn't say anything, only sat and watched as you struggled to reign in your barrage of tears. Your fingers threatened to go numb, and you attempted to shake the tingles away. "My body just needs to cry and then, then I'm done." You turned away from him and pressed your clammy palms to your cheeks, trying to physically shove the tears back into hiding.

After what seemed like an extended period of sniffling tears, you looked back at him. He was sat on the edge of your bed, his sweatshirt draped over his forearm. You could see more of the deeper wounds on his arms now, which was a viscerally surreal feeling. It was impossible not to be aware of his reputation; it preceded him at every turn, he was correct about that. Something entirely new though was seeing the fallibility so transparently.

Before graduation—and honestly, before seeing him breaking down in the alley—you had practically thought he was immortal. You wouldn't have done such ridiculous, dangerous bullshit as walking through an active crime scene at night if you hadn't internalized his heroism. Until this moment you hadn't realized how much you'd relied on that story; the subconscious reassurance that the Batman provided to Gotham's citizens. The mythical creature unfazed by bullets, incapacitating anyone in its wake. Batman's neutralizing force was so accepted it went unquestioned; now you knew it was because no one truly knew him. You and Alfred were the only people who had. Suddenly, the world felt a lot more intimidating. If you were any less shaken up, you might've laughed at the unmasking of Santa; but even children mourned the loss of magic, and here you were muzzling yourself.

"Can I help?"

You needed to nip this in the bud. It was going to come out however it was going to come out, and you needed to be okay with that. "I, appreciate the effort." It wasn't coming out so easily. Be nice. Be nice. Be nice. "But I want this to stop." I didn't watch you. "You don't want my pity, and I don't want yours." Too harsh, scale back. "The only thing I need is for you to be safe. Alive."

You sounded so much like Alfred that Bruce bit back a snarky retort. Not the time nor the place. Your bed creaked as he stood up. He hated how your words sat in his chest, but there wasn't exactly anything he could do about it. "Okay."

No argument, no fighting. Like you requested something he already vowed to do. He walked past you into the kitchen, and you followed on his heel. You had never been so close to him alone, and never from behind. His back was broad, making his already impressive height even more menacing. Veins bulged under his skin. Swore a tendon twitched in his forearm every time he stepped on his left foot. If he had turned for the door you might have yelped, but he just finished the dishes in silence while you lingered, then sat on the couch. If someone walked in right now, and was one of the few humans who didn't know about Bruce Wayne, they might think this looked normal. It couldn't feel more foreign.

You didn't wait half a second after the sink turned off to fill the space. From your perch on the end of the couch, across the room. "Will you be safe once you leave?"

Like a knife scraping under his fingernails. So scared he wouldn't be alive the next morning. Skittish. "Yes." He wasn't looking back at you, wishing he hadn't already put down the dish towel so he'd have something to wring. "I promise."

What good's a promise if he's six feet under? Your life had become so singular so quickly, and you were anxious for it to get back to its usual painful mediocrity. "Really?"

Ugh. He turned to face you and followed your eyes searching the carpet. He sighed away his animosity, knowing the rage seeping into his chest was directed at himself; it was nothing greater than embellished fear. He knew this, was well acquainted with it. Maybe he did need to go back to therapy. He leaned his hip against the counter and winced, jamming straight into a blackened, split bruise. He grabbed his hoodie from where it was slung across the edge of the counter, grimacing at the effort only when his face was obscured. “Really.” Within seconds he was at the door, his hand on the handle. He noticed your eyes flash in his periphery, and his entire body constricted at the sight. He forced himself to meet your eyes. It was strenuous. He figured he needed to warn you. "Alfred and I have emergency plans for times like these. Whatever you read in the news, it's a cover-up." He popped open the door, hesitating on the departure. The air was thick with emotional exhaust. "I'll see you on Thursday?"

You nodded, relieved he was being more covert with his concern. Sugaring the medicine. "See you on Thursday."

[howlingday]

The Hardest Thing to Say

Jaune: (Reading)

Cinder: (Climbing in through window) Well, hello there~.

Jaune: Ugh...

Cinder: So, I noticed you haven't been replied to a single meme I've sent you so I was wondering why you've been ignoring me.

Jaune: I thought me not saying "ha ha" was enough to get across that I didn't want to talk right now.

Cinder: Oh, come the fuck on, Arc, we're just going through a rough patch. Besides, you always want to hear from me~.

Jaune: (Sighs) Okay, Cinder. What do you want?

Cinder: I want to feel like I'm earning this partnership, so get your hands off that book and on my ass so you can SMACK it~!

Jaune: Wow. How poetic. I bet you really thought I'd be putty in your hands by now, huh?

Cinder: Er... Right, so... Okay, that was a shitty way for me to say it, but you usually like it when I dirty talk to you.

Jaune: (Scowls)

Cinder: (Groans) Come on! We don't words! We sex!

Jaune: This might be a surprise to you, Cinder, but I don't want "to sex." In fact, I don't even want to "words" with you! So would you please respect that?!

Cinder: Oh, don't be like that, Arc. (Leans, Pulls collar) Besides, you know you like to see this~.

Jaune: (Cringing) Seeing you is hard for me right now! I already feel bad about last night, and the fact that I'm getting an invite to this "Anti-Cinder" party as a "guest of honor" for being your most recent ex!

Cinder: ANTI-CINDER?! WHO THE FUCK IS BEHIND THIS?!

Jaune: It's just this immature get together. Honestly, it sounds like a load of baloney.

Cinder: Yes, yes, truly a real smorgasbord of processed meat! Let me see that!

Jaune: It was nice to get an invite, though. Maybe I should check it out.

Cinder: (Opens card)

Dearest Jaune Arc, You are cordially invited to join us as a guest of honor to celebrate having your fucking heart stomped to mush by Cinder Fall~! It is with great pride and honor that I extend this invitation, as the most recent ex, to the Ever After and indulge in our shared hatred of that stupid cunt! Eagerly awaiting the arrival of our "Guest of Honor,"

Neopolitan

Cinder: NEO?! Of course that fucking creep would...

Jaune: It's funny, though... Why would you have an entire party dedicated to hating you of all people?

Cinder: Because they're all bitter that I am simply too wild to tame~.

Jaune: You really think that's all it is?

Cinder: Of course! They're all jealous that I moved on and they didn't.

Jaune: Oh! That makes sense since YOU are the one who's breaking people's hearts!

Cinder: If by "bweaking pepoo's hots~" you mean I "end is shit before it becomes shit," then yes, and honestly, these people should be thanking me because everyone would be better off single.

Jaune: ...Heh. Yeah. You're right. Everyone would be better off single. So, why are you here, Cinder~?

Cinder: E- I- I am here because you still need to realize how good some angry revenge sex would feel right now!

Jaune: Oh, beat it, Cinder! ...NOW.

Cinder: Why?!

Jaune: Because I'm tired of this, Cinder! I don't like how you're talking to me!

Cinder: Oh, give me a fucking break, Arc! You know this has always been a fantasy of yours! You want me to be right on top of you so I can give you the best two hours of your life~!

Jaune: (Walks away) Stop it!

Cinder: You know I'm right! You love the idea of me being your little lapdog for you to show off so you can prove that there's good in everyone!

Jaune: I don't want you to be my lapdog! How many times do I have to fucking-?! When have I ever-?! (Exhales) You're just like Adam, you know that?! You know, the same guy who tried to kill me and YOU didn't even bother coming to help me yourself! Remember?!

Cinder: I am NOTHING like-! I-I didn't know he could-! Hey, I stopped him the first time!

Jaune: The first time?!

Cinder: ...Yes, when yo- Oh... Oh, shit, did I not-

Jaune: You KNEW someone was trying to kill me?

Cinder: ...I stopped him! And I didn't think you could actually get hurt!

Jaune: (Walks to the window, Leans on sill)

Cinder: You had aura! You have your semblance! If Mercury and I could kick his ass on our own, then you could definitely-

Jaune: Yeah, you're right! Because I'm the big huntsman hero and I shouldn't trust an evil person to stop an evil person, right?

Cinder: And there it is! About time!

Jaune: Oh, that's all you were really here for! (Pushes to face Cinder) Trying to play out this idea you have that I'm some beacon of light who's trying to force you to be a good guy, but I'm NOT! Why would I risk my career, my LIFE, to spend time with you, to help you?! You don't owe me those things, but you can't just ignore all of it!

Cinder: ...You know, Jaune, I spent the entire morning listening to love songs...

Jaune: (Cinder takes his hand)

Cinder: ...and that was still the SAPPIEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD!

Jaune: (Pulls hand away) ...Do you ever feel bad for the people you've hurt? Have you ever said sorry ONCE in your life?

Cinder: WHAT, YOU THINK I CAN'T FUCKING APOLOGIZE?! FOR WHAT?! YOU WANT ME TO SAY, "Oh, I'm sorry that I thought this whole time someone as wonderful as you could never love someone as awful as me and I allow my self-loathing to stop me from apologizing to anyone I've ever cared about!"

Jaune: ...Er- Yeah. That.

Cinder: ...

Jaune: ...

Cinder: ...WELL, FUCK YOU!

Jaune: (Leaves)

Cinder: I COULD SAY SORRY IF I WANTED TO! JUST YOU FUCKING WATCH! I SORRIED RUBY SO HARD, SHE CRIED! AND I CAN SORRY MORE PEOPLE EXCEPT YOU BECAUSE I DON'T OWE YOU DICK!

Cinder: (Huffs) Everyone... But you... (Leaves)

[iaminfourthwing]

The Generals Daughter

a/n: finally the first chapter is here and the next one is almost ready for upload. I apologize in advantage, because I am still a bloody beginner in terms of writing. still, enjoy!

Chapter I

Conscription day will forever be one of the deadliest every year, right before Threshing. Ever since the first time I witnessed this from afar I hate it with all my heart. All year I have the same “privilege”, how my father would call it, to watch the candidates, that passed the entrance exam six month prior, fall to their death. And those who survive the Parapet either graduate or going to get killed – due to other cadets or dragons. One wrong move and all you will be is dead meat.

Today is possibly my last day on earth. I have to cross the Parapet myself to get into the Riders Quadrant but according to the General, I will just do fine – I am a Melgren and I have ten years of training in my bones after all. I am still not so sure about this, but I have no say in this. Not anymore.

Somewhere in between these masses of candidates must be a certain other general daughter and I really fucking hope she survives this. Even though she doesn't look like she could kill a fly, I believe wholeheartedly in her. She is strong and if someone can do this, it's her, even if she doesn't knows it yet. I tried to talk to her mother but she wouldn't budge, nothing would change her mind. Even Mira tried it more than once and if the General isn't listening to her, then she won't listen to anyone.

The orders from my father five days ago were clear – wait till the end, when everyone else is done, then I'll cross the Parapet alone. On the other side at the entrance to the quadrant will wait a third year that'll bring me to formation into the Dragon Rotunda. Commandant Panchek is informed that I'll join the Quadrant and which wing.

And with that I am waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

I have a good spot to observe these kids, trying to survive this death trail and see some of them already fall. I don't understand how some of them want to become a rider after all. So many of them volunteer to join the quadrant while others don't have a choice, like me. Malek lingers at every possible corner and no one is safe from him. Having a dragon might be “thrilling”, how many officers describe it, but till you possibly get to this point you could be dead, or worse.

These dragons are terrifying, like that beast of a dragon my father bonded all those years ago, long before I was born.

The weather isn't in anyone’s favor today – the storm took a turn at some point. Even though the sunrise was beautiful, it left a bitter aftertaste as the dark clouds covered the sky. For some of them it was their last sunrise ever.

It's been more than two hours since the first one entered the Parapet and there aren't many candidates left. I make out a figure striking over the stones like they own this place and – did they just threw another candidate down?!

My heart starts racing, my breathing becomes uneven, and I feel like I'm having a panic attack. Shit, now?!

`Take a deep breath, Arya. You`ll do this alone, no one can throw you down and no one will interrupt you.’

I just really hope I`ll never have to meet this asshole. I may look tough and have more fighting experience than others, but those people are unpredictable. And I certainly don`t have my father’s signet to see if I could win a fight against him, so I really want to avoid this guy.

A knock on the door interrupts my train of thoughts and when I turn, one of the officers from infantry stands at the door. “It's time” is the only thing he says. Shit.

Around fifteen minutes later I find myself lingering at the edge of the Parapet. No one else is around, the officer walked away the moment, I stepped foot into the tower.

Only a few centimeters separate me and the abyss. Just a few centimeters left and then I'll be out in the open while the rain thankfully eases into a slight drizzle.

`Okay Arya – you`ve got this. Take a deep breath – and step forward.’

Well … it takes me about three minutes, with stumbling and cursing the shit out of every person that crosses my mind, to reach the other side and I am nearing the entry to the famous Riders Quadrant. Just like father told me, a third year is already waiting for me, looking annoyed. But it's not like he can disobey a direct order from above. “Finally, they are about to start” he grumbles. Hello to you too, grumpy, but I know better than to aggravate him, since he has a dragon that could incinerate me before I even have the chance to hide.

We make our way through the empty corridors of the college while I try to sort my thoughts. I really survived the Parapet and now I am allowed to call myself a cadet. Still alive and can't fucking believe I am now part of this hellhole. I already imagine the way the General will stand in his office and rant about how it was predictable that I would succeed. “She is a Melgren after all and it would have been a waste of time if she didn't survived.”

Faint voices in the distance interrupt my thoughts, which get louder with every step we take but before we can even walk out into the biggest courtyard one has ever seen, the chattering grows quiet.

“Three hundred and one of you have survived the Parapet to become-“

The third year, I have yet to know his name, and I interrupt Commandant Panchek, who stands on the dais in front of the cadets.

“I apologize, Commandant, but it's three hundred and two.”

There is a heavy silence that spreads over the rotunda. I stand behind the tall rider, most of the curious glances immediately find him, only a few of them spot me behind. Great.

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

I am now at least far enough away from the incident that I can give some more articulately expressed opinions about Kriemhild and that part of Traum, and also my general bugbears when it comes to Higashide. To really elaborate on them, I want to make a point of comparison to show this isn't just like, bias getting in the way, and that's Caster.

Well Medea. Obviously.

Caster has a really big advantage going for her over characters such as Semiramis and Kriemhild. She has two gigantic and well-written visual novels backing her up. While the first thing you probably think of when it comes to Caster is her relationship to Kuzuki, you can probably think of a bunch of different things that you know Caster for. Caster's relationship to Kuzuki is a big part of her character, but it is not the only part of her character, and most importantly, it adds to her character. It is in and of itself a jumping off point for discussing her relationship with Jason, how that has affected her, and what Caster is looking at her future for.

Bu it's not her entire character. She still has a very complex relationship with Saber, and Hollow Ataraxia's character interactions with her and the rest of the cast are all interesting, not to mention her own interactions with Kojirou either. She exists as a character beyond that, and that is also very likely why Kuzuki is just not a factor in F/GO at all. She is a strongly written character that is recognizable without him.

When it comes to Semiramis and Amakusa, Apocrypha itself is written fine although I don't really believe in the two of them having real chemistry with each other, especially as time has gone on and more of Semiramis backstory has come out, Amakusa feels very written in but without the proper framing to me to make it work. But as time has gone up, unlike with Caster, Semiramis has had her entire character swallowed up by this relationship, even though canonically she shouldn't really remember it. This is obviously to some extent fanservice, but this is a problem, because it means that Semiramis stops existing as her own character. There are entire interludes about her history that are boiled down at the end to just being about Amakusa. If you want to know Semiramis like you would Caster, you can't.

A good relationship adds to the character, it does not BECOME the character. This is especially weird because Amakusa has had a lot of interesting screen time and character writing without Semiramis being present. It starts to feel like there's only really one important character in the mix. There's Amakusa, and Amakusa's girlfriend. That's weird.

Kriemhild is that on turbo, but the issues with her writing go even further. At least with Semiramis, while her relationship with Amakusa is strange, it's not necessarily contradictory. It's definitely odd, but not out of question. Kriemhild, especially for those who have summoned her and didn't go through Traum quickly, is in a contradictory boat. She clearly in her dialogues does not like Siegfried, even if she still loves him, and it's also clear he is directly responsible for a ton of hurt that she felt. This is consistent of what we know of Siegfried, it makes sense that he would do these things, we've already seen him do it in Apocrypha. Here, we are being asked to confront the human cost of that. In Apocrypha, he's not screwing over anyone we care about. But here, he's directly hurting people, and by extension, leading to their death.

Siegfried's actions are not portrayed particularly nobly, they're considered mistakes, at least in part chiefly by Siegfried who wants to live a life doing the right thing now. So it makes sense that Kriemhild would be extremely bitter and angry at him. He...abandoned her, and didn't even explain himself. That's extremely fucked up.

For almost the entire chapter in Traum, we're not given any indication that there is going be a flip-flop in character motivations. Kriemhild is portrayed, consistently, as being antagonistic to Siegfried. She wants her revenge on him, she calls him leftovers, she talks about destroying the world he keeps trying to save. Zhang Jue hides away Siegfried not because he believes that Kriemhild will turn on the realm for him, but because, as a Berserker, Kriemhild is likely to become extremely unstable upon seeing him.

Even later on, when Siegfried approaches Ritsuka and asks for a favor, the most likely conclusion to come to, knowing Siegfried, is that he wants to fulfill his wife's revenge. That makes sense from a character perspective. Siegfried's actions have consistently trended towards those that self-sacrifice to protect others.

The problem when it comes to Kriemhild is that it is both contradictory to what we've been communicated with in the story, and that the end result is that it destroys her character. It is both bad, and quite frankly, very cheap. It's a cheap use of the love conquers all trope. In the span of one to two sentences, Kriemhild implicitly forgives him for everyone that he's done, reverts to a lovey-dovey wife, and even reneges on everything that to this build are the foundation of her existence as a Servant.

It turns Kriemhild into nothing, into what is insanely flat, because all of her depth has been removed. What is left is a character that is entirely one-dimensional. Nothing exists for Kriemhild past her love of Siegfried anymore. There's no discussions about hurt or pain or the twenty years of vengeance beyond Kriemhild immediately turning a double face on it.

There's not a nicer way to put this, so let's just get it out of the way now. Siegfried will continue to be a character independent of Kriemhild. Unlike say, Sigurd, whose character is primarily defined on his relationship with Brynhildr, Siegfried's character is not defined really at all by his relationship to Kriemhild. Kriemhild has no path from here, and as we can glimpse in further events, her character is entirely defined by her relationship with Siegfried. What are her character motivations past this point? Well obviously its not ANY of the ones we took pain to previously establish.

This is classic, textbook, misogynistic writing. Kriemhild has been turned into a lamp.

Siegfried is a very popular character, and I imagine for a lot of people, there is incentive to ignore all of this. Siegfried is getting his happy ending, he's getting his wife back. But if you cared about what Kriemhild's character was, this sucks tremendously. Reconciliation is not off the table, but what happened is not reconciliation. It's not anything resembling that. Kriemhild essentially loses all of her agency, so dramatically she dies after this happens.

Like at least Urobuchi would have just killed her.

[moodooivy]

So I have many theories of what happened between Vox and Alastor, but I have to decide on something. So, I will be going into as much detail as I can analyzing the possible theories of what happened. I'll try to be as unbiased as I can and not let my shipper brain get in the way. (I will be saying maybe and possibly a lot so get ready for that)

Theory 1: Alastor's deal;

In this theory people say that Alastor had to decline Vox's offer to join the Vees and leave him because of his deal. That he had no choice. Another idea to this is that Alastor was threatened to agree to the deal for Vox's protection or happiness. Another possibility is that Alastor had to disappear because of his contract and that left Vox bitter because he thought Alastor abandoned him. As much as my RadioStatic mind loves this idea, it is extremely unlikely. I mean the way Alastor treats Vox does not give "I had to betray you in the past when I didn't want to". It gives "I'm bitter and love to mess with you, fuck you". Though this outcome isn't impossible. A possible way I see is maybe Alastor's deal involved taking away his ability to show feelings? It could explain why Alastor is always smiling. But I don't think that's the case. As for the reasoning of Vox feeling abandoned, I don't think that's it either. I feel like there would've been a scene acknowledging that to be the case already. So I'm going with no, probably not this.

Theory 2: Love confession;

Ah yes. The classic love confession theory. In this theory, people say that Vox was in love with Alastor, but when he confessed to Alastor he was rejected. Either then Alastor left or they got into a fight and then Alastor left. Either way, Al left Vox bitter and rejected. As much as I love RadioStatic, I hate RadioSilence and am not a believer in this theory. Again, I feel like we would already know if this were the case. And Vox just doesn't give me bitter rejected vibes. I just feel like if it were the case, I don't know, Vox would make it more obvious? But that doesn't mean this is impossible. Plus, there's always a possibility something similar to Blitz and Fizz happened. One of them was about to confess but then their fallout happened. That honestly does sound likely. Or, maybe Alastor misunderstood Vox. Vox wasn't actually asking him to join his team, he was asking Al to join him. Alastor didn't understand this and rejected the offer, or he knew full well and thought Vox only saw it as a business thing or maybe even a sex thing, since Valentino was apparently in the picture at that point. There is a reason why I just said love confession and not Vox's love confession. I actually do believe it is possible Alastor had feelings as well. People forget that Alastor was never confirmed to be aromantic, and even if he was, AroAce people can still fall in love, so it's not impossible. In fact I feel like it is very possible there was some mutual pining between these two. Where they both liked each other but just didn't realize it. To all those who have read Daughter Of Discord, tell me you don't get the thought of Discord and Chrysalis's past in your head. This brings me to the next theory.

Theory 3: They were changing too much;

In this theory, it is thought that Vox was changing too much. Alastor and Vox used to be friends, but Alastor didn't like how his old pal was becoming modernized and different. Alastor seems to really dislike change, and that could either be because of the fallout or contributed to the fallout. Perhaps when Vox asked Alastor to join him that was the breaking point. He thought Vox would try to change him. Change his name, make him use modern technology, change who he is. I believe this is the most likely situation. Another possibly, and what I think is most possible, Vox was growing powerful way too quickly. Alastor loves power. He took immediate disliking to Lucifer and I am pretty sure it's because Lucifer is probably the only thing in Hell stronger than him... But at the same time. Alastor is smart. Like, really smart. I feel like the last thing he would think of doing to someone he thought was growing more powerful than him would be to cut ties with them and make enemies. Alastor messes with Lucifer because he knows if Lucifer hurt him he would destroy his relationship with Charlie so he can't do shit. Another possibility is that Alastor's strange moral code might've gotten in the way. Unlikely I know, but Alastor does have some moral to himself where he seems to not harm, in fact somewhat protects those that are weak and defenseless. Maybe his and Vox's morals didn't align and Alastor didn't like the immoral path Vox was taking.

Theory 4: Velvette and Valentino;

In this theory, it is thought that the idea of the Vees is what caused Vox and Alastor's fallout. Maybe Alastor thought working with three would be too much. Maybe he thought they would hold him back. That would fit into the timeline. In the series I think it is supposed to be hinted that Velvette wasn't around during the fallout, so I'll look at it from that perspective. Alastor didn't like Vox's company of Valentino (Honestly who doesn't) so when Vox offered for Alastor to join them, Al said no, they got into a fight, Alastor disappeared, and so Val and Vox recruited Vel instead.

So, what do you guys think happened. Let me know because I am very interested. I apologize if this is hard to understand, the way I speak can be like that, but hopefully everyone gets this.

[clairedaring]

more my stand-in thoughts and other ramblings about joe/zhou xiang best boi

!!!!!!!!!!! POSSIBLE NOVEL SPOILERS WARNING !!!!!!!!!!!

as my stand-in begins to air, even though we're only two episodes in, the series itself has already established very clearly and explicitly that ming is a HUGE RED FLAG and he's not... the nicest guy.

and as we are told by the narration of joe, this time he had with ming was not a dream as he had though but rather a nightmare and that it was ming who led joe to his death (literal translation of his last line in ep 1, iqiyi engsub you lack accuracy i hate you).

and while i am just one among the joe's protection squad, i feel like i don't share this overwhelming opinion i've been seeing of people thinking joe 2.0 should pull a 180 change or to be as bad as ming or to become some kind of monster and take his revenge on everyone who's ever hurt him as if this is some makjang kdrama.

i once wrote a bit about my thoughts on why joe/zhou xiang is such a compelling protagonist and what separates him from other 188 novels' main characters. but since that piece was written before my stand-in had aired and i think the characterization of joe has been slightly changed in comparison to the novel, so i want to take this chance to elaborate a bit more on my point in that post as well as update it to fit with the series version of zhou xiang.

so, like i've mentioned,one of the traits i love most about joe/zx is this inherent kind-hearted nature of his and i think the series has not only just done well in this aspect, but also greatly amped up this quality in the series portrayal of zhou xiang.

you can seeeeee it through joe's acts of services for this STRANGER he had just met. be it offering ming a ride to the BTS station or cooking for ming even though they didn't fuck.

however, i do agree with my friend @dragonsandphoenix's observation that with the series, since they're trying to speed through joe 1.0 and ming's relationship, the series has joe falling much quicker (literally him using the L word on ep 2 pls joe) than zhou xiang did, considering it took mingjoe only 2 ep before they started their period of domestic life and yanzhou 17 chapters to do the same thing.

i feel like this specific adaptation change in regards to characterization can cause audience to be even more protective of joe than novel readers already were of zhou xiang. one of my biggest fears for this adaptation (i say one of bc novel readers would already know my biggest fear of one specific scene) has always been the doormat allegations against joe. but like i've also said before, it's that specific trait that 'joe has the ability to fight back but he simply won't because he refuses to hurt others and his soft heart has him in pain whenever he sees others hurt' about him that i hold so dear. even in the series, we know joe has the physical capability of taking sol down... and the man did give sol a deck to his neck making him passed out.

... but it's also the same joe who would take care of sol after accidentally decking him.

did anyone watch ep 2 started counting how many times JOE apologizes in this episode... literally in the car scene, he said sorry to ming TWICE because he was scared he had hurt ming's feelings for his assumptions (right ones at that). or when the hot water dripped from the lid of the pot, joe immediately said sorry and checked to see if ming was hurt.

whether it is in the novel or the series, joe/zhou xiang is just really the type to sacrifice himself for the sake of others, he's never been able to put himself first and puts others' feelings above his (⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ

which is why i was pleasantly surprised reading professional body double. because one would generally assume that after all the miseries thrown his way, he would become a bitter person, full of grudge and resentment against people who had hurt him, but he doesn't. that just isn't who joe is.

while joe's bad experience in his 1.0 life does change how he navigates his social life and the relations he has around him, it doesn't change the inherent kind hearted nature nor the optimistic outlook on life he once had. i love that for joe in his 2.0 life because his first and foremost goal was to restart a life happily and we gradually got this journey of self-respect and joe 2.0 finally being able to put himself first and fight for the things/people he love.

while there are obviously bad consequences to the "antagonists", i like that it has never been the direct result of joe 2.0 actions but it's more karmic. although i'm very open and would glad to see the antagonists getting even worse consequences than what happened in the novel (which i think was pretty mild) i think i'd rather be interested to see more of series!joe being happy and successful (big emphasis on successful because if i don't see joe with his 20+ blockbusters he deserve i'm suing for emotional damage)

in regards to the wife chasing arc in the second half of the series, i think this part will be rather controversial since there are diverse opinions on how audience want the wife chasing arc to be executed, or from joe 2.0's perspective: his responses/actions to being chased by ming again. and trust me, i do want to see ming grovelling in pain and suffer just as much as the next joe's protector. but at the same time for me it'd just be... ooc of joe to intentionally and/or maliciously inflict pain on ming. granted i do have some qualms as to ming's chasing method that i hope the series will adjust, i do think that zhou xiang's approach to being chased by yan ming xiu was rather sufficient without the need to give zhou xiang a 180 personality change, so i really hope that doesn't change.

all in all, while it's probably quite early to tell how the second half will progress and whether it does/doesn't diverge from his journey in the second half, i just think it was very in character for zhou xiang to make the decisions he does in the novel in his second life (except for one noble idiocy move that lasted like a day) and hopefully joe 2.0 also does in my stand-in for his new life. *sighs* joe is just truly best boi... i love him... look at he... that's my baby angel （づ￣3￣）づ╭❤️～

[fragmentedblade]

Can you expand more on Ratio's philosophical influences? You seem super knowledgeable!

I've been sitting on this for some time because I didn't know what prompted this message and thus I didn't know what to answer and how. I guess it may be the comment I wrote about him having a socratic but also a sophist air?

There are a lot of details in Ratio's overall design that point towards philosophical references. I want to draw attention to the fact that since this is a vague message on anon I don't really know what to focus on or what could I skip because it's information already known, so what I'm going to say is a very brief summary of many ideas, which of course makes such ideas but the shadow of an echo of themselves, so faint they almost become untrue. I fervently advise to look more deeply into any of this if something catches anyone's interest. And I also want to point out that the problem of knowing a little bit of something, even its existence, is that seeing turns to seeking, and an excess of seeing is also a blindness; what I mean by this is that I'm not sure how much of what I am going to say was intentional by the developers/writers and how much is just me suffering the blindness of seeing too much haha

However, I also want to clarify that I do think many of the things I’m going to say are present even if perhaps not intended by the writers/designers. This is due to the fact that Ratio’s main influence is platonism, and platonism is everywhere in western philosophy and in general western culture; once you see it you cannot unsee it. So perhaps I am reading too much or making correlations between things in his design that were not meant to be linked, giving a depth to the character that is probably incidental, but that I would say nonetheless exists because it pertains to a certain philosophical tradition in which the elements stem from each other. I hope this will become clearer in its development if it isn’t right now. 

Ratio has an Apollonian air. At first that and his mask made me wonder if he was going to be linked to the Mourning Actors, who alongside the Masked Fools for now remind me a lot of the Nietzschean Apollonian and Dyonisian dichotomy. This was conjecture on my side so I won't go on about this on this ask.

Ratio retains however the Apollo air. When I saw his splash art he reminded me instantly of the Belvedere Apollo, down to the strap under his chest like the sculpture has the quiver's strap. His sixth eidolon too recalls that sculpture, since it seems to be a mix of the pose in Michelangelo's David with the cloth in the Belvedere Apollo. Among other things, Apollo is a god linked to truth, medicine, archery and divination. The owl seems to be a reference to Athena, though. 

Ratio also has the laurel or bay branch on his head, which is one of Apollo's traits. Laurel on someone's head became linked to victory as well as academic and artistic merit (I know in Italy people still use it when graduating, for instance; I mean, that's where the word comes from). The fact that he has half of it is most likely due to an aesthetic choice, especially given how the character designs are pointedly asymmetric in this game; however, I think it works well with how, no matter how much he achieves and how hard he tries, Ratio is never gazed upon by Nous nor accepted by the Genius Society with the frustration, bitterness and questioning that brings both himself and others.

This last point, being ignored by something akin to a divinity, works also with his Apollonian air, I'd say. Given his Apollo look, his snake-like pupils made me think instantly of Delphi. Delphi was where a temple to Apollo was (linked to a mythological snake, and snakes thus became associated with Apollo in imagery), and it was famous for its prophecies. Socrates (the master of Plato and main figure in his dialogues) is said to have started the habit of questioning he is mostly famous for because a friend of his went to the temple in Delphi and was told by the Oracle that the wisest man in Athens was Socrates. Socrates was perplexed by this because he knew nothing, and started posing questions to supposedly erudite people about the matters about which they were experts, only to come out of that feeling unsatisfied with the answers. Thus, Socrates thought the Oracle may be right after all, but he was only the wisest man because he at least knew that he knew nothing. 

This works very well with Ratio because Socrates starts the journey by being distinguished among his peers, gazed upon, by a god (Apollo was supposed to possess the Pythia, or at the very least the prophetic power came from him), while Ratio never gets that recognition, and seems resigned to that already ("If this day I have not gained the recognition of Nous, it stands to reason that I never will at any point in the future" and "One day, I received a letter from the Interastral Peace Corporation (...). I could tell the solemnity of the invitation, so I excitedly passed it on to Mr. Ratio. Yet, he said nothing. I could sense his heavy silence even through the headgear. He then politely asked me to leave. The moment I closed the door, I heard a grim sigh followed by a self-deprecating laughter... Perhaps he realized he would never be accepted into the Genius Society..."). The mix of arrogance and humbleness, although enhanced in Ratio in a comical degree, is already somewhat present I would argue in the way Socrates talks in Plato's dialogues. Arrogance was also a trait Heraclitus, the author of the line cited in the name of his banner (“Panta rhei”), was famous to have.

So Ratio takes the position at the IPC. The Intelligentsia Guild is "often seen as a vendor of knowledge", and is looked down upon by the Genius Society. This is where I think the philosopher/sophist dichotomy comes in. Sophists were teachers, and were paid. They also were known to use rhetoric to convince (I would say there's a reference to this in one of Ratio's daily messages). In the political landscape of Athens, they were very useful for young men interested in politics. Some sophists became quite rich and famous. Usually philosophers, who didn't receive any money and did everything for the "love of knowledge" itself, looked down on them. At least in the texts of Plato that's often the case, although some sophists are portrayed under a better light even there; btw many of the things I've been saying come from Plato, but since this is an intricate subject on its own that isn’t directly pertinent to the ask I won't dwell on it right now.

Education in ancient Greece consisted of both intellectual and physical training. Intellectual education included music, poetry, mathematics, astronomy,... Physical fitness was held as something very important in a young man's curriculum as well. I think this is where the fanservicey choice of making Ratio so fit and pretty comes from. And I say “pretty” because beauty too is an important concept for Plato, and ancient Greece in general. It is also part of what linked the need of a young man to develop himself both intellectually and physically. Beauty is linked to harmony and order, both on an individual basis and cosmologically, often in some philosophical trends to a mathematical level; pythagoreanism has a lot of this.

Indeed I think pythagoreanism has to do somewhat with Ratio's design, considering his link to mathematics and geometry, and given his name ("Ratio" made me think of the golden ratio and in general pythagorean ratios even before it made me think of "reason" tbh), but in general the main philosophical reference in Ratio seems to be Plato, who was influenced greatly by pythagoreanism; this is one of the perhaps unintended indirect yet present links I mentioned at the beginning.

Platonism is very present in many ways in Ratio. It's noticeable even in his visual design, with how buff and handsome he is, arguably the references to Apollo and Athena, the geometry imagery, and even the sculptures he creates with his technique, but the influence is seen throughout his entire character, story, dialogue lines,... Part IV of Ratio’s character story, the way he talks with Roseth and what he says, has in my opinion an echo of platonic dialogues, as does his line “To spread knowledge, we must first make people realize their folly” recall Socrates. In the Trailblaze mission the main character had to argue for their innocence, which to me brought to mind the Apology of Socrates. On the other hand, the way this was done was very reminiscent of the socratic method, both in the discussion and counterargument mechanic of the game as, and especially so, in the use of memory. The main character had already the knowledge they seeked, yet they had forgotten about it, and had to retrieve it through memory guided by the intense questioning of Ratio; this, if applied to the research of a more essential knowledge instead of circumstantial, is the core of Socrates' maieutics. Maieutics is "midwifery". Socrates called by that word his method because he thought he was helping give birth to truths or knowledge that were already present in people's minds, if forgotten. It's what Ratio's skill, "intellectual midwifery", references. 

The fact that Socrates' method, the "intellectual midwifery" to put it in in HSR terms, works in platonic philosophy is because it is taken that there are eternal truths, something Ratio believes as well (“The beauty of truth is that it never changes, even when no one understands it. Well, that's true for me, at least”). This has to do with what is called the theory of Forms or the theory of Ideas. The world that we see is but the shadow of that other conceptual abstract world, of which we have but forgotten memories and that we can access only with the mind's eye. Our soul once saw/was part of that other world, which is why it can remember it. Plato was influenced by the pythagorean view of a sort of journey or reincarnation of the soul after dying, to put it some way. This is also extensive, it has to do with orphism, is at the core of a lot of philosophical and theological western traditions, and thus I will say only this, even though it feels very close-to-fake simplistic haha. To summarise, there’s the other abstract perfect world of which everything in this world participates from and is but the shadow of (everything beautiful participates on the Idea of Beauty, eternal and inextinguishable, but it’s never as perfect as that Idea, only but its echo). The idea that the world is but the shadow of the other world is present in Ratio's English line when he is ko-ed, "Mere flesh…" (in Chinese, though, if I’ve understood correctly he says “«Mediocre»… hah”, which is very different if still lore-heavy). This of course implies a strong ontological dualism. 

In this sense it is extremely interesting to me that Ratio’s banner is named “Panta rhei”, because Heraclitus is the epitome of the defender that all things were in constant change yet all things are One, the process of “becoming”, the constant struggle, at the core itself of reality (this too is harmony). He was pointedly monist, and is often contrasted to Parmenides, who spoke of eternal unchanging truths and beings. Both are cornerstones in the development of western philosophy and influenced Plato, but the choice calls my attention. In the Japanese wiki the line was linked/took to the buddhist concept of impermanence; while not necessarily related to that, this wiki suggestion made me wonder whether the choice of making “Panta rhei” the name of Ratio’s banner was done to further enhance another aspect of the many parallels between him and Ruan Mei, who also talks about life as something seemingly diverse and changing, hopes to obtain permanence, and talks about a something that transcends the multiple faces of life and that unifies them all (“Life is countless and varied in form. I firmly believe in that. Its beauty is like a myriad of flowers, and I want to pluck the one that never wilts”; “I wish to discover "the true essence of life," something that all individuals possess unknowingly, whether it is the materialism of their existence or an unknown entity beyond corporeal realms”; “The core of all existence is unity”). Even beyond that, in the context of everything else Ratio has going on, the mention of Heraclitus brings very intriguing food for thought to the table; yet I think this may be another instance of things that are, yet were most likely not meant by the writers.

Moving on, I’ll give a quick comment on the more explicit philosophical references we can find in Ratio’s traces, attacks and voicelines, and will dwell a bit only when I think they work well with the subjects and concepts I already commented Ratio plays with, otherwise this response will be eternal.

Summation (trace): in Chinese this is more clearly linked to the inductive reasoning, which in context it is obvious this is what this trace references; I don’t know why they chose to translate it this way. It is a method of reasoning that comes from the observation of particularities to generalisation, hence “summation”. It works well with Ratio causing more damage per debuff, and with the references to empiricism in Ratio’s attacks. The consequences in inductive reasoning are not truly ensured by the premises (the typical example is how you can’t ensure that all ravens are black by as many black ravens as you observe). 

Inference (trace): this baffled me because again it is more clear in Chinese that this is referencing deductive reasoning, but every language translates “inference”, whereas in the “deduction” trace the characters are exactly the same as the ones in the Chinese wiki for “inference”, but every language translates “deduction”. I don’t know what’s happening here, I wish I knew Chinese and found this less confusing, but at least both words are present in his traces. Deductive reasoning is the one that goes from premises to conclusion. It is heavily linked to logic and it doesn’t necessarily require empiric knowledge.

Deduction (trace): this is what is called “inference” apparently in Chinese (if someone knows about this I would love to know what is happening in Chinese in these two traces). Inferences are, well, the process of reaching conclusions. It can be either through deduction or induction (or abduction, some would argue, but that’s another can of worms).

Mind is might (basic attack): in latin this is “scientia potentia est”, and while at this point the line is very detached from its context, initially it was linked to Bacon and Hobbes. I honestly think this is just a very convenient name for an attack of a character following a philosophy/sciences/knowledge thematic.

Intellectual midwifery (skill): Socrates, and platonism. I talked about this before.

Syllogistic paradox (ultimate): Syllogistic paradoxes were one of my favourite things when I was studying. Syllogisms are a form of logic reasoning, which consist of two premises and one conclusion. Though the premises may be true, and though the reasoning may be sensible, at times contradictory or illogical conclusions may be reached. This is a syllogistic paradox. Why this happens is because of a myriad of reasons, like the differences between natural and logical language, or the development of theories (the paradoxes in set theory are among my favourite things ever). I personally like to draw a strong distinction between paradoxes and contradictions. Anyway, I have a lot to say about this haha In general, this is what the name of the ultimate is referencing. It works well with Ratio’s traces. It also goes well with some of the other subjects present in his characterisation, like platonism, Descartes and such; there are a lot of paradoxes that arise from many of the theories that play with such topics. I think reading Alice in Wonderland’s apparent madness through the lenses of logic makes us see that most of those incongruences are actually pretty logical; many of them iirc are syllogistic paradoxes. Carroll was a logician. I mention this because this, as well as many other ideas present in Ratio, work extremely well with Penacony.

Cogito, ergo sum (talent): this is a line by Descartes, a rationalist. This too is something that fits Penacony incredibly well. Descartes starts doubting knowledge, ends up questioning pretty much everything, establishes inspired by mathematics and logic a method of acquiring the truth, and in the research of true knowledge he starts doubting everything with a methodical doubt to be able to tell what knowledge stands after being hit by doubt, and why, and try to reconstruct knowledge from there. Ratio’s lines about “seeking answers with a negative hypothesis in mind”, “When one is immersed in academic research, scepticism comes more naturally than belief” or “Pursuit tinged with negativity is still pursuit, and it is capable of leading us to the right conclusion” reminded me of Descartes’ method. One of the steps in the process is doubting one’s own existence, but since I (pardon the “I”, but the first person is very important in Descartes) doubt, then I think, and since I think, then I exist; cogito, ergo sum. This is closely related to platonism in some senses, and while Descartes’ philosophy comes in part from a criticism of scholasticism, it still has ties to it, but Descartes was a massive breakthrough in the history of Philosophy. I also won't dwell on this, but this is fascinating imo haha 

Anyway, Descartes’ doubt about the existence of reality, of the world, is heavily linked to dreams, because in dreams we believe things are real but are not, so equally we could be at every moment in a dream and not be aware of that; only the existence of oneself is clear of this doubt (Zhuangzi’s text about the butterfly plays with this too; I comment this because butterflies have appeared in Penacony and the Zhuangzi’s text seems to play in an interesting way with the concept of “I”, taking it a different route than Descartes, which is a very intriguing idea but I don’t know much of Chinese philosophy at all). The concept of simulated realities, Matrix-like settings and such, all are strongly linked to this conception of Descartes, even though similar things existed previously (such as Plato’s allegory of the cave), and this works very well with Penacony again. Obviously, Descartes’ theory is strongly dualist, and it’s even established a body-mind dualism. The idea of the ghost in the shell also comes in great part from Descartes. Descartes’ view of the body was not too unlike that of a machine. 

This was in a time in which clockwork and automatons were quickly advancing and fascinating people. Physic theories started to look (even more) like clockwork, with the universe as clockwork and god as a watchmaker that put it into place and then let it run its perfect course, needing or not (depending on the theory) adjustments from the watchmaker from time to time. I said before that harmony was linked to both the cosmos and the body, with the body in part being a reflection of the cosmos, and even linked to it by the harmony of the spheres. This new way of approaching the cosmological and human issues and developing Physics still has echoes of that. Newton, who is referenced in one of Ratio’s idle animations, is one of the epitomes of this concept of the universe as clockwork. Again, I don’t know how much they’ll do with these ideas nor even if they were written on purpose, but it all works so well with Penacony it would be a pity if they did nothing with this.

Another thing I want to note about Descartes is that besides mentally detaching himself from everything while doubting in his deconstruction and construction of knowledge, seeking undoubtable truths, he famously did so physically as well for some time when he first started thinking about the matters in his Discourse on the Method one night: “having no diverting company and fortunately also no cares or emotional turmoil to trouble me”, while he “spent the whole day shut up in a small room heated by a stove, in which I could converse with my own thoughts at leisure”. This reminded me a lot of Ratio’s head and how he uses it: “with the headpiece on, isolated from my five senses, i can think without interference”, “he put on a headgear to keep away all external distractions and completely focus on thinking? Who else in the world could manage that?”.

Mold of idolatry (technique): this links mainly again to the theory of Forms of Plato, with that representation of something else that is what is real. The name of the technique and what it does works well also with the idea of idolatry, especially of idolatry of false gods, idols or even falsehood in general, and how Ratio criticises people’s blind infatuation with geniuses. It also reminds me of Nietzsche’s Twilight of the Idols, or, How to Philosophise with a Hammer. Among other things, Nietzsche heavily criticises platonism and platonic philosophy, and mostly all western philosophers (he has kind words for Heraclitus, for instance). 

Wiseman’s folly (ultimate’s effect): the idea that knowledge or beholding the truth brings to something similar to madness or ends up leading to foolishness is a very common one. Many of the Ancient Greece philosophers were said to have been extravagant. Diogenes the Cynic and Heraclitus were two such examples. Democritus was said to have plucked out his own eyes. Empedocles is said to have killed himself in a volcano. There’s Nietzsche, Georg Cantor, Kurt Gödel. It is the idea of the wise ending up being very much like the fool, but also the idea of the wise ending up losing sight of basic truths I believe, in that alienation from the world.

Know thyself (eidolon): this is what was inscribed in the temple of Apollo in Delphi I spoke of before. This is linked to Heraclitus, Socrates, Plato and platonism, of course. I think when it comes to Ratio that’s it, really. But this maxime has had a lot of implications and interpretations in different contexts and at different times. It could be seen as just a salutation, recommending temperance, the idea of knowing oneself and one’s limitations as key to succeed when approaching subjects or problems, the first step of getting to know anything at all, humans and the world being closely linked and even reflection of god so studying one helps studying the other, etc.

Vincit Omnia Veritas (eidolon): the translator says this means “eternal truth” in Chinese, which would play way better with the philosophical ideas and concepts present in Ratio while still playing with his name, “Veritas”. I won’t dwell on this because I’ve already talked about the link between eternal truths and Ratio a lot, and besides I can’t even confirm this is the true meaning because I don’t know Chinese.

Eidolon “The divine is in the details” seems to be a reference to a Chinese idiom that comes from a book. I don’t know if it has greater significance, but if anyone knows I am all ears. The other eidolons obviously work with Ratio, but I don’t see obvious philosophical influences so I’m skipping them.

Esse est percipi (ultimate line): “To be is to be perceived”. This is a line by Berkeley and linked to his philosophy. He criticises both dualism and materialism. The core idea is that the world’s existence is entirely dependent on the mind, that things don’t exist unless they are perceived and thought. His justification for one’s own existence seems to come from this perception, as Descartes’ came from thinking: “I do nevertheless know that I, who am a spirit or thinking substance, exist as certainly as I know my ideas exist”. Parmenides has a similar idea in his poem. I don’t think this was intended to be read too much into when it comes to Ratio, but I think it fits nicely with the other topics he has going on, and the dichotomy they often entail. It also works well with Ratio’s plaster head, with how he says “I don't have to set eyes on stupid people. Of course, they don't want to see me either”, with how he uses it to go unnoticed or unrecognised in both Herta’s Space Station and Penacony, and I think it could be overread or taken to more exaggerated levels in a juicy manner reading this under the notion of nothingness, mediocrity and being disregarded by Nous. 

One of the listed researched achievements of Ratio is in the field of epistemology. Epistemology is the field that studies knowledge. Although studied in particular at times, it is of course often linked to ontological conceptions; all the philosophical theories I’ve stated carry with them epistemological implications as well as ontological. In one of Ratio’s character stories there’s a mention to epistemic logic which is, speaking broadly, a logical approach to the analysis of knowledge. 

Another one of his listed achievements is in natural theology, which is the study of god through reason and logic instead of things such as transcendental experiences or revelations. This is very common in philosophy in general. It often has to do as well with the world as a harmonious whole, god as watchmaker/the universe as clockwork, and teleology. I will mention Newton and Darwin here because Newton is referenced in Ratio’s idle animation, and Darwin because he broke up with the teleological tradition when it came to the world. Ratio’s work is named Aeons: A Natural Phenomenon, and the title and its description, how its “Aeon non-theism”, makes it seem to me like he wrote of Aeons as if they were just another form of life or something that pertains to nature itself and not detached from it, which although very different from Darwin’s ideas did remind me of how he dismissed teleology in nature. This also clearly links, in my opinion, to Ruan Mei.

Other than that I also want to note Ratio’s final speech to Screwllum about inspiring doubt and scepticism when it comes to established ideas and geniuses. It reminded me of Socrates, how he was said to have “perverted” youth inspiring all that questioning among other things. It reminded me of Nietzsche, how he fervently encouraged individuals to use critical thinking, question dogmas and preconceived ideas they could have, and come up with their own conclusions that does not mean necessarily negating absolutely everything they held true before the questioning (this exchange between Screwllum and Ratio: “Screwllum:  «You wish to uproot the researchers' blind worship of geniuses».  Dr. Ratio: «I am only laying out my questions».”). It also pointedly reminded me of Kant's “Sapere aude!”, “Dare to know!”,  and his text What Is Enlightenment?, in which among other things Kant talks about the lack of courage, not of intellect, of people to think for themselves, how humanity lives in a constant immaturity or adolescence of the mind, and urges them to get out of that state, to dare to know. Kant was greatly influenced by rationalism but said to have awaken from the rationalist slumber thanks to empiricism; the plays on rationalism and empiricism, deduction and induction, and the presence of idealism in the rest of Ratio’s writing as well as this fervent push for people to snap out of their lack of criticism and dare to think for themselves are what made me think of Kant here.

There’s more things to talk about Ratio, like his view on mediocrity and geniuses, and how that view is constructed and described in traces through fragments in his lore, the character stories, snippets of conversations; how he seems to be so similar in character and drive to geniuses, but never accepted as one, and how he is regarded as very different and eccentric by “normal” people, even in the Guild. In short, how he is detached from both the “normal” people and geniuses, like suspended between both states without being either completely, and how it makes so much sense in this context that he tries to breach the rift between both. I couldn’t help but mention this, to avoid forgetting this aspect of his characterisation in the future, but I won’t dwell on this because it isn’t really directly linked to any philosophical influence that I can think of.

I think this is it. Hopefully I didn’t forget anything important. And I’m sorry it is so long, but I really tried to summarise. As I said, I may well be reading too much into some of these things, but I also think that since Ratio plays with many of the core authors and concepts in the history of western philosophy, some things I expect were not intended by the writers still are present somewhat, because mentioning this or that thing alongside this or that other thing ends up having implications if you know a bit of the context. 

I hope this was clear enough. However, I can try to explain myself better or further if I wasn’t. Philosophy may look unapproachable and dry at times at first, but it really isn't, it just needs one to get accustomed to some basic terminology, and it becomes fascinating and beautiful, and lifechanging haha. I would love it if Ratio is making people get a little bit more invested or interested in it, or open to explore it. The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy is a good place to check the main ideas, texts and authors that may spike someone’s interest if anyone wants to read further about anything I've said or compare sources, but tbh I think even Wikipedia can be useful with getting a first feel of some basic ideas to know what to look for.  And although I am not an authority or the most trustworthy source at all, I will help as best as I can if someone reading this has any further question. I recommend reading the texts firsthand though, with historical context in mind and footnotes perhaps if possible, and making one's own mind about everything.

[goodolddumbbanana]

WHOOOOO, SOLAR DIDN’T FALL FOR THE BULLSHIT NEXUS TRIED TO SPEW-

I am so happy!!!!!

Damn Nexus delulu really went off the cliff, am I right? Become a God???? That dude is not only trying to be worse than the person he hates, but he also wants to compete with his God Complex with his Dad.

Solar heard so desperate. I bet he really got triggered back to his Moon, and his Sun.

Solar be like if I have 1 dollar for every person I care about because of me went crazy, it is weird that I will have 2 dollars.

And the way he stabbed Nexus and realized nothing worked? That Nexus turned worse because of himself, not because of someone else? Haha, that dude went straight to murder. Guess he has learnt his lesson with his Moon somehow. Once my boy tastes blood, it just keeps going like that I guess...

But... Seeing Nexus to be this cringe and ask Solar to come and work with him... And just flushed away his family and blamed Sun for being scared of him and pushing him away while in reality, Sun rarely mentioned Old Moon anymore and that is just Nexus being self conscious?

I want to say I am surprised but honestly, I had guessed this for like several days before. It actually turned out better than I expected though. I guess I just expect the worst, that Solar will be captured or such or he is too weak to kill Nexus - his used to be friends, family once again.

Although it is really a concern that Nexus can talk into Solar's head. God knows if he will whisper something really stupid for Solar to do something stupid... And I guess the shards things Sun can detect properly related to Star power.

Cuz even the Astral Bodies couldn't realise Nexus is here, but Sun can, so I guess... Sun will be more in danger than he is now, especially after Nexus stops avoiding him.

I still don't get it. Why does Nexus keep threatening everyone but leave Sun. He wants to hurt Lunar, Earth (again), bashing off Moon's head, Dazzle and Jack, but he never mentioned what he would want to do to Sun? Maybe it is the mercy for someone who is used to his brother?

Cuz the way Nexus keeps repeating himself that Solar is his brother, Solar is the only one he cares about is bull. We both know it is bull. And also weird.

Because in the dream he had, he lost Sun and he just totally wiped off Solar's existence. He was screaming his lung out that he wanted his brother back. And while with Earth and Lunar, their sins were wanted to do nothing with him, then with Sun, he mentioned Sun only liked him because of pity.

I guess in some twisted levels, Nexus really understands Sun, and still misses Sun, somehow. But he feels bitter towards Sun too, like he is never enough for Sun.

While Solar still very couldn't accept the fact that Nexus becomes this egomaniac, and the conversation was just end ups with Nexus laughing and mocking Solar runway. With Sun, they understand each other too well which leads them to really don't need to say anything, and just accept the fact that Nexus is already gone.

And.... If before it is Sun and Solar hopes to somewhat bring Nexus back, now in that boat the only one person left is Sun.

Sun seems not surprised when hearing what Solar says is really sad. He also seems like he wants to say something more... I really hope this Endgame will be Sun stop Nexus because for real, right now, it is only Sun does not totally give up or want to kill Nexus.

Surely he is angry at Nexus for stabbing him in the back. But like Nexus used to say when approaching Dark Sun, even Sun in his head isn't that mean.

Please Tsams, let Sun and Nexus have one big fight!!!! Please Sun!!!!

Note: it is really hard warming to see how Sun and Solar get along really like siblings. Solar pouring water on Sun's head and both three of them hang out? Peach!!!

And... Nexus really calls Dark Sun his partner huh? Guess he still feels lonely somehow with his new shiny self destructive power.

I wonder what kills him faster, his negative star power or Dark Sun will betray him in the end or Solar and Moon and the Astral Bodies will come to get his ass.

It's really just screaming Eclipse-has-star-power-v2.

I feel bad for Nexus, that dude has none of origin thoughts in his head. Becomes God? Creator. Consuming Star power? Eclipse. Pushing everyone away and becoming the biggest ass of yourself and doesn't even care if it kills you or not because you to blind on hating yourself? Old Moon.

He just continues to do what he has seen. For someone who doesn't like to be a puppet on strings, he really let himself play like a fiddler a lot.

He rather let himself drown in his delusional freedom (thinking he is the one who controls when in fact he knows Dark Sun is just using him. And maybe this is better because Dark Sun doesn't care about him. He doesn't want anyone to care about him...) than let himself be loved.

And that's really sad and like Solar said, pathetic.

Solar: Is there anything this situation can get worse?

Life be like: Bet.

I really think it is foreshadowed for something really bad will happen in the future.

[jaehyunsprincesspeach]

Tomorrow x Together react to not being your bias

my goodness this could be so entertaining to see these boys are so goofy, I love them!

hope yall enjoy!

all the love ~ lunar

Soobin: 

Soobin would freeze in shock when you tell him that he’s not your bias

Eyes practically popping out of his head like he just heard a nun cussing

I honestly think he would be speechless and wouldn’t really know how to react

He wouldn’t really take it personally, but he would start to question things

His mind would be overthinking everything that has happened between you two

He would wonder why you are with him instead of your bias in the group

Please reassure him, he might cry if you let him think on it too long

Once he knows that you are with him because you love him for him, he will start to calm down again, and won’t think much about it after that

However, he might tease you with this knowledge that he has

Until you give him the “stfu” look, and he stops immediately

In all honesty, he wouldn’t be too offended by it, because he knows that you are his, and he trusts that you are with him because you love him

Yeonjun:

Looks at you as if you just committed a felony

How dare you have a different bias than him???

His look is a combination of personal offense, and shock

Will become pouty when he hears that he isn't your bias

Won't show you affection the way that he normally does, but also won’t push away your affection either

Will say things like “why don't you go talk to Beomgyu, since he's your bias”

Not that he's insecure or anything, he just needs to be a little dramatic about the situation

Knows deep down that you are his and only his

Though you might want to reassure him anyways so he stops being dramatic

Overall, he might be a little bitter, but deep down he knows that you are his, and that you want to be with him and only him

Beomgyu:

This man is a whole different breed already, he would be so offended

Looks at you is if you just tore his heart out of his chest

“I'm not your bias? Who am I to you then? Jeez you think you know someone.” 

Proceeds to pout even if you tell him that it doesn't matter and that he is the only one you have eyes for

Might even leave the room, if he does and you don't follow, he'll come back but he's even more pouty than he was before

Its as if the world is about to end “stuck down by my own girlfriend”

Keeps the joke going so long that he actually becomes insecure 

Please reassure him, he just wants to be the one to treat you right :(

Same as Yeonjun, he wouldn't cuddle up to you, but he wouldn't push you away either

“Change your bias, I'm your bias, I am your boyfriend after all.” sometimes it's hard to tell if he's being dramatic or if he's actually worried about it

Again, he's gonna need lots of reassurance, maybe some cuddles, and his favorite sweets before he's back to normal

Overall, he's gonna be upset about it, but he won't tell you that he's overthinking, poor baby’s gonna need cuddle and kiss therapy for a week

Taehyun:

Unbothered King

Wouldn't even think twice about him not being your bias

If you were looking for a reaction from him, you wont get one

So calm about the whole thing, you might think he didn't even hear you lmao

He knows that you are with him for a reason, and he is confident that he can treat you better than anyone else could

He is confident with the relationship that you two have, so why would he worry

If you didn't want to be with him you wouldn't be, but you are so he's not stressed about anything

Other than Beomgyu screaming about something from the other room

When it comes to you, he knows that he can fully trust you, and he knows that you love him, a true King

Huening Kai:

Honestly Hyuka will probably think its cute, or he would agree with you

“Oh Soobin is your bias? Me too!”

Would probably get your bias to sign one of the photo cards you have

Thinks its cute, though he would probably also be a little sad that it's not him

Wouldn't overthink it though

More similar to Taehyun, he knows you are with him, and that he is yours

But he might tease you as well for having someone else be your bias

Another unbothered king for the most part

His teasing would have you flustered, which he thinks is the cutest thing ever

He in general just thinks that you are the cutest thing ever, so if having one of the other boys as your bias makes you giggle, hes okay with it

He just wants to see you happy, even if he is a little sad, he won't let it affect him too much

[chibrary]

INTERVIEW: "Ferrari, I won't stop believing in it. I see myself as world champion" (La Repubblica, 2022)

source: alessandra retico, la repubblica published: june 15th, 2022 series: f1, 2022

excerpts:

Do you envy Verstappen at all? No and I don't think he envies anything about me either. We are two different drivers, I focus on myself to be the best version of myself, I will never be someone else. I am happy with my development and will continue to evolve.

You're very tidy on the track, are you also very tidy in your private life? No, I'm messy. I reserve order and discipline for motorsport.

In the film [Lightyear], there is a kiss between two women that has already created controversy: does it surprise you? For me, homosexuality is a completely normal thing, I have gay friends, I don't understand how today there are people who don't understand that love is for everyone. F1 must lend a hand to those who don't have such a powerful voice to express difficulties in everyday life.

They have given you many names: predestined, prince, which one do you recognize yourself in? They are all positive and make me very happy, but what I like most is what my father gave me, pins à roulettes when I started racing, I was 4-5 years old, I was all small and you could only see the big helmet.

Were you never afraid? No, never, even if looking back at the accidents I tell myself I was lucky.

What did you buy with your first paycheck? A 1969 Fiat 500, off-white, convertible. The side-by-side? I didn't have too much trouble driving it. Then I went to Indonesia in Bali with my best friends.

A pinhead with wheels underneath. The yellow helmet was so big and he was so small, that his father called him pins à roulettes: "It's the image that corresponds to me and I like best about myself." Even though Dad Hervé is no longer here, Charles Leclerc still goes fast and stings the heart with the same ardor as when he was a child. He has a Ferrari to do it. "I want to become world champion , I will believe in it until it is no longer mathematically possible." Six poles in 8 grands prix but only 2 successes, now he is 3rd behind the Red Bulls of Verstappen and Perez. Two retirements in the last 3 races (Barcelona and Baku) due to reliability problems, in the middle his very bitter Monte Carlo: from 1st to 4th due to a mix-up of strategies. His engine is in Maranello: in Montreal he will fit a new one, to be determined if he will need a fourth turbo which would cost him a penalty.

Still optimistic? I will never give up, this has always been my mentality. I want to win, the World Cup is long. We have to understand the problems we had, they were three tough blows. Not an easy moment, but this doesn't change my motivation.

Doesn't reliability worry you? No, but a lot of attention is needed, the customer teams also had problems. But I have faith in this team and once the problems have been resolved, the pace and performance are there. I believe in it. I may be crazy, but I also believed in the two previous seasons as soon as I put the visor down, even though I could aim for a 10th place at most. This year we're really there, we just need to focus on ourselves and solve the problems as soon as possible. It's an important championship, we have a great opportunity to do well. There is too much positivity when things go well and too much negativity when they go badly. We need to find a balance.

Did you sleep after Munich? I did it, even if it hurt. But already in Baku I reset and got back in very good shape. It will be the same here in Montreal too.

How do you recover from disappointment after delusion? I know well what it means and what it feels like when you win, it's one of the few things that give me such great happiness. It's this that drives me to train every morning. This year we should have had more successes than we have for the reasons we know, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time to get back to where we want to be.

Do you need more calm or a winning mentality? Everyone has their own way of arriving at things. For me, being calm and concentration are fundamental. And when there is an excess of emotions it is important to return to your own bubble without being disturbed.

Do you have anything special about qualifying? I don't know, you can make a difference on the flying lap, because every mistake you make costs you in the end. For now it's gone well, I understand the car enough. But I'm also happy with the race which was my weak point in 2019, I worked on it and I think I improved a lot.

Compared to your partner, Sainz, you seem to have more confidence with the car. I can't speak for Carlos, this year I prepared better than in the past. Lots of simulator and in the pre-season tests I tried things that perhaps didn't make sense but I didn't want to overlook anything and be as ready as possible for the first race, there I wanted to be where I am and give it my all. It paid off. These new cars are difficult to drive and the details of going fast have changed. All the drivers have made mistakes and it's up to me to make as few as possible. I take risks, like in Imola. Even when you can't see it. I think it's the right approach and for now I'm happy.

Do you envy Verstappen at all? No and I don't think he envies anything about me either. We are two different riders, I focus on myself to be the best version of myself, I will never be someone else. I am happy with my development and will continue to evolve.

How did you miss the plane to Montreal? I went home on Monday. The flight from Nice to Paris was delayed. So I missed the connection but then I arrived safe and on time.

You're very tidy on the track, are you also very tidy in your private life? No, I'm messy. I reserve order and discipline for motorsport.

What do you write in the notebooks you read during free practice?

Everything: my feelings on the car and the things I want to try on the track. I get lots of ideas so I write them down so I don't forget them. And I write them in pen so I'm sure I'll find them again, before I used an app on the tablet which often deleted it all.

You voiced a character in the Disney Pixar film, Lightyear: The True Story of Buzz . Do you feel like a superhero? No. I feel like a normal person, even if I do a sport, I don't call it work, very special which isn't for everyone. I'm just lucky.

In the film there is a kiss between two women that has already created controversy, does it surprise you? For me homosexuality is a completely normal thing, I have gay friends, I don't understand how today there are people who don't understand that love is for everyone. F1 must lend a hand to those who don't have such a powerful voice to express difficulties in everyday life.

What are you like in everyday life? I have a routine: diet, gym, rest. Discipline is the biggest change I've made. In a year like this I want to be at 110% for 22 races. Will we get to 24? I'll be even fitter.

They have given you many names: predestined, prince, which one do you recognize yourself in? They are all positive and make me very happy, but what I like most is what my father gave me, pins à roulettes when I started racing, I was 4-5 years old, I was all small and you could only see the big helmet.

You play the piano. If F1 were a musical genre, what would it be? A very strange mix between classical and rock and roll. I think it's an exercise in adaptation between aggressiveness in qualifying and gentleness in tire management in the race. Playing helps me, I did it as a child, my brother Arthur is very good, I I started again during the pandemic by taking back the piano that was from my mother.

Don't you sing? Sometimes in the shower. Out of tune? I don't know, I just wouldn't have the courage to do it in front of someone. Poor Seagull sung in Bahrain? A joke with some of the team. I prefer to invent on the piano, it's something I share with my girlfriend Charlotte who will become an architect in two months. Like me, she is very creative.

Is creativity also useful for being a pilot? You need speed, precision, concentration. And courage. Let's take Jedda: a very fast track, close walls. There you feel the risk you're taking but you have to go and not think about it, this is what I like about this sport. I know it's dangerous, but I like to play with limits.

Were you never afraid? No, never, even if looking back at the accidents I tell myself I was lucky.

What did you buy with your first paycheck? A 1969 Fiat 500, off-white, convertible. The side-by-side? I didn't have too much trouble driving it. Then I went to Indonesia in Bali with my best friends.

You love fashion, when will your first clothing line be launched? I would like to do it in the future, it is one of my passions, I believe that fashion is a means of expressing oneself without speaking. For now I am content with wearing things that I like. My mind is busy trying to win the Championship.

Have you already booked your summer holidays? In Sardinia with my friends on my Riva boat. Then in Ibiza with the family, but I remain focused: gym and equipment within reach.

Who will you cheer for at the World Cup in Qatar? Since there is no Monaco and Italy, France.

How do you see yourself at the end of the year? World champion and that's it.