#but that's something that absolutely would have consequences

[unteriors]

With all due love and respect, most of the interiors you're showing from Piedmont are old (1950s-60s) country houses. Not exactly what I'd think of in terms of real estate neocapitalist dystopia hell. Many of those houses would be absolutely fine with a bit of work. It's definitely a tragic consequence of capitalism that nobody is buying them tho, for sure.

I understand where you're coming from. There are a few things here that irk me a little though - occasionally I'll receive some feedback that touches on similar themes. To start, I'm not really that motivated by titles when it comes to creative projects. There are things in the world, in my own life, in what I see around me, that I find interesting or disturbing or which I have anxieties about, and I put time into exploring them. Almost by accident I've amassed an enormous amount of imagery culled from real estate listings on my PC. I can explain the motivations and ideas behind it, but I'm not very good at wrapping everything up in a neat bow. I've come across a similar thing for another blog I've had for much longer, where people in its audience (or friends and family) would often message me saying that this particular image isn't really an Unplace, and the ambiguity of the title ends up narrowing their perception of the scope of the project (and makes it seem much more superficial - for a similar reason I'm not keen on the concept of liminal spaces, or the word liminal generally). With this blog, I made a conscious decision to use a title that would be broad enough to ward off attempts to pigeonhole it into specific, surface-level interpretations, which would sort of work against and challenge itself (and the viewer).

When I was in art school I was keen on the idea of antimarketing, which extends to branding. Advertising (increasingly over the past half-century) has a way of corroding depth and reducing substance to easily-accessible content guided by broadly-accepted conventions around social norms. I feel like it should only be a thing you deal with yourself as much as you have to, and I try to deadvertise the things I do as much as I can. I feel like these images deadvertise places. I look for real estate imagery which, on the direct, immediate level of their intended purpose, fail miserably (i.e., I do not want to buy this house. I sense lead paint, asbestos. This house may contain a corpse. Stay away). On a secondary level, in addition to selling a product, advertising often sells an idea about the world. With real estate imagery, the idea is much like the one this ask represents these houses as - a way of looking at housing that reduces it to an investment, which views older houses in a state of disrepair as something to be renovated and resold for a profit. This feels particularly myopic and inappropriate when it comes to Italy, a part of the world I've spent time in (though not Piedmont), which has layers and layers of history and human misery in every lived (and abandoned) surface, and which was hit hard by the twentieth century and still seems to be falling apart in many ways. As you pointed out, it's a consequence of the economic system that's currently oppressing Italy (involving years of austerity forced upon it by waves of neoliberal administrations, including within the country and in EU economic policy, against a backdrop of corruption and aggressive anticommunism that the US played a role in) that it has an issue with housing vacancy sitting comfortably alongside the same housing crisis most of us are experiencing (this article goes into a lot of detail about it).

There's the more technical question of how much work would be needed to rehabilitate these places and make them livable - I know in Australia houses that are only fifty or sixty years old often require specialised work by contractors (which our propaganda system that promotes DIY culture and house flipping tends to gloss over). And then, who would put the effort into renovating these places and then living in them? There are parts of Italy with very high unemployment rates, particularly among young people, where people have been leaving for generations. I guess, if someone from a richer country uses the exchange rate to buy and do up a rundown house in a village somewhere and pumps money into the local economy, there are some good sides to that. But I can't get away from the idea that, in our current system, renovating an older house - fixing it up - has the cumulative effect of pricing more people out of housing. I felt bad even about buying a house in my own country - more mortgages mean higher house prices, ultimately. The rot in the economic superstructure feeds into our artistic and conceptual understanding of housing. That creates tensions, between the real, deeper, historically and culturally rich, lived experience of a house, and the fake, greige, airbrushed, negatively-geared, embalmed home-as-investment that's sold to us, and I find those cracks in the surface (peeling paint, if you will) interesting.

This may be getting close to paranoia, but there's also a phenomenon where, if you say anything too negative and controversial, you come to expect that some people will instinctively react by mocking it. This is something I feel instinctively (again, maybe the answer to this lies more in therapy than in looking at the outside world). Often without evidence of their own to demonstrate why what you have said is wrong. It reminds me of a reddit post I saw floating around on tumblr a few years ago, about how the attitude to the world you see in South Park is that, if you complain too much about something (i.e. if you point out that something is wrong), and you demonstrate that you care about that without hiding behind irony, that makes you the problem. You find this all through pop culture from a certain time period (the Simpsons could be just as bad, I also come across this attitude in contemporary art - the laugh react on Facebook feels like its late-stage distillation). It's hard to tell how much people are encoded by it, or if it provides a framework for seeing the world and handling moral issues for people who already held these attitudes. I named this blog Neoliberal Capitalist Real Estate Dystopia Hellscape to weed out those those attitudes and make the people who would ordinarily express them self-conscious. It's getting harder and harder for people to deny that it's not an accurate description, the middle-class psychological bubble has been getting harder to keep insulated for some time now.

[belu-4]

Putellas Jr. Headcanons.

Couple: Mapi León x Putellas!Reader

(Reader will be called Alondra )

Au!Omegaverse. Alpha x Alpha

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: None, just that English is not my first language, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.

Enjoy~

PERSONAL LIFE. FRIENDSHIPS, FAMILY.

Alondra Putellas Segura (1999) is an alpha.

Her name was chosen by her father.

Younger sister of Alexia Putellas (1994) and Alba Putellas (1997).

When Alondra grew up she had problems with her scent glands because they did not develop correctly, which ended up affecting her scent. She has a sweeter scent, an aroma not characteristic of an alpha and characteristic of an omega, which is why she was often mistaken for one.

Her scent is sweet, warm, with a touch of vanilla and soft wood.

She followed in the footsteps of her older sister and became a professional soccer player.

She is good at learning languages. The longest it has taken her to learn a new language was 6-7 months.

“My mission in life is to annoy Alexia, to make her feel alive”

She has her group of friends outside the world of football. Matthew and Danielle are Omegas, Jackson and Eric are Alphas. Also Jackson and Danielle are siblings.

She shares tattoos with her sisters.

Alondra is a hyperactive person, she can’t stay still and some people on the staff suspect she has an attention deficit.

When she is nervous, she plays with her ring or the lace of her shorts.

She is a friend of Kerstin Casparij (she has a very similar personality), Jill Roord and Viv miedema. As a joke, they said that Alondra was Dutch in another life.

Even though she is no longer a Young Alpha, she is still treated like a puppy by Alexia, Irene, Kim, Marta and Jenni.

She is the queen of practical jokes in the locker room. No one is safe, not even Alexia or the coaches.

She has the most chaotic relationship with Alba. They love each other, but they can also argue over the silliest thing and the next minute be cuddling on the couch.

She likes to annoy Lucy and if it were an Olympic sport, Alondra would have already won the Gold medal.

She can fall asleep anywhere. On the bus, in the locker room, on the plane and in any uncomfortable place you can imagine.

Her playlist is absolute chaos. You can find everything from reggaeton to alternative rock and the occasional ABBA song.

She always has gum in her backpack.

She prefers WhatsApp audios to text messages because she's too lazy to write.

She's always the last to leave the locker room because she'll keep talking or bothering someone.

She's the typical one who comes in with the music at full volume without headphones, forcing everyone to listen to her chaotic playlist.

She's the only one who can annoy Alexia without serious consequences. Anyone else tries and gets the death stare.

Alba, Olga and her have a WhatsApp chat just to complain about Alexia when she goes into 'intense older sister' mode.

When she's with her mom, she automatically becomes calmer and sweeter. It's like her chaos off button.

When she was younger and Alexia was dating, she interrupted in the most annoying way possible.

At Christmas, she's always the one in charge of making the funniest (and sometimes ridiculous) gifts.

She's the one who sends memes at any time of the day without context.

When she gets obsessed with a series, she won't stop until she's watched it all in a couple of days.

She likes to play video games, but only sports or racing ones because she doesn't have the patience for history ones.

If she finds something she likes (a dessert, a song, a restaurant), she'll repeat it until she's tired.

If she's bored, she starts throwing things in the air just to see if she can catch them with her feet or head.

She wears her sweatpants really low just to piss Alexia off.

She has an obsession with rings and always wears at least one.

She sometimes paints her nails black or dark colors, but she bites them when she's nervous.

Sarcasm is her second language, and she even uses it in interviews.

She talks a mile a minute when she's excited and the only one who can stop her is Alexia with a "Alondra, breathe."

Alexia still can't get over her going out with Mapi, every time she sees them together she makes a face of "how did this happen."

When she comes home, she hangs on to Alexia as if she were still a puppy.

Every time she visits home, Alba and Alexia check her new tattoos to see if they're "suitable" after having joked that the next tattoo she would get would be something related to Real Madrid (she would never be able to get a tattoo about RM) (She hates RM with all her soul).

In her teens, when her hormones were at their peak, she suffered from not being able to impose her presence with her scent like the other Alphas. So she developed a confident and defiant body language to compensate.

Although she doesn't have a strong scent, her Alpha instincts are still there. She is extremely protective of her own, but she masks it with pranks and chaos.

With Alba, she is the typical Alpha sister who teases her younger Omega, but if someone treats her badly, she lets out a low growl that makes anyone back off

With her mother, her bark or Alpha disappears. The only person in the world who can make her sit and eat quietly without a fight.

She is clingy with the people she loves. If she is confident with someone, she will hug them by the neck or lean on you without giving you a choice.

Nothing like the typical Alpha. This makes some Omegas feel comfortable with her immediately, without noticing her dominant presence.

Many Alphas tried to mark her unconsciously because her scent awakened protective instincts in them. The habit did not last long after Alondra brushed them off with a challenging look.

Growing up as an Alpha but with a scent that did not match caused her many doubts in her adolescence. She did not feel completely Alpha or completely Omega.

The media and some fans have been speculating for years about her dynamic as an Alpha. Many believe that she is an Omega who identifies as an Alpha. Alondra does not care.

Alondra's dick size varies between 19 to 23 centimeters, while Mapi's varies between 17 to 20 centimeters.

PROFESSIONAL LIFE.

She studied and started playing at La Masia as a forward, where in 2015 she had the opportunity to move up to the first team and debut alongside her sister in the same team.

In 2016 Arsenal set their sights on her and decided to sign her, there was a conflict between Barcelona and Arsenal, since the first team did not want to lose Alondra completely and Arsenal did not want to accept her on loan. Finally, an agreement was reached and Alondra left as a new signing for Arsenal.

In 2019, Alondra was close to winning a Ballon d'Or, finishing in second place.

Number 11 in the first years at Arsenal. First season in Barcelona, ​​she wears number 18 and after Lucy's departure, she takes over number 15.

Arsenal: 2016-2017 to 2021-2022.

Barcelona: 2022-2023 to the present.

Alondra was part of the Spanish senior team between 2018-2022, being part of the 15 movement.

Getting to know the English team in her first year playing in London and in the first international break, thanks to Leah and Chloe who introduced her at a camp. (Alondra did not want to return to Spain and preferred to stay in London as she had a silly argument with Alba and pride was stronger).

Then very close to all the other English girls.

When she gets angry in games she usually shouts rude things in Catalan, or when she wants to bother in the locker room.

Yellow card duo with Katie McCabe.

In 2022 she decided to leave Arsenal and return to Barcelona. They are the only teams she has played for. The reasons for leaving were due to internal problems she had at the club.

CHELSEA'S HATER N°1

Who gives the most content on social media (team and personal)

At Arsenal, she and Katie McCabe had an unofficial competition of who could receive the most yellow cards without being sent off.

Leah and Chloe consider her their ‘Spanish troublemaker’ and take her everywhere when she is in London.

In the national team, Jenni Hermoso was her ally in mischief.

She always wears the same cleats when she plays an important match. She is superstitious about it.

Has a friendly rivalry with Patri Guijarro at Barça. They are always competing in training.

The terror of the alphas of other teams because she never stops provoking on the pitch.

Can turn anything into a challenge, from who gets to the locker room first to who hits the crossbar the most times.

Always has energy to spare, she is the typical one who wants to keep running in training when everyone is dead.

She is the terror of the medical staff, because she hates staying still when she is injured. Since her scent is not typical of an Alpha, she sometimes confuses others about her rank. This has been a problem on the court, where some rival Alphas underestimate her…

She grew up with a certain complex about her scent, especially when she was younger and other Alphas looked at her strangely for not smelling "correctly." But over time she learned to use it to her advantage, especially in provocations.

With the Omegas on her team she has a very marked relationship: she bothers them all the time, but if someone makes them feel uncomfortable, she completely changes and becomes threatening.

She does not mark everyone with bites, but she leaves "her mark" in other ways: hugs with a lot of physical contact, rubbing her head against her teammates' or biting their wrist when celebrating a goal.

In important games, her Alpha instinct is triggered. She plays more aggressively and her team uses her as a "territory marker."

If a rival Alpha tries to intimidate an Omega on her team, she is the first to intervene. Especially if it's Patri or one of her Omega friends.

In the locker room, she lays on top of her fellow Omegas without warning. "So they smell like the pack," she says.

She doesn't like being seen as a "weak" Alpha because of her scent, so she's one of the first to jump into verbal fights with rival Alphas.

Her scent may be sweeter, but when someone irritates her, it becomes stronger. In a match against Chelsea, her scent changed so much that Leah asked her if she was okay.

Some Alphas taunted her by saying that her scent made her "less Alpha." Katie McCabe was one of the few who told her to her face that "a real Alpha doesn't need a strong scent to get noticed." From that moment on, they became inseparable.

When she arrived at Barça, Patri and Aitana also doubted her Alpha presence... until they saw her play. Now Patri calls her "the infiltrated Alpha."

In the locker room, she sits between the Omegas because she likes the warmth of her presence. At Arsenal, her place was always between Leah and Viv.

On the national team, Irene Paredes spent half of the training camp reminding the others that, despite her deceptive scent, Alondra was an Alpha.

When she is upset or in the middle of a competition, her scent changes and becomes more spicy, with a slight hint of clove. It is the only time she imposes herself as a traditional Alpha.

In the locker room, she was often asked to calm panicked Omegas because her scent calmed them more than that of the other Alphas.

She always felt that she had to prove more than any other Alpha to be recognized as such. In every match, she played as if she had something to prove.

At Arsenal, some new Alphas doubted her presence until they saw her train. One time, a new Alpha commented that Alondra “looked like an Omega with too much energy.” Kim Little replied: “Tell her that on the pitch and see if you still think the same.”

Despite her soft scent, her Alpha instinct is immediately activated when she senses danger for her pack. If an Omega on her team is attacked on the pitch, Alondra is the first to arrive with a defiant smile and her body ready to defend.

Although she is an Alpha, in the Arsenal pack she would often curl up between Leah and Viv, as if she were another Omega.

RELATIONSHIP WITH MAPI.

They started dating Mapi in 2018.

When Alexia found out she wanted to hang Maria.

Designed some of Mapi's tattoos, but she has also suggested some absurd ones just to annoy her.

Shares a tattoo with Mapi. (Looks can be deceiving)

She has a list of tattoos she wants to get but can't decide because Mapi always convinces her to wait.

She doesn't obsess over couple marks like other Alphas, but she does obsess over couple scents. Mapi always ends up smelling like her because Alondra hugs her by the neck and hides her against her chest after games.

She knows that her bite isn't as strong as other Alphas, which made her insecure at first. She thought she'd never be able to properly mark her mate. But Mapi reassured her by telling her that, if she wanted to, she'd bite her until the venom was gone.

When Mapi is in heat, Alondra doesn't leave her alone for a second. If anyone gets too close to her, even her own teammates, her inner Alpha wakes up and automatically growls.

At first, she was afraid that she wasn't "Alpha enough" for Mapi. But Mapi took it upon herself to show her that it didn't matter.

Mapi sometimes bites her just for fun, but when Alondra does it, she does it with intent.

Mapi loves to see her in her clothes, especially her old t-shirts. It's her way of "marking" her without needing a bite.

One time, Alexia found them cuddling after a game, and her Alpha got so activated that she was in a bad mood all day.

When she first met Mapi, she thought she would be one of those who wouldn't take her seriously as an alpha. But Mapi sniffed her once, smiled, and said, "You're different. I like it." From then on, Alondra knew Mapi was her person.

Mapi loves her scent. She says it's "gently addictive," especially after workouts, when sweat intensifies it.

When they sleep together, Mapi clings to her shirt or collar, as if Alondra's scent relaxes her.

Sometimes when Mapi is in heat, Alondra feels like her Alpha instinct isn't enough. But Mapi always reassures her with a look, reminding her that it's not the scent that defines her, but who she is.

When Alondra is in heat, Mapi becomes much more territorial than usual. She's not aggressive, but her body language changes completely: she stays close, with her hand on Alondra's back or an arm over her shoulder. Her scent also intensifies and becomes thicker, like a silent warning.

Although she is not the type of Alpha who seeks to mark all the time, with Alondra, it is different. She does not mind if another Alpha approaches her partner, but she always makes it clear who owns the territory. She loves that Alondra smells her after training.

First I want to give credit to @insomniakisses who gave me the idea to do this and helped me with many things

[froegis]

but it’s not funny. why would wishing rape on anyone ever be okay? no matter who they are or what you think they believe? in what circumstance is that ever a valid wish? because you think pro-life people are actively forcing women to give birth, and each one of us is a malicious man who hates women and is okay with rape? have you ever talked in depth to someone who is pro-life, asked them what they think and believe, without getting your information from a biased source catered to your viewpoint, without immediately deciding they are evil because they have a different point of view, without deciding what you think they believe?

to clear things up, talk about abortions that occur because of inconvenience, which is the majority of abortions (which is what we try to talk about most of the time, but pro-choice people often choose to clump all types of abortions into one big category, equating abortions of rape with abortions of convenience.) so abortions not of rape, not of incest, not to save the mother, all of which you conveniently focus on in this conversation without addressing the reason 90% of abortions occur.

abortion is used massively as birth control when people have sex, get pregnant, and decide they don’t want to face the consequence of that action. deciding to “prevent a clump of cells from becoming a baby”, as you so delicately put it, is killing a baby for your own convenience, after choosing to have sex and choosing to face the risk of getting pregnant. that’s what that is. preventing a clump of cells designed to BE a baby is killing a baby. “preventing something from living” is the same thing as killing.

i am a woman, so you cannot possibly throw out that prolifers have no empathy for women when there are prolife people who are women. how does that not click?? you are literally just saying words to say words and incite negative emotions in the reader. there are so many women who have been through hell yet still believe that clump of cells you think is nothing is actually a growing human being with a future. i have met a girl who went through the craziest shit imaginable done to her by her immediate family, and she had a kid. it’s absolutely tragic, and yet she still told me how much she loves her little girl, and that she doesn’t understand how someone could think of ending the life an innocent human before they even get the chance to breathe. i know that’s just a case of one person and i don’t intend to use that as a catch-all argument by any means. i only want to call attention to the women like her, and i want to make it clear that they exist and you erase their survival and insult their dignity when you throw such accusations around.

still don’t understand how wishing rape on someone could be excused, yet here you are, excusing it with a premise that is entirely false and not at all the reality of prolife people or our beliefs.

and im pretty sure wishing rape on anyone is evil. no matter what. that should be pretty clear, out of anything. there is nothing that could ever excuse that. the hatred you speak of, which you claim we push onto women having abortions, is coming suspiciously from your own mouth.

i’m truly curious about how you would treat a woman who had sex and got an abortion as birth control versus a woman who was raped and decided to keep the baby because she believed it would be wrong for her to get an abortion. if she decided to speak up about it, would you support her as a survivor? would you hear her out or listen to a word she says? or in your eyes, is she a woman-killer and a forced-birther because she identifies as prolife and advocates for something she believes (which by the way, is no different from what you do)?

what is the difference between these two hypothetical women? i am genuinely curious what you think, because i have seen people who are pro choice praise the woman who got an abortion for exercising her right to bodily autonomy, then turn right around and wish the other woman more rape and death for keeping the child and for advocating for something she believes to be true with her whole heart (which, again, is no different from the other woman). and i truly cannot understand the logic behind that.

there is no excuse. wishing rape on anyone, regardless of their beliefs, is no less evil than the prolife person in your brain who is actively “forcing” women to give birth.

I think all pro-lifers should be raped, forced to have the baby (no exceptions), and become forced to raise it for 18-20 years just to see how it feels

[gayofthefae]

Thinking about how Will is fully able to flirt but cannot handle being flirted with and the deeper reason that actually is

Will has settled for the idea of never being with Mike. Even referencing coming out to Mike he only ever frames it as not wanting to "lie to Mike" and simply wanting to share "the truth" with who he "care[s] about the most". Never an expectation or attempt at reciprocation. It is consistently based and in reference to how he feels about secrets from his loved ones, and only ever mentioned in reference to actual romance by El.

He has settled. But the thing about settling, part of it inherently that is under-talked about, is the part where you find ways to love your life. Settling is not resigning, that would be super depressing, because when someone settles it is them committing to a lesser life than they had dreamed because more is not an option for them. It is out of their control or the wrong choice somehow, and in those situations, you make the best of it.

So to Will, he will never have Mike. In fact, in all likelihood he will never experience romance. In his entire life - even if he die of natural causes in old age and not monsters at 15. But you make the best of it. And it's logical:

If Mike fully does not reciprocate, is oblivious to his feelings, and repeatedly affirms that he didn't mean what he said that made it seem like he was uncomfortable and he is totally fine - like the audience believes (again, BECAUSE Will believes this and is the one telling this story in s4) - then there are absolutely 0 consequences to having an ambiguous flirt here and there. No one can fault him, it's the closest he will ever get to romance as a queer person, so he takes what he can get. No damage to Mike and El's relationship. No discomfort to Mike. Hell, Mike doesn't even really notice.

So Will's expectation is occasional, one-sided flirting. A sort of playing pretend I suppose. And Mike smiles and that can be part of the game. It makes sense. Because often, he doesn't say anything back.

He just smiles...except for once

I always want to jokingly yell at my screen in this moment "what do you mean you're shy now? YOU initiated flirting with HIM"

but it does make sense given his expectations; given the history I hadn't tracked before from his perspective. Not only are his expectations of a lack of matching energy (as I have pointed out repeatedly before, genuinely should not match if unreciprocated - could even just be the comment vs silent smile thing they had going before) completely realistic, they have also been proven in practice!

And I always want to tease him that he started it but really, he didn't. Because any time he does this, it has 0 intention to "start" anything. Not even this much of an exchange. He's doing it for himself, to play pretend. It's like Mike is breaking the fourth wall.

It was completely plausible for him to act coy and surprised by Mike here, as if Mike had initiated this tone, because even something as simple and small as this had *never been reciprocated like this before*. The rest of the conversation is Mike's traditional pace in terms of romantic-adjacent to Will, but participating in the playfulness is new.

I like to tease him in my head. But Will being flustered by a natural response to his statement and the tone he himself set is logical. Because to Will, in a way, Mike can't see him. Mike doesn't know he's doing this, and Mike certainly can't engage.

This is Mike engaging. This is Mike *participating*. This is Mike acknowledging 'you just pitched me a line, and I'm taking it this time'. And in a way, this is also one of this micro-reveals you get in your life. This is also Mike saying 'I'm not oblivious to it and I never have been, I just didn't engage until now. But now I am. (And none of those smiles were that oblivious either)'.

And the other stuff Mike says afterwards is much more similar to things he's before, so it didn't always click for me the specifics. But I get it now. I get why this is different than all those other times. I get why he grabs the painting on his way out. Will learned something about Mike from this conversation.

It's absolutely tiny. Two lines. But there is one moment in the series where they have truly reciprocated and interestingly enough, it's this. We always get "if we're both going crazy we'll go crazy together" "yeah" "it was the best thing I've ever done" "..." even "the last year has been weird, you know? And Max and Lucas and Dustin, they're great, they're great, it's just-it's Hawkins, it's not the same without you. And I feel like maybe I was worrying too much about El and, I don't know, I feel like I lost you or something, does that make sense? I have no idea what's gonna happen next, but whatever it is, I think it'll be easier if we're team. Friends - Best friends." "Cool." (WILL BYERS OH MY GOD!! 'cool'???)

but this was two-ways. And it quickly ended because then they kinda didn't know what to do, understandably. This is basically a long and queer trauma way of saying that that look from Will is a completely logical moment of "shit, I didn't think I'd get this far".

Analysis on Mike's perspective/behavioral shift to respond in this scene

[shizuturnspages]

What happened next about the child reader khaenri'ah?? :00000 part 2 Longer ?? I'm intrigued what happened next, how they treat her?? I can already imagine the reader using teleportation spell and abyss powers. The reader would definitely create chaos to escape xD

A Flicker in the Ruins — Part 2

Synopsis: Your mistake was letting them see you. You knew better than to linger, better than to attract attention—but the moment your golden eyes met theirs, your fate was sealed. They would not let you go. And you would never let them take you. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Dainsleif, Pierro, Kaeya, Albedo, & Capitano x Khaenri’ahn Child Reader

Dainsleif

Dainsleif has never feared many things in his life.

Not the curse that rots his flesh.

Not the eternity of solitude.

Not even the abyss itself.

But you—

You terrify him.

Not because you are a child of Khaenri’ah.

Not because you possess ancient magic strong enough to warp reality.

But because you are alone.

And he knows what solitude does to a person.

He knows what it creates.

That is why he does not let you go.

No matter how much you fight him.

No matter how many times you run.

Because he knows that if he does, you will be lost.

You are a nightmare to catch.

Dainsleif learns this the hard way.

The first time you escape, he does not expect it.

One moment, you are standing before him, arms crossed, scowling.

The next, the air crackles with abyssal energy—

And you are gone.

The world twists, the space around you warping—teleportation.

Dainsleif’s heart stops.

You should not be able to do that.

Not at your age.

Not without consequences.

And yet—

You disappear.

As if you were never there.

Dainsleif does not hesitate.

He moves, following the faint traces of your energy, the remnants of your presence lingering like shadows in the wind.

He does not rest.

He does not falter.

Because he knows you.

He knows you will not stop running.

And he knows what will happen if he does not catch you.

So he hunts.

Not as a man.

Not as a knight.

But as a guardian.

As a curse that refuses to let you vanish into the abyss.

You do not go down easily.

The second time he catches you, you fight.

Magic crackles at your fingertips, abyssal energy pulsing in your veins—

And Dainsleif sees the rage in your golden eyes.

"Let me go," you snarl.

Dainsleif does not.

You lash out, a wave of raw magic erupting from your palms—

He deflects it with ease, stepping forward.

"Let. Me. GO!"

Your magic surges—

Dainsleif grabs your wrist.

And the moment he touches you—

Your body shakes.

You freeze.

Because his hand is not warm.

It is cold.

Unnatural.

Like a corpse that still walks.

Your breath catches, panic flickering in your gaze—

And for the first time, Dainsleif sees something else beneath your anger.

Fear.

Not of him.

But of what he is.

A monster.

A reminder of everything you lost.

Dainsleif does not let go.

"Do not run," he says, voice steady.

Your magic falters.

He tightens his grip.

"You do not understand what lurks beyond the shadows."

Your lip trembles.

"I don’t care," you whisper.

And the words—

They break him.

Because he knows that you mean it.

That you would rather face the abyss itself than be trapped.

That you would rather die than be held down.

Dainsleif’s fingers twitch.

His voice softens.

"You are not alone."

You go still.

He kneels before you, gaze unwavering.

"You do not have to be alone."

You do not move.

But you do not pull away, either.

And to Dainsleif—

That is enough.

For now.

Pierro

The first mistake you make is letting him see you.

The second mistake is underestimating him.

You are no ordinary child.

You have evaded capture for years, wandering the ruins of old civilizations, keeping yourself hidden from prying eyes. You are not weak—you are not helpless. The abyss itself hums at your fingertips, shadows bending to your will.

Yet Pierro—The Jester—is different.

From the moment he lays his gaze upon you, something shifts.

"You should not be alone," he says, voice as calm as it is absolute.

And you—foolishly—turn your back and run.

Your magic crackles at your fingertips, ancient incantations spilling from your lips.

The air around you warps.

Your body flickers, reality twisting—

And for a moment, you are gone.

Teleportation is second nature to you now.

By the time you reappear, you are far from where Pierro last stood, deep within the frozen wilderness.

The cold bites at your skin, but you do not care.

You have escaped.

At least—

That’s what you think.

Until the sound of footsteps crunches against the snow behind you.

Your heart stops.

"You are quick," Pierro murmurs, not even winded.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps. "That’s—impossible—"

Pierro steps forward, his dark cloak barely shifting in the wind.

"You are powerful," he acknowledges, tone unreadable. "But reckless."

You grit your teeth, abyssal energy pulsing at your fingertips. "Stay away from me."

Pierro merely sighs.

"Such hostility," he muses. "And yet, I wonder—"

His cold eyes narrow.

"Do you truly know how to wield that power?"

You sneer. "I know enough to get away from you."

And then you teleport again.

But this time—

The moment you reappear, he is already there.

Waiting.

Watching.

Unmoving.

Your stomach drops.

Pierro knows.

He has been tracking you.

"You are not the first Khaenri’ahn I have encountered," he says, stepping closer.

You scramble back. "I don’t care."

His expression does not change.

"But you may be the last."

Your chest tightens.

"Enough of this," Pierro states, voice final.

His hand lifts.

The air shifts.

Before you can move—before you can even think—a suffocating force wraps around you.

Your magic shatters.

Your body locks in place, abyssal energy flickering out.

You cannot teleport.

Your breath hitches. "What—what did you do?"

Pierro watches your struggle with impassive eyes.

"You are young," he says simply. "You have power, but no control."

Your fingers tremble.

Pierro steps forward, voice eerily calm.

"You would not survive alone."

Your chest heaves. "I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?"

Pierro exhales, as if disappointed.

"You call this survival?" His gaze sharpens. "Running? Hiding? Waiting to be hunted?"

His fingers curl—

And suddenly, the force around you tightens.

"You are wasting your potential."

You snarl, thrashing against his invisible hold.

But nothing budges.

Pierro is patient.

He watches you, waiting for the realization to settle.

He does not expect obedience.

Not yet.

But acceptance?

That will come.

"You will come with me," he states.

It is not a question.

It is not a request.

It is a decision.

One he has already made for you.

Your voice shakes. "No."

Pierro’s expression does not falter.

"You are Khaenri’ahn," he says softly.

And then—gently, almost cruelly—

"You belong with us."

Your breath catches.

Pierro does not give you another chance to run.

The world fades to black.

And when you wake—

You are no longer alone.

Kaeya

Kaeya doesn’t take you immediately.

He’s patient.

Too patient.

You travel from city to city, never staying in one place too long, but somehow, he’s always there.

A casual presence. A lingering shadow. A charming voice at the edge of the crowd.

You don’t acknowledge him, don’t let him get close.

And yet—

Every time you look over your shoulder, he’s watching.

Every time you think you’ve lost him, he finds you.

At first, it’s almost amusing.

But then it’s not.

Not when you wake up one morning to find your supplies missing, replaced with neatly packed provisions.

Not when the guards at a city you’ve never visited before seem to recognize you—and wave you through without question.

Not when, no matter how far you go, how deep you try to hide—

Kaeya is always one step ahead.

It all comes to a head in Sumeru.

You should have known better than to let your guard down.

But teleportation magic is draining.

You needed rest.

And the moment you let exhaustion weigh you down, the moment you let yourself linger in one place just a little too long—

Kaeya is there.

"You’re quite the little escape artist, aren’t you?"

His voice is lighthearted, but you hear the undercurrent beneath it.

He steps forward, slow and measured. His boots barely make a sound against the stone, but to you, it might as well be thunder.

You grit your teeth, taking a step back. "Leave me alone."

Kaeya chuckles. "Now, now. Is that any way to speak to an old friend?"

You snarl. "You are not my friend."

Kaeya sighs, shaking his head. "That’s a shame. I thought we were making such good progress."

He lifts a hand—

And you react.

Abyssal energy surges from your fingertips, a twisting, crackling force. The world distorts around you—

And you vanish.

Kaeya doesn’t move.

Not immediately.

He exhales, rolling his shoulders. "Teleportation magic, huh?"

His fingers tap idly against his hip.

Then, he smiles.

"How interesting."

His vision glows faintly, ice creeping along the stone.

"You can run all you want, little star."

His eye glimmers.

"But I always find what’s mine."

Albedo

Albedo learns very quickly that you are not a passive subject.

He had expected resistance—of course, he had. A child raised in solitude, forced to rely on their own wits, would not simply surrender because he willed it so.

But he had not expected this.

The moment you realize the doors of his lab are locked, the air around you shifts.

Your fingers twitch, and suddenly the very space within the lab distorts, bending, twisting—

And then, in a flash of abyssal light, you are gone.

Albedo sighs.

So, it will be a game of chase, then.

Interesting.

He does not panic. He does not rush. Instead, he places his notebook down, adjusting his gloves before stepping out into the cold winds of Dragonspine.

He wonders—

How far do you believe you can run?

You teleport as far as you can.

Not a city, not a town—too dangerous. You don’t know how many people Albedo has watching you. No, you aim for somewhere remote, somewhere he wouldn’t expect.

The forests beyond Wolvendom.

Your legs shake as you land, breath coming in heavy gasps. You used more power than you should have, but it doesn’t matter. You need to run.

You need to get as far away as possible.

But the moment you take a step forward—

A gloved hand presses against your shoulder.

Your breath catches.

"Impressive," Albedo muses, standing behind you as if he had always been there.

Your heartbeat stops.

That’s—impossible. He shouldn’t have been able to track you so quickly.

Albedo hums, head tilting as he studies your frozen form. "Teleportation magic interwoven with abyssal energy. Unstable, yet effective. But it is inefficient."

His grip on your shoulder tightens—not enough to hurt, but firm enough that you can feel the warning in his touch.

"Where were you planning to go, little one?"

Your fingers twitch.

You have one chance.

A pulse of energy erupts from your core, magic crackling as you twist the very air around you—

And suddenly, the ground beneath you turns to ice.

Albedo lets go. Not because he is startled, but because he is impressed.

You don’t waste the opportunity.

You run.

Albedo does not chase you.

Not immediately.

Instead, he watches. He observes.

You are a fascinating subject. Your ability to weave abyssal magic into elemental manipulation is unlike anything he has encountered before. You shouldn’t be able to do this.

But you can.

And that is precisely why he will not let you leave.

He walks slowly, deliberately, following the trail of distorted energy you leave behind. You are powerful, yes, but you lack control.

And that will be your undoing.

You make it to a river before your strength gives out.

Too much magic, too fast. Your body isn’t strong enough to handle it.

Your vision blurs.

And then—

A shadow falls over you.

You don’t have to turn to know who it is.

Albedo kneels, pressing two fingers to your temple, his touch cold.

"Are you satisfied?" he murmurs.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps. "I—"

Albedo gently lifts you into his arms. You are too exhausted to fight him.

"You are extraordinary," he murmurs, almost to himself.

Your fingers weakly grasp at his sleeve, but he does not stop you.

"You have great potential," he continues. "But you lack guidance."

You feel his hand brush against your cheek, gentle, deliberate.

"That is what I will give you."

Your vision fades.

And when you wake—

You are back in his lab.

And this time, the doors are open.

Capitano

The first time you try to escape, you nearly lose an arm.

Not because Capitano harms you—no, he never touches you with the intent to injure. But his grip is ironclad, his reflexes near inhuman, and when you summon the abyssal energy that crackles beneath your skin, his massive gauntlet closes around your wrist with enough force to crush it.

You scream.

Not in pain, but rage.

"Let me GO!"

You dig your nails into his armored fingers, twisting your body to escape, abyssal magic spiraling from your free hand—but it does nothing. His strength is unyielding, an immovable force, and despite your best efforts, he doesn’t even flinch.

"You will only hurt yourself." His voice is deep, steady. "Enough."

Enough?

ENOUGH?

The entire room shakes as you snarl, darkness ripping through the air around you. The very shadows writhe, pulsing with your fury as an unnatural wind howls through the chamber.

"I will never stay here!" You twist your body, forcing your legs up to kick against his chest, using the impact to propel yourself away—

But Capitano lets you go.

The sudden lack of resistance sends you tumbling backward, landing ungracefully on the cold stone floor.

You freeze, breath shallow.

Why did he—?

The moment your confusion settles, you run.

Abyssal energy crackles beneath your feet as you twist the magic in your hands, forming the sigils of an ancient teleportation spell.

A perfect escape. A technique no one could possibly—

A massive hand clamps around the nape of your neck.

Your stomach drops.

"You have courage." Capitano lifts you effortlessly, holding you in the air like an unruly kitten. "But courage does not change fate."

You thrash. "Put me down!"

"You are reckless," he muses, ignoring your demands. "Headstrong. Defiant."

His grip tightens just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you how utterly small you are compared to him.

"You remind me of my soldiers," he continues. "The ones who fight without fear. The ones who never yield."

You stiffen as his fingers slowly trace upward, his gauntlet pressing lightly against your cheek.

"But they are not children."

The shadows swirl violently around you, crackling with untamed energy. Your mind races, searching for another escape, another spell, another—

Capitano sighs.

And then—without warning—he throws you.

You barely have time to process the movement before your back collides with something soft.

A bed.

A massive, fortress-like bed.

You scramble upright, rage still boiling in your chest, but Capitano merely crosses the room, his towering figure casting a heavy shadow over you.

"This will be your room," he states. "From now on, you will not leave unless I permit it."

You bare your teeth. "Like hell I won’t!"

Capitano doesn’t even react.

Instead, he simply reaches for the door handle.

And locks it.

Your stomach twists.

He turns to you once more, his masked face unreadable.

"You may struggle," he allows. "You may fight, bite, claw, and run."

His head tilts ever so slightly.

"But you will always be caught."

Your breath comes quick, heavy, the abyssal energy in your veins screaming to be used—but something in his presence smothers it.

His sheer will is suffocating.

Capitano does not wait for your response. He simply exits, his massive form disappearing behind the heavy door.

And the lock clicks into place.

You are trapped.

Again.

But this is not the end.

No matter how unbreakable he seems, no matter how certain he is that you will never escape—

You will prove him wrong.

[shineon3]

A little something I wrote for the lovely @33max :3 (set in my wip mafia au)

Max hasn't seen his husband in a week.

One whole week.

A year ago, it wouldn't have mattered for him. He wouldn't have cared about Daniel's work or about being left alone for too long, would’ve probably been happy about it, even.

But that was a year ago.

Now, Max acutely feels the absence of his husband, feels the emptiness the older’s laugh usually fills, and even Jimmy and Sassy notice something is off after a while.

So he spends his days glued on the sim, the comforting, familiar routine of online races helping him clear his mind - and forget about the way Daniel had cupped his cock through his shorts and whispered sweetly “No coming while I'm away, baby, capiche?” in his ear before leaving for his trip.

Max groans, narrowly avoiding a collision. He can feel his cock twitching, hardening in his shorts, and he barely resists the urge to sneak a hand down to give it a small squeeze, because he knows Daniel will probably be watching through the house's numerous cameras, and Max wasn't ready to face the consequences of being a brat. He shudders, thinking about the last time Daniel had to punish him. It had been absolute torture. Daniel had put a cock cage on him, and Max hadn't been allowed to come for so long he felt insane by the time Daniel allowed him to.

Anyways.

Max spends the rest of his day like this, on the sim, trying to forget about how good it feels when his cock rubs against the soft material of his boxers, how much better it would feel if he was rubbing against one of their soft, expensive pillows instead, how-

It's tough, to say the least, but he manages to last another day, and he only had to change his underwear once, when the precum soaking it became a bit too sticky to be enjoyable.

Around ten pm, he decides he should probably make some dinner for himself. Jimmy and Sassy follow him to the kitchen, playfully running around his feet while he tries to cook some pasta and making him giggle. He's standing at the stove, slowly stirring the sauce, when he feels a warm weight press against his back. Arms wrap tightly around his waist, a firm thigh presses between his legs, and Max immediately relaxes, letting a soft moan out.

There’s only one other person able to get in their home, after all.

“Hi, baby,” Daniel’s voice is a low rumble whispered right against his ear, sending a shiver down Max’s spine. “Did you miss me, hm?”

Max makes sure to turn off the stove before he does something stupid, like leaving the sauce to burn while he rides Daniel right here on the kitchen floor. He turns around, finally, finally facing his husband, and grins so wide his cheeks start to hurt before leaning in to kiss Daniel senseless. They slot perfectly against each other, like two puzzle pieces, the brunette’s tongue immediately invading Max’s mouth as he melts in the older’s embrace. Daniel’s body is caging him against the kitchen counter, his thigh between Max’s legs providing the perfect amount of friction, and Max can feel his cock harden, leaking like a tap in his boxers. They make out for what seems like an eternity, until Daniel pulls away, hands tightening around Max, effectively stopping the blonde’s rabbiting hips, making him whine.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” Daniel croons, tucking his face in the crook of Max’s neck and peppering kisses there. “I want to properly take care of you tonight. You deserve it, my good boy.”

And then, Daniel does something that will never not be obscenely hot for Max. The brunette picks him up, just like that, as if he weighs absolutely nothing, and sets him up on the kitchen island, practically spreading him all over it. Max moans, his whole face feeling flushed, and he hooks his thighs around Daniel, pulling him closer. It feels like an out of the body experience, that he gets to have Daniel like this, and it makes Max a bit dizzy every time he remembers that this man, this handsome, dangerous man is his, just as much as Max is Daniel’s in all the ways possible.

“Daniel, Danny, please- I was good, promise, I was-!”

“I know you were, darling. You were so good for me, and I’m gonna give you your reward now.”

Daniel pushes Max’s thighs open, and Max lets him, all pliant for his husband. He doesn’t know what the older has in mind, doesn’t realise it until Daniel kneels in front of him, right in front of Max’s clothed cock. He mouths at the little bulge through the fabric of Max’s shorts, getting it slightly damp, and Max shakes on the counter, moaning so loudly he would feel bad for their neighbours if they had any.

And then.

Then, Max feels his cock twitch in the safe confines of his underwear, kick kick kicking until it blurts out rope after rope of cum, soaking the soft cotton with all he had saved for Daniel. He whines, embarrassed, his hands flying up to hide his face. He can hear Daniel getting up, the older’s hand brushing against his hip before carefully pulling Max’s hands out of his face.

“Baby, fuck- That was so hot. You couldn’t keep it in, could you, sweetheart?”

Max whines again, heat spreading through him at his husband’s words.

“That’s okay, darling. Daddy’s gonna take care of you now, ‘kay?”

Daniel scoops him up in his arms, making his way to their bedroom, and Max curls up against his chest, looking forward to the rest of what the brunette had planned for them.

[sal-absinthii]

I like the idea of Eileen as a person doing her best but beat down by years of a hard life, but I also like the idea of her being basically just as unpleasant as Tobias

It's clear that this was not a happy marriage or household, but it may not have been one-sided. I think people have a great reluctance to consider those kinds of relationships which may be termed deeply dysfunctional and toxic but for which "abuse" -- by definition involving not just harm but specifically harm in the context of a power dynamic where the abuser has fairly consistent and significant power over the abused -- may not be the right word, because it is very uncomfortable for people to feel they may be committing the great social sin of victim-blaming if they acknowledge that people and relationships are complicated and it is not always a matter of one person being innocent and powerless and the other being entirely and clearly to blame at all times. Sometimes both people are just nasty pieces of work. Sometimes, neither starts out that way but both become so after a lifetime of the same hard experiences. A lot of times there are shades of grey where one person may indeed be abusive from the start but where the victim is not the helpless submissive weakling people expect an abuse victim to be, which a lot of people really seem to struggle with, because they want the victim to be their poor meow-meow and that just isn't reality for many relationships. This is evident enough with the way some people talk about James and Snape's interactions; James was certainly a bully with many social advantages compared to Snape, and we know that at least some of the times James absolutely was the one who started it (although, I don't think peer bullying counts as abuse in most cases, including this, because James does not actually have the ability to control Snape; something can be cruel and even frequent without it being abuse by definition). People have a very difficult time with the fact that Snape does fight back (and he may start it some times, it is implied that he does but we can't necessarily trust that as fact) and want to either say this makes him the bad guy (and James the innocent) or else to downplay his own power to cause harm because it is uncomfortable to acknowledge that both may have contributed, escalated, initiated, and harmed.

Eileen will always be compared to Merope Gaunt, because they are both witches unsuccessfully married to muggles. On the face of it, the witch has much more power and ability to harm than the muggle. Merope, while certainly an abuse victim in relation to her father and brother, is actually the abuser in her situation with Tom Riddle Sr, having literally tricked and trapped him. I do think people forget that the elder Tom is definitively the victim in that relationship, because they expect that the rich handsome man who leaves his poor, sad, pregnant wife (who we have previously only seen as helpless and on the receiving end of violence) must be the bad guy, but this is entirely nonconsensual; she drugs and/or bewitches him into leaving his family and fiancée and fathering her child. She literally rapes him. This may have been the case with Eileen or it may not have been, there is nothing to suggest or prove it either way, and I'm not arguing that Eileen did trick Tobias. Like post-Tom Merope, who either lost or was unwilling to use her magic after he left, Eileen may have chosen to give up her magic in order to live in the muggle world, or she may have been too beaten down by her life to care about trying, or she may have been so afraid of Tobias that she didn't want to risk the consequences of using it. Maybe, like Merope, her own family situation was abusive and awful and Tobias was her escape, which would further explain her apparent willingness to stay with him rather than return to her family. Maybe this is what she saw modelled in her family growing up and just thinks it's what marriage is. It's also possible that she did not stop using magic at all, which would make her significantly more powerful than Tobias, or at the very least on an equal footing. I do not think she abused him; that would be an interesting angle to look at, but she does seem afraid of Tobias in Snape's memory of him shouting at her. But it is possible that they were both just miserable and rotten people to each other.

A common scenario I see regarding these two presents Tobias as hating magic and forbidding Eileen from using it. That's not impossible, people can be made to be afraid of a lot of things, but I reject it as being a given, because if she did have the willingness to stop him, she certainly had the ability, and the fact that Snape knows as much as he does about magic and the wizarding world before he gets to Hogwarts means that she wasn't intentionally hiding it or distancing herself from it. She talked to her son about it in a positive enough way that he was excited about being a wizard. But consider this scenario: they start out as a normal enough young couple, reasonably happy and naive, and Eileen leaves the magical world for Tobias, because she loves him or gets pregnant or is escaping her own family or is disowned, but over the years, she is resentful of it, resents the poverty they live in, and in difficult economic times in a failed industrial town, Tobias resents that he is unable to provide as he ought to as the man of the house, and his feelings of emasculation made worse by the fact that his wife has magic powers and he doesn't; maybe he resents her for having them because he doesn't want to feel weak or maybe he resents her for not using them to improve their lot the way that Tom Jr resents his dead mother or maybe a complicated mixture of both. And for her part, Eileen resents that this is what she gave up her life for, left her world for, and now feels stuck in, and being unable to communicate or work things out or understand, they just constantly and increasingly take it out on each other in a way that's simultaneously both and neither of their 'faults,' they are both reacting to situations beyond their control by behaving terribly, and sometimes one has the upper hand and sometimes the other does.

Snape obviously takes his mother's side over his father's in his early memories, but that doesn't mean that's how it always was. It's understandable that he would do so because he sees her side -- literally, her side of his extended family, which he apparently does not have any tangible interaction with -- as the ticket out of his unbearable life caught in the middle of this impoverished and dysfunctional mess. Maybe, like Tom Jr judges Merope perhaps over-harshly for her failure to save herself with magic, because he is a child and he does not know what she went through or have the ability to empathise, young Severus concludes that the only reason his mother does not ride off with him into a magical sunset where he will be safe and respected is because Tobias must be enslaving her somehow, unable to accept that his parents are equal contributors to a prison of their own making because to do so would mean letting go of the fantasy that the only thing between him and the life he wants/deserves is his muggle father.

I will happily read fanfic that presents Eileen as being a true and complete victim who nonetheless tries to do what's right by her son in the limited ways she has available to her, but just as the appeal of Snape himself is that he is both perpetrator and victim, bully and target, systemically 'privileged' and individually 'oppressed' (as much as I despise those words), an antagonist who is unpleasant and unkind and unjustifiably cruel to people weaker than him but who is also a hero who is selfless and brave and capable of great loyalty and love and sacrifice, I am very much intrigued by an Eileen who defies easy categorisation.

I hate the deification of Snape’s mother, Eileen.

I see a lot of head-canons about the Snape household involving pure evil from Tobias while Eileen is a perfect angel who goes to great lengths to care for their son. I think it’s a nice idea, but I don’t see this being true based on what we know and can surmise from canon.

I think Eileen was probably abused so heavily that it closed her off from everything around her, including her son. There is really no other explanation for the fact that Severus Snape had long hair and stained, ill-fitting clothing (long hair that can be cut and stained and ill-fitting clothing that can be altered with magic). We know that grief can diminish a witch or wizard’s magic, in which case it makes sense that Snape grew up without certain amenities, but it gives no explanation for his hair being long and uncared for. Cutting hair requires no magical ability and poverty has nothing to do with it. If you look at photos taken during periods of great strife in places like Ireland, you might notice that while they are grubby and their clothing is ripped and badly fit, the boys have their hair cut reasonably, implying that even through financial hardship and famine, they are being loved and cared for at home at least to some extent.

Severus Snape at no point during what we are shown of his childhood exhibited any signs of an affectionate upbringing on the part of either of his parents. Harry noticed this in just about every memory of Snape’s that he sees.

I believe that Eileen was abused badly enough that she was no longer able to take care of her son and, while probably not strictly abusive like Tobias, was probably just as neglectful.

Of course, I think everyone has the right to headcanon a better upbringing for Snape. I just don’t think that it should cross the line into in discussions about his canon childhood, which is something I do see happening.

Sorry if this post is messy, by the way. I didn’t spend a lot of time rearranging and formatting; I just wanted to get it out.

I wanted to add something else quickly before posting. I’m not sure if I was clear, but I don’t fully blame Eileen for her part in the treatment of her son. She was obviously at least verbally abused alongside Severus Snape by her husband at least since she was a young adult. That being said, I don’t know how her parenting style would have been different if she hadn’t suffered abuse. One must imagine Sisyphus happy, or imagine that Eileen was trying her best and without the abuse would have been a significantly better parent.

[ranger-kellyn]

OH WAIT

in light of me reading the Imbalance comic, where Suki teaches a bunch of non-benders how to chi block, do we think Amon's henchmen who can chi block are like. an unintended consequence of Suki teaching them?? like how apparently Kyoshi originally trained the Dai Li and came to regret it because of how corrupt they became?

[trappedinafantasy37]

The last DeVir and the forgotten Baenre. Two noble drow forever exiled from their homes and abandoned by Lolth.

[theanimetrackstar]

I was thinking of a fmab and dr stone cross over, and I can't decide if Senku and Ed would immediately get along like a house on fire or if they'd immediately hate each other on the basis that they're eerily similar.

[oferwood]

In the very definition of society, Thayer was better than William or at least he should have been perceived that way, but all William could see was a lonely, bitter man intent on making those around him just as sad. “I have no shame for what Cassandra, and I did,” William shook his head in defiance. “You took everything from me, ensured that there was nothing for me in Margate and I was left with no other choice!” Despite his better attempts, William’s voice was raised at the former prince. All that separated them was not titles or fortune, but fury and the lengths they would go to. 

William had assumed that Thayer was like every high-born man, pompous and impervious to those without a silver spoon in their mouth but it was deeper than that. There was rage within this man that William seemed to invoke just by breathing, but now he would no longer restrain himself, William could match it. “You are nothing to her.” William tried to regain some semblance of control, but that task evaded him. “Less than, you are the man that took away the one comfort she had in that miserable place.” William stopped suddenly, looking over the man with a mix of disgust and, what he assumed, clarity. “You are nothing to her, yet you covet what you say I stole.” William wanted to be sick, preferably over Thayer’s boots. 

“You know nothing about accountability. You buy your way out of every inconvenience to pretend to be above the rest, claiming to be the standard for all to fail to achieve yet I have proof that says otherwise.” William’s eyes bore into the man. The spoke of piety yet William had letters to prove otherwise. Unlike William, his uncle’s grudge of Thayer wasn’t as secret. Nothing about Thayer was redeemable, dismissing everyone around him for the sake of titles and reputations, knowing full well the misery that would soon follow. “You bedded every woman you could, catching god knows what, ruining their lives sowing your seed without consequence without a second thought and now Cassandra is your retribution?” William scoffed harshly. “She is no pawn or prize to be bartered with nor is she your absolution. Perhaps you consider who should be your responsibility.” 

"You speak of hypocrisy, but I have accountability for which you lack. I do not hide behind the woe of wetting my own wick and mistaking amusement for love, find the easy path to endearment and exploit it. I repent on my own and I do not commit the same wrongs repeatedly on the innocent. The very harm I know I have caused; I have found a place to ensure no one else commits if you want to rely on such rumours. What you do, William, is in greed and she is not your currency, your reconciliation prize, or your pawn."

Taking the bribe would forever be one of William’s biggest regrets and shame and he knew that Thayer would never let him forget it. “A lifeline presented itself when you took everything from me, and I was left without a choice.” Those words had echoed in William’s head for weeks, trying to find some clemency in this mistake while knowing he would still make that choice again. Having nothing was something Thayer would never have to endure.

There was no time to react as Thayer put hands on William. A normal response would have been a swift fist to the man’s jaw but instead William just took it, allowing the man to manage him in such a way while taking some satisfaction from it. “I will speak her name however I see fit, be it with affection or gratification, you have no bearing on that.” William tone of voice was biting, his mouth turning into a smug smile, curling at the corners of his lips. “I will remember how my name felt coming from her lips as only I could make her sound,” There was a line that William wouldn’t normally cross, but rage had made him blind. “And no matter your threats, nothing will change that.”

"And well deserved by your own hand and cock," Thayer interupted him. "You look for something to gain, because if you knew better, you would not be here. You should cower in shame and get out of this town and away from here, but instead you hold her like a conquest. If you had loved her, you would not have put a price on her innocence to coerce fortune into your hands."

His fist was tucked behind his back, concealed under his sleeve of crushed velvet. White knuckles wrapped around the very same curl of fingers in anger, to hold it back and beg for sedation. Would she forgive him? That concept dares him to unravel, to give into this taunt with mind and body until there was none of that left for William to make such an attempt again. Forgiveness was meant for those who still wanted to be good, those with a chance for heaven or hell. Thayer's facade of kindness would come to light under self preservation, old habits screaming in protest to take hold but far from genuine. He does need it, not when he is bound to this purgatory.

"I am not her father, or her brother, or her family. I do not reserve protecting what is right to not insult her if it will still bring her harm. My responsibility is to ensure her prosperity and her goodness— give back what you have taken from her so impulsively!"

He'd been a soldier most of his life, orders followed with blind loyalty even if it cracked every tooth. He had sworn he was the toothless dog too endearing to put down, but he can taste it now. The jagged grin he tried so long to conceal if there, drawing blood with every word. With this damned title, he will instill it's worth and selfishly. He is a knight, but to Cassandra alone.

"You speak of hypocrisy, but I have accountability for which you lack. I do not hide behind the woe of wetting my own wick and mistaking amusement for love, find the easy path to endearment and exploit it. I repent on my own and I do not commit the same wrongs over and over again on the innocent. The very harm I know I have caused, I have found a place to ensure no one else commits if you want to rely on such rumors. What you do, William, is in greed and she is not your currency, your reconciliation prize, or your pawn."

The control is gone, and every ache Thayer had used to convince himself to linger in submission comes with the sweetest relief. His hands are on William's collar, pulling his come to understand this is not protected by formalities. Fingers wrap around his jaw to keep him facing Thayer with the spine of steel he swears to have, only a roll of his eyes capable of pulling him away. It's almost a dare to open that insipid little mouth, but a calloused touch is ready to climb past the polished bone of his teeth and tear it apart just as he's promised.

"Say her name again, butcher it, and I will ensure you have no tongue to do it again. Do not coat it in affection to make it easier to swallow because she is not yours. What you have taken from her is all you ever will."

[aroaceleovaldez]

I think one of the problems with the HoO characterizations is Rick kind of forgot to give half the cast hobbies and general interests, and maybe like people they know outside of their families and outside of camp, or if he did remember to it rarely gets brought up for most of them, or in the special case of Annabeth - she randomly develops a hobby in weaving for exactly one scene and then never again. Apparently she just knew how to do that, even though it is a skill she has literally never used before nor uses again.

The best examples I can give of this are comparing/contrasting the examples of when we do actually get this with the lack-thereof: Hazel and Frank are good examples. Hazel has hobbies and interests generally unrelated to all her demigod stuff (horses and art) and we see this repeatedly discussed and brought up. She also knows and interacts with people outside of the necessities of her quest/Camp Jupiter or her family - Sammy was her best friend at school and they hung out and stuff! Meanwhile, Frank, as far as we know, doesn’t know anybody outside of his family even though he presumably went to school before Camp Jupiter? His hobby is... archery? That’s the only thing he ever really shows interest in but at the same time it only rarely gets brought up except for him using a bow as his main weapon and the like two instances of noting that Frank had hoped he was an Apollo kid for a little bit. The closest other detail we get to Frank having any other kind of hobby/interest is him mentioning off-hand that he used to play Mythomagic.

Piper and Leo - We can presume that Piper knew Shel before moving to Oklahoma, because Piper used to visit her grandpa often and as far as we know that’s also where Shel lives. But we never see Piper ever mention knowing anyone else in her grandfather’s community. Heck, when she’s introduced we’re basically outright told that she doesn’t interact much at all with any of her classmates outside of necessity, and we don’t even have any confirmation that before Hera’s mind-meddling that she even acknowledged Leo’s existence. Also, Piper has like, exactly zero hobbies. We do not know what Piper does in her free time or what she likes (except vaguely that she has surfed before), only really what she dislikes. Leo at least does have some kind of excuse for not really knowing anybody, and an explicit explanation about why that is the case and how he feels about it. Leo also has a repeatedly referenced interest/hobby in mechanics that’s very core to his character.

Percy and Annabeth? Pre-HoO, they both have plenty of interests and know people outside their general circles! Percy knows kids at school. Annabeth’s general outer social circle is Camp Half-Blood, because she grew up there, but she clearly knows people at camp. She’s also super into architecture! And Percy does a ton of stuff in his free time - he skateboards! He plays basketball! He has two pets he takes care of (Blackjack and Mrs. O’Leary)! Post-HoO he’s on a swim team! But during HoO? Percy’s hobbies just kind of disappear, besides “oh yeah he uh. Does water stuff.” There’s no acknowledgement of like, “Yeah Percy sets up a little basketball hoop on the back of his door on the Argo 2 and shoots trash at it.” Literally anything! And yeah, Annabeth’s architecture interest is somewhat acknowledged, but also like, not really? We at least get some kind of “Yeah, in her spare time she’s usually on her laptop working on stuff” but we also barely get any instances of Annabeth thinking about her friends at camp except for like, Tartarus.

For Jason it at least kind of works because a.) he has amnesia and it’s implied he doesn’t really have close friends at Camp Jupiter besides Reyna, so it figures he only ever really references random other legionaries like, twice. and b.) there is also the heavily implication that Jason doesn’t have hobbies, because his entire life was so focused around his training at Camp Jupiter. This works less with Reyna, but she also kind of has an excuse for not knowing people besides like, her sister and Jason, given she ran away when she was young, Circe’s island was destroyed, and she could have only been at Camp Jupiter for like 3 years maximum at that point. And she’s not exactly the most social character. We also don’t get much indication of her hobbies, besides she also likes horses and it’s heavily implied she likes nature/gardens? Presumably, given we get like, one note of that in HoO, maybe two if you count her living on Circe’s island, and then like one more nod to that in TOA. And we only get her POV chapters in BoO anyways so again, she has some excuses. Coach Hedge also is incredibly bland besides maybe him having a hobby in sports, and... violence? Which definitely does not count. And him lacking any POV chapters doesn’t really help.

I think this is why Nico continually feels like such a strong character, simply because we know what he does in his spare time. We know he knows people outside of the camps (most of those people are gods or ghosts, but he at least knows people) and technically you could argue him knowing about Camp Jupiter between BoTL and TLO counts too. He even references his old neighbor at one point. Obviously, he’s very into Mythomagic, and that comes up a lot because it’s his special interest and is usually also relevant to their quests. He travels a lot, and apparently used to when he was younger as well. We also learn he used to have a special interest about pirates and that apparently may have played into his crush on Percy. Like, all that is so simple and minor but it makes such a difference for how Nico feels as a character. Most of Nico’s stuff though is established in the first series, which definitely helps because the first series was pretty good about giving characters hobbies and maybe some people they know - Annabeth, Percy, and Nico we’ve already covered, but also like, Grover knows other satyrs and is usually practicing music and also we know what foods he likes. Thalia is very into punk culture and music. We know she particularly likes Green Day. We know she knew the Hunters of Artemis before the events of TTC. Rachel's whole thing is that she’s super into art and she has a bunch of connections through her rich family, and she’s basically Percy’s only mortal friend. They have lives!

If you put a protagonist in a room and told them to occupy themselves, you should have an answer for what they do. They should be able to name one person outside their immediate social circle who they are generally friendly with or vaguely know, unless they have a specific reason for that to not be the case. HoO crew needs to occupy their time by themselves, no weaponry, for twenty minutes? Hazel could be drawing, Nico could be organizing his cards, Leo could be tinkering, Annabeth could be working on her laptop, Percy could be trying out little skateboard tricks. Jason, Piper, Frank, and Reyna? What would they be doing?

TOA does actually answer that question for Jason, at least, because we learn that Jason makes tiny dioramas! That’s adorable! Why doesn’t he do that in HoO?! TOA also gives us more depth to Will Solace besides “He’s a medic and does medic things” with telling us that he’s into Star Wars. Like, that’s actually so much information to work with! Thank you! And then we also find out in TOA that Nico’s also kinda into art! We still don’t get anything new for Piper, Frank, or Reyna - besides again one more potential implication that Reyna thinks plants are Pretty Okay, and that nature is Mildly Alright. Like, not even “maybe she keeps a houseplant” territory, all we have is “if she had the option, she might be interested in visiting a flower garden.” But honestly TOA at least gives us something for most of the characters we see. Like at least one thing. Most of the rest of the writing is a mess but at least the characters are mildly interesting.

Anyways, give your characters hobbies, it’s good for them.

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

There is a very exquisite agony in playing a game you love so so so so so much, and realizing that one of the other players is trying to play a totally different game than you.

[agoldenlily]

Waiting took forever and she wanted to pass the time with something other than the unnerved feeling that coursed through her. She wanted to hear him say something. She wanted to hear him tell her that what was on her mind was indeed what was on his. Those words would draw something out of her and they would fill her to the absolute brink. She would fall apart at the thought. She would bury herself in the moment were he to simply give in, that would be the kind of feeling that she hadn't expected, but it was everything that she wanted in the moment.

But what would actually happen were it to happen? What would the consequences be at the end of everything? Would they still come together this way? Would there be that feeling that seemed to hang over them whenever they were alone, caught up together until morning came and relieved them of the feelings? The questions circled around her mind in the moments of waiting that refused to end. The more that she breathed the more that the moment stretched on and on, without fail.

Wouldn't him coming nearer to her change everything? She knew that it would and yet there were selfish parts of herself that didn't care. She wanted the damage that it would bring, the shake up of the consequence that would befall them. Was that ridiculous? She felt ridiculous thinking it, even allowing it to have some attention. It was a stupid thing to even be allowing herself to think, given the way that their lives were. What would he even think were he to get a peek into whatever thoughts flickered about her mind?

The silence between them, as brief as it was, was nearly deafening. Did he feel that too? That stark feeling that cycled through her without reprieve? She wanted to have him come nearer and break whatever boundaries existed there even though she knew better. He knew far better apparently. Although she was scared that maybe if he turned back to look at her there would be a different look to his eyes. He could possibly turn his back on her simply because she had edged them towards this moment here. It was too much, wasn't it?

Only he does look at her again and it seemed that the moment moved in slow motion. She was highly aware of herself. Of the way that sensation felt colliding all across her skin, the way that he breath fills her lungs, how her heart beats there in her chest. She feels hyper-aware and the echo of it is almost too much because the waiting becomes far more intense, and there seems to exist a tensity that she can't settle.

His hand catches her own and there and she isn't sure what she's meant to do. She just watches him. Not quite transfixed, but nearly overwhelmed as she keeps her gaze on him. Had he done it on purpose? This simple act that seemed to sink into her, that would stay with her once he was gone. That was the only thing that he was going to do, this was the only moment that they were going to share. But then he pressed onward and his lips brushed her skin and she almost felt like she was lost.

He had intended it. He had known what would happen. His words seemed to prod at something that shouldn't exist. They both knew that it shouldn't exist. Although he would be leaving and she would be left with the feeling alone. She would be the one carrying it while he went off and it felt suddenly painful to even acknowledge the fact that his lips had left behind a feeling that she wasn't quite likely to shake anytime soon. Did that make her doubly ridiculous? It felt that way. Would he even think of this once the moment ended? Once morning came?

Regret. He says the word and she wonders on the meaning, on the likeliness of it, on the knowing that it might descend on them both eventually. Maybe he was right although he wasn't pulling away and so she felt somewhat tricked. He wasn't pulling away from her, he wasn't putting a stop, but he's the one who spoke of regret. It felt almost as though he knew that she would be the one grappling with the consequence. She wasn't sure if it was true, but that was what it felt like.

She turned away from him then, taking in a breath as she slipped her hand from his. The aftermath of that one lone moment was almost too much. She lifted her other hand and covered the spot where his lips had touched, a burn leftover that she was sure would last far longer it should. It was too much. She was putting too much on this one moment and she knew it. He would find her overdramatic rather than ridiculous. Isn't that what Aviendha called her at times? She delved far too much and came up from it far too emotional?

"I think I drank too much." She used her covering hand to brush across her forehead to ease the breathlessness that she felt. She let out a small laugh before she looked back at him over her shoulder briefly, just a quick glance. She tried hard to make it seem lighter than anything. She wasn't going to ruin something. That's what this could lead to, wasn't it? Eventually moments like these, if they kept happening, would ruin whatever dynamic they had together. "You probably did too. I thought you could hold yours?" A joke. Hardly funny and thoroughly choked but it still came out.

Although the question of why it happened remained. Why did they come back here once in awhile? Why did they feel the need to continually spiral towards moments like these when the quiet settled in? Elayne was uncertain but she grasped so hard for these moments that proved she wasn't alone. That proved that this was more between them than simply a Queen and a General. She took down a hard swallow and ran from the answer that blared as brightly as Saidar did.

she's left him. she's moved past him and now stands at the center of the room. the lights play off of her in an array of colors, reds and golds. all brilliantly gathered together around her. her pale skin is still flushed from the drinking. had she drank a lot? he has to wonder. he has to consider. but it's hard to think when she's so blinding standing there in front of him. like a weight on his chest that just wants to crush. he tells himself to look away but then she's talking. the bottle is cold in his hands. but it's not the reason for the chill that seems to run through his whole body when she starts to talk again. soft, like a light prickling sensation through his whole being. he wishes she wouldn't.

she lifts her hand. he holds his breath. was he really that pathetic? but he seems all too aware of everything that she's doing. even if it's simply just her pushing her hand back through her hair. it doesn't do much, in fact it makes her curls fall a little looser in her face now. she looks a little undone, doesn't she? not at all all made up and proper like she usually is. he lets out the breath he took, shaky, feeling terribly unsteady. he wants to rage about it. but looking at her then his mind is completely blank.

what was he waiting for? had she really asked him that. the challenge in her tone probes at him. it could mean a million different things, couldn't it? could she really be asking him to do something that they both now he shouldn't? the image is vivid in his head, too vivid, too real. it's dangerous just sitting here suddenly. it wasn't supposed to be like that. coming here had felt like something if a reprieve. but now he felt like it was something that he ought to run from, something to hide from. only he doesn't do much by way of any of that. he simply looks up at her.

he feels the weight of all of it in his chest. he considers taking another drink. dismissing her as some foolish girl. that's what she's being, isn't it? a bloody foolish girl. and she might even hate him a little bit if he told her that. elayne didn't like hearing the truth about things like that. it would be the easiest thing in the world to brush it off, another pull on the bottle, a laugh. wouldn't that be the better thing to do anyways? and then he could just leave the room. maybe he wouldn't sleep very good tonight. tossing and turning and what - ? thinking of her?

blood and ashes, but that was the most mad thing that he had ever thought. he wants to shake himself of it. but she's looking down at him now, and he's looking back. she's right. the bet had been pretty amateur. there were a million other things that the two of them could get up to here. alone in this room together, sharing a bottle. his mind is restless, something he can't seem to control. burn it all what's the fun in controlling it anyways? and what did it matter? they always seemed to end up here anyways, alone, together. was that reason enough to throw caution to the wind?

well, he had never being a cautious person. that much was true. he had never done much of anything to keep a steady even path. he liked to try his hand at risks. he liked to jump in blindly. luck, that had always been something he was about tt o get his hands on. so why not now? see where the dice fell? see what laid n store for him in those wide blue eyes. they seemed to toy with him so effortlessly, probing him to do something stupid.

he had been different lately. the world had shifted and mat felt as if he had been forced to do the same. shift into something else, react differently, do differently. always bloody busy, preoccupied with building something he had never wanted to be apart of. it was all so much. elayne would go on about how it was all worth it. but light help him, it was exhausting. mat cauthon had never been cut out for saving the world. this was more his style. getting drunk with a pretty girl and forgetting about the world for a while.

elayne told him once or twice that she wasn't surprised that he was there to help. seemed like a bad joke, to think that she could change her mind about him. he remembered her begrudged thanks in ebou dar, sometimes that was an easier pill to swallow. sometimes he didn't know how to respond when she treated him like he was her friend. being on her good sign felt like it only caused him more trouble than it was worth. but what about this? what side was this? certainly one he had never seen before. one he's sure he might not see again. so where was the harm in making the most out of it?

he sets down the bottle. it feels like something final. just setting it down on the ground beside him. are her eyes on him still? he's looked away briefly, if only to try and get his wits about him again. only it seems to fail. because when he looks at her he's not thinking straight. burn it all, he doesn't seem to be thinking at all. he just moves to stand up. not feeling as unsteady as he thought he'd be. it'd be a lot easier to write off if he was a lot drunker than he knew he was right then. it all comes without plan, but too much thinking. only he's sure no one would be able to tell.

now that he's standing before he considers taking her in his arms. it's a startling thought. it's the first time any thinking got that far. landing him in trouble he hasn't gotten into just yet. he can see himself take her up in his arms, no thinking, no words. just her close to him. she had never been that close to him. but it seems that he can feel her almost, the soft lines of her body pressed against him. but he doesn't do it. he feels frozen suddenly. stuck. and it's as much of a disappointment as it is a relief. but he does reach for her, taking her hands in his. caution comes into play, but it's not as much as he's sure it should be. because he still lifts her hands, letting his lips brush over her knuckles. the contact of her soft skin grazing his lips is too much. is something he shouldn't know. "i think you'd regret it." but he doesn't let go of her hands.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Kinda nuts how the Titans power scale is:

World Ending: Wally, Raven

Heavy Hitter: Donna, Garth, Kori

Above Average: Vic, Gar

Human: Dick, Roy

It's also kinda crazy how the people in the 'world ending' category are both heavily associated with red skies when they lose control of their powers.

When Raven goes full demon mode the sky turns blood red and starts storming. When reality starts falling apart due to speedster shenanigans, the first sign is a bright red sky and lightning storms.

Basically what I'm saying is that the Titans send out Wally and Raven in 'full god mode' only in absolute emergencies and they monitor them via the sky. The sky starts turning red? Time to reel them back in before reality collapses in on itself!

[good-beanswrites]

hi hi ! i hope requests are open ? i wanted to request something with 05 - any trial ( but if in t2 , id lme it if it wasnt about 06 or 03s injuries if thats ok?) and with any prisoner just not 07 06 or 03 ... maybe more on the angsty side..? i hope this is ok aknskdnsñ

Ah thank you for the request!! Shidou my beloved... It makes sense, but it's still a shame how often he's paired with all the others, seeing as he has enough angst all on his own ;---; I placed this kind of between trials/beginning of the second -- Shidou's one interrogation question always made me think he was trying to quit smoking that trial, but I always wondered if he succeeded. TW for brief mention to his suicidal mindset.

Shidou remembered being the envy of his coworkers, always praised for such steady hands. The thought came to him bitterly while he cooked. His trembling fingers fumbled with the knife. He asked himself again why he’d decided to quit smoking.

It isn’t as if quitting now can save me.

But that’s what he was hoping for, wasn’t it? That one good decision after so many misguided ones could change his fate? That the path to atonement didn’t need to involve any more death?

He couldn’t count how many times he’d repeated the list of symptoms to patients, yet he found himself frustrated with each new consequence. The sleepless nights, the shakiness, the dizziness – even his cool temper was tested by the irritability of withdrawals. 

After snapping at Yuno for something harmless, he’d offered to take her place as cook for the night as way of apology. He assumed taking on her chore would help keep his mind off of things. He prepared a familiar meal, one with many fond memories attached. 

The task only succeeded in aggravating him further. 

Since removing his gloves, the sensation across his palms had driven him mad. Objects felt foreign between his bare fingers. The herbs weren’t cut as precisely as he liked. The vegetables didn’t cook correctly. He had to rush the timing. Things spilled and splattered more than usual.

Shidou swiped some hair away from his face, glowering down at the countertop. He may not be in his best shape, but surely he was better than this? As much as he tried to avoid it, a thought wouldn’t leave his mind.

I usually have another pair of hands helping me out.

Cooking continued in a heavy silence. Not even the simmering from the stovetop or the gentle clink of utensils could lift it. 

When everything had been added and stirred, Shidou dipped a spoon into the pan. He tested his creation.

Not quite right. I followed the recipe perfectly. What’s missing…?

He went back to the scattered ingredients. A little of this went in the pan, a little more of that. He took another taste. Then another, a few minutes later. No matter how he adjusted the meal, the result was the same.

He grasped the edge of the counter, trying to curb his frustration.

“Sh-Shidou?” 

Haruka peered his head into the kitchen.

“What are you doing in here?” He straightened. His voice came out with its usual coolness; if he wasn’t careful, people often mistook it for harshness. Seeing the way Haruka flinched, he tried to speak easier. “Is dinner late? My apologies, I must have lost track of the time.”

“It’s just, the others were, uh. You’ve been in here a long time, and… I’m s-sorry to bother you.” Then, a moment where he studied Shidou’s tense expression. “W-what’s wrong?”

It’s not like hers. It’ll never be like hers again.

“Nothing at all.” Shidou mustered up a smile for him. It wasn’t his fault the others had become impatient. And, it could hardly be called impatience – it was long past when dinner should be ready. “Go tell the others it will be ready momentarily.”

“O-oh. Okay.”

Shidou took a long breath. He had already lost so many pieces of her. He had nothing of any of them, in fact. There wasn’t anything he could hold close – no photographs, no possessions. He had no familiar rooms to sit in, or paths to walk along. Most mourners are haunted by a house full of reminders of their loved ones, but Shidou would have seen that as a luxury. Now, he couldn’t even have this.

Once he finished cooking, he made a plate for everyone but himself. He slipped out of the dining hall unnoticed. Everyone was too excited with his finished product to bother with him.

That’s nothing new…

The panopticon was quiet. His cell was quiet. With his gloves back on, the soft touch on the smoking room door barely made a sound. Shidou pulled a lighter from his pocket. 

He’d rid himself of all cigarettes when he first quit, but it had been easy enough to find a stray one tucked somewhere in his room. Maybe he’d left a few on purpose – something in his subconscious knew he’d break down eventually.

It took a few tries to get it to light in his clumsy hands. He couldn’t help listing off the reasons his hands could be trembling. Nicotine withdrawal, general hunger, bodily fatigue, emotional distress… it could go on. 

It was a relief to take a deep inhale. He felt his chest unwind a bit. His mind finally slowed. 

He shouldn’t let himself feel so relaxed. In a place as dangerous as this, one good decision may not save his fate, but one more misguided decision may seal it.

He’d never admit it out loud, but –

That thought is a relief, too.