#but I think I’ll stop trying to justify every little thing and just have a little more fun with it

[turtleblogatlast]

Also hey I wanna say too that pretty much every single headcanon ever is valid. Even if they aren’t popular, even if they go against canon, even if they change on the regular and make for a throughly transformative work.

I think fandom is supposed to be fun and honestly it just acts like a toybox of sorts? With all these malleable characters as action figures that you play with as you like. If you wanna make them bigger or smaller or change their species or what they present as or how they sound or even act - you can! You can and you should!

Have fun, because you’ll inevitably find others who like what you do too. And even if you don’t, as long as you like it, then that’s what matters.

[jacqueline-01]

You're Safe With Me

A.H x Y.N

healing from toxic family, comfort, fluff

The boutique lights sparkled softly against the polished floors as you stood in front of a row of delicate necklaces. They gleamed like tiny constellations, arranged neatly on black velvet. Your fingers hovered over one—a simple gold chain with a small, crescent moon pendant. It wasn’t flashy, but something about it called to you.

You hesitated, heart pounding as your mind raced back to the echoes of your childhood.

“You don’t need that,” your mother’s sharp voice rang in your ears, cutting through the calm of the present. “Why are you even looking at things like that? Do you think we’re made of money? Do you think you deserve it?”

You could still feel the burn of embarrassment you’d felt as a child, standing in stores like this, admiring something small and simple, only to be scolded for it. Even when you’d had money of your own—birthday gifts, babysitting money—it had felt impossible to spend. Every purchase had come with scrutiny, criticism, or worse, guilt.

“You’re being selfish,” your father had once said when you’d asked for a new pair of sneakers, your old ones too worn to wear without socks showing through. “You already have shoes. Why are you wasting money on another pair?”

Aaron’s voice broke through the storm of memories, his presence grounding you. “Do you like it?” he asked, his tone gentle and encouraging.

You blinked, realizing your hand was still frozen in mid-air. “Oh, um… it’s nice,” you murmured, but the conflict inside you was already bubbling over.

He stepped closer, his steady warmth chasing the cold from your chest. “If you like it, let’s get it,” he said simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “It’s too much,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Aaron frowned, his gaze softening as he studied you. “It’s not too much,” he said firmly. “Y/N, you don’t have to convince yourself you don’t deserve nice things. You do.”

The tears surprised you, stinging your eyes before you could stop them. “It’s just… it’s hard,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to—well, I wasn’t allowed to buy anything unless it was ‘necessary.’ Even then, it was like I had to justify everything. I’d saved money for years, but it didn’t matter. It was never really mine.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened, his protective instinct kicking in as he reached for your hand. “I hate that you went through that,” he said softly. “It wasn’t fair. You were a kid—you should’ve been able to enjoy things without feeling guilty or controlled.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, soothing the ache of memories long buried but never forgotten.

“When I was younger,” you continued, your voice quieter now, “I remember seeing a bracelet I loved at a little shop in town. I’d saved up enough from babysitting to buy it, but my mom…” You trailed off, biting your lip as the memory surfaced. “She told me I was wasting my money. That it was stupid to spend money on something so ‘useless.’ I ended up putting it back.”

Aaron’s hand tightened around yours. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “No one should have taken that from you.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to push back the tears. “It’s just a necklace,” you said, almost to yourself, as if you were trying to convince the little girl inside you.

Aaron turned you gently to face him, his eyes meeting yours. “It’s not just a necklace,” he said. “It’s a step. It’s a way of saying, ‘I can have nice things because I want them, and I deserve them.’ And I’ll be right here, helping you take those steps, no matter how long it takes.”

With his encouragement, you finally let yourself pick up the necklace. It felt weightless in your hands, yet the act of holding it carried so much significance. When Aaron handed it to the cashier, you didn’t protest. And when he fastened it around your neck in the car, his fingers brushing your skin, you felt something shift inside you—a small crack in the wall of guilt and control that had defined so much of your life.

As the two of you drove home, your fingers absentmindedly played with the pendant, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Aaron glanced over at you, his eyes soft and full of love. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated before answering, your voice quiet but steady. “I was just thinking… that little girl I used to be? I think she’d be happy. She’d see this and know it’s possible to feel free someday.”

Aaron reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “She’d be proud of you,” he said. “And I am too.”

For the first time in years, you felt that maybe, just maybe, you were finally stepping into a life that was truly yours.

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Avior Quotes

this was so hard to cut down; this isn’t even half of the original list. also some angsty ones snuck in bc it’s AVIOR. @mokozroach ta daaa~

“I’m just a little testy after being trapped here for who knows how long thanks to the religious fanaticism of an uninformed peon.”

“The human who never stops asking questions, and the demon who thinks he knows everything. We make quite the pair, huh?”

“Do you trust me? Good, you shouldn’t.”

“If you ask me — which, no one ever does, but hey, when has that stopped me — …”

“I’m sure it feeds that knowledge hungry gremlin that’s apparently forever tap dancing across your neurons.”

“Don’t look right now, okay? Look at me. Look at my eyes. Yeah, like that. Just keep looking at me. Shhh… Hi.”

“This place won’t be the end of either of our voices, Starlight. I won’t let it.”

“Kissing you makes me think of lots of things. Some of them are even nice.”

“I wish I could show you Aria. It’s almost as beautiful as you.”

“What are you doing? I know what a hug is, Starlight, don’t be obtuse.”

“All I can tell you is that I fell in love with you two years ago when we got trapped in this place together. And I loved you two years later when I pulled you back in. And I still love you now.”

“I love the way you do that. How you hold my arms like that when I hug you like that. [..] It’s cute. And so are you.”

“But have you considered that means that everything visible here is a kind of illusion? Including… my clothes?”

“You look so heavenly like this, Starlight. Bathed in ethereal light. Gold dripping from gorgeous skin. Lips that taste like cinnamon and hope.”

“I feel things with you, that I’ve only tasted in the hearts of others before.”

“You’re an awakening from a dreamless sleep I didn’t know I’d settled into.”

“You make my heart bound. And you make my cock throb.”

“I’m left threadbare and shuddering in the wake of you.”

“In truth, the limits of my magic are the limit. But I would expend every last ounce of it for you.”

“Only you could leave me speechless. A rare gift.”

“We will be free of this place. But in the meantime, I’ve found a different kind of freedom in knowing you.”

“Deft implements like these deserve praise. I could just say you have nice hands.”

“I’m happy. Even in the midst of literal hell, surrounded by imagined medieval torment of damned souls… with you, I’m happy.”

“Tell me about it. Yes, the boring coffee shop, tell me about it. I want to hear it.”

“Simple pleasures. The things that shouldn’t feel special. But when I imagine them with you, I cherish them.”

“Starlight. Look at me. Please.”

“I do love you. But love is too easily used as an excuse for terrible harm.”

“You have one life. One fragile, beautiful life. Please don’t throw it away.”

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. Just let me help.”

“The things I feel for you fly in the face of every justifiable fear and suspicion this situation has burned into me. And yet, somehow, because it’s you… I don’t mind that.”

“I’ll grapple with the existence of my people’s ancient gods and them giving us a mission to save the world in a second. Right now I’m just trying to wrap my head around the idea that you don’t fucking hate me.”

“I’ll always find you. I feel you. Like a lighthouse in my senses.”

“In every hell we find ourselves, you’re heaven to me.”

[penelopesbaby]

"I’ll have a...."

Xanthus x reader

____________________________________________

The whole night had been an absolute blur. From killing off Xanthus' long lost traitor of an old friend to finding almost every alliance dead, including love who was in terrible condition. The trio, Xanthus, Dontis and love found their way back to the previously abandoned car in the middle of the woods next to the blood stained bayou.

Dontis sits in the driver seat while Xanthus sets love down in the back, sitting next to them to patch up the cuts and bruises given by audrick as a form of experimentation, test how strong the bond really was.

He was a sick man, a sad case of what tragedy can do to a person. And though Xanthus knew this, he could never feel remorse over his death. No matter how sad and "justified" his kidnapping and torture felt to audrick, Xanthus would not let him get away with the abuse he dealt to his love.

"Xanthus stop it that hurts." They whine, as he wipes a cut with the rubbing alcohol found in the first aid kit in the backseat.

"I know love but I need to patch you up, it will only take a few minutes, please be still." He replies grabbing the bandages.

In the front seat, dontis' mind is still trying to process the past few days for him, wondering if his hunter is safe, worrying for xanthus, and his lover who they only recently got back. It doesn't help that the couple in the back are yelling at each other over the pains of cleaning a wound.

He doesn't know what to do this time. For the first time, he has no words. Making a joke in a serious situation would only annoy the couple more, and words of encouragement would only fall on deaf ears. The only thing he can think of to make the situation better is... stopping for some food.

Its a perfect plan. Maybe not for xanthus, of course, but knowing his lover has had close to no food in their recent situation can only transfer the feeling of hunger and agitation to xanthus through the bond. Soothing love might fix things a little, at least he hopes.

"Xanthus stop touching me! I told you that shit stings-" "Well I need to disinfect your wounds! You've been covered in filth the past fews days what if you get-"

"Are you two hungry?" Dontis speaks above the bickering couple. "Theres uhh... a mcdonalds up ahead I think. [name] you haven't had much to eat, have you?"

The car falls quiet. Theres a moment of silence while love realizes how hungry they are before answering, "No, I haven't."

"Well let's fix that. I’m tired of listening to you two argue, so figure out what you'd like to eat." Dontis says while pulling into the drive thru.

"The line is quite long." Xanthus chimes in.

"I agree. I don’t feel like waiting and I’m sure your damsel doesn't either. Let's go inside." He responds.

Love looks around with confusion at the two unfazed men before making a statement they thought was obvious.

"We can't just go inside. I’m drenched in blood and sweat.. what if they kick us out?"

"It's McDonalds. I don't think anyone these days actually care. Especially not at 2:30 am." Xanthus responds and they only shake their head before getting out of the car.

Walking in and heading to the counter, they skim the menu to figure out what they're going to eat. Xanthus doesn't eat fast food. Or mostly any food for that matter, so he waits for love to tell him what they want while Dontis orders his food.

"Yes I’ll have a... Double quarter pounder with a large fry, a 20 piece mcnugget, 2 McCrispys and another large fry with a diet coke."

Xanthus and love glances at each other with wide eyes.

"Lord, Dontis!" Xanthus exclaimed. "Now that's really watching your figure."

"Gains can always come back but my McDonalds order can't, and I’m hungry!"

Xanthus scoffs, "Yeah yeah sure, what do you want love?"

They scan the menu one more time before answering.

"A 10 piece, medium fry and... a water."

"Will that be all?" The employee asks.

"Yes."

-----

"Fuckin weirdos man what the hell.." the employee thought before handing them their food and taking one more look at the blood stained clothes love was wearing.

"Guys.. We should probably eat in the car right..? Like to avoid staring." Love suggests.

"I don’t really care if people stare. But if you insist. It'll be better anyways, as I can continue patching you up." Xanthus replied before opening the door for them to walk out.

Dontis is already eating one of his orders of fries while they walk out, side eyeing Xanthus because he knows he's gonna hear more complaining about how bad the rubbing alcohol hurts from the backseat. At least the silence was nice for a while.

____________________________________________

I really love this idea! I think it was really cute, and I have an idea for an extended ending (please lmk if you wanna read it)

Tysm for reading!

-💋👠💄

[viridianevergarden]

I’m sick and tired of hearing these:

“Elain will come around”

“Lucien deserves someone too”

“They’re mated”

“They’ll get along eventually”

Please.

These arguments are literally the most popular arguments that I see all the time in nearly every comment section about them.

Perhaps it’s me being overdramatic or in general a bit of a hot take but I feel like the people who say this have a little ���� internalized misogyny.

Like imagine genuinely feeling uncomfortable around somebody who you’re match made with and people continue to debate over whether or not you should “come around” just because the man deserves it.

Just because your dear Lulu deserves it?

It really rubs me the wrong way. What about Elain’s wants? What about her feelings? Her thoughts? As if her body language wasn’t obvious enough of a tell tale sign of her discomfort. Not to mention the fact that Lucien is also uncomfortable around her.

Moreover, regarding my thoughts on Lucien:

I also feel like the same people who say these things are the ones who truly glorify Lucien and think him to be some innocent puppy or just an all around good guy.

Do we not remember the fact that he enabled Tamlin’s abusive tendencies by doing nothing for Feyre? Do we not remember that he tracked Feyre down like some hunting dog to get her back because (mainly) Tamlin wanted her back? (Even then, it was all about Tamlin rather than Feyre, the one actually suffering the most.)

Lucien’s eye widened slightly. “We need to get out of here. Tamlin’s been—he hasn’t been himself. I’ll take you right to—” “No,” I breathed (ACOMAF, ch 47).

All about Tamlin.

I understand Tamlin saved his life. I understand that Tamlin means a lot to Lucien. They’ve been friends for centuries. I get it. But his constant “I’ll try to talk to him” wasn’t enough. I feel like Lucien should’ve been the bigger person in that situation with Feyre. She literally begged him for help.

“I begged you,” I said, the words sharp and breathless. “I begged you so many times to help me, to get me out of the house, even for an hour. And you left me alone, or shoved me into a room with Ianthe, or told me to stick it out.” (ACOMAF, ch 47).

He knew and recognized the fact that Feyre was actively wasting away under Tamlin’s discretion yet he chose to stand by because Tamlin is his friend and a High Lord. It’s honestly no better than kicking an already downed man.

Not to mention the fact that he compared Elain to his dead ex lover? And questions if Elain is even worth the attention or attempt to bond with? If she is even worth risking his life for just to get to the Night Court after betraying Tamlin? (Not very mate-like behavior). Kind of shitty if you ask me.

Lucien isn’t an amazing person, just as everyone else in the book. No one’s a 100% good guy in ACOTAR. But some actions (or rather inactions) are justifiable just as some others are not.

So all this talk about “Lucien deserves love too” while Elain is merely treated as a prop for him because he deserves love and not her too is utterly ridiculous. It’s gotten to the point where I neglect looking into ACOTAR comment sections lol.

Now with all of this being said, I don’t hate Lucien. I don’t love him either. He’s just there for me. There’s plenty wrong that he’s done just as anyone else. I just wish people would stop babying him and glorifying him as if he’s some saint. He deserves better than that.

And most of all, Elain deserves better treatment too. But then again, people in this fandom are ✨delusional✨ and close minded so I don’t think that may happen. Especially not until Elain’s book release.

Rant over.

[littledollll]

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request a Larissa Weems x fem reader fic? Reader is an outcast too, she can control people's dreams (for better or for worse) however she can't control her own, and she's the language teacher at Nevermore and her and Larissa have been dating for a little while now. One night she has a really bad nightmare about something from the past, Larissa manages to wake her up from it; as reader had been clawing at her own skin, making it bleed etc and when she wakes up larissa has her arms pinned and is trying to calm her down? Like laying on top of her trying to level out her breathing, kissing her cheek as she whispers "You're okay, you're okay." Like Larissa baby-ing her, that kind of thing? I'm sorry if this is a little long

I’ll keep you safe

Larissa Weems x outcast!reader

Warnings: annoying teenagers٫ Stress٫ nightmares٫ unintentional self harm(it’s not too focused on), being physically restrained, idk what else

A/n: Anon i have to say, i loved this request so much i got down like 6 paragraphs in about 10 minutes, instant ideas so thank you!!, I chose Spanish since you didn’t specify and it’s my first language (in short im lazy)

“We’re doing oral reports in two weeks! I want you all to pick a topic of interest and do research on it, this will have to include a progress turn in every two days, I don’t want you guys doing it all last minute, that’s one grade. Then your written work, just what you’re going to say up front so I can follow along and assist you when you need it! That’s another grade. The final grade will be your oral report, there’s different criteria I will be reviewing but that will be in a handout I’ll give you guys on Monday we will discuss it then!”

You can hear the collective groaning and complains coming from all sides of the class, “wait when do the two weeks start”, people trying to convince you to do something else, “Would you consider adding more time?”, those asking if they can skip the oral part and just to the other two things, and the two or three going “oh does it have to be in Spanish” like it’s not the whole point of the class and assignment.

“It will be three easy grades don’t let me down guys! Yes I know how much you guys hate it but it’s in the curriculum and you will need this depending on what you want to do in the future. You! Yes my love we can negotiate the turn in period, don’t worry”

“No I am not changing the assignment! No you can’t NOT do the oral report, you will lose a full grade unless you can give me a justified reason as to why you can’t speak up front. Yes it has to be in Spanish that’s the whole point, please calm down!”

“I will give you all nightmares if you don’t stop complaining!” The whole class went silent. Finally. “But I can just as easily help you guys out if you just behave and ask nicely. As I said the details will all be discussed on Monday so stop screaming at me, class time is already over, we could all be in our rooms by now if you guys didn’t throw a tantrum”

Your abilities as an outcast were something you genuinely loved about yourself, being able to control others dreams came in handy more than you’d think. You’d use dreams to give extra practice for those who asked (which was mostly the music, choir, theater kids), those who needed extra study time for tests, when you knew your students needed comfort or a safe space, specially since you could allow them to remember their dreams. It being the last class of the day you dismissed them and headed to Larissa’s office.

————————————————————

Once you came in Larissa greeted you. “You seem rather annoyed.. stressed? did something happen, beloved?”

“Just my last class, I assigned oral reports and they are not happy about it, i mean they were basically screaming at me about it, I love them, really, I do but they don’t know how to listen!” You sighed, coming around her desk and wrapping your arms around her behind her chair.

“Who would have thought advanced Spanish students would hate Spanish so much! I know it’s not personal but the way they groan and complain isn’t that encouraging either, just makes me feel like I’m doing everything wrong.”

Larissa’s hands soothed over your arms, taking one of your hands in hers and kissing it. “You’re the cool teacher, they aren’t used to not doing “fun” things in class, they’ll come around٫ love. Is there anything I could help you with?”

You groaned, hiding in her neck. “No, you’re right, I’m sure they’ll be better Monday once I explain.” Larissa nodded.

“30 minutes and we’ll get out of here, alright?” Teachers got out one hour before the principal, leaving you to wait for her everyday. You nodded and went over to one of the armchairs٫ pulling out your phone and deciding to answer emails.

You whined, dramatically putting your head on her desk, she chuckled. “More complains?” “You think they understand what “I’ll explain on Monday” means?”

They were stressing you out even more, and in your experience٫ Stress means nightmares.

————————————————————

“Love?” Larissa woke up to your squirming she thought you just couldn’t sleep, then she heard the whimpers, from there it somehow got worse so fast. The way your hands gripped your arms, your hair, how you curled into yourself, what broke Larissa out of her trance was a sob that tore through your throat. It was enough to spring her into action as she forced the sleep from her mind.

She was trying to be gentle, you were scared enough, frantic, she didn’t want any sudden movements to hurt her or you. First she tried to grab one arm, trying to shake you awake. “Angel?-“ she gave up on that quickly as she saw the cuts made from your own nails that ran down your arm and how you tore away from her just to claw at your own skin, alright option two. She straddled your legs to stop the kicking, taking your hands pinning them down.

She settled for talking you down as her thumb rubbed over your palms in what she hopped would be a calming notion “you’re okay sweetheart, you’re our room my love, it’s just us.” Your squirming died down but you were still tense, your complains and whimpers never stopped, the way you were gripping her hands was clear sign the squirming stoped merely because she essentially forced it.

“Oh my darling girl.. it’s me, my love it’s Rissa, it’s just a nightmare, my sweet, listen to me.” When you calmed slightly more she decided it was safe to loosen her hold and lean over to turn the lamp on. “It’s time to wake up darling.”

The way you snapped awake made her heart clench. How unsettled you looked, the way you looked around the room and eventually up at her, pupils blown wide panic written all over your face. She smiled at you reassuringly and leaned down kissing your cheek and forehead. “It’s okay, my sweet little love. You’re okay with me, angel.”

She didn’t want to fully surround you, it would be too much while you’re already panicked, but she also couldn’t afford you hurting either of them in that state, so she waited, and spoke softly. “You are in Nevermore, in our room, in our bed.” Larissa deemed it safe enough to let go of your arms, gently cupping your face. “I know, my love that you’re scared, but I’m with you, I’ll protect you for anything and anyone, you are safe, 100% safe, I’ll make sure of that, yeah?” You only nodded.

Larissa gave you a second. “Would you like me to move away?” You shook your head, wanting to cry at the thought, she saw it, and moved slowly, moving to your side and turning you with her, she hugged you tight and purposely slowed her breathing for you to follow, you of course did. She only hugged you tighter when she felt your arms coming shyly around her and you hid into her chest.

“I’m not expecting you to tell me what you just lived, nor am I asking, but if you want to my love, I will listen.” You shook your head again. “You hurt yourself angel, a lot, we have to take care of that later okay? But I’ll take care of you, I’ll keep you safe every second.” You frowned and looked up at her. “How can you be so sure..” you barely mumbled out. “Well because I risked a slap across the face to save you from you.” You giggled. “I’m- very sorry.”

She pinned you down and furrowed her brows. “Are you apologizing for having a nightmare?” She kissed the tip of your nose. “Is that stupid?” A kiss to your cheek this time. “Did you cause the nightmare?” Now on the other side. “No! you know I can’t- ohhhh” she pressed a final kiss against your lips and moved to look at you, making you smile. “Right, so it’s not your fault, which means you don’t have to apologize for that, my beautiful beautiful girl.” You blushed at that, hiding your face in your hands.

“Would you like to try going back to sleep?” She asked as she moved the lay beside you, and you shook your head, curling into her. “Darling, you got here exhausted.. you still are. I’ll wake you if the nightmares start again, and the lamp will stay on.” You didn’t say anything, instead pulled yourself closer to her and closed your eyes, she smiled. “Sweet dreams, angel, you’ll be okay with me, I promise.”

[neon-kazoo]

Helloo I love your work I wanna just munch on it every time you post >:)

I have a request but you totally dont have to do it I bet your probably busy with others anyway lol

If you could could you do a scenario where the Hero gets pretty sick and cant go out, but they have a public reputation they need to hold on to. And the Villain owes Hero for saving them once so they have to go out and impersonate the Hero? And they start to realize how hard and miserable the Hero has to work after saving somebody? Tyy :D sorry if to specific lol

(Hey! Thank you for the request, it’s my first and I’m flattered! Hope you like it <3)

Calling In Sick

A faint jiggling could be heard from inside their desk. Villain sighed, hanging their head for a moment before opening the drawer and answering the call.

“I’m not interested in purchasing an extended warranty-” they began, only to be cut off by a familiar voice.

“It’s Hero, dummy.”

Villain pulled the phone away from their ear to glance at the number on the screen.

“How did you get this number?”

“That’s not important,” Hero spoke hurriedly, “What is important, is that I need you to be me for today.”

“You need me to be what now?” Villain questioned, raising their eyebrow in a show of confusion, despite being completely alone in their office.

“It’s simple, you just have to put on the costume-”

“Why would I do that?” the villain asked incredulously.

“Because I’m sick!”

Hero coughed pitifully for emphasis.

“Surely you have someone else you can call,” Villain replied, dumbfounded.

Was this a joke?

“Not on such short notice. Please, Villain, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Why would I care about your sterling reputation?” Villain laughed.

They were a villain, after all. Their entire role consisted of making the hero look bad.

A sniffle and sigh traveled through the speakers before Hero spoke again.

“You remember the City Tower?”

Of course Villain remembered the City Tower. They remembered the blaring of a horn, a hard shove on their shoulder, and the burning of skin against pavement.

How could they forget when Hero saved their life and never let them live it down since?

“Ugh! Seriously?! You push me out of oncoming traffic once-“

“Twice, actually.”

“What do you mean ‘twice’-”

“City park?”

Damn it. The pond incident.

“Fine! I’ll put on your stupid costume,” Villain grumbled.

A little impersonation was nothing compared to saving a life. Plus, if they really thought about it, the villain supposed the deception of the act was villainous enough to justify partaking in.

“Great! I’ll text you where to pick it up,” Hero informed them cheerfully before promptly hanging up.

A chime and a buzz came through the phone a moment later, and Villain gathered their things and headed for the door.

One finicky zipper and some shimmying later, and Villain was passable as the city’s golden savior.

Now what?

They wandered around town aimlessly for a while, getting a multitude of strange looks from citizens going about their day. They froze when they heard sirens whooping around the corner, before they realized that they were currently residing on the right side of the law.

Right. Think like a hero.

First order of business, save some people.

The spotted the red and blue lights, breaking into a sprint to follow them around a corner. They arrived at a building a few blocks later, and walked in just as a perimeter was being set.

“Hero! Thank God you’re here! My baby, he’s still up there!” A woman cried, pointing up to a balcony that appeared to be on the verge of collapse.

A boy hung off the side of it, feet kicking to try and find a grip on the wall.

Villain took off running towards the building, climbing three flights of stairs before they realized they hadn’t stopped to count what floor the boy was stuck on. They quickly located the nearest window and kicked out the screen, ducking their head out and looking down then up.

There, two floors directly above them dangled the kid, and it looked like he was loosing his grip.

His fingers slipped away, but Villain was ready. They braced their legs against the wall and leaned out as far as they could. As the child dropped, Villain caught hold of his forearm, stopping his momentum and allowing Villain to pull him inside to safety. The boy was crying, probably a product of the terror of falling combined with the shoulder that had just been wrenched from its socket.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. It’s okay,” the villain-turned-hero repeated in a whisper as they carried the boy down the stairs and past the (too-late) emergency personnel that had flooded the building.

Stepping outside, Villain easily located the hysterical mother and making a beeline for her. The second she saw them coming, she burst into tears and broke out into a run.

Villain handed over the kid they had cradled in their arms to the woman who reached them at record speed.

Relief washed over the mother’s face while she looked over her son. She pushed his hair back behind his ear, whispering to him how worried she was and how glad she was to have him back on ground level.

Something changed when she saw his arm, however. Fury overtook her features as she realized that an injury had been sustained by the boy during the ordeal.

“You let my baby break his arm?!” She screeched, whipping her head back to the temporary hero.

“It’s not broken, ma’am,” they started to explain, “it’s just dislocated-“

“I’m going to be telling the news about this!” She spit, turning towards the ambulances on the perimeter and marching away with a huff.

“Absolutely unacceptable!” The villain could hear her yell as she walked away, injured-but-alive child in tow.

“I had no idea this profession was so thankless,” Villain murmured under their breath.

It wasn’t until they had to fight past the sea of cameras and wall of reporters shouting questions (that really sounded more like accusations) that Villain realized just how idealized they’d viewed the job of hero. There clearly was no simple fame and glory to be earned here. From what Villain could tell, it was mostly ridicule and media coverage masquerading as a reward for their heroism.

And no sick days?

Hero must be truly miserable.

If Villain was a little easier on Hero after that day, then nobody was any the wiser.

[marshvlovestv]

It's halfway through November but I still have a couple of these I wanted to fill but didn't get to!

Prompt number: 21 "We've done worse"

Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: G

Warnings/Tags: Mental health issues, schizophrenia, paranoia. Ship: Boyd/Fred

There is a stain on the cover of the manila folder. It’s an undistinguished blob, it smells like rancid spilt milk. When the tall man picks up the folder, his thumb goes through the stain and then it flickers and it’s gone. Boyd gasps, because for a moment, he feels all clear. In which case, he wasn’t clear before.

Which means he’s made a mistake.

“This says ‘Classified Psychonauts Intelligence’ on it,” says the man holding the folder. Question marks come out of his mouth. “Boyd, why is there classified Psychonauts intelligence in our kitchen?”

“Who are you?” Boyd gulps.

The man crouches. He looks Boyd in the eye. “It’s Fred,” he says, and Boyd starts to recognize him. “It’s Fred, okay? What’s going on?”

Boyd takes a breath – that’s getting a little easier. Fred looks worried, looks sad. Sometimes Fred is actually someone else, someone they call Leon. Leon is brave and angry and he fights for the people he loves, and he says he loves Boyd just as much as Fred does. But Leon is new and Boyd can’t trust him yet. Fred is here now; Boyd holds his hand out and Fred takes it, squeezes it.

And Boyd admits. “Agent Vodello was here.” She’s teaching him how to be a good psychic, she’s helping him, she’s only ever helped him. “She brought the intel with her. So, so I intercepted it.” It was barely even sticking out of her bag, he had to dig for it while she went to the bathroom…

Fred knits his brow. He’s looking at Boyd with disappointment and with pity and like he’s heard something like it before. He puts his other hand on Boyd’s shoulder, then runs it up his neck, to his cheek. Fred runs cold, and it’s soothing. “Why’d you take it?”

“These Psychonauts… they’re not working in our best interests, are they? They’ve got their hand up the government’s trousers, trying to sell their brain-powered tanks to the military!” Boyd doesn’t believe it, not as much as he did half an hour ago. But he has to make himself believe it. It’s the only thing that makes sense, it’s the only thing that justifies what he’s done…

“And what are you gonna do about it, Boyd? Huh?” Fred raises an eyebrow.

Boyd hangs his head. He wrings his hands together. “I could always… I took…”

“If the Psychonauts have brain-powered tanks, I think they’ve already got the two of us beat, no matter how much intel we steal.” Fred is good at pretending to believe what Boyd does. A long time ago, when he wore the same white clothes every day, he used to argue with Boyd, try to convince him his theories were wrong. Now, he pretends. Boyd appreciates it. “I think that if we give this back, there’s a chance they won’t try to vaporize us.”

It sounds silly coming out of Fred’s mouth. It’s silly. Boyd almost laughs, but tears come out instead. “I messed up.” He trembles and he imagines the benevolent, generous Psychonauts punishing him by kicking them out of their new home, stopping his training, putting him back in the hospital…

“Hey…” Fred says as he takes him in his arms. “It’s an easy fix, okay? You know how understanding Agent Vodello is.” Too understanding. It’s almost suspicious. “Not to mention, we’ve done worse, you know?”

Fire dances in Boyd’s eyes. It’s not a welcome sight.

“Both of us have,” Fred continues. “I’ll help you return the folder. I’ll, uh, I’ll pretend I was your, you know… accomplice.”

Never before has anyone been so willing to step into the world as Boyd sees it. Well, plenty of Psychonauts have tried, with their little spy doors… But Fred doesn’t have a psychic cell in him. And here he is, putting himself on Boyd’s level. “You don’t have to…” Boyd mutters against his shoulder.

“But I have to, Boyd. I have to.”

[raainberry]

Moonflower - III

« In literature, the moonflower has been used as a symbol of love, mystery, and enchantment. »

Sana x gn!reader

Okay maybe it’s angst this time

synopsis - your job is still flowers. she's still not sure how she got into this mess. but maybe you could get her out of it.

- part I - part II -

wordcount - 3.4K

TW - like three (3) of the same soft cuss word

A/N - here is my first piece of work that made me cry out of frustration (we will be blaming emo hours). now if you saw my breakdown live on the tl two days ago, no you didn’t. and if you saw my update yesterday saying this very thing would be up later that day, no you didn’t either. i fell asleep, your girl was running on three hours of sleep (wonder why🥰) it happens to the best of us SORRY. hope you enjoy it though! im actually not too mad at how it turned out🤭

“How would your wedding look like?” She asked, taking a sip of her water bottle.

You chuckled softly at the question, wondering what had prompted it apart from the obvious.

“I haven’t thought about that.” You answered truthfully.

“Not even once?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.” She said, convinced of her own words.

“Am I?”

“You’ve helped hundreds of people with their own.” She pointed out. “It’s impossible not to think of what yours would look like.”

“I help them choose flowers. I’m not organizing their entire reception.” You argued.

“Then you probably thought about that much.”

You turned to her.

She was right, but you weren’t lying either.

Flowers were the only thing you’d envisioned so far.

“So which is it gonna be?” She insisted.

“Moonflowers.” You answered, making her chuckle.

“I could have guessed that.”

“Yet you haven’t.”

You fully expected the way she rolled her eyes at you before looking away to focus on the dark horizon.

A small, comfortable silence settled between the two of you. One of many throughout this spontaneous outing, and with each one, you seemed to appreciate them a little more.

Because they never seem to last with her.

“I’ll get the moonflowers.” She blurted out, cutting the moment short yet again.

“What?”

“For the wedding.” She said, almost shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Given the context, it was, but still… You stayed silent, thinking back to the very reason you were even sitting beside her at the moment.

The two of you were parked at the top of some small hill overlooking part of the town, laying against the windshield of your car and sitting on top of the hood.

All your problems seemed so small up there, barely even deserving of a thought. The afternoon you just spent together did wonders for your souls.

She had asked you to drive around before going back home. That somehow lead you to hours of wasting gas and money at random shops, most of which you’d never even heard of.

The more you followed her around, the more it all felt like a getaway. Not in the idyllic sense, rather in the literal one. You could tell she was avoiding her apartment. Obviously you had an idea as to why, and maybe that’s what pushed you to give in to every single one of her requests.

It was nice doing things she wanted.

Sana eventually realised that was the true reason why she delayed returning to her apartment over and over. She couldn’t care less about the man living there with her, nor about whether or not he was actually waiting for her there.

She just didn’t want it to stop. The feeling of mattering. Of being considered. Being seen. Heard.

Her smile slowly returned as hours went by, justifying everything you’d done for her in so little time. It gave you purpose, proving you weren’t losing your mind in vain.

Because boy did she drive you insane.

Was she really still going through with it all?

“Why don’t you choose your own?” You asked her, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts.

At the end of the day, it was none of your business. It wasn’t your decision to make.

“Possessive much?” She teased, and you straightened yourself up. The top of this hood suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“Not necessarily. But the only way you’re getting moonflowers at your wedding is by marrying me.”

That’s what you heard yourself say just seconds later.

You’d mumbled it to yourself, letting your old flirting skills and days get the best of you for some reason. You looked at her, hoping she hadn’t heard or at least not enough to get it.

A second passed. Then two. Three.

The lack of questioning was alarming, and in good reason.

You had managed to make her speechless. Unwillingly, yes, but it only made it that much more unbelievable.

Even thinking she couldn’t do, as if her mind had short-circuited at the thought of marrying someone else than the man she’d been conditioned to.

“It was a joke.” You finally spoke up, hoping to break her out of her trance.

It was the truth. It might have been borderline flirting, but the main goal was humor. You were technically joking.

But still. All she did was blink.

Maybe she needed help at finding words, that’s why her lips suddenly fell on yours, right? To steal them from you?

You mentally chuckled at your ridiculous thought process, ashamed of it as if it had been heard by the whole world. Good thing it faded out with each one of her kisses.

She was efficient, you’ll give her that. However what stuck with you was how soft, how delicate her lips were against yours. It debilitated all cognitive functions of your brain. The power was out for at least three seconds at one point. You couldn’t think straight, kissing her back as if you were supposed to.

As if she were yours to begin with.

It’s unclear how long it took for you to gain enough sense back, all you knew was that feeling her bite down on your bottom lip did the trick.

The faint pain as she tugged on it ever so softly snapped you back to reality, warning you about what would come if you didn’t pull away in the next second.

You felt your heart race as it all sunk in.

The one thing you had told yourself not to fall into earlier that day… A trap that seemed so obvious it managed to fool you. You practically jumped into it.

As much as you danced around it, you knew what you were here for. What you’d agreed to. What she wanted you for.

You knew you were just a pawn in her vendetta from the start. She’d made it very clear. So why did the whole idea just dawn on you now?

Maybe you’d turned a blind eye for as long as you could, you couldn’t say to save your life. All you knew was that you didn’t like it one bit.

So when she went for another kiss, leaning in to capture your swollen bottom lip, you made sure she never reached it.

That earned you a confused look from her, as if it were the first time her kiss was denied. The sight would have been amusing, if only you didn’t feel so torn yourself…

Your gaze reflected that to Sana, and she had a hard time figuring out what exactly was it that was so wrong.

Though she could at least tell you were tormented, it was only confirmed when you jumped off the hood.

She watched as you started to walk away from the car and further into the darkness surrounding you.

Where the hell were you going? You were basically in the middle of nowhere.

“Y/N!”

The sound of the rocks and dirt beneath your shoes faded out as you came to a halt, feeling her eyes burning into your back.

“Where are you going?”

You turned around, seeing she had stepped off the hood too, and taken a few steps towards you.

“I’m going home.” You told her, tearing your eyes off her as you started walking away again.

“So you’re leaving me alone in some hilltop at night in the middle of nowhere?”

No, you weren’t.

You made sure to brush right past her on your way back, though, heading straight into the driver’s seat.

Slamming the door behind you, you let out a heavy sigh you were sure she’d heard from outside. It took longer than you’d have liked for her to join you, only sitting in the passenger seat after making sure you’d calmed down.

Not a word from her. Not a sound from you. Only your clothes rubbing together as your leg showed itself to be restless.

You refused to look at her. She didn’t like the attitude, but a part of her could understand. So she didn’t say anything, and stared out her own window in silence.

As minutes went by, your anger and frustration slowly get overcome by a familiar sensation.

Greed. You wanted to know.

Nothing about this woman concerned you. Yet you wanted to know more. You needed to.

The feeling appeared as soon as she’d spoken up at the flower shop, and now it managed to appear without a single word from her.

It was only days ago. The speed of it all was frightening.

Yet you couldn’t help how curious the still silhouette in the corner of your eye made you. What was she thinking about now?

The wedding? Her fiancé? Herself? You?

Turning to look at her, you watched her through a calmer mind as your questions grew in number despite yourself.

“What’s on your mind?” You finally spoke up.

Your voice was louder than you remembered. It startled her, but she hid it well before meeting your gaze.

“Nothing you’d care about.”

You frowned internally. The same feeling as back in the flower shop again. You felt it back when she sat down beside you on the hood earlier too.

She was close. She was pretty. So pretty.

You suddenly felt jealous, and that pretty much signed off on the insanity of this situation you’d somehow put yourself in. Or maybe she’d dragged you in it, who cares, it wasn’t important anymore.

“Don’t get married.”

You whispered this time, but the words were still loud.

Sana closed her eyes, and the silence that followed was loud enough to stress about it. Your words had slipped out again, but this time you found nothing to cover them up with.

Partly because you didn’t even want to cover them up.

Her eyes opened again, allowing the cheap lighting outside to reflect on those beautiful brown eyes. You were in awe at that point. Tired, but still able to appreciate such a pretty sight.

“You’re so unfair.”

You snapped out of your trance at the sound of your own thoughts echoing through her lips.

“What?”

“You know why I brought you here, right?”

Her gaze fixated far ahead while you could only focus on hers. You weren’t trying to make her look at you, though. You were only trying to see what she was seeing.

“Answer me.” She ordered, attempting to conceal the weakness in her voice.

“I do.” You admitted.

“Then help me.” She pleaded. “I can’t do it alone.”

“I’m trying to.” You assured her. “Ever since you stepped into the shop, that’s all I’ve done.”

“Then why did you pull away?”

You sighed once more, finding interest out the windshield as well. Your lips parted without sound for a second, debating on whether or not you should let these words slip out too…

“I don’t want to be your scapegoat.”

Sana swallowed the knot in her throat. The truth was a little hard, but it remained. You were right.

She didn’t plan on kissing you earlier. That alone could have proven your worries to be wrong. However, everything she managed to think about as soon as her lips touched yours… It all gave you more than one reason to worry.

Giving in to desire was weak on her part. Part of her regretted it. It threw away all her hopes of ever pulling the spectacular revenge she dreamed about.

So she had to think of a backup plan.

What she managed to come up with was simple, deprived of any details she would normally be able to think of. Infatuation only allowed her to think of the big picture, while she focused on satisfying her desire.

By that point, she did plan on sleeping with you. She did plan on letting her fiancé find out. And after that, she did plan on throwing you under the bus if things ever got too much to handle.

Now that her mind was given time to properly think, she realised something very upsetting.

This so called backup plan was none other than her inital one. One she’d made up in the lowest point of her life, all out of hope and lost in purpose.

She was back at square one.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, making you look back at her.

Her eyes were closed, and you found out it was a weak attempt at stopping the tears from rolling down her cheeks.

The sight of them surprisingly left you indifferent. You stared at her in silence for a few long seconds, unsure of what to do, or say.

You were hesitant, but you were far from heartless.

Your index finger ended up reaching for her jaw, catching the salted droplet before it stained the fabric of her pants below. The one on the other side of her face might have, but that wasn’t something to worry about for either of you.

Sana’s mind was stuck on your finger lingering on her sharpest bone. The feeling of your skin against hers, of a touch as innocent as this one… It was conflicting.

She opened her eyes, catching yours by surprise. She expected you to, but you didn’t look away this time. That allowed her to notice the color of your eyes for the first time.

She couldn’t tell you why she got stuck on such a detail, and to be honest, she didn’t feel the need to find a reason.

She could, so she did. Something else she hadn’t been able to do in a long while.

And it felt good.

“Y/N…”

Your jaw clenched at the sound. Your name sounded so pretty enlaced in that sweet voice of hers…

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you anticipated her next words. The flutter in your chest made itself known again as the adrenaline left little room for shock when she’d eventually say them.

“Do you still want to sabotage a wedding?”

A heavy sigh freed the breath that had caught in your throat.

It dawned on you yet again. Hearing those words for a second time… You were going in circles. This really was nothing but a trap.

You didn’t know if she’d done it on purpose, if she lured you in or if she was just as stuck as you were—Hell, you didn’t even care.

You just needed to get out while you could.

So your hand found the key in the ignition, and it took no time for you to start the car up.

The sound of the engine revving as you prepared to leave triggered something in the woman sitting next to you. Something that made her heart race as she began mumbling something.

It seemed as though she was repeating something under her breath, her gaze out in the dark around you and absent like she’d retreated within her own mind.

Her words were loud enough for you to notice she was saying something, but not enough to understand it.

You froze at the scene, unsure if you should hear her out, reassure her or step on the gas. It was obvious what you should do, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to.

So she made you do it herself.

“I don’t want to go back!” She yelled over the engine, and grabbed onto your arm.

You let go of the key, her fingers tightening around your forearm as her eyes looked for yours.

“I don’t want to go back.” She repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

Your eyebrows furrowed, something you could only feel as your body reacted to her once more. You didn’t know what hurt more; seeing the tears pool in her eyes as she struggled to hold them back or her nails digging though the fabric and into your skin.

“Please...”

You couldn’t answer as something on her hand distracted you from the pain. Something shiny. A glimmer on her ring finger—most likely diamonds. Might as well have been rocks; it held no value in that so called promise between her and that man. At the least it didn’t for one of them.

You looked back at the bearer, your jaw tense as you thought. Your mind flashed back to mere moments ago. Why was she still wearing it? She had no right to. Not after leaving such betrayal on your lips.

“Then take it off.” You spoke up, your voice hoarse as if you’d been yelling for liberation.

Her mind was shaken, desperate to see through eyes that looked so unfamiliar now.

Your gaze was stern. It all looked blurry, as if you’d built a wall in front of what she had access to just moments ago…

“What?”

“The ring, Sana. Take it off.”

She barely glanced down at her own hand before looking back at you. The chuckle tasted bitter on your tongue.

“You can’t even face it.”

“That’s all I’ve been telling you.” She let out a defeated sob. “Why don’t you just do it for me?”

You looked back down at her hand, and her gaze followed yours to land there as well. She hated the sight of it. It felt as though it had been there forever.

All she dreamed about was taking it off.

All you had to do was take it off.

So you did, and finally slipped the ring off her finger, holding it between two of your own.

She mindlessly watched as your thumb and index rolled it around to observe it above the steering wheel. All that pain. All that torment. All because of a single, shiny metal ring.

“Doesn’t it feel lighter?” You spoke in an attempt to pull her out of her own mind. The last thing she needed was to get lost in it.

“I…” She trailed off, looking down at her hand, and finally seeing her finger naked in what felt like a lifetime. “It does.”

You trapped the jewel inside your fist, sighing as you leaned back against the back of your seat.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well…” Your hand found the commands of the automatic windows, pushing the button to roll yours down. “Whatever you do, you take care of yourself.”

Most people would have asked what the hell you were doing. If that ring didn’t hold any sentimental value, financially, it still held its own.

Not Sana, though. She didn’t seem phased by your action as she watched it land who knows where.

“Wait…” She trailed off, rewinding your words. “Are you not going to stick around?”

“I did all I could, Sana.” You started, your eyes focused out the open window as a breeze helped to dry off the tears before they even formed. “I kept my word and helped you. I took it off. But you’re gonna need to face him yourself.”

“But I can’t do it alone—“

“You have to.” You snapped, turning back to look at her. You ignored her lips parted in surprise, and continued. “If what I’ve learned about you in this short time is true, it’s the only way you’ll ever be free.”

“What have you learned?”

“Nothing.” You scoffed. “That’s why you have to do it. You’re the only one who actually knows how to deal with this. I can be by your side all you want, but I’ll never be any help. No one ever will.”

Your rant caused a small sob to escape her lips, and she ignored your surprise when she reached for your hand. You could only let her again, allowing yourself to relish in her touch and find pleasure in your body’s reactions to it.

You looked down at your joined hands, watching her intertwine them. You found yourself responding to her touch, your fingers closing around hers.

“Then at least stay.”

You softly caressed the top of her thumb, giving yourself some time to actually think before agreeing this time.

“On one condition.” You said, finding her eyes.

“What is it?”

You glanced down at your tangled hands.

It was an insane thing to look at. To feel. It didn’t make any sense. You’d only met her three days ago. You’d only spent an afternoon, part of an evening with her.

Yet so much happened. So much was felt.

You blinked, and her hand was still in yours. It felt good. But it lacked warmth.

It was telling.

At that moment in time, deep down, you knew this wouldn’t last.

Maybe you’ll part ways right after she’d break the engagement off. Maybe you’ll date and break up once you realise it was all comfort and reassurance disguising as love and affection. Maybe she won’t even break the engagement off.

Whatever the reason, you knew you wouldn’t see her at your wedding.

So you had to make one last thing clear.

“I keep the moonflowers.”

[archivalofsins]

My toxic Milgram fan trait is wanting to normalize being a little hater. Like actually stop trying to justify voting a character Guilty it's so fucking pointless and drenched in hypocrisy it'd be much simpler to say I hate them and move on.

Oh, but Gunsli, you wouldn't do that with a character, would you? Yes, and I plan too. I don't think people understand how little I care about people knowing my biases and exactly why I have them. So, for anyone interested in knowing.

Yeah, I hate Kotoko on an ideological level.

I am not interested in her second song, her crime none of it- I fucking hate this lady. The best Milgram is getting from me is either abstaining from voting or voting her guilty every fucking day of those three months. Bu-but why? Well, I don't really have to explain why I can just hate her like I said. I don't need a reason.

Well, it's because she jumped the other prisoners right- Because she jumped Mikoto and threatened to kill him, right? And you like Mikoto that's your bias, right?

22/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday)

Mikoto: Ah, Koto-chan. It’s been a while. Both of us have kinda split off from the group, but how’ve things been? A lot’s happened, but fr now let’s try to get along. I mean, it’s your birthday today, right? I got the feeling nobody else was going to do anything, so I came to celebrate.

Kotoko: ……how carefree. It doesn’t matter, a villain like you won’t be forgiven next time either. And when that time comes, it’ll be the end for you. I’ll make sure of it myself.

Mikoto: Ahh?? Just try and do it, you nutjob. I’ll crush anyone who hurts me…… You’re gonna be totally beaten at your own game……! [TN: The word “me” here uses first person pronoun “boku”.]

Kotoko: Hm. The border between the two is getting a lot vaguer. Your entire existence is a crime. And I will see you’re punished for it. That is what Milgram, and Es, and I have chosen.

Like, Gunsli I could understand if you didn't want to vote her Innocent because of that we all have our favorites we're only human.

Mikoto ain't a bitch like Shidou he can take care of himself. I ain't worried about ya'll girl she ain't about it, she a coward, she needed to order weapons because she really ain't that good. Hope she ordered herself a shield during trial two because she's going to need it. I'm sorry Mikoto better figure it out. Love him but uh nothing I can do about that if he gets killed by Kotoko I'll just be disappointed in him.

Outside of that I already didn't like her before she did that stuff. Well, damn what the fuck did she do? Nothing but be herself. I don't like her. I don't believe she's a good person. I don't think she's doing what she's doing now or did what she did before for anything other than the satisfaction of herself.

I find her mentality a direct threat to my personal safety for various reasons and will not support it. How about any of you guys try growing up and going to high school during the resurgence of fascism? Having people walk around armed with military grade weapons as you're just trying to get a book from a bookstore. All while stating they're going to make the world better through violence and see how you feel about people with Kotoko's mindset afterward.

See how any of you feel about it when you're at the receiving end of constant persecution based solely on how people like you are reported on in the news. Something that is never biased, as we know.

Like she was doing a good thing- To some in some people's opinion! I don't have time to argue about why this sort of mindset is dangerous to people who've never lost a thing from it, and I'm not gonna! I'm tapping out before her trial even starts. I did my investigation already I do not care.

So, everybody can miss me with that she killed bad guys shit because I recognize that I just think she's just as bad as they are and knows it.

I'm never voting her Innocent (Forgiven), it's a kindness I'm even considering not voting her at all. Unless I'm getting something out of voting her that way like a secured Amane and Mikoto Innocent verdict she can kick rocks.

Fuck her, the ideology she espouses, her justifications, the hill she lives on, the hill she'll die on and the horse she rode in on.

The worse sort of person to me is some nosey entitled son-of-a-bitch that comes into my life telling me their actions are going to make the world better by any means. So, if I have a problem with how they do things I can either shut up or they'll shut me up. Because useless weaklings should just be quiet and let themselves be protected by them.

Fuck that I'm not agreeing with that because that sort of thinking ends with people who look like me dead. Someone would have to have me all the way fucked up if they thought I'd agree to letting her of everyone here back out into society. There are enough people like that in my immediate vicinity to my ever-growing discomfort already.

So, yeah normalize hating a bitch for no reason. Normalize not having to explain yourself because I'm not about to hurt my own feelings trying to explain how this mentality is dangerous and harmful to people who don't care. Because they'll never see this behavior as the issue it is.

Simply put it's not about anyone else's ability to understand my reasoning behind my actions. The thing most important to me is that I understand the reasoning behind my beliefs, and I at least put forth an effort to interrogate those. Even if through interrogating those things I arrive right back at the answer I started with.

I at least understand why people like Kotoko at the end of the day and recognize this is my bias alone. While fundamentally understanding how someone feels about any of the characters in Milgram doesn't define who they are as a person or what they're willing to let others get away with in the real world. So, I don't feel like I have to defend disliking anyone or how I vote a character because it's my opinion.

I'm just gonna do what's best for me and keep it moving. If she wasn't a character in a piece of media, I'd care more, but she is. So, I can recognize her good qualities. Those are however outweighed by the multiple red flags and sirens consistently going off every second because of my background belting the words,

WARNING! WARNING! IMMINENT THREAT TO SAFETY!

As though I've entered a fucking sundown town at sunset. There is nothing in me that doubts this bitch would commit a hate crime and is therefore someone just unsafe for me to be around. Avid defenders would be like "Um sweety is it a hate crime to get rid of child abductors and criminals?"

I don't know, has anyone seen the film The Birth of A Nation or looked over the historical context around criminality? Or just read how the news reports on people who deviate from norms committing crimes regularly in contrast to how they report on the dominant culture committing crimes? No, I don't think anyone put that much effort into interrogating the ideology of the good looking subtly gender nonconforming lady.

Because they said oh bad guy bad, news said so- So, they deserve to be killed Kotoko is so right go off girl boss.

So here,

Kellie-Jay & the Neo-Nazis | Shaun One hour, fifty-six minute, and fifty-seven seconds long.

How Police Make Up The Law (ft. LegalEagle) | Philosophy Tube Forty-eight minutes and fifty-six seconds long.

The Hidden Rules of Modern Society | Philosophy Tube Forty-four minutes and fifty-four seconds.

The Americanisation of Blackness. TheStoryteller Twenty-eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds.

Triumph of the Will, or, "Yes, You Might Be a Fascist" | Cinema Antifa Twenty-two minutes and fifty-three seconds long.

How Black Americans Monopolized Racism Foreign Man in a Foreign Land Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds.

The Cultural Gentrification of Black Britain | EXODUS TheStoryteller Fourteen minutes and ten seconds.

The Need for Gangs? | TheStoryteller Twelve minutes and twenty-six seconds.

Why You Shouldn't Watch The Birth of a Nation (AND WHY YOU SHOULD) | Brows Held High Ten minutes and forty-nine seconds long.

There's a lot of videos that go over a good deal of the things I think about when considering Kotoko's case and mentality. So, anyone interested can go and take a look over this information and think for themselves whatever they want. I won't be discussing this because a lot of people in my opinion are very willing to cut off their brains and let Kotoko get away with whatever just to make themselves feel good.

People liked to discuss how Futa was radicalized through the Internet yet continue to ignore the clear radicalization of Kotoko through mainstream media. People all over widely accept everything put into mainstream media as true or unbiased. Because unlike the internet people believe mainstream media cannot lie without repercussions. Yet this is not always the case and the fact that Kotoko is so willing to end other people's lives over uncertain or extraordinarily little information based off the bias judgements of others as she continues to do even now is an issue to me and something I do not personally agree with.

Especially considering how mainstream media can be biased and get things wrong. She's just looking at what appears to be a more reputable source, a source with more authority than the internet mob then going it must be true because they said it. Just like how no one fact checked Es when they claimed that they were considered an adult in Puerto Rico and Haiti because why would Es lie? Why would the news lie? When has law enforcement ever forced a confession out of anyone or arrested the wrong person.

As a news article sits in Harrow about the jumping, we know Kotoko did with the police stating they assume the assaulter was a man. Not even going into the news articles that stated people paid to have information buried. But yeah, the information she had is much more concrete than whatever the hell Futa was basing his shit off of.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE CHARACTER SONG Vol.7 Seiron Syndrome by Mukami Yuma Mini Drama ”A Sweet Lesson”

Original title: 甘美な教え

Source: Diabolik Lovers CHARACTER SONG Vol. 7 Mini Drama

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Tatsuhisa Suzuki

Translator’s note: As a teacher who also taught at middle school for one year, I totally sympathize with the MC in having to try and teach someone who clearly does not care about learning at all lol. Although I guess in Yuma’s case, it’s a little more justified since these guys have been alive for a long time and they can perfectly survive without getting their degree so it must be pretty annoying to have to keep up with high school. :p Especially someone like Yuma who clearly wants to work with his hands and not with his brains. 

Yuma bursts into your room. 

“ーー Oi, Sow!! Teach me this school shit! ...If I don’t pass the upcomin’ midterms, Ruki will have my head on the choppin’ block for real.”

He walks up to you.

“Ah, god...What’s the big deal ‘bout gettin’ a couple of bad grades? Vampires don’t even need school for anythin’...! Come on, make some space for me at yer desk!”

*Rustle*

Yuma takes a seat.

“I brought the textbook and my notes with me, but I honestly have no fuckin’ clue what any of this shit means. ...I want ya to help me remember everythin’! Then if I still fail regardless, I can at least put the blame on ya instead...Right?”

“Ah, fuck off...! All ya need to do is do a proper job, right!? Get started already!”

You start teaching him.

*Scribble scribble*

“...I’ve never even heard of a grammar rule like that.” 

You frown.

“I can’t help it...! God, shut up! I just gotta get it inside my head, right!? Argh, damnit!”

*Crunch*

“...Ah? Ya want me to stop chewin’ sugar? Don’t ya know!? The brain needs carbs to remember all this crap!”

*Crunch*

*Flip*

“Ah! T-The doodles on that page areーー It’s nothin’ important!”

You chuckle.

“Hey, don’t laugh! Fuck...”

*Scribble scribble*

“...Why do we need midterms anyway? Damnit, I can’t be bothered with this shit...”

*Thud*

You flinch.

“God...Stop gettin’ scared over every lil’ thing. ...Whatever. I’ll just tell Ruki that it’s yer fault that I failed my exams. See ya!”

Yuma tries to leave but you stop him.

*Rustle*

“...!? Che...Don’t tug onto my clothes...”

You try to reason with him.

“...Hah? Ya can bet yer ass that I’m tellin’ him it’s yer fault! I don’t give a damn ‘bout how ya feel ‘bout it!”

You pout.

“Ahー Fuck! I wanna just go and water my plants already! So what if I’ve been failin’ my tests!? I’m goin’ to school at least so isn’t that the most important thing!?”

You tell him that he could always repeat his year.

“Ya really think I’m gonna stoop to the same level as that fuckin’ Sakamaki NEET and be held back a year!? God...! I just gotta do this shit, right!? ...But I’m only doin’ this one page today! ...’Kay, shoot me some questions. I gotta explain what these words mean, right?”

You pose question one.

“Haah...? I’ve never even heard of that word before...! I bet yer pronunciation just sucks! Read it one more time.

You repeat the word.

“Haha...Hahaha...Nah, got no clue. ...Ahー This isn’t gettin’ anywhere...I think I’ll go tell Ruki that yer a lousy tutor after all. ...Ah...This pisses me off...I’ll have some Sugar-chaーー”

*Cling*

“Ah!? Che...The jar’s empty...”

*Rustle*

“Hey, gimme yer blood. ...My irritation level has reached its peak now that I’ve run out of sugar on top of bein’ forced to study.”

He pins you down.

*Thud*

“I think I might feel a lil’ better if I have a sip of yer blood...Come on, where do ya want me to bite ya? Tell me.”

You protest.

“Haah!? ‘Let me go’!? God...That wasn’t the question...Guess I gotta punish that mouth of yers for spoutin’ bullcrap...”

*Rustle rustle*

“Ugh...”

 Yuma bites you.

*Sluuuurp*

“Nnh...Hah...Does it hurt, huh? Don’t talk back...It’d be a shame if yer blood were to drip down from the side of yer lips and go to waste...Nnh...”

*Sluuuurp*

“It’s kinda sweet...I bet you’ve been snackin’ on my Sugar-chan behind my back, haven’t ya?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t lie. Nnh...”

*Sluuuurp*

*Rustle rustle*

“Hahn...Nnh...Both yer lips and yer blood are kinda sweet for some reason...Anyway, guess I’ll suck from here next...Nnh...”

*Sluuuurp*

“Mm...Mmh...”

*Sluuuurp*

“...Hah. What? You’re tremblin’...Are ya expectin’ more perhaps? Hehe...Ya really are a Sow at heart. I can’t believe you’re gettin’ a kick outta havin’ yer blood sucked...”

*Sluuuurp*

“Hah...No more studyin’, huh? Hehe. Guess we’re partners in crime now.”

*Rustle*

“It’s all yer fault...So ya better don’t think ya can get out of this...Hahn...”

*Sluuuurp*

“I’ll savor ya thoroughly...Mmh...”

*Sluuuurp*

ーー THE END ーー

[auroraescritora]

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME - PERCY/NICO AU HIGH SCHOOL - CHAPTER V

Hi, we are back (temporarily). I'm still on my resting days, but I managed to bring you one more chapter. Hope you like it.

Previous chapters: CHAPTER I / CHAPTER II / CHAPTER III / CHAPTER IV

As expected, a new day came. The sun was shining brightly through the blinds, the birds were singing and they were late. Still, what worried Nico was not the fact that it was almost seven o'clock in the morning, but that someone was knocking on the door. And that someone was his sister, Bianca, who would usually be long gone to her first class of the day, but now was standing inside his room, watching them happily.

He was in a nightmare, that had to be the only explanation to justify the scene Nico has found himself in. Percy against his back, hugging him tight with only a sheet hiding their crotch. If Bianca decided to pull back the sheets, she would see it all, the marks on Percy's back and the hickey between Nico’s legs, impossible to miss even from that distance. And contrary to what he thought, Bianca decided to be kind. She waved goodbye with a lopsided smile and closed the door softly, though he could hear the sound of her laughter as she walked away down the hall. And again, he wondered what he was doing. He hadn't even… hadn’t reciprocated Percy the night before. He was the pettiest, most selfish person in the whole world.

Nico would’ve continued his self-flagellation if he hadn't felt the silent laughter against his back.

“Are you laughing at me?” Nico said, turning in Percy's arms. The boy was awake and wearing one of those smiles that infuriated and excited him at the same time.

“You have to admit, it's pretty funny.”

"No, it is not!”

"What's new? It's not the first time someone has caught us sleeping together.”

"Yeah? But it's the first time we're naked!”

“Oh.” Percy says, his smile softening. "It's even better.”

"You--you!"

Nico got up faster than a rocket, he grabbed the first thing he saw and threw it at Percy's head. When he saw it was a pillow, he picked up the object again and smacked Percy over the head with it until his arms began to ache and he was forced to stop, settling where he was, only now realizing to be Percy's lap. What pissed him off the most was the fact that Percy didn't even try to defend himself, laughing, sprawled across the bed like it was the happiest day of his life.

“Percy!”

“Gods! I think I’m dying. Did I go back in time by any chance? I still remember--

"Don’t you dare! How old are you?”

"Ten. Want to play house? I’ll build a fort out of chairs and blankets and we can--

"What got into you today, huh?"

"I'm happy. Don’t you?”

Nico stopped in the middle of another complaint, realizing that he was naked and still sitting on Percy's lap, just like he had a thousand times before, but this time, it meant so much more.

“Of course I am. But you don't have to go back to kindergarten.”

"Why not? It’s more fun than pretending to be a responsible adult.”

"We're not pretending… are we?"

“Nico." That's what Percy said before sitting down and hugging him tightly from the middle of his back. “I can fake many things, what I feel for you is not one of them.”

“I don't understand why now. What has changed?”

"Everything changed. You went away.”

“Per… I didn't know you cared so much, I thought… it was better if you didn't have a shadow following you around the corners.”

“Nico." Now Percy looked like he was in pain. "Who told you that? What made you think like this?”

“Well… it's just… you know… she said those things and I asked myself 'what if it's true?' I thought a little distance would be good.”

"For who? For me or for you?”

It was a good question. He just didn't want to feel so bad every time he saw those people in the school’s hallways, murmuring behind his back, things he didn't even want to know what it was, but deep down already suspected what it could be.

"Answer me.” Then Percy grabbed his face and made him look at him closely. "What were you running from?"

"Does it matter now? What will you do? Go after them and say how horrible they are? What... what's the use of looking back at the past?”

"When did you grow so much?" Percy didn't look happy about it, resigned at best.

“When I had to leave behind the one I loved the most.”

This finally silenced Percy, the boy looking at him so sadly it looked like Percy would burst into tears at any moment.

“I know who did this.” Percy said. “I needed to hear it from you. I didn't want to believe that she would do something like that.”

Nico found himself smiling, though it was a wilted, sad thing. That was the truth, people were mean and some of them would do anything to get what they wanted. The secret was not to be innocent and protect yourself, or try to stay away from their wrath. 

What could you do but try? He hugged Percy tightly and laid his head on Percy's shoulder. Since they were running late, there’s no need to rush things up.

***

When they finally went downstairs with their shower taken and hair combed, breakfast was already on the table; eggs, bacon, coffee, and juice. Something simple, but that they rarely had time to do. Why didn't they? Ah, now he remembered. Having to run from Will or explain to his father why he didn't want to spend time at the company had indeed taken up all his time and Bianca's as well, who ran from Hades as much or more than he himself did. But here? In the stillness without people chasing them was heaven, like a weight had finally lifted off their shoulders. It probably wouldn't last long, unfortunately. That’s why Nico wanted to take it slow, and maybe that way, he’d have more time to organize his mind and decide what to do from this moment on.

"All good?” Percy said in the hallway, as they left the room, heading towards the stairs to reach the first floor. “You've been quiet since we got in the bath.”

“Hm.” Was he that obvious or was Percy just paying attention? "I was thinking…”

"In what?”

“I… I just want to finish high school without the drama, you know? Graduate and try to make something useful out of life.”

"Is this about us?"

“I meant it when I said I didn't want a boyfriend. But I want my bestfriend back.”

"Allright.” Percy waved, all serious, though he had his hands on Nico's shoulders as they walked down the stairs, too close, to be honest. But it was a closeness Nico liked, even if he knew it made things more complicated. "Are you going to stop talking to me or is it about the sex?"

"I…" It was another good question. Did he want to get away from Percy?

“So there's no reason to put labels on what we are. It's just a name. I’ll never ask for something that you are not interested in providing.”

Nico knew all of this. Percy had never done something like that before and it wasn't now that his friend would start forcing him into something. In fact, Percy had been so patient that he'd been mistaking care for disinterest all these years. Now, he understood. Well, he understood because of yesterday. It was revealing. For real.

"Percy, look--”

“I understand more than anyone, but that doesn't change anything between us. I'm not in a hurry and I'm not going anywhere.”

"You promise?”

"I promise. I'm the same old Percy and you are my sweet little Nico. Nothing’s going to change.”

Nico blinked slowly and found himself lost in Percy's eyes, caught in every word and every whisper uttered. He knew all of this and hated how sexual the nickname now sounded, ‘my little Nico’ or ‘my sweet Nico’ spilling from Percy's lips in a tone so possessive and hot he should have run far away while he still could. He knew he should, and that was the problem, the urge and compulsion to get close to Percy was greater than any rationalization he could’ve had. When he realized what was happening, he found himself pressed against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, Percy right next to him, hands on his ass, their hips grinding against each other, and Percy's fingers pulling him by his hair in that kind of kiss meant for privacy of a bedroom walls.

He didn't remember Percy being this intense. Was all of this really because he'd been away for two years? The boy he knew was sweet, kind, and selfless. Now, most of the time, he could barely control himself when Percy decided that talking wasn't what they were supposed to do. Like in that moment, feeling Percy's hips grinding against his, almost making him come in his pants like a teenager, something he'd never was defore.

Gathering strength he didn't even know he had, Nico dragged his lips away from Percy's and took a deep breath and then pushed him away, just enough to disentangle their bodies, holding Percy by the shoulders at a safe distance.

"You can’t do that. You said you wouldn't force me.”

“I'm not forcing you.” Then Percy thought again and added, “I’m sorry. I won't do it again.”

Nico wasn't sure he believed it. Those green eyes on him, so intense they seemed to burn wherever they landed and the quick, gasping breaths told him something else, told him that if it was up to Percy they wouldn't be standing in the middle of the stairs.

"Percy, I don't think this is going to work."

“I said I'm sorry. I had to wait a long time. That's it. I'm not a monster, no matter what people say.”

“Nobody says anything.” Well, not since he went abroad. He remembered how Lou and Alabaster had hinted that Percy was waiting for the right moment to strike. And, all he had thought at the time was, “So what if Percy was? Were they jealous?” In the end, he'd walked away with a broken heart and another trauma for the collection.

“Hm, beautiful.” Percy smiled and this time Nico was paying attention. Percy took a step forward and contrary to what he expected, Percy didn't try to kiss him, I mean, not on the lips. Percy took his hands and brought them to his lips, kissing each finger separately. "I would never do anything that could hurt you. I hope you know that.”

"I do know.” Nico thought he knew, but he had discovered that good people could do bad things and after his last relationship, he wasn't sure of anything. “Just… let's take it slow, shall we?”

"Sure, Nico.”

Percy smiled once more and let both hands fall apart only to hold them in a comforting grip as they both looked down at their clasped hands. It was a scene he had never let himself visualize before, him and Percy, in a quiet place, nature around them, maybe some chairs stretched out in the sun and the two of them together, holding each other's hand as they watched the sun go down. Maybe… maybe if he was lucky enough. In a not too distant future. Maybe if they could--

“Here you are. How long will you whisper in the dark?

It was Bianca. Who else could it be?

***

For some reason, Percy wanted to laugh, even though the experience was turning out to be stranger than he'd anticipated. Instead of finding Hades who had told him he would arrive that morning, it was Bianca who had greeted them last night and opened the door for them; she hadn't asked anything and just said, 'Nico's room is in the same place.'

With a shrug, he had picked Nico up and headed upstairs, not the least bit put off by Bianca's presence. Percy admitted he was moving too fast, too eager, but who could blame him when as soon as they entered the room Nico had moaned softly and kissed him even sweeter, starting to take off his own clothes and lying in the middle of the bed with his legs open? He was only human, and like the weak being that he was, he did what Nico didn't have the courage to ask aloud, but said with his gaze and all that bare skin. Percy had knelt on the bed, kissed from Nico's legs to his neck to finally touch where he wanted most. Maybe he got a little carried away, touched too hard, because when he saw Nico, the boy was coming in his mouth and on his face, moaning as if it hurt and contracting so hard that for a moment he thought Nico was going to have an epileptic seizure; the only reason Percy wasn't worried was the expression of pure ecstasy on the delicate face of his baby, the heaving sigh as Nico relaxed on the bed and closed his eyes, calm and content.

He hadn't even cared about the result, him excited and frustrated, and Nico sleeping peacefully. It was his fault, plus Nico was under no obligation to reciprocate, whether they were dating or not. Taking a deep breath, all Percy did for long minutes was watch Nico sleeping comfortably on the bed, arms stretched over his head, gripping the pillows, legs spread and cock now flaccid, small and collected in the path of thin black hair that went from the lower part of his belly button to his groin, still wet with saliva and semen. Percy wanted to touch him again right then, turn Nico on one more time and see how long it took for him to come again.

In the end, making an effort to get away, Percy got out of bed slowly so as not to wake Nico up, entered the bathroom that was inside the suite and lowered his pants. It would be safer if he took care of things away from Nico, just to make sure he could behave the rest of the night; Percy knew how suspicious Nico was when it came to sexuality and trust, especially when a year ago Nico had broken up with his boyfriend and not told him the reason. And even if he suspected what had happened, that was none of his business either. If Nico didn't want to tell him, Percy should respect his decision. For now.

That way, He took care of things mechanically, found a clean towel, dampened it with warm water and cleaned Nico, then stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed with him. Percy had barely laid his head on the pillow when Nico wrapped his arms around his neck in his sleep, snuggling against him. Legs against legs and chest against chest, practically kissing him, stretched against his body.

"I missed you.” Nico murmured, sighing contentedly and falling back into his deep sleep once more.

Percy thought that had been one of the happiest moments of his life, Nico after so long letting himself be vulnerable around him when Percy thought that these scenes would never happen again.

Feeling a tightness in his heart as if it would explode at any moment and wanting to cry, Percy finally allowed himself to close his eyes and accept his feelings. He loved Nico, not even time or other people would make that same sense of completeness set in; no one made him feel as good and as powerful as Nico did, no one made him laugh or cry as easily, or create this crazy desire in him to be the best just to make sure he was able to give Nico everything he needed.

“I missed you too.” Percy ended up muttering back before falling asleep, pulling Nico closer and finally letting himself go.

Now they were sitting at the kitchen table, Bianca sitting across from him while Nico sat beside him, filling a plate with food and a cup of plain, unsweetened coffee, handing it to him.

“You still remember.” Percy said picked up the cup, taking a sip and inhaling the fragrance of freshly brewed and ground coffee, not as strong as he liked, but of exemplary quality. It was all so familiar that Percy found himself smiling, watching Bianca smirking and Nico pretend he wasn't embarrassed by the compliment. Nico was never very good at receiving them.

"I did nothing.”

“Hm.” He murmured, trying not to provoke Nico any further. But he couldn't help it, he followed Nico with his gaze, seeing him finally sit down and grab a glass of orange juice, taking a long sip before concentrating on his plate, when Bianca looked at him and asked:

"Percy Jackson, what brings you here?"

“Nico.” He said and smiled at Bianca. Between them there was never room for anything but outright sincerity. After all, she had allowed Nico to practically move into his home for those long, magnificent years and he wouldn’t do anything to break the trust between them.

"Are you serious this time?"

"Yes.”

"That’s nice.”

Bianca nodded, satisfied. She turned back to her food and raised a mouthful of eggs to her lips.

"What was this?” Nico asked, putting down his fork. He crossed his arms and glared at them.

"I wanted to know.” Bianca shrugged. “You arrived late yesterday.”

"I can’t believe this!” Nico covered his face and groaned anxiously. "Did you see us?"

"I saw everything.”

There was silence, however, not for long. Nico pushed back his chair and stood up, staggering.

“I need… I need to get my bag.”

Which was just one reason for him to hide for a while or until the blush faded away. Percy watched Nico drag himself out of the kitchen and turned to Bianca.

"So, then?" He asked. He knew Bianca wanted to say something, but he didn't want Nico to hear.

"You look different.”

"As?”

“More…decided. Mature.”

“Some things happened.”

When Bianca didn't say anything else, he shrugged and continued:

“Nico left and I found out a few things.”

"Things?”

"Nothing much.”

Bianca raised her eyebrows and Percy surrendered.

“It seems I was very nice and innocent. So I decided not to be anymore.”

"Do not tell me.”

"Nobody tells me these things! I thought Nico didn't think about…about…”

“Sex?”

“Apparently I was wrong and he thought I wasn't interested.”

"Hm..." Bianca looked at him for a few more moments and was merciful. “It's not your fault, it was that blonde girl who was always after you.”

"Damn it. I don't even like women!"

"And? I would be more careful if I were you.”

Percy knew this wasn't a threat but it was a warning, as Bianca would never do anything to get in the way of Nico's happiness.

"Do you think I should do something more drastic?"

“I think Nico would do something drastic if he thinks he's in the way.”

Percy stopped breathing for a moment and realized the seriousness of the problem, only now did he see that Bianca looked worried. She wouldn't be home when responsibility always came first for the Di Angelos; she wouldn't be wasting that precious time if Bianca didn't think it was extremely important.

“I'll take care of everything. You don’t need to worry.”

"It's what I hope.”

With that, they both lowered their heads and continued to eat until Nico returned, calmer and more composed. Both finished eating the rest of the food, and in a hurry, Nico soon pulled him by the hand and towards the car parked in front of the Di Ângelo's house.

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

As always, your feedback is always important. Thanks for reading!

[cloudsandcrescents]

☁️ Current Life Update ☁️

Just wanted to provide an update here as I know I’ve gotten quiet again. Anyone who knows me personally knows I don’t make excuses and don’t like to procrastinate. I’m pretty organized and love sticking to a schedule. No one has accused me of being either and I know my personal life and health (mental and physical) take precedent but I’ve always been one who feels the need to explain things and share updates because I’ve gained a bit of a following and the last thing I want is for anyone to think I’m abandoning these works or just screwing around.

Again, I know, I know, I don’t have to justify this and you all are always supportive and understanding but I also believe in transparency and my own personal accountability. It’s a little lengthy but here we go.

Shortly after I posted my last posting schedule, I was supposed to be taking a few days off from work. I am very susceptible to burnout and could feel myself getting too in my head, struggling with remembering to eat, not getting enough sleep, etc. That very first day of my break we had a very unexpected family emergency and I was the only person who was able to help. I’m an introvert by nature and while I do love my family, I really enjoy my time to myself and I try to prioritize that alone time because it’s integral in helping me prevent burnout.

This sudden emergency brought a familiar but sudden change that I wasn’t prepared for and immediately lost all of my days of my mini break to having to socialize and extend more of myself that I didn’t have to give away. That shot my mood down tremendously and further exacerbated negative feelings and thoughts that I was hoping to get away from. I stopped eating entirely and was averaging a few hours of sleep and was immediately thrust back into working.

After some much needing venting and conversation with my RDN and my therapist, I started to gather myself back together. Writing was resuming and I didn’t feel great but I did feel a little more like myself. About a week ago I started feeling under the weather but brushed it off, took some medicine and tried to keep pushing through it. It didn’t work. Despite taking medicine and trying to rest and eat properly, I noticed I wasn’t getting better and was gradually getting worse. Finally decided to go to the doctor and found out that I have pneumonia so of course my measly meds weren’t working and got switched over to some antibiotics.

So that’s where we are currently. Mentally, I still feel a little off but I’ll get there and was able to schedule some more time off next week. I have been writing in between where I can but nowhere near as much as I would’ve liked. Today’s feels the best so far but even now I’m probably only about 40%.

Again, I know an explanation isn’t really owed but I don’t like leaving you all hanging without hearing something from me. It feels like every time I get back ahead of things, something gets in the way and it makes me feel worse because it seems like I’m doing more updates on why I’m not writing than updates on new chapters.

If you managed to sit here and read all of this, I applaud you and appreciate you for doing so. I’m hoping that whatever this horrible spell is that I’m going through right now ends swiftly. I love writing these stories and I love sharing them with you all and I really want to get back to it more than anything. Sorry for the long post but you all are amazing and deserve to know what’s going on.

Thank you,

Your Friend Cloud 🩵

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev || AO3 || My website

Chapter 81: June 2017

[CLICK]

[HEAVY BREATHING, SLIGHT WHIMPER]

[SOUND OF A BODY DRAGGING ITSELF ACROSS A FLOOR]

[WHISPERS BEGIN, OVERLAPPING ONE ANOTHER, JUST LOUD ENOUGH TO BE AUDIBLE, ECHOING SLIGHTLY]

GHOST 1

—hurt me, please don’t hurt me, I won’t tell—

GHOST 2

—have any money, I swear, it all went into—

GHOST 3

—think you’re doing with that, you little—

GHOST 4

—away from me, you crazy witch, I’ll have the law on—

GHOST 5

—Bookmaster, she who holds the Keys—

GHOST 6

—feeling better, I promise I am, you can—

GHOST 7

—hurts, it hurts, please make it stop, I’ll do—

GHOST 8

—me say goodbye to Martin—Martin?

[Louder] Martin! Martin—my God, is that you?

ARCHIVIST

Aah! Wh-what—how—o-oh, God.

GHOST 8

I can’t believe…

Oi! Shut up, you lot, he’s not—just—just give us a minute.

[WHISPERS FALL SILENT]

Bloody hell. Like looking in a mirror…not sure where you got those eyes, though. Don’t think mine are that bright, are they?

ARCHIVIST

Who…what are you?

GHOST 8

[Broken laugh] You’re telling me you don’t recognize your old man?

ARCHIVIST

What?!

KIERAN

Look at you. You’ve…(heh) you’ve grown since I saw you last.

[ARCHIVIST GIVES A SOFT GROAN OF PAIN]

ARCHIVIST

I was seven years old…d-did you think I…was going to shrink?

[KIERAN GIVES A GENUINE LAUGH AT THAT]

KIERAN

I see you got my temper as well as my face. That must make your mother happy.

ARCHIVIST

Explains why she…hates me so much.

KIERAN

She doesn’t hate you.

ARCHIVIST

How would you know? You were—nngh—never there.

KIERAN

Are you—you’re bleeding. You’re hurt.

ARCHIVIST

[Through gritted teeth] Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.

KIERAN

Did they do this to you?

…

I’ll kill them. By God, I don’t know how, but I’ll kill them for this.

ARCHIVIST

Don’t pretend to c-care to justify—

[HISS OF PAIN, A COUPLE OF RAGGED BREATHS]

If you want to kill them…f-fine. Fine. Just don’t pretend it’s on my account.

KIERAN

What…Martin.

Of course I care. What makes you think I don’t?

ARCHIVIST

What do you think? You left.

KIERAN

For work. I was—you’re, you’re right, I was never there, not like I should have been, but it was because I was working.

ARCHIVIST

Mum—[gasps] Mum t-told me you…weren’t coming back.

KIERAN

[Deep breath] I won’t deny I…said some things I regret. But I didn’t mean them. I was coming back.

I asked your grandfather to make sure you knew you weren’t why I left early. Didn’t he?

ARCHIVIST

…

Well…yeah, he did, but…I, I always assumed…he was just trying to buck me up.

I mean, I f-figured if, if you really c-cared about me, you…wouldn’t have left me with…her.

KIERAN

Martin. Son, I…

Jesus, that’s bad. Let me see it.

…

Ah. Aye, I probably should’ve expected that.

ARCHIVIST

I-it’s…it’s not that bad.

KIERAN

Not that bad?!    You look like a Halloween decoration!

ARCHIVIST

T-trust me, I’ve had worse. (heh) Kind of sucks that—that it’s my…dominant hand, but…I’ll live. I think.

If…if I can g-get out of here, I can…there, there must be a hospital nearby. I just…[deep breath] I d-dont have the…energy.

KIERAN

That tends to be a side effect of major blood loss.

ARCHIVIST

[Faint laugh] I think that’s…the least of my problems right now, actually.

I was…already tired. Used too much of…m-myself in there. If I…had the strength…

KIERAN

[Anguished] What do you need? I—damn it, Martin, I haven’t been able to do anything for you. Tell me—

Oh, fuck.

ARCHIVIST

[Calmly] Okay, that’s…probably not good.

KIERAN

Don’t you dare die on me, you hear me, boyo? I love you, but—

ARCHIVIST

[With a sudden burst of energy] You don’t get to say that. Not yet.

KIERAN

[Sighs] My temper, all right. And every ounce of stubbornness from both sides.

Here, if I can…I can help you. I can—

Okay, maybe I can’t rip up a pillowcase and tie that hand up for you. Wouldn’t trust that bedding anyway. She bathes more often than he does, but I still don’t know what’s on those…

Tell me what to do. Tell me how to help.

ARCHIVIST

I…

Tell me what happened.

KIERAN

What?

[FAINT GROAN FROM THE ARCHIVIST]

[FABRIC RUSTLES, THE BED CREAKS FAINTLY AS THE ARCHIVIST LEANS AGAINST IT]

ARCHIVIST

I’m…it’s, it’s a thing I’m…becoming. It’s…a long story. But when people—when they t-tell me their, things that have happened, their…(heh) their deepest, darkest secrets…I, they kind of…fuel me.

Tell me…why you left. How you…got here.

You’re, you’re dead. I didn’t—

[Realizes] F-fuck! Fuck, he—he was right. You—you were in the Book.

KIERAN

You knew about that?

ARCHIVIST

Aunt M-Mary…showed all three of us. The Book, I mean. To, to scare us into line.

Gerry…Gerry told me that…he thought you m-might have…been in it. But I didn’t…

KIERAN

Gerry?

Wait—not the Gerard those two are always going on about?

ARCHIVIST

Yeah. Gerard Keay. We…we call him Gerry.

What—how did you…

KIERAN

It’s not a nice story.

And I’m not sure—you don’t need to know that. You don’t need to…

ARCHIVIST

Hate Mum?

KIERAN

I didn’t say that.

ARCHIVIST

You didn’t have to.

[A PAUSE, BROKEN BY THE ARCHIVIST’S RAGGED BREATHING]

I work for the Magnus Institute. Taking statements is…kind of what we do. I’m…in the Archives and…I have, the-there are things I can do. Not…nice things. Not really.

KIERAN

…Will it really help you?

ARCHIVIST

Yeah. Fear…I sort of…eat it. That’s a bit of an understatement, but…so-something like that.

And…it might…connect us. Dunno. Never…never taken a statement from a ghost before. But…

Sometimes I dream about them. The, the statements. The live ones, anyway.

Do you…still dream?

KIERAN

I don’t quite know if it’s properly dreaming.

But I remember. Sometimes. When I’m not…fully here.

ARCHIVIST

M-maybe if…you remember…I’ll be there next time. Watching.

KIERAN

I don’t want that. Not for you.

…

But I’m not letting you die, either.

So. Where do you want me to start?

ARCHIVIST

At…at the beginning. I guess.

[Deep breath] Statement of…Kieran Blackwood, regarding his life and death. Statement taken direct from subject, twenty-fifth July, 2017. Recording by Martin Blackwood, Archivist, the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

KIERAN (Statement)

I didn’t know what I wanted as a kid, except that I wanted to be important.

My birthday was—is, I suppose—the second of June, and every year my parents would tell the story, tossing the parts back and forth like a well-rehearsed script until I could practically recite the lines myself—how Mum had tried to ignore the contractions so she and Da could enjoy the procession and the festivities, how it had finally got so bad that they tried to leave their spot watching and barely made it through the crowd, how no taxis were available, how Da tried to carry her himself but didn’t know where he was going because they were only visiting London for the coronation. How I was born right there on the street. Da always laughed and said I was so impatient to see the new queen myself that I couldn’t wait even another hour. I always hated that story, not because it was embarrassing but because it wasn’t really about me. It was about them, and about the coronation. I told Da once that if I’d been able to pick when I was born I’d have picked a day that nothing else was happening so that I was what people would remember, but he just laughed.

I don’t think he got it.

Once I started school, I went out for everything I could, trying to find something I would be the best at and make a name for myself. None of it really stuck. Looking back, I had bought into the idea that if I wasn’t a prodigy and immediately good at something, I never would be—or at least, that I would never be great. Of course everyone eventually improved with practice, but I rather had it in my head that I’d never reach the top if I didn’t start off halfway up the hill. So I would try something for a week or two, then abandon it as soon as I got my first critique. The only thing I was decent at, not even good, but had some talent with, was swimming—and even then it wasn’t necessarily speed or form. I wasn’t winning races or anything. But I could last longer than anyone in my class—even the teacher. Not just floating, either. I could swim for ages and not get tired.

I had a bit of skill with rowing, too, but the problem was that I was bigger and stronger than most of my mates, so in the end I wound up the coxswain for the school team. We won more often than not, but there was a part of me that was dissatisfied, no matter how loud Da cheered or how proudly Mum displayed the ribbons on the walls. I mean, how many famous rowing teams can you name?

I actually wanted to be a politician. I had dreams of being the next Winston Churchill or summat. But I had my heart set on Christ’s College at Cambridge, and my grades weren’t near good enough to get me in without some kind of advantage. And between the fact that Da was a dockworker and I never managed to successfully cover up the Geordie when I talked, I knew I’d never be taken seriously if I didn’t have a really good university degree, so I gave that up. For the first summer after I left school, I worked with Da on the docks.

That’s how I met Mikaele Salesa.

If you work for the Magnus Institute, I’m sure you’ve heard his name, you know what he does. Did, maybe, he might    be retired by now, I dunno. Back then, though, he was just starting out. Walked away from some library job, so he told me, assistant to a stuck-up old fool who could afford to indulge a weird hobby. He’d done it with a tidy nest egg, though, and was looking to set up his own business, dealing in antiques. Thought trading by sea was the way to go; it’d be cheaper, after all, and easier to evade customs if need be, although he didn’t say that part out loud. Trouble was, he was a foreigner, in a time when being foreign in England wasn’t the greatest opportunity. And I won’t pretend the sort of lad that hung about docks those days were the most open-minded of fellows.

Me, I never had a problem with them. Partly it was that having wanted to be in politics, where I figured being diplomatic and able to get along with anyone might give me an edge, but partly, well, with my background—not just being in the North, near the docks, where people expected you to be slow and stupid, but also the fact that Mum was from Belfast originally—I had a bit of sympathy for anyone seen as “other”. So when I got off shift and found him being avoided in the local, I sat down next to him and bought him a pint.

He wasn’t much older than I was, maybe ten years at best, and since he’d been born during the second World War, he had some of the same experiences I did about his birthday being overshadowed by historic events. I was fascinated by the stories I told. He was intrigued when I mentioned what skills I’d picked up, said that being able to row if we were becalmed or swim if we capsized were good things for a sailor to know. And after I told off one of my da’s mates for saying something racist, he offered me a job on his crew. Told me he needed a first mate, and if I could help him find a good boat, the post was mine.

We found her, all right, and since it was me doing the talking, we got a good rate on her too. Signed on a crew for the first voyage, provisioned her up, and the Demeter was ready to set sail.

For the first few years, it was…exactly what I’d expected. Finding artifacts, buying them, selling them to rich idiots with more money than sense. The pay was decent, definitely better than I’d have got anywhere else—a kid with no experience, I’d expected to hire on as a seaman, nothing more, and certainly not as first mate—but for me it was about the clout. See, Mikaele—he was Captain Salesa, or just Captain, in front of the crew, but in private he told me to keep calling him Mikaele—tended to treat the crew the way the old sailors did: you signed on for a voyage, you got paid off, and then he’d sign on a whole new crew when he was ready to ship out again. I think it was a way to keep anyone from really knowing what he was doing with some of those artifacts. But I was his partner, so I stayed on. And since I was the only one who’d ever sailed more than one voyage in a row with him, the men in the pubs thought I had something special.

It was what I’d wanted, so I ran with it.

They were just ordinary objects back then, nothing special—well, maybe except for the fact that some of them probably shouldn’t have left the country, if you catch my drift. But one day, maybe eight or nine years after I met him, I came to talk to him about something and found him staring at a sack full of Morgan silver dollars. I knew how rare those were, but after a moment, he looked up at me with the most serious expression I’d ever seen on the man and told me not to touch them, or to let anyone else on the crew near them. If he sold them, he promised, he’d explain everything, but until then it wasn’t safe.

I don’t know what I thought. Maybe that they were radioactive or something? But when we got back to England about six months later, after he’d sold everything and paid off the crew, he asked me to come up to his rooms and discuss “the truth”. That night he laid out everything.

I…I assume from what you said that you know about the Fourteen. That was the first I’d ever heard of them. Mikaele told me the silver dollars he’d been sold belonged to the one called the Slaughter, and that he’d been lucky to be rid of them without it sticking…but it looked like we might have a new avenue of sales. Swore me to secrecy on that front, but promised that if I kept the crew from getting too involved in the…special artifacts, he’d do right by me.

He never let me handle those objects. Said he cared too much about my safety to put me through that. I thought he was just being dramatic until he told me some about what had happened to the other people who’d worked for Jurgen Leitner, and how he’d sworn he would never be that careless with the lives of people who depended on him. Eventually, we worked it out so I handled the men and he handled the purchasing and…acquiring, and that worked well. I got good at spotting the men who’d been touched by the sorts of things that made those objects, too, and would refuse to sign them on. It was a good way to protect the artifacts, or so I thought.

It must’ve been fourteen years later that I met Liliana Koskiewicz. I remember her because she seemed so out of place with the other people that were picking over the cargo, but fit in better with the cargo itself—she looked like a Gibson girl frozen in time. Turned out she was studying archeology at Oxford—there, I bet you didn’t know that about your mum—and had come to see the cargo because she’d heard rumors Mikaele had something that was in her field of study. He had, but it was “special” cargo, so he’d already sold it. I felt bad for her, so I offered to buy her dinner as a consolation prize, and for a wonder, she accepted.

It was a whirlwind romance, which I know must come as a bit of a shock to you, but I tell you I fell head over heels for that woman the moment I met her, and she swore it was the same. Mikaele was a bit disappointed at first, it seemed to me, but after a bit he encouraged it. Said the more connections you had, the safer you were from…certain things. I was willing to take any excuse to keep courting her, and just before we set sail, I asked her to marry me. She said she’d think about it and let me know when I got back.

We were gone nine months that go-round, and when I went to her da’s farm to see her after we made port and sold off the last of the cargo, the first thing she said to me was that she accepted. She wanted a spring wedding, and Mikaele would’ve delayed sailing for it, but I talked her into a late December wedding instead on the grounds that I’d be more likely to be home for our anniversary that way.

If I’m honest, the only reason I went through with it was because of what Mikaele said about needing connections to fight back against the Fourteen. After all, I’d had nine months to think about it too, and I didn’t know her that well. But, well, I reckoned we’d get to know each other well enough, and if it didn’t work out great, at least I wouldn’t be home that much. I bought her a little house, near enough that she could go visit her da when I was out to sea but far enough that we were independent, and I made sure she had everything she might need before we set to sea again.

We’d been married two years when she told me she was pregnant. She…she wanted me to stay, but Mikaele needed me. I was still chasing that sense of being important, so I went. Promised I’d be back before you were born, but…well, you were early. We were in Malta when Alastair called—long distance and all—to tell me Lily’d been taken to hospital and it wasn’t looking good. Mikaele bought me a plane ticket and told me to get home to my family. Before I left, he gave me a talisman, some little thing made of bone and silver. He told me he didn’t think it was one of those, but that it had a bit of power in it and might…make a difference.

We—we almost lost both of you. You were a breech, and when I got there, it turned out the umbilical cord had got wrapped around your neck. Between that and the fact that you were so early they weren’t sure your lungs had developed all the way, they weren’t sure you were going to make it. And Lily…they had to do a C-section on you in the end, and she had a bad reaction to the anesthesia or summat like that. She was in a coma and they didn’t think she was going to ever come out of it.

I looked at the thing Mikaele had given me. There was a notch in it, and I thought if I…maybe it would help you both. So I snapped it in half. Put one side on your incubator and the other tucked under Lily’s pillow and hoped.

You recovered, obviously. Both of you. You were actually fine less than four hours later, and I got to hold you for the first time…I’d, I’d never felt anything like that. I was thirty-five years old and it was like I was living for the first time. Lily took a bit longer, but she eventually came round, and all was well, or so I thought.

Lily never completely recovered. It was gradual, so her da didn’t notice and neither did she—or at least she said she didn’t—but, well, I went out again when you were six months old, soon as the winter storms had passed, like always, and when I got back I could see she not only wasn’t better, she was…getting worse. At the time, I put it down to the fact that you were cutting teeth, and you were prone to ear infections back then too, so you cried unless you were being held most of the time. Your grandfather was a godsend, but he had the farm to take care of, and so most of it fell on Lily. I took over while I was home, but…well, I had to go back out again eventually.

That’s when we started fighting. She wanted me to give up sailing and get a job closer to home. I argued we needed the money—now more than ever, between you getting bigger every day and her getting sicker every week. She said if she was so sick, why wasn’t I there to help her? Round and round we went, and it always ended the same, with her going to bed early with a headache and me stomping out the door and going down the pub.

And through it all, there you were. Staring up at me with those big green eyes of yours—they weren’t so bright back then, but they were always so full of love and wonder and trust. I’d have done anything for you.

Except stay.

The final straw came just after the new year when you were seven. Mikaele had suggested we all, as a family, go out on the water and watch the fireworks on the shore to welcome in 1996. You were…so excited. It was all you’d been talking about for a week, getting to see the Demeter and see what I did for a living and finally meet “Uncle Kay”—that’s what you called him, you had trouble with “Mikaele”. And then, just as we were getting ready to go, Lily said she wasn’t feeling well. I was all set to get her settled on the couch or in bed and offer to spend the night on the boat so we wouldn’t disturb her when she told you to hang up your coat and go make her a cup of tea—the oolong, not the bagged kind. I said I’d do it and for you to go wait by the car, but Lily snapped that she’d told you to do it and you needed to learn responsibility.

I wasn’t being funny when I said you had my temper. I blew up on her, said more than a few things I’d been holding back longer than I knew. I accused her of faking her symptoms for sympathy, or to punish the rest of us, or to manipulate us—hell, I didn’t know why, and I didn’t care. Told her she could be as miserable as she wanted but she had no right to make the rest of us miserable too. She gave as good as she got, saying I’d never loved her, I didn’t have any sympathy for her, I obviously hadn’t meant it when I said “in sickness and in health”, on and on and on. We wound up shouting at one another, and then I saw you standing in the doorway with her cup of tea and tears in your eyes, and I made myself stop. I told you we could go, but you just very quietly said no, thank you, that you would stay and take care of your mother, but for me to tell Uncle Kay you said hello.

I didn’t go to the ship that night. I went over to Alastair’s, and I must’ve ranted at him for an hour. He just sat there and listened—you know what he was like—and at the end of it, suggested I take a short break away from Lily, that things might look better after we’d both had a rest. And I agreed. At first I was going to…I don’t know, stay in town for a bit maybe…but Mikaele got a line on something that, if it panned out, would have let us retire for life after the next voyage, and there was a calm spell, so we got a crew together sharpish and sailed out.

It didn’t. Pan out, that is—someone beat us to it, we never did find out who. And of course the winter storms came back with a vengeance, so we wound up in Gibraltar for six weeks waiting for an opportunity to sail again. During that time, I talked things over with Mikaele, and he agreed with Alastair that a break wouldn’t be a bad thing.

I also talked to him about Lily’s illness. I’d never really mentioned it to him; there was a sort of silent sense that anything that happened on land—well, except you—stayed there, and vice versa. But I laid it all out for him, every symptom and surge, everything that had happened back to your birth. He listened with a curious sort of look on his face, and then he asked the question I’d never thought about. He asked what happened to the talisman he’d given me. I explained what I’d done, and he nodded, said I’d done exactly what I was supposed to, but he wanted to know what had happened after that.

It wasn’t until…later that I found out the answer. Lily found the half I’d tucked under her pillow, recognized it was broken, and…I don’t know. Maybe she’d heard something of the Fourteen before. Her da worked for the Institute himself, you know, so he might have given her a bit of warning. Anyway, she asked the nurses if they’d seen the other half, and they eventually found it and gave it to her.

From what Mikaele told me, what he’d eventually learned or figured out—I never did ask how—was that it was meant to separate and spare two lives. It wasn’t…exactly one use only, but it had an odd sort of catch to it. You weren’t meant to keep it, and once you’d used it, you were supposed to bury the halves together in the earth, where they would…reform? I don’t know. It was all a bit bizarre to me. Obviously Lily hadn’t done that, but…well, we’ll get there.

Anyway, we were out to sea for eighteen months that go-round. I felt bad about missing your birthday that year—I wrote you a letter, sent you a gift, but I don’t know if you ever got it—and worse about missing Christmas, but we’d done well enough by the end of it that I could have retired, and I was considering it. I told Mikaele when we pulled into port that I was going to give it one last go talking to Lily, see if we could reconcile, because I did still love her, just not the same way I had at the beginning. And I never wanted to leave you.

Obviously, you know that when I went back to Devon, there was someone else in the house I’d bought for Lily, and they told me they’d paid cash for it from a lady who’d taken her son to London. I thought that seemed a bit odd, but at the same time, I was hoping there was a specialist she was seeing regularly and she was doing better, so I got her address and headed down. I was looking forward to seeing both of you, so much.

Somehow, she knew I was coming. There was a note on her door addressed to me when I got into town, and when I opened it, it had an address and said she’d be there all afternoon. I assumed the family who’d bought the house had called her, so I went to where it said. Turned out to be a shop—a place called Pinhole Books. The door was unlocked, so I went in.

And Lily was waiting for me. Pretty as a picture, sweet as sugar. With an antique razor in one hand and a cane in the other.

I won’t go into details, but I will say she didn’t do it alone. There was another woman, old enough to be her mother, holding her steady and coaching her through it. Everything went black, and for a while I thought that was it.

If you know about the Book, you know what she did after that. She used to summon me from time to time. Talk to me, taunt me. Tell me what she was up to. That’s how I found out what she’d done with the talisman. She’d figured out how to join it back together, and thought it would protect her from sickness, but…that wasn’t its purpose. And because she tried to keep it, instead of give it away, it was corrupting her. I begged her to get rid of it, and eventually she finally admitted that she’d already destroyed it, after she met Roger, and it hadn’t helped. Mary—who I assumed was the woman who helped her kill me—had ideas that would help her, she said, but she wouldn’t really tell me what they were. Sometimes she’d summon me and just…leave me there. It hurt, and she knew it hurt, and she said she wanted me to feel a little of what she was feeling.

And no matter how much I pleaded, she wouldn’t let me see you.

The last time I saw her was eight years after she killed me, which I only know because I told her fifty looked good on her and I thought she was going to kill me again when she told me, very sharply, that she’d only just turned forty. She looked closer to sixty, but, well, you don’t need me to tell you that. She recovered fast, though, and told me that the next time we spoke, I’d never know how old she was. She had found a way to stay young and beautiful forever, and, she said, when the Bookmaster took the lead, I would know everything. Then she wished me luck, said she would see me soon, and dismissed me.

I can’t tell from looking at you how long it’s been since then, but I reckon that didn’t work out so well for her.

ARCHIVIST

And how are you…here? I thought the Book got burned.

KIERAN

It did. I think.

I don’t know too much about how all this works, but as near as I can tell, all of us who were in those pages—the ones who weren’t summoned, anyway, since I think your Gerard was involved, from what I’ve heard those two say—were set free when it burned, but not all the way. We’re loose in the world again, but we can’t go very far from the Bookmasters.

ARCHIVIST

The Bookmasters?

KIERAN

Those two bastards in the other room. Don’t ask me why, I just…knew that’s what they were when I saw them.

ARCHIVIST

It…it makes sense. I think.

…

Twelve years.

KIERAN

Eh?

ARCHIVIST

Since she—it’s been twenty years since she killed you. She tried to do…whatever it was, I still don’t know…twelve years ago.

And you’re right. It didn’t work. That was when she started needing round-the-clock care, couldn’t leave the house except to see her doctors, the whole nine yards. I dropped out of school and…well, that’s when I went to work for the Institute. Roger got fired around the same time—he had early onset dementia, it was just starting to get bad about then—and Melanie couldn’t fake being an adult like I could back then.

KIERAN

I wish you hadn’t felt like you had to do that.

ARCHIVIST

Me, too, but…I think I needed to be there. Eventually.

KIERAN

Twenty years…so you’re twenty-eight then? No, twenty-nine.

ARCHIVIST

I will be in August. If I live that long. If the world doesn’t end.

KIERAN

[Fiercely] You’re not dying.

ARCHIVIST

Yes, sir.

[More seriously] I’m okay. That…thank you. For, for giving me the statement. It…helped. A lot.

KIERAN

Good. Now you can get that hand—

…Oh.

Blimey, how long was I talking?

ARCHIVIST

Not nearly that long.

Yeah, that’s, um, probably not a good sign, but…[sighs] you know what, at this point, I don’t really have time to worry about it.

KIERAN

What’s your next move, then?

ARCHIVIST

I need to get back to London. Hopefully without the Van Helsings in there sending me back in pieces, or calling Gerry—or Jon.

KIERAN

…Okay, you told me who Gerry is, and Lily mentioned Roger’s girl Melanie, but who’s Jon?

ARCHIVIST

My b—

…

Um…he’s my…boyfriend.

KIERAN

(heh) Does Roger approve?

ARCHIVIST

He died five years ago.

But…you know, I think he would have liked him.

I think you’d like him. If you met him.

…

Maybe you’ll get the chance.

KIERAN

I doubt that, boyo.

ARCHIVIST

I’ll come back. When, when I figure out how to set you all free.

I will figure it out. What’s the good of working for the embodiment of fearful knowledge if I can’t occasionally learn something to my advantage?

[KIERAN LAUGHS. AFTER A MOMENT, THE ARCHIVIST JOINS IN]

KIERAN

Aye, maybe there’s something to that.

Let me rally the others. We can distract the Bookmasters, maybe keep them busy for a while, so you can get away. Do you—no, that window’s a bit small—ah, no offense.

ARCHIVIST

None taken. But believe me, I’ve forced my way through much smaller spaces than that.

…Thank you.

KIERAN

I’m just glad I can help.

And I’m glad to know that I finally became something important after all.

ARCHIVIST

What’s that?

KIERAN

Martin Blackwood’s father.

ARCHIVIST

…

You know…it’s a good thing Mum is the way she is.

KIERAN

Eh? Why is that?

ARCHIVIST

It long ago disabused me of the notion that parents have to love and be proud of their kids no matter what.

Otherwise I might not have believed you meant that.

KIERAN

Martin.

[FAINT FABRIC RUSTLES]

There has not been one single moment since the nurse put you in my arms that I have not been proud of you.

I love you, son.

ARCHIVIST

…

I love you, too, Papa.

[CLICK]

[animebw]

Short Reflection: My Hero Academia Season 6

I try not to be too smug when talking about anime. Discussing media always works best when you keep an open mind to all perspectives, so if someone has an opinion I disagree with, I do my best to disagree politely and present my side of the argument fairly. I’m not always successful, but I always make the attempt. Today, though? I feel justified in being a bit of a smarmy jackass. So allow me to present a couple of quotes from my review of My Hero Academia’s fifth season, back when everyone was calling it the worst show in the world because it made a couple arcs 50% less bloody.

“All this is to say, don’t be surprised when My Hero Academia once again becomes the most beloved shonen on the planet heading into its final stretch. Because this show has far from run its course yet.”

“Season 5 may be a low point in its history, but the fact that its low point is still so damn high is a testament to why this show deserved to conquer the world in the first place. My Hero Academia is still good, and I’ll be happy to say “I told you so” when the final seasons blow everyone’s socks off and make them fall in love with it all over again.”

Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, allow me to state, on record, that I fucking called it.

God, do you know how long I’ve been waiting to get that off my chest? I’ve suffered through years of mediocre actioners being worshipped as the new best thing ever, watched as bottom-of-the-barrel crap like Tokyo Revengers and Fire Force tricked everyone into liking them, listened to a flighty, tasteless fandom turn their backs on one of the modern era’s greatest shonen because their lizard brains couldn’t concentrate without a thousand particle effects popping off every second. But no more. No more do I have to carry the torch solo as I have for far too long. Because at long last, after two subpar seasons that still blow most of its contemporaries out of the water, the second anime I ever watched has clawed its way back to the front of the pack and forced everyone to remember why My Hero Academia remains one of anime’s greatest modern standard bearers. The king is back on top, and I look forward to apologies from everyone who ever doubted it deserved the crown.

Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh. It’s not like My Hero Academia has ever been a perfect show, despite its self-evident excellence. Even in this fantastic return to form, plenty of its old issues still carry over. There’s the stupid unnecessary title cards all the characters get every episode, like the show thinks we’re so stupid we’ll forget everyone’s name in the week’s time between episodes. There’s the comedy that never quite clicks as well as it needs to, often disrupting otherwise fantastic scenes. The cast has grown overstuffed enough to officially qualify as a problem, with some characters frustratingly underutilized and some given way too much attention (seriously, who thought Best Jeanist was interesting enough to take over the tertiary protagonist role this season?). And it has a bad habit of stopping at huge moments and pausing the action for unnecessary flashbacks that we didn’t need to understand how the characters got where they were. If you’re the kind of shonen-head who just wants to turn your brain off and enjoy a bunch of flashy fights, it’s no wonder you’d be seduced by the sakuga-laden likes of Demon Slayer and JJK, despite their far more glaring issues in the story department.

But if you’re someone who actually appreciates a good story as a backbone to all those fisticuffs? Then you already know why MHA stands head and shoulders above its competition. And after five seasons watching this pressure cooker of a society boil hotter and hotter, it’s finally time for the lid to pop.

Season 6 is an explosion, plain and simple. It’s over a hundred episodes of peeling back the layers of hero society finally coming to a head and bringing the whole damn house of cards crashing down. The season’s first half is entirely taken up by a massive heroes vs villains war, a war in which everyone is pushed past their breaking point and forced to make climactic decisions about who they are and who they want to be. Characters die, self-actualize, rise to their ideas and shatter beneath them, on all sides of the conflict and sometimes all at the same time. If the All Might vs All For One battle back in season 3 was the end of My Hero Academia’s first act, then this barn-burner brawl is the climax to its second act. It’s the destruction of the status quo, an inflection point for all its characters, and as definitive a no-going-back mic drop as you can imagine. This is the end of the world as we know it, all the mistakes and hypocrisies of heroes past finally coming home to roost as Shigaraki puts his master plan into motion and the foundations of the earth itself tremble in response.

And once the rubble has finally settled, the season’s second half turns to tackle the aftermath. What happens when the world falls apart? What happens when everything people believed in turns out to be a lie? The heroes they put their trust in failed to protect them, and many revealed themselves to be little better than the villains they were supposed to be fighting. Fear and hatred compound, safety nets fails one after the other, and this society that once seemed so perfect reveals itself for the sham it always was. And Deku and his friends are caught right in the middle of the chaos, thrust far too soon into the role of the world’s hope for the future. They always wanted to be heroes: now, it’s time for them to come to terms with what that really means.

There’s a level of moral complexity to these developments that I don’t think any of us could have predicted. My Hero Academia started out as one of the most outwardly inspirational, optimistic stories on the market, but it’s proven itself more than capable of deconstructing its own premise. Heroism in MHA isn’t a static state of affairs; it’s a question that must be asked, re-asked, and asked again through the contradictions and imperfections of the real world. What does it mean to protect? To save? Where does the responsibility lie when we fall short? Is it ever too late to fix your mistakes and start over again? A lesser show might shy away from those questions, but MHA relishes in teasing out their intricacies. And it makes this season- especially the second half- some of the most captivating drama we’ve ever gotten from this genre. Watching the world come undone, and watching the heroes struggle to face the new task before them, results in not just some of MHA’s best moments, but some of the most hard-hitting resolutions in all of shonen history. The Deku/Shigaraki parallels! The return of You Say Run! Uraraka’s climactic speech re-cementing her as one of the all-time great shonen love interests! Payoff for not one, but two of the best goddamn redemption arcs this side of Zuko (and with Shigaraki, that number may climb to 3...)! Twice! Hawks! Lady Nagant! Season 6 is a portrait of a world falling apart, but it’s also a portrait of what rises from the ashes it left behind. As Deku himself says at one point, the world is far more complex than simple black and white, but that only makes it even more important to stand up for what really matters when the chips are down.

I’ve been watching My Hero Academia for a while. I started it back when there were just two seasons out and everyone was still riding high on the hype train. I’ve experienced its highs, its lows, its brilliance and its stupidity (Mineta has done nothing pervy this season and I am SO HAPPY YOU GUYS). I’ve been with this show for a long ass time. But no matter how its perception has shifted over the years, no matter how much anime I’ve consumed since then, I keep returning to the simple fact that MHA is really goddamn good. I don’t just like it because it was one of my firsts, or because of sunk cost fallacy, or anything like that; this genuinely is one of the smartest, richest, most emotionally resonant works of shonen storytelling to ever appear in Jump’s pages. And watching so many of its threads come to a head in season 6 has only confirmed that it’s going to stand the test of time. I can’t count how many episodes left me weepy, how often I was left astonished at the courage and intelligence of Horikoshi’s writing. This isn’t one of those stories that squanders its potential along the way and leaves you indifferent by the end: this is a story that’s going to fulfil every last promise it made, pay off every last idea it set up, and bring it all together in a complete package that makes the entire show better in hindsight.

Because even in its slowest moments, this show was so much more than a mindless punch-em-up. This is a story all about the nature of heroism itself, and what it truly means to be a hero in a seemingly perfect world that actually has more cracks in its foundation than a log cabin built atop the San Andreas fault. This is a story about what happens when golden ideals run up against reality, how good intentions go awry and send an entire society down a path to ruin. This is a story about what drives villains to be villains in the first place, and why they deserve our understanding even in spite of their crimes. And it’s a story about how to rediscover and reforge hope, learning all over again what it means to make the world a better place. Unlike so many of its contemporaries, My Hero Academia actually has things to say about our modern world, ideas it wants to convey that run deeper than “just believe in yourself!” Demon Slayer can lavish as many pretty lights and spinning cameras as it wants atop its cardboard world and stick figure characters, but that momentary flash is nothing compared to this slow-burning tale of what it takes to rediscover heroism in a world that’s forgotten its true form.

Season 6 of My Hero Academia is phenomenal. It’s a lightning-bolt payoff to a story years in the making, sending it hurtling into its final act in as staggeringly brilliant fashion as I ever could have dreamed. It’s not just a new high water mark for this show, finally surpassing the bar set by season 3; it’s cemented this show’s status as one of anime’s all-time classics. When we look back on this period, it won’t be the vapid flashiness of Demon Slayer or the agonizing stupidity of Tokyo Revengers that stand the test of time. It’ll be the story of how a crybaby with green hair became the greatest hero... and how the entire world became the greatest hero right alongside him. And for that, I’m more than happy to give it a score of:

9.5/10

We’re almost at the end now. Bring it home, Horikoshi. I believe in you.

[jilliam]

Rant about my dad

I got really pissed at my dad after a bunch of little things built up to and during watching the movie wicked and finally toward the end during defying gravity (aka the most important moment in the show) his Apple Watch dings (why didn’t he silent it before the movie started?) and takes out his phone with higher than necessary brightness to check something

On top of this, this happened multiple times so like the third time he took his phone out to check it I tried to grab the phone from him to turn down the brightness (because maybe I can’t stop him from checking his phone but at least I can prevent the brightness from being extremely distracting) he tries to wrestle the phone from me as if to say ‘ok ok I’ll put my phone away’ and I’m like no let me turn the brightness down because clearly you have to respect for the movie or any of the other viewers in the theater

The fact that he tried to wrestle me for the phone when I tried to turn the brightness down means he *knows* he’s being disruptive and is now experiencing a consequence that he’s trying to minimize

Other things that he did that pissed me off is to tell me midway through that he was going to use the bathroom and asked me where it was, even though before we left for the theater he was like ‘you should pee before we get there’ which is like. I’m an adult I can decide and control when and where I pee before a movie without you telling me

So I used the bathroom at the theater before the movie started, so when he needed to go - mid movie - he tapped me on the shoulder to ask where it was as if that was worth interrupting my viewing experience for (and as if he couldn’t find it himself if he just looked for it it’s not rocket science)

Also every time I watch a movie I eat popcorn and leave a napkin on my lap so that I can access it easily in case I need it. He sees that the napkin is on my lap and places it on the tray in front of me (probably because he thought it would be better for whatever reason) but it’s like imagine reaching over to a grown adult and deciding their napkin doesn’t belong on their lap because you think it would be better elsewhere. Without asking

There was another moment in the movie that was quite emotional - elphaba is being laughed at by everyone at the ice ball and she does a weird dance, eventually with tears in her eyes. This scene made me cry but I hear my dad scoffing next to me - I can’t exactly say why, but my suspicion is that he is deeply uncomfortable with vulnerability because he scoffs at tearful speeches pronouncing love at weddings for example. But instead of admitting this fact he would be like ‘what a sissy’ @ guy crying at wedding. For this scene from wicked if I had to guess he would be like, the vulnerability of this moment compels him to think about how it’s so fake that in a moment when being jeered at by a crowd that elphaba would do a weird dance and everything would somehow work out and it’s just a movie etc.

In the end I blew up at him in the car and said all of this to him very angrily and loudly, and when I was done he was like ‘are you finished? Can I talk now?’ And, knowing that he basically took the verbal punching from me because he was itching to give a response that would justify his behavior and undermine everything I had just mentioned, I did not want him to get any satisfaction, so I said actually I have no interest in hearing what you have to say

I think the reason it bothered me was because I was really looking forward to seeing this movie, I even waited to go home to New Jersey to watch it with my parents because this is an activity that I know my dad likes to do with me, and he couldn’t fucking silence his phone and not look at it for two hours?

And like beyond that, even if he didn’t care about the movie as much as I did, could he have at least not ruined my own experience? DURING DEFYING GRAVITY?? Like I honestly could have gone to see the movie alone by myself yesterday, half price Tuesday, and it would’ve been way less irritating

Yeah like also building up to the moment I lost my cool in the car I was like, let me channel ~easygoingness. But in my head I was like. he’s an idiot that doesn’t know any better and just because he’s in idiot it doesn’t make his whole benevolent paternalism acceptable I should not have to accept this and the fact that he’s an idiot makes me even less inclined to be lenient. So I was like you ruined the movie

I think ultimately I decided that I don’t like my dad as a person. Sure I’m sympathetic to the fact that he cares a lot about me - in his own way by infantilizing me and deluding himself with the illusion that I am helpless and incapable without him in my life, which ultimately makes me resent him. But beyond that, I also just don’t like his personality. The way he scoffs at vulnerability, either in real life or in a scene from a movie. The way he tried having a conversation with partner during Thanksgiving and instead of listening to what partner said, continued monologuing as if partner had said nothing

I don’t know how to establish boundaries in a healthy way because every time I get mad I forgive a few days later, mainly for my own sanity and not wanting to hold onto anger, and the cycle repeats itself if I spend enough time with him

I talked with youknow about this and she suggests I write him a letter telling him that I no longer wish to spend time with him. She really thinks that will be the thing to change his behavior. But my sister literally cut him out of her life already and he hasn’t done any sort of introspection or considered therapy or changed himself in literally any way.

My dad at dinner pretended the whole thing didn’t happen and asked if I wanted to see conclave. In retrospect I wish I said yes and then at the movies looked at my phone on moderate brightness the whole time but unfortunately I am not petty enough

Instead I said no, I don’t wanna go because of how he behaved at the movies today, which is maybe too direct. I’m sure he feels that suggesting we go see conclave is an attempt at making it up to me and I shot it down aka rejecting him

So I feel conflicted about that.

It makes me realize that I’m not good at setting boundaries with my parents