#but like. a lot of what he says holds true and a lot is even more acutely felt

[glitteredrry]

maneater

summary: Harry feels inspired by the woman who is holding his heart in her hands. Harry’s true feelings come out during a recording session, and his heart is on the line.

warning: angst & fluff

wc: 2.4k

I haven’t written in so long, and I was feeling inspired. Please let me know how you like it. I own no rights to this song (just in case lol). I hope you enjoy!!

Harry looked at his Rolex for the fifth time in an hour. He checked the time, awaiting the arrival of his…well, he was not sure what to call her. His girl? Well, no, that’s not the correct title. His lover? That’s not even close to what he was to her. Harry didn’t know the correct title to give her, but he did know that she wasn’t his, yet he was all hers. Luna Gray was her name, it was her stage name. Her birthname was for him only; regardless, her name was on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

Harry and Luna were signed to Columbia Records, and both were some of the biggest stars in the world. Harry met Luna when she signed to the label in 1981, and the first time they met, Harry was electrified to his core. All she had to do was look at him, and Harry mentally fell to his knees.  To Harry, she was perfection; the only problem was that he wasn’t the only person who thought this. Let’s just say that Luna was loved by many, and for Harry, it started out not being a problem but slowly developed into one a year later. Luna would explain to all the men she got involved with that she is not someone who could be tied down. She had one goal, which was to be a star. No one or nothing could get in the way of that dream. Harry understood this the first time they slept together, yet as their sexual relationship began to grow, it was somewhat difficult for Harry to hear about the endless men she was caught up with. 

Harry could admit he fell in love with her, yet Luna had no idea about Harry’s feelings towards her. Luna continued with her life as normal, while Harry continued to suffer in silence. He knew how Luna was and that her motto was to cut off men once they fell in love. She told the world she enjoyed her life as a single lady in Hollywood. So, as Harry spent the time drowning in his feelings, he caught inspiration to write a song when a picture in the tabloids was released of her with a star athlete. He couldn’t control his jealousy, which was feasting inside him. He was angry, saddened, and felt like an idiot for being in love with someone who told him she wasn’t going to be tied down. Harry continued to pour his emotions on paper, letting go of everything he felt. What he forgot about, though, is that Luna was coming to listen in on his studio session, and this was the only song he was going to record today. This is Luna and Harry’s thing. They were both artists, so it wasn’t out of the norm for them to listen in on their studio sessions and provide notes. 

Harry genuinely didn’t want to record this infront of her, but he couldn’t waste paid studio time either. Instead of consistently checking the time, he decided to leave the studio for a smoke break. With each inhale, he felt the stress leave his body until he watched her sleek red Mercedes Convertible pull into the parking lot. Her curly hair was all over the place as she pulled in; her eyes were on Harry’s immediately as she parked. She stepped out of the car with a smile, hoping Harry would forgive her for running a little late. Harry watched as the Los Angeles sunset dipping below the valley illuminated her skin. Harry kept his eyes on her, continuing to smoke and soak in the sound of her heels hitting the pavement. She looked beautiful as she approached Harry; without a word, she grabbed the cigarette from his hands, taking a hit of it.

“You mad at me?” Luna said, exhaling the smoke as it brushed across Harry’s face. 

He shook his head ‘no’ because he truly wasn’t mad. Even if he were, she would never know it. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.” He said, eying her up and down. Lust and anxiety coursing through his veins.

“I got caught up in something. Forgive me, sweetheart,” she said with puppy eyes. Her eyes still held this twinkle in them as if she was playing a game with him.

“Something or someone,” Harry said, letting the jealousy slip. He hated when his mouth would speak before his brain could. Luna smiled at his words, throwing the finished cigarette on the ground and crushing it under her heel.

“Are you sure you want to know?” she smirked, moving past him to enter the studio. Harry felt a slight pang in his chest as he followed her inside. As Luna entered, she sat on the couch and said hello to the sound engineer. Harry nervously picked up the paper and headed to the booth. Just before he got in, Luna called out to him.

“I’m excited to hear the song, Harry.” Her eyes were glowing, and Harry could tell that she was being genuine. Harry and Luna shared a deep connection when it came to music. They both had the utmost respect for each other as artists. Harry smiled at her, briefly looking at her before entering the booth. Harry put on his headphones and signaled that he was ready. Once the beat of the song kicked in, Harry watched as Luna bobbed her head to the music and waited for Harry to start singing. Harry felt his throat swell up in trepidation. Instead of focusing on Luna, he closes his eyes and sings from his heart. 

Oh-oh, here she comes

Watch out, boy, she'll chew you up

Oh-oh, here she comes

She's a man-eater

Harry finally opened his eyes when he got to the middle of the song. He looked through the glass as he watched Luna on the couch with an unreadable expression. Her legs were crossed as he watched her hanging leg bounce. As the song faded out, they kept eye contact with each other. The song engineer cleared Harry to remove his headphones, and He watched as Luna stood on her feet, waiting for him to come out. Harry apprehensively stepped out of the booth, feeling the immediate tension filling the room. Harry could see her facial expression had morphed into clear anger, so he decided to have the room for himself for a while. When they were both alone, Harry chose to speak up. 

“How did you like the song,”

“How did I like it?” She asked, irritation coursing through her body. “Let me think of how I feel,” she laughed mockingly. 

“Listen, I know how it sounds, but hear what I have to say first.”

“Why should I listen to you right now? You brought me here to shame me. All because your feelings are a little hurt, suddenly I should come with a warning label. Well, newsflash, Harry, I told you everything upfront from the beginning.” 

“I know that, but trust me when I say none of what you said matters now. Not when I feel like this, not when you know I feel like this about you.”

“Don’t do that. You’ve never told me anything, Harry you-”

“Cut the shit, just because I haven’t verbally mentioned it, I know you know. You know it in the way I kiss you, in the way I touch you, and when I make love to you. That’s on me that I never said anything, and I hate that it had to come out in this way, but don’t act oblivious. I never told you because I know you’ll run away like you have with others.”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“Because if that’s the risk I must take, then so be it. I can’t live with this inside me anymore. If you decide to run off, that’s on you. Yes, I will admit my feelings were upset seeing you with someone else. I wrote a song about it. That’s what I do. When I can’t speak my feelings, I sing them. This is the only song I was going to record today. I promise it wasn’t to hurt you in any way.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt getting called a maneater.” She rolled her eyes and folded her arms around each other as she turned her back to Harry.

Harry watched her and decided to step closer to her, “I apologize if I hurt you; that’s never what I want. You have to believe me on that. I’m saying it now: I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours,” Harry pleaded with her. Luna soaked in his words, hearing the sincerity in his voice. She couldn’t face him. Yes, Luna believed him and knew that Harry wasn’t lying at all when he said she secretly knew. She did. She enjoyed feeling like Harry would always be there. It was this feeling of security she didn’t have with any of the other men she would casually date. This sense of security was something that she was scared to have pulled away. She didn’t want to commit out of fear of relationships, yet she knew she didn’t want Harry to be gone forever. Even though she knew Harry loved her, she thought she had a longer time to decide whether to commit. It felt like she was now faced with an ultimatum. Instead of answering him, she deflected. “Harry, you’ve seen girls to-.” She was once again cut off with Harry’s words.

“No, don’t do that. You know, every single girl is PR. I stopped doing that altogether once I felt more serious about you. Don’t divert this back to me. Do you want me at all? Or is this where this ends.” Harry said with a deep breath, finally asking the question. He would be lying if he didn’t feel like 100 pounds were sitting on his heart, waiting to be lifted off. All it would take for this anxiety to lift is her uttering the word, ‘Yes, Harry, I want you.’ Yet, what he heard come out of her mouth next left him shocked where he stood. Luna turned to face him with a stone-cold expression, “I can’t do this, Harry.” Luna walked past him to exit the studio, brushing his shoulder as she passed. As her hand touched the cold door handle to leave, Harry muttered what he thought would be his last word to her. 

“This is what you do, Luna. You run away, and I don’t know why I thought it would be any different for me.” Harry said, feeling himself getting more emotional that he wanted to be infront of her. Without another word, Luna slammed the door behind her.

As she walked down the long hallway, her heart and mind raced. ‘What did I do?’ She thought to herself. She knows she has a connection with Harry. Without a doubt, she knows that. Yet, she was still scared to commit. Past relationships had driven her to live this bachelorette lifestyle. Luna stopped in her tracks, leaning against a wall. “Fuck,” she muttered to herself. Luna had a real decision to make right now. She could either run off to her car and avoid Harry forever. Or go back into that studio to be with the only man who has ever treated her right. Luna finally knew she could listen to her heart, saying just to trust. She had spent years listening to her brain and severed many lovers because of her mind. Her heart was saying to her don’t let this one go, Luna turned on her heels and headed back in the same direction she left. Harry was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, soaking in everything that had just happened. He heard the door open and, without looking, thought it was the sound engineer returning.

“Hey man, I need a few more minutes.”

“I love you, Harry Styles. I’m sorry it took this long for me to admit it.” Harry’s head shot up in shock, looking at the door. He watched Luna close the door behind her as he rose.

“Say it again,” he said breathlessly as she approached him. As she reached him, her hands went on opposite sides of his face, and she looked him in the eyes. 

“I love you, and I want you. I want this. There are no promises for how fast we will go, though. I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time.”

“I don’t care if we take one inch a day. That’s all I needed you to say.” Harry towered over her, pressing his lips on her. Luna leaned in the kiss, soaking up all of Harry’s love. Her heart felt something it hadn't in a while, true peace. It felt as if all the walls she had spent so hard creating came crumbling down all at once. Harry picked her up, sitting on the couch with her in his arms. Harry deepened the kiss, tangling his hands in her hair. Luna relaxed in his lap as her body felt like it was on fire. Harry broke the kiss as they both panted against each other's lips. Both of their mouths curved up into a smile.

“Sloane, I love you. I think I always have. It’s impossible not to be. I promise I want this.” Luna’s cheeks beamed at her real name slipping from his lips. She couldn’t begin to explain this feeling in her body. 

“I’m excited about this, Harry. And you’re doing a real civil duty keeping me from eating more men.” She said, teasing him about the song.

“Baby, If the song upset you, I’ll scrap it.” Her index finger lightly brushed over his lips to shush him. 

“To say it upset me is an understatement. I would be a complete fool if I watched you let go of that song. It’s a great song and can be our little secret that it’s about me.”

“Deal, baby.” Harry smiled at her, happy that she was okay with him putting the song out.

“Now you have to make it up to me, though,” she said seductively. That’s all it took for Harry to feel that similar yearning. 

“I’m going to spend all night making it up to you, I promise.” Luna kissed Harry again, and she let Harry express his love for her. Both of them decided to use the studio for the night so that Harry’s promise could be kept. Luna and Harry couldn’t be more in love than they already felt. It made the wait that Harry had to endure all worth it. 

[nodutra19]

I'll be damned if I said I understood this series, but I'll throw something in about what Kanba sharing the apple with Shoma means. As stated, this series is very much about love.

Now I ask you, what love is there in a world that puts continuous prices on human lives, as Sanetoshi and private health insurance do throughout the show? What love is there in a cult?

In short, I think the apple is a collective love.

We're often raised with the notion of "Blood is thicker than water." But really, it's "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb." What it means is, the connections you choose to forge say more about you than the ones into which you were born. But it's also more complex than that. What you're born into shapes who you are and even what choices you make. Oftentimes, people who were abused as children will go on to abuse other people. And yet there are also many people who were raised with loving families who still go on to commit terrible things, and there exist many who are the inverse, people who were raised by terrible parents who still choose to do good. It's both true that we are molded by our surroundings, but we still make choices at our own will (if we ignore the extortion and violence of poverty).

We love to say "Disturb the comforted, comfort the disturbed," but the truth is we are all mixes of it. I'm NB but I was still raised a dude. I had to work out a lot of what I had been taught. And while I never physically harmed anyone, I still feel some dread and culpability hearing what women go through. As sympathetic and understanding as I am, I'm not beyond reproach. I "get it" from an outsider's perspective. I can still relate to anyone regardless of category, but I also must keep in mind how different experiences can be. I was still raised with the comfort of not being sexualized as a child, as little girls often are (obviously boys still face SV, I'm just saying that the experience isn't the same). I still get disturbed in a particular way when I watch something like Revolutionary Girl Utena or Moral Orel, because these are things I don't personally face. Even though I don't commit terrible acts like Akio and the residents of Moralton, I still have to confront these things in order to participate in its dismantling. I still have to reach out. The sacrifice is my comfort and previous understanding in order to grow as a person and help and understand others.

There's a fundamental contradiction to the human condition. The Takakura parents were seemingly normal and almost texbookly loving, and yet they were part of the Kiga group, and Kenzan went on to commit an act of terror.

This "comfort" I had, the "privilege" of more than likely not facing SV if I were to take a walk out at night, also comes at a "price": I had to conform to the ideas of "boy" and "man" which did nothing but stifle me.

I think the apple represents unconditional love, a Tolstoyan love, one not bound by personal biases. Tabuki had to conform to his mother's idea of talent, intelligence, while Yuri had to conform to her father's idea of beauty. But of course, these are all impossible standards set upon fluid, abstract concepts. They are inherently inhuman ideals born not from a love of humanity but the exaltation of a non-existent archetype, of a past that never existed, hence the dealing with the economic crisis.

Sanetoshi doesn't hold a gun to Kanba's head but he still extorts him to do his bidding, to carry out another cycle of violence for a fiery cleansing of the world. Sanetoshi permits Himari to live not because she is human, but because someone is willing to work for him in exchange. No one in this society is given that unconditional love. The condition is you must conform to the cogs which make the system turn.

Kanba asked nothing of Shoma when he split the apple and handed the other half to him.

A child is born with no state of mind Blind to the ways of mankind God is smilin' on you but he's frownin' too Because only God knows what you'll go through You'll grow in the ghetto livin' second-rate And your eyes will sing a song of deep hate The places you play and where you stay Looks like one great big alleyway You'll admire all the number-book takers Thugs, pimps and pushers and the big money-makers ---The Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five

For as self-centered as children are due to their very nature, they're still purer, in a sense, than most adults. I've always had anger problems due to the environment in which I was raised, but people still call me empathetic and caring, because I still make that effort. Kanba made a grand gesture by offering Shoma the apple. It shows he cares. And there was no condition to it. Kanba asked for nothing in exchange. He saw a human being in need of help like him, and when he was blessed, he decided to share. As horse-girl-anthy writes, Kanba would later go on to resent Shoma due to the fact Shoma had such a loving family and yet Shoma disowned his parents upon learning of their original sin. Kanba, the orphan taken into the Takakura family, resented how Shoma disowned them because he saw it as ungrateful and selfish because Shoma possessed that of which Kanba had been dispossessed. For as illogical as it is, you and I can't fully blame him. We understand where he's coming from in spite of the Walter White of it all with his trapping and strapping.

There are many differences between them as little children and as we find them as teenagers in the show, but one of the main differences is that neither one of them had been shaped by society yet. That's why Shoma leant a hand to Himari, why Momoka leant a hand to Tabuki. We're told we're inherently selfish and cruel. I'd say humans aren't any one thing, neither inherently good nor evil. To subscribe to any essentialism is to erase any collective responsibility we have about the world and for each other.

I still have trouble understanding the sins of the father current of the series, but I think the ultimate punishment in life is how finite our existences are.

"Whenever I start thinking of my love for a person, I am in the habit of immediately drawing radii from my love - from my heart, from the tender nucleus of a personal matter- to monstrously remote points of the universe. Something impels me to measure the consciousness of my love against such unimaginable and incalculable things as the behaviour of nebulae (whose very remoteness seems a form of insanity), the dreadful pitfalls of eternity, the unknowledgeable beyond the unknown, the helplessness, the cold, the sickening involutions and interpenetrations of space and time." ---Vladimir Nabokov Speak, Memory

No matter what we do, we'll die. Death is the one guarantee in life. The greatest irony of life is the intensity with which we love, with which we burn, and yet it will all turn to vapors and disappear. We construct things like God in order to give our suffering meaning. But we also imbue God with our authority. God oftentimes becomes a thought-terminating cliche and ad hoc justification. But atheists also have similar mental workings, hence why the atheist movement in the U.S became reactionary after 9/11.

For as much as Sanetoshi talks about the cruelty of the world, for as right as he is to bemoan businessmen and the cogs of society, he is not a solution in himself. Atheists have a point in criticizing Christians and Christianity, but they fall into the same trappings. The Christian man says women belong in the kitchen because God decreed it so. The atheist says women belong in the kitchen because she has a womb. Both, in spite of their seeming opposition, believe in capitalism and complimentarianism and other institutions.

I think this is why Kanba ended up going Kiga rather than Shoma. You'd expect the biological son whose parents participated in the original incident to go that route, but no, it was Kanba. Everyone is fighting against the cruelty of the world and life itself. The core struggle is finding meaning and love. But we all suffer the collective punishment of death, of eventually turning to ash. We just also live in a world filled with inequality and alienation.

Shoma felt responsible, because as a descendant he kind of is. What his parents did is his cross to bear. But he's the one who made Himari a Takakura. The Penguindrum ended up being the siblings' bond. This means what they had to sacrifice in order to keep Himari alive was the end of their bond. And yet in spite of that, in spite of the fact that they no longer know each other, a remnant remains, a spirit of their love. That's why the stuffed animal remains. The sacrifice was hard and unideal, but Kanba and Shoma truly cared for Himari. The true test, the true exhibition of their love, of their sharing of the apple, was sacrificing their bond in order to give her a normal life. There is no exchange there. There is no reward. They wanted to lift the curse of their parents and paid the price. And yet even in that do-over, Himari feels the spirit of that love, hence why she cries.

She feels love beyond a death she knows nothing about, a love that transcends space and time. That's the pure love we all seek. Kanba sharing the apple was the start of this. I think that's why that scene isn't revealed until so close to the end. It's meant to be paralleled.

I hope I made sense, My mind has been sloshing with this series, so I hope I managed to give my thoughts some sensical form.

Night on the Galactic Railroad, or the Apple, the Scorpion, and the Stars

From a series on Mawaru Penguindrum’s literary influences.

This place is cursed with spoilers.

Night on the Galactic Railroad (1927) is a novella by Kenji Miyazawa. It takes place in the fictional fairy tale country resembling Italy. There, on the night of the annual Centuarus Festival, two boys, Giovanni and Campanella, are whisked away on the titular Galactic Railroad to tour the heavens. While on this journey, they confront the nature of human connection, transience, and sacrifice. At the end of the story, Giovanni and Campanella part ways. Campanella was on the train because he drowned during the festival and was on his way to the afterlife, while Giovanni, still alive, was allowed on the journey with his friend.

Mawaru Penguindrum specifically seems to be influenced by the 1985 anime adaptation directed by Gisaburo Sugii. It’s a faithful adaptation, but it plays up the story’s somber parts. The darkness at Penguindrum’s core seems borrowed from this version of the story rather than the original. Shouma and Kanba resemble Giovanni and Campanella as realized in this version.

Giovanni (right) and Campanella (left) on the Galactic Railroad.

Like Giovanni, Shouma is associated with the color blue and has a sensitive, demure personality. Like Campanella, Kanba is associated with red and is determined, distant, but ultimately devoted to his friends. Unlike NotGR, however, Shouma and Kanba depart together at the end. It seems to me as if Ikuhara has dwelt on the sadness of Giovanni and Campanella’s parting at the end of the original story and, in Penguindrum, created a version where they could be together in the end. Penguindrum also explicitly references Kenji Miyazawa in its first and last scenes. Near the beginning of the first episode, a pair of children are walking out side the Takakura’s home discussing what the apple means in NotGR. You can tell because they mention Campanella and someone named Kenji - the novella’s author Kenji Miyazawa. This exact conversation repeats in the final moments of the last episode, but this time the boys have Shouma and Kanba’s hair colors and the audience follows them as they keep walking into the stars.

THE SCORPION FIRE

Night on the Galactic Railroad also contains the explanation for that scorpion metaphor! A lot of people get stuck on this - Kanba is referred to as a scorpion several times throughout Penguindrum, and allusions are made to him burning up. This is actually direct reference to NotGR, where the story of the burning scorpion exists as a fable told to the main characters as they’re on the train. You can see it in this clip:

“"My father told me its story: A long time ago in a field there lived a scorpion that ate other bugs by using its tale to catch them. Then one day he found himself cornered by a weasel. Fearing for his life, he ran but could not escape it. Suddenly, he fell into a well and, unable to climb out, began to drown. He started to pray then, saying: 

”‘Oh, God. How many lives have I stolen to survive? Yet when it came my turn to be eaten by the weasel, I selfishly ran away. And for what? What a waste my life has been! If only I’d let the weasel eat me, I could have helped him live another day. God, please hear my prayer. Even if my life has been meaningless, let my death be of help to others. Burn my body so that it may become a beacon, to light the way for others as they search for true happiness.’

“The scorpion’s prayer was answered, and his body became a beautiful crimson flame that shot up into the night sky. There he burns to this day. My father was telling the truth…”

From Night on the Galactic Railroad, translation by Julianne Neville. 

The fable of the scorpion fire is about sacrifice. The scorpion, who lived his life as a foul predator, faces something more powerful than him - the inevitability of death - and regrets that, after a life of heedless consumption, he couldn’t die in a way that aided the proliferation of life. The gods hear his prayers and set him on fire, turning him into the red star Antares, heart of the constellation scorpio, whose light aids life. 

From episode 12. Kanba offers his life to the Princess of the Crystal’s in exchange for Himari’s and, due to the purity of his sacrifice, it is acceptable. Unlike later on in the series, here Kanba is exhibiting the true nature of sacrifice.

This fable gives insight into Kanba’s motivations but not his actions. While the scorpion discovers his kinship with all life, Kanba is rushing headlong towards a sacrifice that nobody wants but him. Kanba views himself as a predator and wants his final, massive act of predation - the terrorist attack - to lead to some concrete good:  extending Himari’s life. His role as a man of action rather than a man of reflection (Shouma) binds him to Sanetoshi’s will, which offers a convenient means of achieving his goal. But those outs don’t exist in the real world, and these justifications can’t be made ahead of time. Shouma knew this and Kanba should have known. Maybe that’s why it’s Shouma, the brother with a more intuitive understanding of sacrifice, who bursts into flames and not Kanba, who fades away. Kanba’s identification with the scorpion represents misguided, emotionally selfish sacrifice - egoism - while Shouma, Ringo, and Momoka’s association with the purer flame represents true, transcendent sacrifice. 

From episode 24. Ringo casting the spell (“Let’s share the fruit of fate!”) and subjecting herself to the scorpion fire. 

THE APPLE

There’s a scene late in the novella where Giovanni and Campanella encounter some people who died on the Titanic. The trio consists of two children and their governor, who allowed them all to die to make room for more people on the lifeboat. These people tell Giovanni and Campanella about the scorpion fire, and this is also where apples come into play. A lighthouse keeper, traveling down the train, gives them some apples, which they disperse amongst themselves. The film actually makes it so that the flocks of birds that they see flying outside the windows turn into the apples - something that wasn’t present in the original story. Apples as a metaphor for live sacrificing itself for the sustenance of more life seems to originate here, since that wasn’t tied to the apples in the original story. 

Christianity, apples symbolize knowledge and defilement. NotGR however, reclaims that image. Here, they represent people understanding their limitations as individuals and accepting community - and the necessity of making sacrifices for humanity’s greater good -  as a way to make up for their flaws. NotGR stresses over and over again that people value humanity or some abstract conception of “life” over themselves, and that this path leads to profound spiritual contentment. Penguindrum borrows this idea and the apple symbolism wholeheartedly, but emphasizes valuing one’s interpersonal relationships as a proxy for loving all life. 

From episode 20. Himari reinterprets the biblical Fall of Man as a good thing because it allowed humanity to experience connection and joy, however transient, alongside pain. 

One of the biggest mysteries left in Penguindrum to me is what Kanba sharing the apple with Shouma represents. I know what happened between Shouma/Himari and Kanba/Himari. Shouma brought the abandoned Himari into his family and Himari brought Kanba into the family after his father’s death. But what happened between Kanba and Shouma? How did Kanba have to save Shouma by sharing his fruit of fate? It’s left purely abstract - Shouma and Kanba were starving, Kanba shared his fruit, and both were saved by the gesture. Maybe Kanba helped Shouma by being assertive and dedicated in situations where he wasn’t naturally inclined towards that? Like Giovanni and Campanella, Kanba and Shouma have complementary existences. Giovanni couldn’t exist on his own without adopting some of Campanella’s traits, while Kanba and Shouma, although they acquiesce to each other a bit, ultimately reaffirm their paired existence. I opened this up to discussion with some people on twitter and Bryan Baxter suggested that the two boxes Kanba and Shouma are in during episodes 23 and 24 are their mothers’ wombs, and that by sharing the fruit of fate they became spiritual twins (they were born on the same day). Yoni Linder suggested that Kanba helped Shouma survive the KIGA group’s brainwashing when they were children. It is odd that Shouma, the Takakura actually born into the cult, is the one least susceptible to it.

The idea that there’s something beyond what we consider life is central to NotGR, which uses Christian imagery and often seems overtly Christian in its themes. Kenji Miyazawa was a devout practitioner of Nichiren Buddhism, but like many Japanese people his life was saturated with Christian imagery and scraps of biblical scripture. Christianity exists and is portrayed positively in NotGR, but neither Giovanni nor Campanella seem to be practitioners. When Giovanni and the children get into an argument over whose god is “real,” the tutor reconciles them by raising the possibility that their gods are one and the same and reminding them that the point of religion is true faith in what you believe. NotGR is thus a neutral but positive synthesis of Christian and Buddhist images towards a more generically humanist message.

“"And who says he’s the real God? I’ll be he’s a fake!”

“How would you know? Maybe the God you believe in is the fake.”

“No! He’s the real one!”

“Then tell me, what kind of God is your God?” asked the young man with a gentle smile.

“Well… to be honest, I’m not quite sure… but I do know he is the one true God,” Giovanni replied.

“Of course he is. There’s only one true God.“ 

"And my God is that one!”

“I agree. I can only pray that the two of you are seeing us off before that true God now,” the young man said, clasping his hands together. Kaoru also clasped her hands together.

Everyone was sad to be parting, and Giovanni was about to burst into tears.“

From Night on the Galactic Railroad, translation by Julianne Neville. 

Over time, it becomes clearer and clearer that one of the railroad’s purposes is to deliver people to the afterlife, two of which are represented by giant glowing crosses. "Dying for love” thus means something more concrete in NotGR than it does in Penguindrum. There’s an actual reward for doing it - entrance into heaven. The same isn’t true in Penguindrum, where the existence of an afterlife is much more abstract. Sanetoshi and Momoka were humans with some supernatural powers who died and became ghosts, but that form of afterlife seems much more a curse than a reward. In the last episode, Momoka vanishes from this world for good through some sort of opening, but exactly where she goes is unknown. Penguindrum’s final shot is of Shouma and Kanba, having died for love, walking into the stars. While characters do allude to god, the show as a whole seems nonreligious, more concerned with taking the aspects of stories it deems meaningful and applying them towards a new, secular humanist message. Here, god is synonymous with fate, chance, or destiny - the circumstances outside human control that one is subjected to and dictate life. So what is Kenji saying? I think he’s saying that humanity’s survival up to this point has been due to our ability to love each other, to willingly sacrifice for the greater good, and that this is the foundation for human existence. That's where everything really begins. 

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ honesty is a virtue

type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, a little suggestive, actually a lot suggestive, this is based off a stupid joke I made, reader is older than nrc students etc

It had started as a joke.

IT WAS A JOKE!!!

How could you have known? You had had your suspicions, but it's not like anyone tells you these things.

You meant it as a JOKE!

"Yeah, well, I fucked your dad,"

Sebek looked absolutely horrified, as if you had just told him his pet puppy died. Silver was stuck in place, pale, staring at you. Malleus chuckled.

You look between the three, confused. "Relax, guys, I was kidding,"

Sebek's horror immediately twists into rage, his whole face going red. "HAVE YOU NO DECENCY? TO JOKE ABOUT SUCH VULGAR THINGS!!!"

"Sebek, it's alright," Malleus interrupts, smirking. Weird. Usually, he's the one who doesn't get your jokes. "They didn't know."

"Didn't know?" you ask. "Didn't know what?"

Malleus chuckles, and pats your head like one would a puppy, or a small child. "Some things are better left unsaid, child of man. You should know better than to make such comments around the younger students, though,"

"...Oh, right," you mutter. "Oops."

Sebek still looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel.

"...It's fine, I'm not offended. I was just... surprised, that's all," Silver says, the color slowly returning to his face.

You still can't seem to figure out what it is. You'd made crude jokes in front of them before, they're not that young, Lilia has said much worse, and you'd only been messing with them. Besides, you don't even know their dad.

Or so you thought.

"Knock knock~" a familiar, cheery voice calls out for you, opening your door.

You look up from your phone, trying to distract yourself from your earlier embarrassment.

"Oh... hey, Lilia,"

"Busy?" he asks, letting himself in, anyway.

"Uh... no. Not really. Is everything okay?"

The fae smiles, the tips of his fangs visible between his lips. He's got that look on him again.

"Malleus told me you caused quite the commotion, earlier,"

Oh, great. Now him, too? You're never gonna live this down. You sigh.

"I..." you hesitate. You really don't want to be scolded again, and you've heard that Lilia can be quite scary when he's mad.

"...We were all just... having a silly little argument, nothing serious, and I made a bad joke, I guess."

"Which waaaas?"

At least he doesn't seem upset, you think. If anything, he seems amused. Which isn't great, either.

You sigh again. "...I joked, in a jokey manner, in a joking conversation, that I had... done certain things with their father,"

"And is that true?"

"What?" you scoff, almost in disbelief. Is he really turning this into a lecture about lying? He never lectures you. "Obviously not! I was joking! People make those kinds of jokes all the time!"

"Ah, but how careless of you. Poor Sebek almost fainted," Lilia says, taking a seat on your bed next to you. He really is turning this into a lecture...

"Hm. But would you like it to be true?"

Pause.

Huh?

Even when he's scolding, he finds a way to surprise you. And yet... what if he's not scolding at all...?

You give him a weird look. "Meaning what?"

Lilia giggles, and you catch a glimmer in his eye. He's teasing. Not lecturing. Teasing. What is he...

"Remember how I told you that I'm much older than I look?"

Oh.

Oh, no.

Your stomach drops. Everyone's horrified looks, Malleus' amusement, Lilia's teasing, suddenly make sense.

"No,"

"Yes," Lilia lowers his eyes, getting closer. "I must say, I'm flattered. But it was rather cruel of you to lie to my boys. I'm simply suggesting we... make that lie a truth."

You stare at him, unflinching. Perhaps you'd always thought he was a little cute, perhaps you're just thinking it now. What you're sure of, though, is that you could hold this over everyone's heads forever. He knows it, too.

Finally, you nod.

Lilia sets a hand on your knee and leans a little closer. "Good. Honesty is a virtue, after all,"

[kkayyerr]

Mean! Rafe with pogue! Reader when she regresses like how is he? Is he gentle? Does he tease? Those kinds of things, thank you xx

I got you!

I loooove writing headcanons.🫶🏻

Warnings: Age regression, Dark!Rafe, controlling behavior, manipulation, slight abuse.

– He would probably first met you when you would visit his sister. He knew that you were one of the Pogues, but it wasn’t what he found interesting about you.

– Your behavior wasn’t usual for a Pogue. You were quiet, shy and somewhat childish. Somehow he didn’t found you as annoying as the rest of them, he enjoyed observing you quietly, analyzing your behavior.

– Rafe won’t admit his interest in you to anyone, especially not to his sister, always making snarky comments about you when talking to her.

– „What is she, a five year old?”

– He wouldn’t mind saying things like that to your face, laughing when you will give him a pouty face, that he would secretly find adorable.

– „What was that, little girl? Too sensitive to handle a small tease?"

– But when he would first saw you in the fight that his friends started with Pogues, he would push you to the side, holding you in his hands, so you won’t get hurt. He would find a lot of excuses about that later, when his friends would confront him about being soft to the Pogue.

– Rafe would probably give you a little smirks every time he would see you at his house or somewhere else.

– When he would find out that you are regressed, he would wait for the perfect opportunity to ask Sarah to babysit you for her, and when that opportunity will come, he would make sure that there’s only you and him in the house. He would also make sure that this would be the last time you were talking to Sarah.

– „You know, I’m not like your friends, kid. I actually care about your well-being.”

– He would play with your mind, making you actually believe everything he said.

– „Baby, you’re too precious to think about that Pogue’s shit. Just let me take care of you, alright?"

– Soon enough, the brave Pogue girl will become daddy’s little doll.

– „No one will take care of you better than I do, baby.”

– He would make sure that you are way too eager for his attention and affection to actually leave, or even think about going back to the Pogues.

– Rafe would teach you manners, watching as you slowly turn into the true Kook, because he would be damned if he would let his baby’s brain being stuffed with that Pogue’s bullshit.

– He would dress you himself, adoring your little pink outfits and small ribbons in your hair, that he would braid himself.

– Everytime you would ask to see your friends he would just change his manner to the cold one, and watching as you slowly forgetting about wanting to see them, now crying because of lack of affection.

– „I told you baby, I don’t want you around your friends no more, they are bad influence. Let’s just go to the Topper’s house, yeah?”

– You won’t say „no”, because you know that there will be consequences for you.

– He won’t be using physical punishments. He would just left you alone when you will need him the most, waiting for you to come begging for forgiveness, hoping for at least crumps of his love.

– His favorite words are „yes, Daddy”.

– Rafe wouldn’t hesitate beating the shit out of the Pogues right in front of your eyes, if they would try and talk to you.

– When you will start crying because of the shock he would just hold you close, being much gentler than he usually was.

– „Daddy just wanted to protect you, baby”.

– You would never question his actions, because „Daddy always knows better”.

– Always.

[goldsainz]

# HIGH INFIDELITY — CHAPTER ONE !

SERIES MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ no matter what you do or who you’re with, rafe is the thorn in your side that persists.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ drinking, rafe’s a bitch.

003. NOTE !

✯ the italics part is meant to be past, normal is present. not a lot of rafe in this part, but we’re building up the tension, bear with me guys. also this is short n’ sweet, but it was either this or waiting like a week sooo 🤗

word count : 3,1k

Summer is, without a doubt, your favourite season of the year—a time when everything seems a little brighter, warmer, and full of promise. But above all, it’s the chance for romance that makes it truly special. As the breeze grazes your skin, you're struck with all the endless possibilities for a breezy, passionate fling. Summer brings not just warmth, but the promise of memories waiting to be made.

Perhaps that is why this summer feels different, why you're filled with a sensation you are not used to. Because, in true you fashion, you cannot help but fall for the first guy that makes eye contact with you. It’s as if that single look, just a fleeting connection, has already set something in motion within you. It doesn't really matter who they are, you just hope they're decent enough that when the summer ends you won't wallow until the next one.

Despite everything you’ve always been told—that Kooks and Pogues live in separate worlds, that some lines are best left uncrossed—you can’t help but feel all that advice slip away in a single moment. A single glance across the bonfire, a glint of warmth and interest in his eyes, has you questioning every cautionary tale you've ever heard. 

He lifts his hand in a simple wave, and without thinking, you lift yours in return. He smiles, and you find yourself smiling back, helpless against the pull he seems to have over you. It’s such a small exchange, yet it sends a thrill through you. So simply, your heart is already in the hands of a Kook that probably doesn't even know your name.

For a single moment, just when you finally let your guard down and begin to lose yourself in the summer night, you feel a hard shove against your shoulder. The unexpected force nearly sends you toppling, and you stumble awkwardly to keep your footing. A quick flash of irritation floods your mind, and as you turn, you see the culprit—and, oh, if it isn’t the most predictable sight in the world.

It’s Rafe Cameron. Of course, it is. He moves through the crowd like he owns it, barely glancing your way, as if you’re invisible, or worse, just an obstacle on his path to whatever or whoever he’s fixated on. 

“Watch it, Kook!” You shout at him, your voice sharp, as you glare down at the mess now soaking into the sand, the drink he so casually spilled with his careless shove. Typical Rafe—he couldn’t just bump into you and keep walking; no, he had to leave a mark, a small reminder of how easy it is for him to disrupt whatever, or whoeever, is in his way.

There’s no point in trying to get Rafe to acknowledge his mistakes. He wouldn’t care, and honestly, why waste the energy? Annoyed, you make your way toward the drink stand, trying to shake off the aggravation and enjoy what’s left of the night. The makeshift bar is stocked with copious amounts of beer, a few murky-looking bottles of whiskey, and vodka that looks questionably watered down. You sigh, filling a red cup and trying to hold on to a sliver of the excitement you felt earlier. Maybe it’s time to call it a night, to forget the rude shove and, disappointingly, to forget the boy you shared glances with.

“Hey,” a voice interrupts as you lift the cup to your lips, pulling you from your thoughts. You look up, and there he is—the guy from across the bonfire, standing right in front of you, his expression soft but earnest. “I’m sorry about him,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Huh?” The word slips out, and for a moment, you forget all about the spilled drink, the scowl on your face, even Rafe Cameron’s entitled shove. The memory of the night seems to blur, leaving just this moment, this exchange. You’re left with that same rush from earlier, only more intense now, standing close enough to see the way the firelight reflects in his eyes. 

“He shoved you, right?” he asks, raising his voice slightly so it cuts through the noise around you. There’s a hint of concern in his eyes, and he leans in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of saltwater and something earthy, maybe cedar. “Or did I mistake you for someone else?”

“No, no,” you reply, shaking your head, a small, sheepish smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. “That was me, unfortunately. Rafe Cameron’s idea of saying ‘excuse me,’ I guess.”

He laughs, a low sound that somehow makes the rest of the chaotic night fade into the background. “Sounds about right,” he says with a shrug, like he knows exactly the kind of person Rafe is—and isn’t surprised in the slightest. His gaze lingers on you, though, holding a warmth and sincerity that feels like a stark contrast to everything you just experienced. It’s as if he’s actually seeing you, not just some girl who got shoved around in the crowd.

“So… can I get you another drink?” he asks, nodding toward your mostly empty cup. “You know, as a ‘sorry for my obnoxious friend’ kind of thing.”

"I don’t even know your name,” you say, keeping your tone casual, though you can feel a flicker of heat rising in your cheeks. Of course, you do. But he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.

He raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes as if he’s caught on to your feigned innocence but decides to play along. “Is that so?” he asks, a grin curving on his lips. “Well, then. I guess that makes us strangers, doesn’t it?”

You bite back a smile, shrugging, as if the flutter in your chest is no big deal. “I suppose it does.”

He extends his hand, the light from the bonfire casting a warm glow on his face. “I’m Joshua, but you can call me Josh.” he says, as though you hadn’t already heard the name whispered among your friends a hundred times. “And you are?”

“YN,” you say softly, letting your name slip past your lips like a secret, as if saying it too loudly might break the spell of this moment.

“Well, YN,” he drawls, your name slipping off his lips like honey, rich and warm. Somehow, in the noise and firelight, it sounds sweeter coming from him than you’ve ever heard it before. “Can I get you a drink?”

You hesitate, just for a second, but then you nod, feeling a lightness in your chest that hadn’t been there before. “I’d like that, yeah,” you say, and suddenly, youre not so ready for the night to end.

As you lie peacefully on the beach, your head resting on Josh’s chest and the sun’s warm rays caressing your skin, a deep contentment settles over you. The waves roll in rhythmically, their soft crashing mixing with the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. 

Josh’s fingers trace lazy patterns along your arm, a quiet gesture that says so much without a word. Somehow, these last days have passed in a perfect blur, each moment with him slipping effortlessly into the next. It’s as if the rest of the world has faded into the background, leaving just the two of you and the freedom of these warm summer days.

It hasn’t been more than three days, you’re sure. But in the rush of everything—of his touch, of the laughter, of the long talks that stretch into the night—it feels like so much more. It doesn’t matter, though. Summer is fleeting by nature, and relationships, much like the warmth of the sun, can’t last forever. You’ve always known that.

Maybe that’s why things feel so easy with Josh. There’s no pressure, no rush to figure it all out. You don’t need a lifetime to know that this connection is real, even if it’s only for now.

“I was thinking…” he whispers, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as it tickles your ear. “Why don’t you come with me to a party? It’s very casual.”

You turn your head slightly so you can look at him, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin. “Where?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

“Just… at a friend’s house,” he replies, his words vague, as though he’s trying to keep something hidden. You sense it, the hesitation, like he’s afraid the full truth will make you back out.

“Okay… whose house?” you ask, your voice a bit firmer now, wanting a little more clarity.

You roll your eyes and let out a dramatic groan, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Fine. But the second he crosses a line, I’m out. Don’t try to stop me.”

Josh raises his hands, feigning innocence, though there’s a gleam of victory in his eyes. “Deal,” he says with a grin, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I’m serious,” you press, your voice soft but your gaze steady, locking onto his as if to underline your words. You want him to know you’re not playing around; Rafe has crossed too many lines before, and you’re not about to give him any more chances.

Josh’s grin softens into something more earnest as he takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know. And I won’t let him pull anything. I’ll be right there with you.”

You nod, reassured—well, mostly. There’s still a twinge of anxiety at the thought of walking into Rafe’s space. But with Josh by your side, it feels like a risk worth taking. You take a deep breath, pushing away the doubts, letting yourself focus on the warmth of his hand in yours.

You know you’ll probably regret being so compliant later, but in this moment, under the warm sun and the gentle pull of his charm, you can’t find it within yourself to care. Not right now, anyway.

The party is at its peak when you step inside with Josh, his hand a steady presence on the small of your back. People weave around, stumbling and laughing, drinks sloshing as they chug another round. The air is thick with the smell of beer and perfume, the music pounding loud enough to shake the floor.

Tannyhill is enormous, every inch of it polished and perfect. Compared to the flimsy house you call home, this level of luxury feels surreal, almost insulting—like you’re trespassing in a world you’re not meant to be a part of.

“You good?” Josh’s voice is low against your ear, his fingers pressing lightly, reassuringly, into your back.

“Yeah,” you manage, glancing around at the high ceilings and spotless marble floors. “Big house,” you mumble, trying to play it off, but Josh catches the edge of awe in your voice and lets out a soft chuckle.

“Sometimes I forget,” he says with a smile, “that this is all just… normal to me. It’s weird, huh?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “A little.” There’s an underlying discomfort, a feeling of not quite fitting in, but with Josh beside you, you tell yourself it doesn’t matter.

As you navigate through the crowd, you spot Rafe across the room, casually leaning against a table, a smirk on his face as he watches the crowd unfold around him. His gaze shifts, and for a brief second, his eyes lock onto yours, his smirk turning into something sharper, something that sends a prickle of irritation through you.

Josh notices and gives your hand a squeeze, as if grounding you. “Remember our deal,” he murmurs, his tone playful but his eyes serious.

“Right,” you reply, taking a deep breath and letting it go, trying to shake off the feeling of being under Rafe’s watch. Tonight, you tell yourself, is about being with Josh, about experiencing his world—even if only for a night.

There are barely any Pogues here, you realize, glancing around at the faces in the crowd. Maybe a few who hover on the edges, those who toe the line between a bad season of hard luck and those who might actually crawl and beg to be part of the Kooks’ world. They’re the ones who keep their heads down, wearing uncomfortable clothes, trying to blend in without drawing attention.

You feel the difference even more now, the gap between you and this place, this crowd. Everyone here is effortlessly at ease, basking in the privilege that’s been theirs since birth. And yet here you are, standing in the middle of it all, aware of every sideways glance, every slightly raised eyebrow as you pass by.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here?” you ask again, your voice low, almost like you’re bracing yourself for Rafe or one of his friends to notice you and kick you out.

Josh squeezes your hand, his expression softening. “Of course. They don’t care, really,” he says, his tone steady, almost casual, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You wish you could believe him. You’ve noticed, over these past few days, how little Josh seems to care about the whole Kook and Pogue divide. He doesn’t see you as an outsider, doesn’t seem to register the tension that hums just beneath the surface. To him, it’s all irrelevant, a line drawn in the sand that doesn’t matter. It’s refreshing—and it’s blinding.

Because Josh’s indifference almost fooled you into thinking the world works that way, too. Like the Kooks and Pogues can just coexist, that the labels and histories are meaningless. But tonight, standing in this mansion with strangers’ eyes glancing your way, you feel the weight of it again, the silent reminders that you don’t belong.

He notices the hesitation in your eyes, the way you’re pulling back, and his hand slides to your shoulder, a gentle reminder that he’s here with you. “Listen,” he murmurs, leaning close so only you can hear, “I don’t care about any of that, and if anyone else does… well, that’s their problem. You’re with me.”

His words are a comfort, but they’re not enough to erase the uneasy feeling that lingers. You force a smile, hoping he can’t see the doubt flickering there, and nod. “Right. I’m with you.”

For the slightest moment you feel at ease, but almost like clockwork, the grating voice of Rafe Cameron breaks your reverie, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Hey, man,” he greets, slapping a hand on Josh’s back in that familiar, boy-ish way.

“What’s up, Rafe?” Josh replies, his smile wide, clearly used to this dynamic, his tone casual and easygoing.

“Nothing much, just trying to keep everything at bay,” Rafe responds, his voice dripping with indifference as he talks like you’re not even standing there. Like you don’t exist in this moment, and it stings more than it should.

“Cool,” Josh shifts slightly, turning toward you. “I’m sure you’ve met YN, hope it’s all good that I brought her?”

At that, Rafe finally looks at you. The weight of his gaze makes your skin prickle, and for a moment, you almost squirm under it. “Yup, all good,” Rafe says, his voice laced with something colder, something discomforting. “I said you could bring anyone… and you did.”

The way he says it is so backhanded, so typical of him. You can practically hear the unspoken judgement in his words, feel it in the way he looks at you, sizing you up.

You’re not surprised, of course—this is Rafe, after all—but the little jab only adds to the discomfort that’s been creeping up on you all evening. You force a tight smile, but it feels too small, too weak for what’s really going on inside. Still, you keep your eyes on Josh, hoping he doesn’t notice how the atmosphere has shifted, how Rafe’s presence has twisted everything just enough to make you feel smaller than you are.

“Well, enjoy the party,” Rafe says, his smile almost too practised, like he’s delivering a line he’s said a hundred times before. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, that’s meant to keep things cordial, even if the undercurrent of judgement is thick enough to cut through.

“We will,” Josh replies easily, not missing a beat, his voice smooth and unbothered, as though none of the tension is hanging in the air.

Josh’s hand finds yours, his fingers warm against your skin as he gently pulls you away from the conversation. But as you pass by Rafe, you hear him lean in slightly, his voice just low enough for only you to hear. “Not too much, yeah?”

It’s a whisper, but it feels like a slap. You can feel your brows furrow instinctively, the words gnawing at you. You’re tempted, so tempted, to turn around and shove him and ask, What the hell is wrong with you?

But you don’t.

Instead, you let Josh lead you away, his hand tightening around yours in a subtle reassurance. The music swells, the noise of the party grows louder, but it all feels distant now, like a blur around the sharp edge of Rafe’s comment. You try to ignore it, try to shake it off, but it clings to you, sticking in your chest like a splinter.

Even as you move through the crowd, you know that this night isn’t just about the music or the people—it’s about the silent things too. The things you can’t control, the things you have to push past in order to keep moving.

And Rafe Cameron is the one thing you can’t push past, no matter how hard you try. The one who thinks he can push you down, who sees you as something beneath him, a reminder of everything he’s convinced he’s better than.

But if there’s one thing he needs to know, it’s that you don’t go out without a fight. He might have the money, the reputation, the home twice the size of anywhere you’ve ever lived, but he will not ruin your summer. 

He’s attempted to get under your skin before and failed. And you’re not about to let this be any different. The summer isn’t his to take from you, no matter how hard he tries. He’s not a force you’re willing to let derail everything good about these days. Not the warmth of the sun, not the nights you spend with Josh, not the taste of freedom you’ve felt since you stepped into his world.

You’ll be damned if you let Rafe Cameron, of all people, get in the way of that.

[welcomefortune]

One of the big problems I do have with Veilguard is that they seem to not want much moral ambiguity. Like finding out that Sten has nothing to do with the Qunari invading despite being previously established as the Arishok. Or the Crows just being completely morally good now and making sure all of their targets deserve it. Or none of the elves joining their gods or Solas because they’re good and only evil people would join evil people so it’s just the Venatori and the Antaam despite the fact that the Venatori’s vision of Tevinter relies on human supremacy to elves and the Antaam hate magic they’re actually fine with it when it comes to the elven gods. Or how if you are blighted now the Grey Wardens will put you through the Joining to save you but don’t worry they wouldn’t actually make you join against your will because that would be bad. Or how the Lords of Fortune are treasure hunters but don’t worry they would never take anything cultural important and respect indigenous rights. Or how none of the Shadow Dragons want to do a violent uprising against slavery the most they want is to threaten that they might do violence but ultimately they are going to end slavery by asking nicely.

No one even seems to have any prejudices against anyone or anything. If you play a Shadow Dragon mage Rook you don’t have any issues with the Qun or the Qunari even though you’re family is military and has been at war against them or that you are from Ventus which was taken over by the Qunari and all of the mages were lobotomized with qamek a few years ago or from Tevinter propaganda or just from being a mage. The worst you can say is to question if someone who follows the Qun is scared of mages and everyone looks at you like you’re crazy for asking that. And the other way around doesn’t apply either. No Qunari hold particular prejudice against you for being a Tevinter mage. Taash’s mom seems to not like Tevinter mages in a codex entry but she doesn’t say anything to you or Taash about it. The Butcher doesn’t even hold it against you! People have made a lot out of no one being prejudiced against elves which is true but it also applies the other way around. There really is very little mistrust of you as a human Tevinter mage by any elves. The only pushback I remember getting is being asked if you will respect the halla which seems to be more about you not being an elf than anything else. Any sexism also seems to be mostly brushed under the rug. When you talk to Tarquin he tells you that he was told by his father that to be a man he needed to be in the military. That mostly tracks with what we know about Tevinter. It’s a little more trans accepting than it was according to Krem but I can buy that Tevinter has started accepting trans men in the military in the last decade. He then goes on to ask a female Shadow Dragon Rook why they aren’t in the military and you can’t even bring up how women’s roles in the military are very restrictive. You don’t bring up anything about gender roles in Tevinter even though according to the lore they are more rigid than in the South and men hold nearly all of the leadership positions. You can’t bring up how it may be difficult for Tevinter to accept a woman as Archon since as far as I know all of the previous Archons have been men.

There’s some background mentions of how life is difficult for certain groups in certain places but we never see it or even hear specifics. We hear that there’s slavery in Tevinter and it’s hard to be an elf but we don’t see it and a Shadow Dragon Rook seems shocked that the Venatori are engaging in human trafficking. We hear life is difficult for mages in Treviso but we never see or hear about it after one line.

This isn’t a Veilguard exclusive problem it seems to be an issue in a lot of media today that there’s this total unwillingness to deal with anything controversial or difficult. I think they’re trying to respond to feedback about how people didn’t like the way in which sensitive things were handled in media in the past but it seems like the way most are choosing to handle it is by not dealing with it at all? Or flattening out characters like in HOTD where in response to the criticism about how Dany was handled they’ve decided that now women have no ambition or capacity for evil or violence and they are all purely good but also have zero agency whatsoever.

I know a lot of people prefer this and like all of their media to be escapist with no bad things happening in it but I personally prefer when difficult things are handled as long as they’re handled with care. I personally don’t subscribe to the belief that by depicting something you are inherently endorsing it. Anyway it’s fine if you disagree and I hope I don’t sound like a chud who just wants to be racist in games, I’d be fine if Rook couldn’t express these views but it’s just a bit strange to me that no one holds these views anymore in Thedas.

[tomorrowxtogether]

HUENINGKAI: “I learned to love myself thanks to MOA”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Star Chapter: SANCTUARY comeback interview

2024.11.13

He cleared out his favorite hoodies and learned how to handle Cubase with ease. While many things keep on changing, some things are forever constant: the music, the group, and MOA. They are the true passions of HUENINGKAI, whose confident tone reassures us of his commitment to forever.

You cleared out some of your hoodies and stuffed toys—what you called your “horcruxes.” HUENINGKAI: Well, the hoodies were way too small for me anyway. (laughs) I wanted to try out some new styles, too, so I cleared them out. I decided I needed to ditch the hoodies first and try something prettier, including buying some knit sweaters. I also felt I could do away with my old stuffed dolls and replaced them with some new fluffier ones. It’s hard the first time you get rid of stuff, but I found it gets easier after that.

You’ve made a lot of big changes in different areas. You’ve been keeping up with your exercise, even throughout the ACT: PROMISE world tour, forming the TXT Exercise Team and regularly taking “TXD” [today’s exercise done] photos. (laughs) HUENINGKAI: I always take TXD shots. I share them in our group chat. I started working out to boost my self-esteem since they say it helps, and it definitely helps keep my mind off things when all you can think about is how tiring it is! (laughs) You can’t help but lose weight if you box. It’s the only thing that makes me sweat as much as performing in concert. There’s someone on staff who’s been doing CrossFit for a long time, so I recently started too. My goal was never to bulk up and get these huge muscles in the first place but to have a slim build with lean muscles, so CrossFit seems like a good fit for me. And MOA, you don’t have to worry—I’m not going to overdo it. (laughs)

A lot of MOA were surprised the way you threw the guitar during the performance of “Growing Pain” on the ACT: PROMISE tour. HUENINGKAI: My image sure underwent a transformation. (laughs) I wanted to show how even someone like me, who’s usually so pure and soft, has some rock star inside him. I looked up different ways of capturing the idea of smashing up the stage. I initially thought about breaking the guitar, but I figured throwing it would be better. That was all I did early on in the tour, but by the time we took it to the US, I experimented a lot, throwing the pick and flipping my bangs back later on. I was happy I got to show off a different side of myself through all that.

You’ve always had a knack for playing instruments and like playing them for fun. How do feel now that your YouTube series HUENINGKAI Wants to Start a Band is over? HUENINGKAI: I love playing instruments and being in a band, so I was thrilled to be able to make it. Just holding an instrument in my hands makes me feel happy, and actually interacting with and jamming with a band felt like a quintessentially youthful experience. The whole thing was fun to shoot. It never felt like work to me. I approached it like I was going to hang out with a school band.

What do you think makes being in a band so uniquely appealing? HUENINGKAI: I think it comes down to the eye contact you make while playing together. I think chemistry’s the most important part of a band, and when you’re looking each other the eye and having a good time together, you feel fully united. I feel like rock has the power to make unforgettable memories for both the band playing and their audience. I heard MOA saying they’re interested in playing in bands now or want to get back into learning an instrument. HUENINGKAI Wants to Start a Band was a huge motivation for me, and it makes me happy thinking it planted the seeds for some great dreams among MOA. I hope they challenge themselves to pursue whatever they want and achieve their goals, whether that’s playing in a band or something else. Just the act of trying something new takes a lot of courage, and if they build up some experience, they can truly enjoy their youth.

What form did that sense of youthfulness take on when you were making the show? HUENINGKAI: It’s the kind of youthful experience you can only experience during your university years, full of excitement, sorrow, and happiness all mixed together. The song “Kitto Zutto” is actually supposed to be about how I felt filming the Yonsei University episode of HUENINGKAI Wants to Start a Band. I seem to remember working on it between filming episodes two and three. I tried to make the chord progression feel both bright and also have a refreshing, youthful vibe. The very first thing I made was the piano track, but it felt a bit bland, so I turned up the BPM and then it sounded great! The funny thing was that I tried to play at that higher BPM but my fingers couldn’t keep up. (laughs) Since it would’ve been a little bland with just the piano, I felt like it’d be nice to have a catchy melody, so I had a guitar riff repeat from the intro onward. That’s the main highlight of “Kitto Zutto.” The drums gradually build up the sound and create a sense of flow.

How do you think it compares to the first song you produced, “Dear Sputnik”? HUENINGKAI: I’ve grown so much since then. When I was working on “Dear Sputnik,” I didn’t know how to use Cubase, but I used it to make the song this time. It was easy and convenient once I got the hang of it and got better as I used it more and more. Actually, for “Dear Sputnik,” I created the basic structure, but I got a lot of help from other people since it was less than two years since I debuted. I really wanted to contribute a greater share after that, and I did contribute significantly more to “Kitto Zutto.” It’s the first on a path of hard work towards being able to make a song I can truly call my own.

When you had just debuted and you were on Section TV, you said, “Ever since I was a trainee, my one goal has been to make and perform songs that can move people.” To what degree have you achieved your goal? HUENINGKAI: With “Dear Sputnik,” 30%—“Kitto Zutto,” 60%. Right from when I was first writing “Kitto Zutto,” I was thinking about how fun it would be to sing it with MOA in concert. Nothing makes me feel more fulfilled than when I see MOA enjoying a song I produced. When I performed those songs in concert, I went around in front of the audience on the moving stage and could see MOA up close and personal. They all looked so happy. I’m glad I made these songs that MOA can really get into singing along with and that we can touch their hearts with. I think singing them together gives them their final touches. I want to keep making and performing songs that everyone will love and can make them feel happy when they listen to them.

In many ways, the past year has been an excellent showcase of how you’ve grown musically. You really got people talking when you were on Lee Mujin Service and when you performed “BETELGEUSE” on the Nippon TV show THE MUSIC DAY. HUENINGKAI: I got lots of messages from people I know. (laughs) It’s the first time so many people have reached out to me like that. I was grateful but there was something indescribable about it because I feel like I’m still in the process of finding my own voice. I’ve tried singing with something more like rock vocals, and even though I don’t have difficulty hitting high notes, I’ve been thinking carefully about how to make them sound even better. I’d like to find vocals that are a little more unique to me. Obviously being a good singer is important, but I feel like sometimes that individuality is even more important.

You’ve always been a kind person, but you seem pretty strict with yourself. HUENINGKAI: Only when I feel like I’ve perfected a skill can I say that I’ve truly made it mine. I’m sort of a worrier so I practice on my own outside normal rehearsal time. Our new single “Over The Moon” is hard. (laughs) My feeling is, if you want to dance well during live shows, it starts with singing perfectly before you ever even stand up. And when I’m performing onstage, I just think, Just do it like we practiced. I might just end up making mistakes if I try to go beyond that.

I guess “Over The Moon” would’ve been hard since it’s more about making it feel romantic than unfolding a clear sense of progression. HUENINGKAI: It’s not a sad song, but it doesn’t exactly feel cheerful either, so I was aiming for a kind of longing middle ground. I start out singing softly to MOA, almost like a whisper, then add in a touch more of that longing in the chorus. I see “Over The Moon” as me removing the gravelly vocals from “0X1=LOVESONG (I Know I Love You)” featuring Seori and keeping it light.

When watching “Over The Moon,” it reminded me of “9 and Three Quarters (Run Away).” HUENINGKAI: Exactly! It’s got the same ear-tapping move on the line “whisper me my name” as in “9 and Three Quarters (Run Away),” so I ended up watching our old performances for the first time in a while. My image back with “9 and Three Quarters (Run Away)” was meant to evoke the excitement of school days, while in “Over The Moon,” I tried to convey something a little more mature, like a university student.

You also came across as mature the way you led the older members in the 144th episode of TO DO X TXT, “Abandoned Stars,” even though you’re the youngest in the group. HUENINGKAI: That’s probably the most they’ve ever needed me. (laughs) It was scary at first, but I helped them because I felt like they wouldn’t even be able to go in if it weren’t for me. And anyway, it was less scary the second time around. I guess it’s because I’m a levelheaded person. They were clinging to me so desperately I thought my clothes would come off. (laughs) That was a first. But on the inside I was actually kind of glad and thinking about how much they need me.

You also paid YEONJUN a visit when he was shooting the music video for “GGUM.” HUENINGKAI: YEONJUN was the first one of us to do a solo project, and since I wanted to show my support and express my gratitude anyway, I brought some dakgangjeong we could eat together. (laughs) But most of all, I really wanted to learn from him. The stage presence he had as he sang from start to finish all by himself, and watching how naturally he ad-libbed towards the end, was all pretty amazing. (laughs) His solo was a good experience for us, too.

You’ve always emphasized in interviews how you want to be dependable for the rest of the group. What does trustworthiness mean to you? HUENINGKAI: Teamwork. The greater the trust between us, the stronger our group becomes. As a member of a kind of team, it’s always my hope that the other members can continuously rely on me. That’s what being a team is, after all.

And honesty is crucial for mutual trust, of course. In an interview with W Korea, when asked what it takes for a group to last a long time, you said, “Teamwork. Being open with each other about feelings.” HUENINGKAI: I actually never used to talk much about my feelings. I thought things would just work out over time, but now I talk things over with the people I’m close to, like the other members, my family, and the protocol team, no matter what it is. I really listen to their feedback, too. It just feels better that way. But it’s not at all easy to open up about what you’re feeling inside, of course. You can never just be like that from day one. So I just started slowly, and now I’m more open than I was last year.

You posted a letter on weverse for the fifth anniversary of your debut, and in it you talked about how you’ve always been careful to hide your feelings away because you didn’t like to talk about them. What made you decide to open up to MOA? HUENINGKAI: I never wanted to let MOA know when I was having a hard time. I always wanted to show them the good sides only. But the longer we were together, the closer we became, and I realized that also talking about those things was the right way to further develop the relationship. That’s why I was honest and open in what I wrote on weverse on March 4. I resolved to be more honest and open from then on.

It takes a lot of courage to be open like that. How did you find it in you to find the courage? HUENINGKAI: It’s all thanks to MOA’s love. Every time MOA opens up through their fan letters or in person, I can sense their love. The phrase, “my youth is TOMORROW X TOGETHER,” is beautiful, and hearing, “I’ll love you completely for who you are, no matter what—I love you so much,” absolutely fills me with strength. All these people around me were showing me love, but I felt like I didn’t love myself. I learned to love myself thanks to MOA.

It’s clear that you have an immense amount of love toward MOA, too, like when you said, “It may have been hard doing what it took to debut, but I could do it all again 100 times if it meant I could be with MOA.” HUENINGKAI: I wanted to show them just how much I love them. There were a lot of times I felt like giving up before I debuted, but MOA helped me forget all about it. I know what it means to find happiness as an idol thanks to them. I think MOA is what’s made TOMORROW X TOGETHER whole.

[mephistopheleswasrobbed]

Ahh, I don't want it to be over! But alas, here we are, so let me tell you about all the gay moments in Peaceful Property one last time:

1

We begin the episode with Home and Peach sitting next to each other and saying sentimental things. Framed by a flamingo. Which is literally a symbol of love (because they're pink and monogamous).

Saying your meeting was destiny while looking each other in the eyes lovingly is somehow not the most romantic line in this episode. It comes pretty close, though.

2

Back in the action, Peach is extremely worried about Home, alone with his would-be murderer.

And when evil lawyer mentions the possibility of Home being dead already, Peach loses is completely. (Though, in a parallel that is funny to me, exclusively, he's again held back by two *according to themselves* oh so weak women. Just like in Kan's home when one woman was enough to completely immobilise him. I'm really not sure why Panpang is so insistent that Peach is so much stronger than her)

Peach knows that they don't have enough time to waste it on those useless cops so he sacrifices himself by confessing to a crime he didn't commit, so at least Kan and Pangpang can try to rescue Home. That's some ride or die devotion right there.

3

A found family bond so strong it single-handedly derailed these scooby doo villains' evil plots several times.

4

Pangpang (seen here cosplaying as a ghost pizza) knows that in true romance fashion, Peach must be the one to save Home. (And because we've already established that physical strength can't be the reason, I'm choosing to believe it's the strength of his love for Home that's giving him the advantage.)

So Peach arrives just in time (there's that destiny, that soulmate timing) to prevent Somkid from stabbing Home. And I've previously talked a lot about how much Home has changed because of Peach, but let's take a second to appreciate how much Peach has changed because of Home. He went from hiding behind his little sister at the sight of a ghost, to jumping without hesitation at an armed murderer to save Home.

And once Somkid has been distracted, Home's first priority is, as they always do when there's danger, to go check on and help up Peach.

And then he just keeps holding him while Somkid is busy coming to the realisation that all the evil shit he did was meaningless.

5

There is no way Mr. Real Estate Heir doesn't know how to tie a tie. This is an excuse to share some comfort before the funeral and it is as understandable as it is boyfriend-coded.

6

There's been a lot of Home/Peach doing something the other had previously done, and here's one more:

Just like Home before, Peach also notices immediately when something seems off with Home and wastes no time to go to him and see if he needs to offer help or comfort.

7

And what is the problem? It's, of course, the impending separation that has Home moping over an electric stove cooker thing.

But well, after almost watching Home die, again, Peach has realised he doesn't want to leave. Because even if Home goes back to the US, at least he'll be around the memories they've made together. So Peach decides to stay.

And despite the excuse he comes up with about dialect speaking ghosts, we, and Home, know the real reason.

The "I love you and I don't want to leave you" might be unspoken but Home hears it anyway.

And Home has also finally figured it out.

So he's not leaving either.

And Peach might be a little obtuse about it at first

But Home's real dream has always been to have a family. And he knows he's finally found his. Grandpa knows he's finally found his.

So Home makes it clear to Peach.

And Peach gets it this time.

(Of course, then they immediately have to make a joke out of it because those two might actually be allergic to seriously talking about their feelings for each other. But the message has been recieved, anyway)

8

Their absolutely perfect timing can only be explained by soulmate shenanigans. (also look at him smile)

9

Even the universe is trying to tell them to embrace the gay. With their Cok Long bar turned Cok Long restaurant.

10

The dialogue from the beginning plays again, over shots of their family meal. And with the expression of destiny, the camera focuses in on them. Because while "family" is for all five of them, their "destiny" is just between the two of them. And they look so soft and happy in its glow.

And they look at each other when they laugh, and we leave them to their truly happy ending.

(And maybe one day in the future they will be able to plainly say "I love you" to each other without having to hide it behind five jokes and three metaphors, but until then, they know the truth of it anyway.)

Lesbian Corner

Kan has come to seriously trust and believe in Pangpang. And Pangpang, who felt like a useless burden at the beginning of the show, is made better by it.

And in reverse, Kan, who's been completely serious and focussed on revenge for the last decade, who'd had trouble letting loose and making connections with others even before her father's not-completely-but-in-effect-death, has found in Pangpang someone who can not only make her smile, but make her make jokes to make others smile.

Just like Home and Peach, these two also complement each other. They make up for each others shortcomings and both grow into happier, more well-rounded people through each other.

And with that it's over. Except not quite because I've still got some extra that didn't fit here.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

KinkVember 11 - Knife Play

Slasher Simon "Ghost" Riley x Bambi x Transferrable Skills Simon

Read on AO3

CW: Knife play, blood mention, CMNF, explicit consent, check ins, abrupt ending

Notes: This is from a project that I'm percolating on with @sentientcave. All you need to know about that, right now, is that for Good and Plot Relevant Reasons, the various versions of the 141 I've written, and some of their darlings, have met and are in an interesting Liminal Space, where they are passing the time.

This is not cannon to either Slasher Handler or Transferrable Skills at this time.

PS: Haha, yeah, it's late. I feel a little bad about it, but I am also being nice to myself about it. Happy KinkVember!

Ghost is not as big as your Simon, but his presence is… overwhelming. He sits on the couch, bare faced, the way he never is around the other versions of himself. His blue eyes burn into yours, before he flicks them down to take in what you've worn for this experience. Simon's shirt hugs your curves and sits lightly on your hips, the only thing you're wearing other than a pair of lacy panties. You clench your toes when he looks at your bare feet, inexplicably shy.

He unsheathes the knife.

When you take a reflexive step back, Simon is there to catch you. One of his large hands rubs your shoulder, the other caresses your throat. "You're safe, Bambi. You trust me?"

"I trust you," you answer. "You won't let me get hurt, you won't get mad, you won't punish me."

"'m gonna hurt you," Ghost says. He cocks his head. "You know no one stays dead here?"

"You do anything she doesn't want," Simon rumbles above your head, "and I'm going to make you wish you could die."

Ghost sits back, cocking his head. "Never said anything about doing anything she don't want. Just said the truth of what she's asked me for. To hurt 'er. And that I can't kill 'er."

You feel a lot less brave, now that you're looking at the unsheathed knife in his hand. "What if I change my mind?"

"Then we check in," Simon answers, fingers pinching your earlobe. He nudges you forward when Ghost holds his empty hand out. "You chose him. I trust you."

"You just said you'd make him wish he was dead."

"'e said the same thing to Roman," Ghost chuckles. He catches your wrist with surprisingly gentle fingers. He moves so fast, you don't have time to flinch. The knife is just there, against your hip, lifting the hem of Simon's shirt to expose pink lace.

"Aren't you pretty?"

"It's all I could find," you whisper as the sharp edge of the blade plinks through rayon and elastic.

"Price is a demon, an' he likes pretty girls," Ghost rumbles. "'s true in every reality."

The panties barely make a sound as he slices through one side, then the other. You don't even have to step out of them, they just flutter to the ground. He uses the sharp tip to poke through the hem of the shirt, but simply lifts it. At your puzzled face, he raises an eyebrow until you get with the program and pull it off all the way.

Ghost gestures with a finger for you to turn around. You gulp as you do, looking up into Simon's concentrating face. Ghost's hand on your hip pulls you back, until you're plopped unceremoniously in his lap, Simon following to tower over you both.

"You know it could scar?" Ghost asks, perfunctory.

"I know," you whisper.

"You say stop, it stops. Acknowledge," Simon prompts, taking one of your hands in his. Ghost pushes your shoulder forward until your chest is pressed against Simon’s front, your other hand braced against his hip.

You gulp. "Acknowledged."

The first bite of the knife against your left shoulder blade is a shock. You can tell it's a small cut, but it stings, and you're not sure why you're surprised. You don't really have time to brace before the knife is back.

Ghost moves so fast, so methodically. You imagine it's like getting a tattoo as he works his way across your shoulders. Eventually the sting seeps into you and turns into a warmth that flows down your spine until Simon is holding you up.

The pain makes things a little fuzzy and warm around the edges. The little knicks lose their edge, and you nuzzle into Simon’s belly with a hum.

Beneath you, Ghost is hard, but you kind of expected that. His hand doesn't waver, though. He just pauses when you squirm against him and resumes his work when you settle again.

You are surprised when you feel Simon getting hard against your breasts. Ghost pauses as you tip your head up to look into Simon’s dark eyes, then resumes his methodical work.

“Sits like a dream,” Ghost says behind you.

“She’s perfect,” Simon says, stroking gentle fingers over your cheek. When you catch his thumb between your lips, he groans. “Color, Bambi.”

You’re still lucid enough that the words come easy. “Green. Please.”

“Good girl,” Simon rumbles, and his other hand dips down to touch the top of your back. You can’t help but shiver as he brings the red tips of his fingers up to his lips.

[soft-cristobalite]

Watched arcane season 2 act 1, thought abt it, so here are some of my thoughts in no particular order. Obvious spoilers.

Also, i watched in dub. Important to know when i am quoting charaters + when i am talking about their tone.

Starting of with something that is directly affected by dub — ukrainian Jayce is my Jayce. Ppl said he sounded condesending while talking to Ekko — not. at. alllll. true for my Jayce. My Jayce sounded tired, emotionaly burn out. "You drink tea, Ekko?" said with no though to it, in a context of continues talking of "Haha do i live here? Hahah....... Do you guys want tea? Want some tea? I'll make tea. Do you drink tea, Ekko?". But d-dub is supposed to stay true to the original— I DONT CAREEE. I love my blorbo almost-himbo Jayce, never changing his characterisation in my mind.

And i will hold Jayce's hand when i say this — you were. Just so gay for like... Essentialy going "Are you okay? Good, good" to lady Mel Medarda HERSELF and then seeing Victor and losing your mind. Sprinting with him in your hands to your lab. LIVING in your lab to monitor him. I just... I get it, you don't have many friends. But like...... Really dude. Reaally.

Give Mel and Ekko thirty minutes. I promise you they would work it out. Eternal piece would be achieved.

I know there are a lot of different opinions regarding Caitlyn. I will not be explaining in-depts what i think about her acr, because a) who cares and b) i like to see her go cray-cray. But like — why isnt anybody exept for Vi attempting to stop her??? Like why is Jayce mourning Victor's twink death instead of, yk, stopping his childhood-best-friend-kinda-younger-sister from killing ppl of Zaun, the last thing Victor wants btw? She and Vi are twenty-ish — WHYYYY are they going through it by themselves??? Why doesnt baby yoda guy with German name that i dont dare to write trying to stop the daughtrer of his ex-collegue? He is 600 or something, im sure he could've come up with advice.

Cait pointing her gun at a child is terrifying, it opens up the possibilities of her going even more blinded with anger, doing even more horrific things, and Vi is right to try and stop her. However... I know damn right i would've believe her when she said she will not miss 😭 Every single time she fired her gun she was very precise. Even in that scene she aimed at the gun the girl was holding like two seconds ago and got a perfect. fucking. score. Like i dont remember her missing at all, actually.

"Ohhhhh you're gonnnaaa haaaaaattteeee Maddie after act two—" says who? On that note, i hope both Cait AND Vi will sleep with a few random people. Good for them. Let them try to forget about each other only to realise just how down bad they are for one another. Let the scenes of Cait and Maddie hooking up intertwine with Vi's one night stand.

"Maddie is just gonna be a victim of comander Cait :(((" and i do not have any thing to say to that — we dont yet KNOW what will happen — but I dont think Cait will try to manipulate her into this. I think Maddie will flirt a bit, Cait will try and seek salvage and vulnerability in someone, especially since she is now constantly in public's eye and needs to project hope™ and stoicism™. It will be a genuine attempt to move on — not anybody's fault she can't.

But oh god, oh goooddd i cant wait for Maddie to loose the spark in her eyes due to lesbian situationship.

[kalmiaphlox]

Damn, this is what it feels like to be you?

AO3 Link / Masterlist

Part 2 / Part 3

Don't Touch That!

All it takes is one little touch and now they are no longer where they should be. Hircine is Astarion. Astarion is Hircine. Hircine knows better than to mess with mysterious eldritch artifacts, and so should Astarion. This knowledge does not stop them from looking into the unknowable. Chaos ensues as they learn what it really means to be alive and undead.

Pairing: Astarion x Named Female Tav (Hircine)

WC: 6.7k

Main Tags: Body Swap, Humor, Fluff, Astarion loves himself and boobs, smut coming in later parts, Touching things you shouldn't, Astarion now has an eldritch being in his brain.

Tag list: @zozoparsnips

Dredged up from the deepest bowels of the Underdark, the three mystery artifacts now lie before them, foreign and incomprehensible in their geometry, protectively encased in enchanted glass on the marble slab table.

Hircine claps her hands together softly in excitement, rocking back on her heels, eager to inspect these things in whatever capacity she is able. 

His knowledge of abyssal is worthless here; unfortunately, there will be no wowing his wife by name dropping Ubothar and Malcanthet, or monologuing about the caste system of the tanar’ri—or lack thereof. 

Clearly the subjects of her fascination tonight are from the far realms, a topic Astarion has been learning diligently about, even if it is all a bunch of incoherent devilshite. At the end of the night, eldritch horrors beyond their wildest imaginations are one of the few things that breaks Hircine out of her melancholy, so he’ll indulge her when he can.

The three scavenged objects were somehow so similar to each other in their aura, yet so completely different in their makeup. One warps and writhes in place, as if tentacles might sprout forth from its shell at any moment, but nothing ever happens as the intangible masses flow beneath the surface. The middle object floats a few centimeters off the table, morphing between geometrical and amorphous shapes, hovering within its glass encasing, pulsing an ominous purple, a beacon of nefarious purpose that could easily fit in his palm. The last is a green ball-shaped rock, unassuming in its appearance.

Hircine tugs at his sleeve, pointing at the relatively normal looking rock. “Husband, that's a dormant slaad egg! They are typically implanted into a host and then burst out in a shower of blood and guts. I’ve only ever seen a red egg before… The green ones are more rare since they require a high concentration of magic from the host.” She sighs dreamily, hugging onto his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder.

Astarion fails to ignore the way her breasts press against him, the warmth all too pleasant as it radiates from her body. 

Ugh. If he humors her now, she’ll humor him later. “Will the egg stay like that or is a host-eater about to make us dinner?” 

“Hmm, we should be fine. They need to feed on their host's insides to hatch, so keep it outside of your body.”

“Good to know,” he mutters. “What are the other two?”

To his disappointment, Hircine releases her hold on him, moving in to inspect the more ‘active’ objects. “That's what I'm hoping to find out. I brought some books to help with identification, but I don’t have a lot of confidence that we can glean their true purpose from some texts.”

She reaches forward, carefully removing the boxes encasing each of the eldritch… baubles—that probably isn’t a good idea, just giving the things open access. They stay in place, but Astarion swears the purple glowing one begins to pulse faster now that it’s ‘free’.

“Don’t touch them.” Hircine says.

He nods, not needing to be told twice as he takes a step towards the table, careful to stay slightly out of arm's reach. Astarion won’t be getting infected with slaad parasites tonight.

While he stares between the artifacts, Hircine flips through books on another table off to the side, reading aloud as she tries to find any useful information hidden in their pages.

Like a fish caught on a line, Astarion can't take his eyes off the amorphous orb-thing as it begins to blink between flashes of purple and white, its buzz drowning out all thought. Astarion makes another move closer, a tug within his mind calling out to him, begging for his touch. It whispers inchoate nothings, a madness so real and tangible he could grasp it easily in his hand, feel the coil of its vibrant light as he slips into its unreasonable cocoon.

E̸̳͙̖̟̳̰̟̜͈͙̪̖̲͗̓͗̅́͗͗̚͜͝͠X̵̛̤̟̲̜̳̤̠́͌̈́̈́̓̇̈́́̋̀͘C̵̢͇̤̩̹̬͎̱̀͛H̸̤̦̙̳̬̪̫͇̭̼̩̱̗̅̀̌͋͘͘͜Á̷͎̣͓̓̂̾͂̽̊̂̈́̂̀̀̚͘̚ͅN̸̢̨̧̛̺̟̭͓̖̅̈́̇́̔̓̈́̀̆̈́̚͝ͅG̸̡̠͕̣̝̝̺̗̘̟̺͕̼̗̅̿͂̓̔̈́̏͛͂̋̽̕̚͝͠E̷̡̙̟̔̒͐̅̽̌̕͘

All he has to do is release it.

Hircine’s voice, a distant melody floating through time and space, reaches him within the fog of irrationality. “Husband, did you hea—No! Don’t to—”

Astarion’s fingers brush against the object, a hard jelly beneath his touch, incomprehensible visions flashing before him and—

++++

c̴̛͎̓͌̾̀̓͋̒̋̇͘͝ą̸̫̱͔̥̝͎̯̦͈̼̮̂͂́̊̈́̇̽̿̓̈́̚̚͝͠ĩ̸̡̜͖̫̥̮̬͆́̄̀̒̃̎͒͂̍͑̾̈́̕͜s̷̢̛͇͖͇̰̰̱̻̬̄͂̇͑̕̚ľ̷̩͕̟͕̃̃ȉ̵̙̼ǫ̶̡̲͎̰̗̻̺̦͚̙̼̱̳̌̈́͐͂̒͐̿͆̓̓͛̓̕͝͝ả̵̛̝̞̭̙͖͚̟̻̼̲͑̍̓̋̂̌͗͛͒̉̽ś̸̢̛͖̹̲̖̻̫͉̘̥̮̉̈̃̆̆͝͝͝

Oh gods, his body aches, muscles tight and strained as if he spent days in the kennels under Godey’s watchful care. Even his eyelids are heavy, unwilling to open as Astarion slowly stirs back to consciousness. 

What happened?

He had been watching the eldritch things while Hircine was reading, and then… nothing. 

Did he pass out? 

̴̨̨̢̤̘̞̹̲̻̻̦̓̆̊͜͜h̴̛̗̰̝͚̔̑͜͜͠ḱ̶̮̝̠̜̙̜̤̞̣̗̟͖̑̑̀͌̈́̒̾̔̄̕͠H̷̛̺̟͓̳̱̝̜͈̺̥͉͇͉̖̱͛̂͒̓̿͛̌͘O̴̮̮̞̱̰̙͖̼̹̽͆̒̓͆̿͛H̵̡̨̻̭̗̤̥̰͕̱̘͗̅͑́̓̂̄͛̅͆̾̿̑̕͘g̸̭͚̬̻̻̤̦̺̏̈́̈́̾̏͜͠

There’s this alien warble that ebbs and flows within his head, discordant and atonal, but just as it appears, it is gone, fading from his mind without a second thought as to why it is there to begin with or where it came from.

A twitch of his finger confirms he’s regaining some mobility, slowly working inwards as joints are flexed and rolled around, anything to feel something more than this soreness.

But why do his legs and feet feel bare? Astarion was definitely wearing pants and shoes when they entered the mines. 

Perhaps someone brought them back up and Lexi stripped him down.

Except his shirt is still on and strangely tight against his chest.

He tilts his head side to side, a new feeling other than the ache permeates under his skin—a soft, blooming warmth, so welcoming in its arrival. Not the kind brought on by lying beside a roaring fire, but one deep within, as if Astarion gorged on a mass amount of blood. It's been a few days since a meal like that.

Finally, his eyes open.

The hewn rock ceiling greets him. So, he's still in the mines. 

Then where is Hircine?

Everything feels so… shrunk down, like his limbs aren't where they should be. He raggedly groans as he struggles to sit up but a breathy rasp is all that rattles out of his chest.

Bones in his neck pop as he stretches upwards. Hells, since when has he been so tense? There's such a heaviness to the back of his head too, a weight pulling him back down to the ground. 

And then he feels it, that constant rhythm pounding against his ribcage.

A heartbeat, powerful and steady, screaming that he's alive once again. 

His hand shoots up to place itself over his chest but collides with something much too soft and squishy to be him.

Astarion looks down and—

What in the nine hells is this?!

Fleshy mounds protrude from his(?) chest, draped in skin-tight silk dyed a color only one person wears everyday of her life. Strands of gray and silver streaked hair spill over his(?) shoulders. The hand grabbing at his(?) chest a pearly light gray with neatly filed nails rounded at the ends.

Astarion has no pants on because he's now wearing a dress that is a little too form-fitting, and there's no shoes since his wife hates those.

He is no longer him. 

He doesn't want to be something else again. Isn't one horrific change enough in his terrible, no good life?

But Astarion is alive, literally. His(?) heart beats a familiar cadence, one he knows well from so many nights resting his head right atop where it lies, while the fingers he now controls stroke through his curls or down his arms.

If Astarion is here, inside of Hircine, then where is she? 

That ever-present hunger for blood is now gone. He’s at peace—mostly. He recalls Hircine ate a few hours before they started their artifact inspection and now there is an emptiness within his—her—stomach, though it does not compare to the cavernous, never-ending desolation of being unable to truly sate oneself. 

He should be fine without real food for a little longer. 

Struggling to stand up, Astarion grips onto the table, unsteady on his(?) feet. His balance is completely off center as he uses the table to hoist himself into a standing position but he tips forward, leaning against the cool granite in an effort to not collapse completely. 

Gods, how does she walk around like this, so top heavy all the time? 

No wonder Hircine never complains when he holds her tits.

Now, where is—

Ah, there is his body, face down on the ground, one arm outstretched as if reaching for something.

The steady pace of his heart quickens, his breathing—gods above, I'm breathing because I need it and I didn't even notice!—hitches as he chokes for air. 

What if Hircine is gone because he took her place? 

What if his body is now an empty husk, never to move again?

There's no sign of life from his actual body, and of course there wouldn't be because he's an undead vampire! 

It's not time to stand yet with these legs, they feel so… thin. Astarion gets back down on hands and knees, crawling his way over to his prone body. With shaking hands he tugs at his body, failing to roll himself over. 

Am I that heavy or is Hircine really weak? 

Adjusting himself so his—her back is pressed against a table, Astarion pushes with shaky legs, slowly working his body over onto its side before it flops onto his back, head lolling around limply. 

When Hircine learned that Astarion no longer remembers what his face looks like, she immediately hired a painter to capture his—their likeness together. In Darkfire Hall, there now hangs a single portrait of Astarion and Hircine in the sitting room and he might spend a few minutes a day staring at it, memorizing that face so he will never forget it again. 

But this is his actual honest to gods face, in the flesh, laid out on the stone ground where he can touch it. 

Astarion leans in close but is stopped by his head throbbing with more of that accursed fuzziness. 

ḏ̶̢̼̹̤̣͕͉̘̼͈̑͒̓͌͑͌s̸̡̡̖̟̝͚̜̙̣̖̘̪͍̀̐͒ṣ̶̪̭̙̻̐͑̔̒̂̄̃̄͂̈́̓̚̕͝͠ķ̷̡̧̻̮̹̼͓̦͙̫̩̭̤̝̉͌i̷͎̠̰̠͕̊͌͋̕ͅͅ

And then it's gone again. 

Good riddance. He has more important things to think about.

The painting is nice and Astarion will forever be grateful, but nothing—nothing—compares to the real thing.

A strong, sharp nose stands prominently at the center of his face, accentuated by high cheekbones and sunken smile lines that must have formed from times long forgotten, never to be remembered again. Thick, dark lashes line his shut eyelids, no movement to be seen beneath them, and right now he wishes more than anything they would open, even if all he’ll see is the same eyes as his siblings.

The same eyes as Cazador, yet Astarion’s all the same.

He moves on, roving over his features, impressing them upon his memory. 

I will not be forgotten again.

To think all this beauty has been kept from him, and all because of the eternal curse Cazador has subjected him too. He won't be thanking whatever plight they've fallen into, but Astarion can certainly take the time to enjoy what's before him now: the most beautiful man in all the realms—Hircine would agree. 

He uses Hircine’s slender fingers to trail delicately from his full gray brows, down the slope of his nose to the bow of his lips, feeling them give as he presses lightly upon them. His hummingbird heart flutters in his chest at the sight, relishing every moment. Raising a lip, Astarion finds those pesky fangs that speak to his vampiric nature, never perfectly hidden but can be easily explained away with enough wine and sultry stares—not something he has to worry about anymore, being married and out of Cazador’s iron grip, at least for a little while longer.

Oh, and his hair. Styling it without a mirror, he knows it is perfect, but seeing it like this is much better. Those silver curls, softer than maratman silk and styled with more care than a mother would lay upon her babe. 

The incandescent glow of the magic lamps does nothing for his pallor, casting a sickly sheen over his skin that highlights and enlarges his pores, and turns the dark spots under his eyes into something garish, harsh.

How awful. He needs to get his body out of here and into better lighting to remember it by.

Not that Astarion can carry himself like this, not with Hircine’s willowy frame that bows against the slightest breeze in its frailty. 

And what if she is gone?

A lump has formed in his—hers? Fuck it, his!—throat and he swallows it down, rough as sandpaper. 

It was fake to begin with, yes, but their marriage is real as it can be under the current circumstances… It doesn’t feel fair to lose her like this.

Please, be here.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, Astarion winds his hand back and slaps it across his real face, watching it snap away. His palm stings something fierce, good gods, no wonder Hircine is pain-averse. Her skin’s so sensitive. 

It worked though.

The eyelids flutter as a strangled growl gets caught in his body’s throat, head rolling side to side when another pinched groan rumbles from his chest. Red flashes, catching the light as his eyes open completely, searching crazily around the room until they land on Hircine’s face. Scared recognition flares in those molten garnet pools.

Gods, I’m beautiful.

“Hircine?” Astarion says in her feminine voice, barely speaking above a shaky whisper.

His body’s jaw drops open, clicking and choking noses eeking from his throat as he sits up, scrabbling at his neck.

What is happening?

Astarion watches a moment longer in confusion before it hits him. He lunges forward, failing to grab the hands clawing at his real throat as they wrench out of his grasp easily. “You need to breathe! You can’t speak unless you take a breath! I know it’s strange, but you’ll get used to it.” Those words work, his body’s panic calming as a gasping breath is taken in. “Is it you, Hircine?” Astarion needs to know if he’s speaking to his wife.

A nod while she practices breathing in and out, no doubt alarmed by how unneeded it is.

Oh, thank fuck. He isn’t confident in his ability to kill anything right now, let alone a vampire being controlled by an unknown entity, and he's unbelievably relieved that Hircine is mostly safe and mostly sound within his body.

“I—I don’t—” She chokes on her words, struggling to get anything out. All in his voice, with his accent and it’s very, very strange. “I can—member…”

“I know, I don’t either, pet. Take your time, get your bearings,” he moves in to hold her cheeks between his hands, disturbed by the noticeable coolness of his body’s skin. How does she not flinch away everytime he touches her? “We’ll be fine.” Astarion has survived much worse transformations, this is a lot less awful than being turned into a vampire.

Finally, she tests her speaking abilities again, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to be a man.” Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, making those beautiful eyes shine with more polish than a red dragon's scales.

Pinching the high cheekbones, Astarion focuses her attention. “Don't you cry with my face! There are worse things than being turned into a man!”

Hircine rejects his words with a head shake. “You don't understand, this is awful! I can't be a man! Mother will—”

His eyes nearly roll back into his head permanently and he drops his hands from her face. “Keep the man hating inside, you little brat. Come on, get up.” It’s a feat of wills as Astarion staggers to his feet. “Do you feel sore as well? Gods below, I’m just aching all over…”

Hircine shakes her head again, the silver curls atop the crown of his—her!—head loose enough to wiggle with the movement. “No, not really…” She gets up fine, maybe faster than expected as she stumbles backwards into the table that holds the eldritch items.

That’s it!

Holding himself steady along the table edge, Astarion crosses over and finds nothing. They’re gone! “What happened to the artifacts? I think I… might have touched one before we… passed out, but now they’re just gone.”

She turns around, eyes wide in panic. “Even the slaad egg?”

“Yes.”

“Oh gods.” She clutches at her broad chest. “I don’t—I don’t think it’s inside me—you… I’m not sure how I would know, though I would imagine it hurts since they need to feed on your insides.”

Astarion looks down, worried there might be a lump nestled under his skin when all thoughts of slaad eggs invading his body are replaced with other, more lustful urges.

 While Hircine searches around the room, flipping over sheets and muttering angrily, Astarion takes this opportunity to really learn his wife’s body—for his eternal obsession and her future enjoyment, should they ever return to their bodies.

He loves her breasts.

A lot.

They’re perfect in every way. Impossibly soft, round, and heavy with the slightest, barely there sag that makes them even more delightful, always overflowing in his grabby hands, but aren’t so large that they dwarf her toned body. He also can't forget the ghostly white nipples that are not too good to eat, especially since they match her pretty little mouth when her lipstick has been wiped away.

He cups them, her small hands sinking into the malleable flesh, though the tight silk of her dress keeps them from moving around too much. 

There's never been a lot of thought put into how this feels for Hircine other than that it's very, very good when he's pinching or pulling on a nipple if her moans and gasps are anything to go by. 

The fat of her breasts being touched, it doesn't feel good or bad, mostly neutral as if he's grabbing at any other part of his body. 

Maybe it feels different with someone else touching them… Experimentation can come later if they don't change back soon.

His lively heart thrums in anticipation of his next move.

The pads of his fingers brush over where he’s sure her nipples lie and—

“Ahhh~!” A high-pitched whine breaks past his lips as his legs squeeze together involuntarily. Gods below, that was—

Hircine looks up from her destructive scavenge, a scowl furrowing her manicured brows and twisting her mouth down. “Seriously? Stop touching me!” She hisses, just the same as he has in the past when telling Petras to get his mangy hide out of the way.

“How do you keep your hands off yourself all day?!” Just that touch sent the most delicious tingle down to his nether regions. 

“I don't have much desire to touch myself,” she says, stepping beside him, “especially while out in public.” She grabs his wrists firmly, pushing them from her breasts and Astarion yelps with shock.

“Ow! Can't you be more gentle?” He demands, yanking himself out of her grasp to massage his probably bruised wrists. “You damned brute!”

Red eyes blink in surprise as Hircine looks down at her—his body’s hands. Oh gods, this is so confusing. His body is now hers, he needs to commit to that. She speaks quietly. “I thought I was being gentle… I barely touched you.”

Oh, dear. “Is this how it feels for you all the time? Am I too rough with you?”

Turning away with a noncommittal shrug, she says, “I don't know. Things feel the way they feel, I never put much thought in it.”

Her non-answer tells Astarion that yes, he probably is too rough, along with everyone else. No wonder she was so touch-averse in the beginning. 

Well, it could be that, or her intense hatred of men…

Or a certain other bastard.

Actually, Hircine lets him know when she doesn't like something. She would have said by now if Astarion wasn't handling her with care.

He’ll still be more gentle going forward.

With a shake of her head, Hircine groans in frustration. “The artifacts are gone without a trace. I don't know what to do!”

Knowing the far realms, they’re probably gone for good. “Why don't we go home and ask Lexi? She can undo curses.”

“I-I guess, but what if someone needs me here in—”

Astarion interrupts her. “Pet, I am in your body and we both know I can't hold a passable conversation in undercommon. I won't be able to answer any of their questions when they only come to you.” He takes her large hands in his, startled again by the room temperature coolness of them. “Besides, I'm always telling you to take a break. It's a sign from the gods—or the unknowable!”

She chews at her lip, a fang peeking through before Hircine nods. “Alright. We should go quickly though.”

They exit into the hallway of the mines, luckily clear of any employees but that could change at a moment's notice. Swiftly winding their way down the hall to the elevator that takes them back home, they are stopped by the disgusting jermlaine, Thirsk, who holds a tiny hand-made shiv in his hands. His beady little eyes dart between the two of them, but they both know he's going after Astarion's body. 

The vile thing lusts after his wife! It's only goal is to remove Astarion from the equation now—too bad for Thirsk, Astarion isn't going anywhere. 

“Oh, someone's in a bad mood.” Hircine whispers. she scans along the ground, pointing out broken glass along the ground. “Watch your feet.”

“I wouldn't have to if you wore shoes!”

“Not happening~” Is her sing-song response that falls very flat in his voice. “You have no idea how badly I want to tear yours off right now.”

“Ugh, whatever! Just kick that thing into oblivion so we can go!”

Hircine gasps. “How dare you! I will not allow you to hurt Thirsk!”

“You and you're—” Astarion's grumbling is cut off as another idea comes to him. “Carry me and then just run for it! He's not fast enough to keep up.”

If Hircine has any doubts about this plan, she keeps it quiet. Quickly placing her arms under his back and knees, she lifts him up with so much ease that Astarion gasps as they make their break for it, sprinting past Thirsk before the ugly beast even knows what's happening.

The elevator entrance is slammed shut and latched before the lever is pulled, beginning their ascent home.

Getting carried is nice. That won't be a common occurrence when they return to their original bodies so he'll make the most of it while he can.

“Will you carry me back to Darkfire, my love?” He asks, fluttering his lashes with the sweetest simper. 

Hircine’s face twists with disgust. “Begging with my face does nothing for me… but yes, I think I can do that.”

He throws his arms around her neck, pressing kisses to her smooth cheek that earn him nothing but an eyeroll. “I could kiss myself all day.”

“Ugh,” she scoffs.

They settle into a silence as Astarion enjoys being held by himself.

He would very much like his body back, as soon as possible, but a day or so of play shouldn't be so bad. Especially when he gets to experience living again. 

“Are you always so… hungry?” Hircine asks eventually, strained and quiet.

His last meal was two nights ago, and a quite filling one at that with a deer and Hircine’s blood to top it off. 

But yes, he is always hungry. An eternal thirst that will never be quenched no matter how hard he tries.

“It's just the nature of being a vampire, Love. Don't worry about it too much.” He sweeps a hand across her face, tucking loosened curls back into place. 

“How do you ignore it?”

“Years and… years of practice. It does get easier, but it will never truly disappear.”

Those sparkling red eyes find his, wide and frightened. “I'm not feeding you enough, am I?”

“No, no. Don't think that. Trust me, Hircine, it's enough, more than enough actually. You give me more blood in a week than I've received in probably ten years.”

 Bringing their lips together, they share a hesitant kiss before Hircine pulls away fast, disgruntled. “I really don't like kissing myself.”

Astarion laughs loudly, echoing off the cavern walls. “How could you not? You're so beautiful!”

“I'm not attracted to myself. It's weird.”

“Fair enough. I'll be attracted to us both then.” He taps her nose, getting ready to say more when that atonal droning shatters his thoughts once again.

ļ̴̨̻̝̻͙͚͙̔à̵̡̢̼̖̞̺̝͍̻͕͊͛̍̈̍͑͘͠d̶̹̬͖͔̩̯͉̳͔̍̓̈́̅̌́͋͛͝Ỳ̴̰̬͙͓̤̹̬̠̳͖̰͋̓̄U̵̢͖̜͚͎̼̙̱̦̲̮̻̦̔̇̿̉̃̈́̌͑̅̍̏̃̕̕͜

Wincing, Astarion kneads his fingers into his temples. He can't be the only one, right? “Do you hear that noise? It's like, uh, a voice but not. I can't understand it. Do you think it's—”

“It's Herma-Mora.” She says definitively.

“As in the far realm entity that corrupted your mind at too young an age?”

She rolls her red eyes. “Yes. Just avoid actually reaching out to him. It’s not like he’s actually meaning to  communicate through our connection, they just slip through. I’m able to block it out for the most part.”

Great, so Astarion is stuck with her mind invader, unable to silence him completely. The only upside is that Herma-Mora can’t hurt him… allegedly. What if his mind just isn’t equipped for it’s irrational chatter?

They depart from the elevator, and make it back to Darkfire without any interruption. Astarion doesn’t fear faking his somber and quiet wife—anyone can do that since that would be easy. It would be the cornering by one of her brothers or her mother’s sharp eyes, catching any wrong movement or inflection when they are always looking for Hircine's imperfections. 

If anything, Hircine is the one in trouble should they be caught by one of her siblings. They both know she can’t make passable conversation on a good day, and having Astarion who is always loudly speaking with his hands be still and stoic would be instantly suspicious. 

Nothing to worry about, of course. 

The doors to their hall are opened, greeting them with silence. Sometimes Lexi is standing here waiting for them…

Ah, right. “How do you do that mind talking thing? Isn’t that how you summon Lexi around?” He asks as he’s set down on the ground. 

Hircine is quick to shed the shoes and socks Astarion put on this afternoon, groaning in relief as her feet are bare once again. “Yes… but I don’t really know how, it’s second nature, I guess. Maybe focus on me and see if you can send anything over?”

Her telepathy only works one way, thankfully. They would have been in for a bad time if Hircine could have read his thoughts since the beginning.

Dragging Hircine over to the couch, which isn’t that easy because his actual body is shockingly immovable when Astarion goes to push her forward, he makes her sit so he can attempt this special form of communication.

Across from her on the couch, they lock eyes as he concentrates, willing his thoughts into her head.

‘Can you hear me?’ — No response from Hircine.

‘What about now?’ — Nothing again.

There’s a chance it’s not even possible, what with their bodies changed, but gods damn it, he wants it to work. Feeling frustration well in his chest, Astarion gives it one last go, forcing a message to Hircine, demanding she hear it.

‘LISTEN TO ME!’

Instantly, she crumples in on herself, clutching her head with a gasp. “Agh! What the—Is that what it feels like when I speak to you? Oh my gods, that hurt!”

Oh, maybe he went a little too hard. “I—No, it’s never hurt me. The first time was alarming, but no pain accompanied it. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t play with it lest I inflict some real damage.”

“I think that is a good idea, Husband.” She presses fingers into eyes for what he can only assume is relief from whatever he just assaulted her brain with.

Being called ‘Husband’ by his own voice is weird… and maybe a little arousing. Astarion chews on one of his very soft lips, willing the thoughts away so they can return to their more serious problem. “Do you think Lexi can… help us?”

Stretching back upright, Hircine shrugs. “I don’t know. I forgot she’s out of the manor until tomorrow, so we might have to wait. Maybe we’ll turn back on our own in due time or maybe the slaad egg is buried in one of our bodies so we’ll die horribly and not even have to think about it.”

“I’d rather not die to a fucking frog demon bursting out of my chest, Hircine.” 

She waves his concerns away. “We would have known already if it was inside us, trust me. Let’s just endure what we can until Lexi returns. She can fix anything.”

Tsk, for Hircine maybe. Lexi sure wouldn’t mind Astarion becoming a host for any assortment of things if it meant getting him away from her lady.

How are they going to pass the time like this? He could read, but he feels like that will open his mind up for more of Herma-Mora’s disturbing vocalizations. No wonder Hircine is so scattered all the time when she has multiple people clamoring for her constantly, inside and out.

Actually, there is—

His stomach growls, loudly, demanding all of their attention. There’s an emptiness inside of him, nothing like his thirst for blood which is all consuming and constant, but a slight nagging sensation that could be easily ignored—for now.

Hircine smirks, all fangs. “I guess I haven’t eaten in a while.” 

“I—No, I guess not. What should I do?” Astarion places a hand over his flat stomach, feeling small vibrations from within as it growls yet again.

“Well, you should eat. That’s what I do.”

Eat? Like real, normal food? His mouth begins to salivate. “I can eat whatever I want?”

“Whatever’s in the kitchen, but yes.” Hircine laughter is bright.

Jumping to his feet, Astarion runs for the kitchen with Hircine trailing close behind him. “What do you like? Pick it out for me so I can try it!” Two hundred years of starvation and he can finally, truly eat again. Gods, he cannot wait to be full and satisfied—happy!

As she digs through the ice chest, Astarion looks over her shoulder to see what Hircine is grabbing. “Do you want a full meal or to just try whatever you want?” She asks.

“Give me anything! I want it all!”

So maybe getting their body’s swapped, while not ideal, isn’t so bad. To eat again, to live again, even for a day, is wonderful.

If only it were his own body.

Fruits and berries, sweets of all kinds, cheeses, crackers, dried meats and bread are set on the counter. While Hircine plates them, Astarion paces back and forth behind her, in absolute disbelief of what he is about to experience. 

The hungers of (wo)man have returned to him.

“Sit,” Hircine requests, and he all but throws himself into a chair at the small table in the kitchen. He could request they eat in the dining room for a proper experience, but Hircine hates that room so the kitchen will have to do.

The plate is put in front of him, a veritable feast for his senses with its assortment of choices. 

“What do I start with, love?” He glances at Hircine before staring back down at the food, barely bridled excitement boiling over. 

Sitting across from him, her lips twist with consideration. “How about starting slow with a cracker? Take a nibble, see how it feels.”

He’s eaten plenty of times over the past two hundred years. It always tastes like ash, but eating gives the appearance of non-threatening normalcy and there’s nothing that mortals love more than bonding over a shared meal. 

Taking one of the crackers delicately between his fingers, Astarion inspects every minutiae of the crisp food product. The surface is rough and maybe a touch oily, colored a light tan with toasted edges, along with some flecks of some unidentifiable green thing littered throughout.

“Rosemary,” Hircine clarifies as if reading his mind. 

He likes rosemary, the smell of it at least. It's what he uses in his perfume to mask the scent of his undeath.

On an inhale with the cracker close to his nose, he can detect the rosemary, along with salt and the yeasty scent of baked flour. His stomach rumbles loudly this time, a plea for him to take a damn bite.

The cracker is brought to his mouth, barely pinching the corner of it between his teeth, breaking off a crumb to taste. 

Just that small piece is an explosion of flavor in his mouth, the rosemary and salt a perfect combination of savory delight. 

The rest of the cracker is gobbled down, and now having eaten something, his stomach cries out for more.

Hircine really likes berries so he goes for one of those next. 

Astarion is not prepared for the tart burst on his tongue when he pops a blackberry into his mouth, a trickle of its juice running down his chin. 

Alternating different flavor profiles each time, Astarion pairs food that probably does not go together based on Hircine’s disgusted expressions but she lets him do as he pleases until the plate is completely clean. 

He's stuffed. Full. Sated. No desire to eat another bite lingers.

A dream come true.

When he stands, he pats his hand over his stomach finding it no longer flat. There's a little paunch now from having his fill and honestly, Astarion kind of likes it. “Look at this! I'm full!”

Hircine smiles up at him from her seat, very much enjoying his excitement. “Indeed you are. I definitely gave you a bit more than I'd usually eat but it doesn't hurt to indulge every now and then.”

“And indulge I did. Wow, what a feeling and I—Now, I'm so…” He fails to find the words.

“Tired?” Hircine supplies. “When I eat a lot, I want to take a nap.”

Hmm, a nap doesn't sound so bad but there are other things on his mind. “That sounds nice and all, pet, but could we go to our room? I want to look at myself in good lighting.”

She points at her face and he nods. 

Astarion will see all of him.

In the bedroom, lamps are lit and the fireplace is set ablaze. Hircine dutifully sits on the couch, still as a statue, while Astarion buzzes about, pulling at the soft silver curls set atop his real head, tracing his fingers over the high point like the cheekbones, nose, brows, shoulders, everything and just admiring those beautiful features. 

She lets him work in peace with eyes closed when he isn't staring longingly into them, careful to not interrupt his joyful wonder of relearning his face. What a perfect girl, his wife. Astarion would reward her but in their current predicament, that might be a struggle.

He's pinching and bending the tips of his real ears while sitting on her lap when Hircine opens her red eyes, searching him out. Her voice is quiet and hesitant when she speaks. “What if… we’re stuck like this?”

That is the thought he is not ready to fully confront. 

Inside the manor, they can make it work, hide away practicing their mannerisms to present themselves as they should be, that is until Hircine gets called for by the matriarch and then Astarion has to present himself before her, playing the daughter.

Iimithra would see through the farce immediately, but if she can be avoided, then they could prolong the inevitable—or escape perhaps.

What the family will do to them could be manageable, even for frail little Hircine—he hopes, she’s escaped Lolth and death near one hundred fifty years this long.

No, his worries lie with Cazador. His wife understands to a degree what happens now when he is forced home. 

She would break the second Cazador laid his hands on her, in Astarion’s body or not, and that is not the fate Astarion wants for Hircine. He won't see that hard-earned smile wiped from her face.

For now, there is no plan. They will wait, enjoy the night as is until Lexi returns and then they will do whatever they need to survive, just as he's always done. 

Cradling her cheeks in his hands, Astarion smiles before placing a kiss on Hircine’s nose. “We will be fine. I'll make sure of it, my sweet love.”

And fine, they will be.

“Could you do something for me?” He asks as he pulls back a bit, staring into her gorgeous ruby eyes. 

“If it's within my power.”

Getting up, Astarion takes her hand, attempting to help her to her feet, but it's really all for show when this body is weaker than a rabbit. A few steps are taken away to give them enough distance so that Astarion can capture his entire body in view. “Alright,” he begins, “can you copy my movements? I move this hand,” his right hand shakes before he points at her opposing hand, “you move that one, as if I were looking in a mirror.”

Her pale eyebrows raise up high and then Hircine nods. “Absolutely. Show me what you want.”

Astarion places his hands on his hips, standing up straight, and Hircine follows suit quickly, imitating him wonderfully, just as his perfect girl should. He turns his head left and right slowly, watching as she does the same so he can see every aspect of his body in whatever way possible. 

A soft, no-teeth-bared smile is given with Hircine performing impeccably. Is that how Astarion smiles at her when she’s being cute and sweet? No wonder she turns into a puddle for him all the time. 

Next, he morphs his smile into a seductive grin and Hircine follows as well as she can, lips twisting up so a hint of fang is revealed, eyes narrowed slightly, head tilted to the side… Dashing. Handsome. Stunning. 

Gods, I love that face, and it's all mine!

They strike poses, some silly, some serious. A hand here, a foot there, ‘No, no, the leg should go like this!’ before they go in for some really dramatic looks, kneeling down in a crouch as if they're sneaking their way through the room silently, bumping into each other and collapsing into a tangle  of limbs as they laugh. 

They kiss briefly and Hircine doesn't immediately pull away in disgust, thank the gods.

“Thank you for indulging me, pet.” Astarion says as he tucks some of the wispy curls behind her beautifully pointed ears, propping himself up over her large body.

“Anything for you, Husband.” Hircine smiles, fangs and all.

He's ready to go in for another kiss when a new, very strange feeling encroaches onto his happy high. A slight pressure, a need to get rid of something. “Hircine, I feel weird.”

“Weird how?” 

They both sit up, Astarion now straddling Hircine's lap. “I don't know… It's here,” his hand slides over his stomach, “I think or maybe lower.” 

Her mouth opens, then closes, and opens again before her tongue runs over a fang. “Uhm. I think you have to use the restroom…”

Cold dread coils within Astarion’s gut. “Fuck.”

[ai-the-broccoli]

I DIDN'T NOTICE YOU RB'D THE DEATH NOTE ASK MEME uhhh. 23 and 24 maybe?

ooooh thanks!!!

23. what was your favorite moment and why?

"oooh that's a very hard question" ...is what I might've said, if this wasn't the light yagami animanga series and light yagami makes me insane. uhhh. I do have several though, if that's allowed.

(update: when I said "several" I meant uh. a lot apparently. whoops)

favourite line / favourite moment in a "holy wow this is amazing thematically": the. y'know. "Tell me, Light, from the moment you were born, have you ever told the truth?" line in the anime rain scene. yeah. holy fuck that is amazing because I LOVE that sort of thing. as far as character traits go, there's like nothing I love more than characters that are liars who lie lyingly (multiple types of this apply). it's truly, truly the best.

favourite moments based on what I repeatedly rewatched immediately following my first watch of the anime: there are, uh. three (in no particular order)

light goes home from the entrance ceremony, incredibly stone-faced (like 😐) the entire way -> gets home, gets up the stairs, opens the door, shuts the door, sits down on his chair, suddenly starts shaking -> blows up "Dammit! He got me! Damn L! I have never been so humiliated in my life!" (even Ryuk comments internally that he's never seen him lose his composure so much) -> suddenly laughs and calms down talking about how it's a battle of wits now and he'll make L trust him and kill him, with his own hands if necessary. i rewatched this several times in a row which was definitely very normal of me.

look at him. grumpy but in like an extremely restrained way (his face is even hidden). until it breaks completely in the next page lol

the last episode. light trying so hard not to laugh/smirk in the warehouse, then he reveals himself as kira (a lot of laughing), and he loses and falls pathetically, shouting for kiyomi and mikami and misa after matsuda shoots him, and then runs in the beautiful sunset, passing his younger high school self by, and seeing a vision of L before he dies on the stairs. all this is great and i did an immediate rewatch of this episode after finishing it

the Relight scene where Light laughs on top of L's grave soil. it's conceptually fucked up in an amazing way that really really appeals to me. murder and grave desecration are really romantic/beautiful/erotic on principle.

as you can see I am very normal. as you can see I am a very normal Light Yagami fan. one of those two statements may be unironically true, but the two statements inherently cannot go together. anyway this particular selection of scenes totally doesn't actually say anything about me right but anyway I'm right those are totally the best please torture light some more everyone

favourite moments I didn't immediately repeatedly rewatch/reread like that but are still my absolute top favourites:

The entire first episode because DAMN did it hook me completely very, very fast. I did NOT know there was going to be Faustian contract + god complex&general big ego + everything else in one in this little and very infamous character known as "Light Yagami". my expectations were blown instantly and I got obsessed with DN right away

L and Light declaring war on each other over the live broadcast and L asking and taunting Light/Kira to kill him. amazing. it was really... gay. sorry I can't think of a better word lmfao

L's death scene oh my god. GOD I loved (and was really really amazed/impressed by by) Light rushing to him at once and basically lying on top of him for a second, so that he will die in his arms. GOD. it is SO. like yeah this is literally my favourite sort of thing holy shit it is amazing (it's to gloat to him and to declare victory before his death, and it's to pretend to the Task Force too, and yet it seemed like such an instinctual reaction really that I think his first instinct really IS to hold him in his arms before he dies. this is really good). and the dramatic performance afterwards. I love it

on a COMPLETELY different note. JESUS CHRIST I love Soichiro's death scene actually. because holy fuck the multi-layered irony. I really love it. actually I think I wrote about that scene long before I even really wrote anything else about DN. alright here:

idk if I still 100% agree with my initial impression but it should still overall hold and MAN. I definitely loved it (<- fan of irony) (<- extremely, extremely normal Light Yagami fan) (<- fan of Soichiro also, to a lesser extent)

favourite moment that gave me a lot of thoughts when I'm reading the manga: (even though I already first watched the anime and this stuff is also in the anime)

the moment where Rem is like "okay I will kill L" and Light, person who has been plotting this exact murder for ages, is like. Oh shit. he'll die...? which is. man. Light sure is Light

like look at his face here!

favourite manga-exclusive moments:

Light not considering killing Sayu. Light asking Soichiro to promise him to come back alive with Sayu. that scene afterwards where Soichiro is at home thinking he should die. (at least I think those weren't in the anime?)

the manga ending is also good

I like that the manga tells us he lost weight and has nightmares due to using the death note. (it possibly has happened to anime light too but we don't get to see it)

not a "favorite moment" exactly, but while the scene is beautiful I don't like Misa dying in the end despite how much I adore everything else in that episode, so I like that Misa doesn't canonically die like that in the manga

favourite anime-exclusive moments:

rain scene and footwashing scene yes obviously

everything about Light being "haunted" after L's death. aside from the aforementioned Light dying scene, I really like the anime

I love the anime ending too

also hmm this might be a less popular opinion, but personally I also love some of anime Light's characterization tidbits that differs from the manga (e.g. first episode). I would say it's because it's maybe very slightly more relatable for me but that probably sounds wack lmao so

favourite moments based on how comedic I find them: (not including ones I already included in other sections) DN is such an amazing comedy I'm not even kidding

the whole handcuffs thing oh my god. homophobic misa moment. I didn't think she'd actually call him gay, but there it was. also just fken. buddy. L??????? why and how and in what world was there an absolute need for this totally normal, totally appropriate, absolutely most safe and most ideal method of interrogating criminals. I was laughing because god. that's not even. yeah okay I'm happy with it but LMFAO YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS. and Light just easily went along with it

the... the... first date scene. I was like oh my god c'MON you two. I didn't think something like this would be so like this in the actual canon manga. first date where Misa is being thirdwheeled while Light and L sit together chained together and then they focus all energy on talking to each other and then they get into a fist fight (date activity) all over the room. combined with the later dunking on matsuda. this is LITERALLY how a fucking sitcom goes at this point.

the anime's footwashing also. not the scene itself necessarily but just the fact that it fucking exists between lawlight and is. Like THAT????? lmfao like what the hell

ALSO the. fken. Matsuda fake death scene lmfao it was so wack in retrospect

live Ryuk reactions + "hey Light can we play Mario Golf? can we play Mario Golf Light? come on let's play a match of Mario Golf"

man I can't even include all of it here because Light Yagami is so entertaining to me in 85%+ of all the scenes she appears in in one way or another like his existence itself is peak entertainment to me. it's entertaining when Light is humiliated and it's entertaining when he's succeeding. and like I mean, he's the protagonist of the whole manga / show, and I mean I can't list every moment in the series can I. lmao

favourite moments that don't have light yagami in it: I'm sorry everyone else but I am especially obsessed with light. as you can see. however I love many other characters too

Kiyomisa dinner kiyomisa fighting !!!

(technically this includes light but) matsuda shooting light

misa being unexpectedly smart (compared to her wider reputation) (the higuchi car scene! and others) is also nice

idk if it makes sense but. the scene where Rem and Misa mention the way a Shinigami can die, and Misa admits to thinking about killing Rem like it's. just very Neat. I like the vibes here and Misa is very beautiful (related to the dialogue about love and killing. yeah)

also!! I love the meronia moments

and then I recently got myself into soichello so actually yeah. the soichiro mello scenes too. very good

24. any headcanons you want to share?

uhhhhhhhhhhh hmmm. man what's a headcanon I haven't properly shared on tumblr before, and also isn't like a take that is shared and often discussed by tons of people around here already?

... fine okay let's do this finally.

neurodivergence + mental illnesses headcanons

[disclaimer: please read this post first. if you disagree, you can skip over this and skip to the next section!]

aside from OCD and autism, imo Light has NPD with some ASPD traits, and also bipolar. this is because the way his mental illnesses are is like. I feel represented lol. (not as in I have every one of those things I listed, but I probably have some/most of them, and the combinations are interesting). even though this is unfortunately Light Yagami. but I really like him for that too tbh because man. I don't get to see that stuff often. (like idk how to explain it. even though I'd never even remotely pull that kinda stuff because of differences in personalities, values, background, abilities, and manifestation and degree of symptoms, etc. however some of his mannerisms sometimes feel right on point e.g. I feel like the way he is like sometimes gives me depression + hypomanic/manic vibes, in a way where I can see myself in him if it makes sense lmao)

on that note Misa 100% very BPD I agree. I wanna say on top of autism, L also seems to have some ASPD traits imo. Near is autistic but I think that goes without saying lol. Mello has like... C-PTSD and/or NPD. and then this probably not a very unexpected take, but Matsuda has ADHD or audhd vibes. OH and! Soichiro also very much has OCD and autism, imo.

other headcanons:

not a hot take, but Mello and Near are both nonbinary and/or genderqueer (and/or otherwise trans, if not applicable) to me (could be transmasc or transfem, not necessarily transneutral; I could see either or any direction among those, although I would say I lean toward seeing Near as transfem and/or nonbinary, and Mello as transmasc and/or genderqueer).

Light is demi, and has had a covert superiority complex about not feeling attraction unlike his peers (like. you can view him deciding to use porn mag reading to prove himself as a normal teenage boy as indicative of his subconscious? mental association of his more "normal" peers as, like.... unfortunate horny perverts. in a way. if that makes sense) I know how it feels because I was kinda like this in grade 6-8

man I definitely have other ideas too but I'm drawing a blank at the moment partly because it's late and I still haven't eaten lunch lmao. I will continue to post my thoughts and headcanons in the future, so tune in by clicking on the subscribe butto- *gets shot*

ask game

[lucifermorningstxr]

The humiliatingly honest truth of the situation was that Lucifer Morningstar, the actual Devil himself, was afraid. Petrified, in fact, of losing Chloe. The weight that had been lifted from his shoulders in the parking garage earlier that afternoon fell crashing back onto him, landing directly on his head this time, as Kinley spun his tale, and Eve's presence made it so his hands were tied with the Detective for the time being. His only salvation was how good of a person she really was, and her response to his honest display was reassuring, to say the least. He nodded at her words, leaning into her touch as much as possible without outwardly disrespecting the woman he was still officially committed to. That didn't mean he wasn't still planning to end it though, nor did it mean he didn't want to hold Chloe tighter than he's ever held anyone in his eternity. It just meant things were stalled a bit while this whole mess was sorted. All of that being said, for the time being, he'd keep his reply honest yet brief. "Thank you, Detective. I... I promise I'll tell you everything i know. Thank you for having my back again." Not meant to be pointed, it was as genuine of a gratuity as the Devil could ever offer. Through thick and thin, they'd always seem to have each other's back. It was something so unusual for him, but he liked it. He loved it, in fact.

It pained him inside to go from confiding into the Detective to entertaining Eve. At first, he felt genuinely terrible for the first woman. Imagine spending your entire eternal existence having to be something you're not only to track down your 'first love' only to be smacked with the realization you don't really fit in, then compound all of that with the prophecy; it's a dreadful reality for anyone. Even the Devil has a heart, and he couldn't help but feel it squeezed a wrong way when the news that was shattering his world was building hers up. He moved to loosen his grip on her in that moment, but then she jumped all over him with her excitement. He couldn't lie but was being totally honest right here, right now what was best for the situation? His initial goal was just to smile and giggle with his girlfriend, feeding a bit into his carnal desires to distract from the heaviness of his reality, but when the Detective took what he knew looked bad even worse than he'd imagined, he was left to quickly reroute. Their reconciliation would not be in vain, not for nothing, not even his 'first love.'

He led Eve swiftly as he could after Chloe, being slowed by the maintenance of his eternally immature girlfriend. "Detective! Wait!" Lucifer would try to get her attention, but it seemed Eve was the real draw, and not in a good way. The suggestion of blatant disrespect to the woman he cared most for by the woman who had turned his life upside down was too much to bear. Yet, he'd try to contain himself. After all, this was a prison parking lot, wherein the building was held an insanely evil priest who would do anything to prove his 'true colours.' What's more is that this is the Detective's reputation. He'd been better behaved when working with her until Eve showed up, and he intended nothing less than respect for her. Channeling his strongest feelings into a cool, stern tone following the Detective's rightful upset, he'd turn to Eve and take one last stab at convincing the petulant first woman to behave. "Eve, darling, the Detective is right. Can't the sex wait? It's just a short drive back to the precinct anyway, and you know I last too long to make it." Not knowing what else to say that was honest in the moment, he tried to put a proverbial bandaid over the situation.

Any additional attempts he'd make to offer an apology to Chloe on Eve's behalf, or even address what was said on his own accord, were thwarted by Eve's remark. Chloe was the one not letting him be his true self? Chloe was the bad influence? Very well. If it's Big Bad Devil that Eve wanted, it'd be Big Bad Devil that Eve got. No more placating, no more games, and if that meant no more aquarium sex, then so be it. He was going to show both of them exactly where he stood, to Hell with the rest of the nonsense.

"The Detective is the bad influence!? Eve, do you even hear yourself?" With each word, his voice got louder as he got angrier. "The Detective is the only one who's consistently been there for me. You want to talk about my true self? Let's talk about it! Thanks to the Detective, I know I'm NOT the monster society has painted me to be! I know I'm NOT evil incarnate like every other human has believed me to be! Like dear old bloody Dad cast me to be!" He'd even flashed his Devil eyes a few times throughout his explosive tangent, typically in punctuation, but isn't that what Eve wanted? His nastier side? "My true self? You don't know who I am anymore! You know my body, but you clearly don't know me. Did you even stop for a moment to consider how the prophecy affects me!? All you have to do is be my 'first love' while I'm the one unleashing evil into the world by simply existing! By daring to think for one moment that I might deserve love. Maybe I don't, because I certainly don't feel loved. Not by you anyway, Eve. Sit where you want, but you'll be sitting by yourself."

As he huffed from his tantrum, turning to storm away from his 'girlfriend,' Lucifer gazed over at Chloe with a deeply honest pain in his eyes. "Please forgive me for my outburst, Detective. You don't have to deal with all of this anymore."

Lucifer was trying to balance his urge to comfort both women with his own self-preservation, trying not to crack under the anxious pressures brought on by what he'd just witnessed. He knew that it didn't matter whether he exploded in anger or got defensive because either would give Kinley's baseless claims too much credit. And it wasn't that he feared Chloe's rejection alone, as he himself was battling his own self-image in real time once more. He wasn't evil. Not like humanity said, and not like Kinley had just painted him out to be. Luckily, his spiral of thought was interrupted by the Detective's impeccable timing as she pulled him aside. Lucifer had to make a split-second decision on how to react, and Chloe's gentle approach combined with his own vulnerability led to the obvious answer; honesty as always, but soft communication. Not only to not rile Eve, but to demonstrate a composure and show that he's changed not only in eternity, but in the four years he'd been working with Chloe. The best four years of his existence to date.

"Detective, I have to tell you... you're doing an awfully good job handling all of this for a human. I... I want to talk to you about this. I need to talk to you about this..." He paused for a moment, motioning in the direction of Eve with his eyes. "But I don't think here is the best place. You still trust me, don't you? Do you trust me to be alone with you? To talk?" The Devil's mouth was shaky once more, his eyes set on the woman in front of him. "I'm not evil, Detective. I punish Evil, but I'm not evil. And... I don't want to be evil."

As their conversation was cut off, Lucifer couldn't help but reach out and pull Eve into his side. He'd wanted to do the same to the Detective, but it didn't seem appropriate in the moment, not in front of Eve, and he knew that if she accepted his offer, he'd have plenty of time to comfort her too. He gave her a look that said 'Please, don't be hurt. She needs this right now' as he soothed the uneasy first woman. If the prophecy was even a little bit true, then Eve likely had more than a small part in it. The least he could do was comfort her in this time of uncertain strife.

[billdenbrough]

fundamentally disinterested in the recurring discourse about kevin's drinking that aims to a) make it his Specific Problem To Focus On And Overcome when it is a crutch and coping mechanism to get him through a Much Bigger Problem (emotional fallout he can't square with by himself, culture shock, trauma, loss of his extremely wildly co-dependent relationship w riko, losing the structure of the nest, mourning a future he was meant to have, processing a grave injustice, anger and fear and desperate grief, all of which is his Actual Specific Fox Problem) while he builds himself back up, and b) thinks that even if it is a problem (more on that later), it's the foxes' problem to deal with.

like. it's just not.

yeah, he doesn't drink until he meets them. they gave him that habit, and in traditional terms, they're (the monsters specifically) a 'bad influence'. but these are the foxes. this is kevin day, son of exy, whose meteor is crashing spectacularly through no fault of his own. there are no traditional terms to be found here. the framework for it literally doesn't exist. neil comes into the foxes with more conventional expectations—appalled at the athletes' substance use, his horror at matt's trip to columbia, his steadfast and early repeated stance that none of the foxes should let andrew treat them the way he does, and certainly not nicky—and tends to engage with them less as the series goes on and he folds himself into the foxes. the thing about the foxes is that they've all been in pits deeper than they are tall. and some of them got a helping hand on the way—erik, andrew's extreme intervention methods, stephanie walker—and wymack was always waiting for them on the other side, ready to throw down a rope, but all the foxes dragged themselves out of their own holes. often not alone, often not without assistance, but at the end of the day, they have to do it.

there's that line neil has about aaron in that scene that got deleted when the timeline shifted around, when he thinks about how aaron got this far in life on his own, surviving on willpower and sheer desperation. that applies to aaron in a way that's a little more acute than some of the rest of them—boy who doesn't let the foxes in bc of andrew, boy who doesn't let nicky in bc he doesn't know how, boy made of flinching and seeking an escape and grieving the one who hurt him—but is broadly true for the foxes en masse.

this isn't to say the foxes can't help each other, but it's not their job. it just isn't. they'll keep kevin alive, keep him safe, keep him flanked and contained within their ranks. they'll fight tooth and nail in this battle with him, fight to get him to that championship game, fight to get that trophy in his hands. but that's all they've agreed to. that's all they're responsible for, in this covenant they've made with him. he says they can make this happen, and they're going to get him to that final game, but it's up to him what state he's in when he gets there.

like. they're foxes. they've been triaging their whole lives. they hate each other and they hate everyone else more. they're the kids with their backs up against the wall. half of them are addicts. i don't think kevin is comparable, personally; he's getting through a horrific situation with a coping mechanism. that's not the same thing as battling yourself to stop using. but that's not really the point of this. what i'm getting at here is that to the foxes, it's easy math: kevin who can lean on vodka and andrew and wymack and the foxes to stay upright when he's not ready to stand on his own two feet is still a kevin who is standing. a kevin with one less piece of scaffolding to lean on is a kevin who falls over, a kevin at risk of complete collapse, a kevin one phone call away from running back to the master, a kevin one crucial loss away from not ever making it back to himself at all. they're triaging. this is low on the totem pole of things they have the room to care about. they very much have bigger problems, both individually and even just kevin-related. if alcohol makes seeing the boy he knew best in the world and moved in tandem with his whole life and who destroyed their entire legacy and his entire life in one move — if alcohol makes facing that boy easier to stomach, then, fuck, why would they take that away? they're foxes. they've all got their demons. this is what kevin needs this year and a half to let him face his, that's all. they can understand that. it doesn't have to be pretty, as long as it keeps him in the fight. that's the priority.

i think there's absolutely space to explore this in fic and art and fandom in a way that maybe does explore it as a Problem, both that it's an active problem for kevin & that it's something to explore other foxes helping him with (there's a t&n fic that i've been gnawing at the bit to read for months that seems poised to explore this premise, and that's super up my alley)! i just think we're in different territory when we're talking about the series—and its characters and dynamics—in a conversational rather than transformational way, and end up talking about this like the foxes are responsible for kevin's choices. i love kevin day. i read these back at the start of 2015 & he's so dear to me that loving him was the blueprint for how i feel abt kageyama. but it's been pretty weird to see how the conversation has been translating Loving Kevin Day into... thinking the foxes are doing wrong by him with respect to this in actual canon. like that's just not how it operates there

[moe-broey]

Adjacent topic, but. One of my favorite things actually is when Alfonse pulls the player aside and is like "Let me think out loud real quick." and when the situation calls for it, "Also what do you think?" Like obviously this happens so much across any game ever, especially ones that have a designated partner character. But it feels so special to me...

Especially with Alfonse, especially when he calls the summoner by name. He didn't used to do that!! In the very beginning!!! And he slips up, as Lif. Trying So hard to take it back. It just feels so personal... 🥲🥺

[lanternlightss]

guys i keep thinking about loop and nameless bard being friends. they are. rotating around up there