#but we go along with it because everyone else does

[nereidprinc3ss]

promiscuous

in which spencer reid doesn't like that flirty!reader is going on a date. he makes that known. (bandages universe)

flangst, 18+ for discussions of sex warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, mentions of going to a bar/going for drinks, very suppressed mutual pining, jealousy from Spencer, reader implied to engage in casual sex, reader calls themself a slut somewhat disparagingly but like as a joke, it all gets resolved, he is very sweet, he rambles when he's nervous a/n: oh God I love them so much they are like so in love and they literally have no idea at all because they're so dumb... but WE can tell.. turning point for them

“Penelope wanted me to confirm that you guys are coming to drinks with us tonight?”

It’s something of a standing tradition for the BAU on the last Friday of every month, and usually you’d agree, but tonight, you have other plans. 

“Raincheck for me,” you say, sliding some files into your bag which you do not plan on reviewing. “I have a thing.”

“What thing do you have on a Friday night?” Morgan asks skeptically. You don’t bother looking at him as you hide a smile. 

“A date, Morgan. You jealous?”

“You’re going on a date?”

You’d nearly forgotten Spencer was in the room until he spoke—he’s been in one of those quiet moods of his where he sort of floats around everyone else and makes himself insubstantial. As you cast him a sidelong glance, trying to figure out his tone of voice, you see he’s frowning. Nearly grimacing. His brows are drawn so tight you’re worried he’ll give himself a headache. 

“Uh, yeah. I am.” Suddenly, your parade feels a little rained on. 

“With who?”

You pause, looking back down at your desk with a new frown of your own and shaking your head as if you could clear it that way. “Just… some guy from OT.”

“Dalton?”

Ding ding ding. Somehow he got it right on the first guess, and for some reason, you wish he hadn’t. You don’t want Spencer knowing who you’re going on a date with. It feels wrong. 

“Does it matter?” You evade, shoving your things with a little more force into your bag. 

“Well Dalton is an idiot, so I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you’d go out with him.”

“And if it’s not Dalton?”

“Then I’d tell you all the guys in OT are idiots and you shouldn’t waste your time on any of them.”

“Alright—” Morgan passes between your desks, placing a friendly hand on your back as he does. “I’m gonna let you two hash this out by yourselves.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised, unsmiling, that means, go easy on the kid. It makes you feel terribly guilty. And more than a little defensive. 

“Night,” you call halfheartedly. He only waves as the glass doors swing shut behind him, leaving you and boy genius alone in the bull pen.

Silence falls, cloistering you as you finish packing up together. It seems to magnify the buzz of the overheads. You notice him intentionally lingering, and you sling your bag over your shoulder with a sigh. 

“Okay,” you say, turning to face him with your whole body. He seems uncomfortable with that, but you’re not letting this go. “What is this? Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes. “I just think—”

“Yeah. You’ve made your thoughts abundantly clear. I don’t know why you’re judging me for going on a date.”

“I’m not judging you! I just think you deserve better than a guy who looks like he… snorts protein powder for every meal and has less capacity for intelligent conversation than a mealworm.”

“Okay. Do you have someone in mind?”

The words come out a little sharper than you’d meant for them to. A little louder. Spencer looks like a scolded puppy as he swallows. 

“Not specifically. Just—someone more like you.”

He just doesn’t get it. You fold your jacket over your arm. 

“Yeah, well, until someone more like me comes along and asks me out, Dalton is the best I’ve got. I know he’s not my soulmate, Reid. But he asked me to drinks, and I said yes.”

The room is mostly dark. Only a few fluorescents remain on to cast Spencer in an almost clinical glow against a dark grey background. You’ve been here before. It feels like an interrogation. An environment where you’re practically begging for the truth without saying please, but there’s only room for measured dishonesty. 

Spencer speaks under his breath, fiddling with the strap of his own bag. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“What do you want me to do?” It’s an exasperated, confrontational sigh. Your arms raise and fall heavily back to your sides. Another long grey hallway of silence that leads nowhere. When it becomes clear he doesn’t have the answer, or he’s not comfortable sharing, you straighten. “I’ll see you Monday, Reid.”

Your spirits are completely dampened as you trudge to the elevators. What once seemed like an exciting opportunity now only serves as a depressing reminder that you’re wasting your time with a man who isn’t what you want. Maybe you should just call the whole thing off. 

“Wait,” Spencer calls, half-jogging to catch the open elevator. His bag bobs with every step, pens and things jingling around inside. It’s endearing, even though you’re upset with him. Your arms remain stubbornly crossed, but he makes it anyway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your mood.”

You laugh dryly. “Yeah, well…”

“It’s just that…” he sniffs and looks down, hair falling in front of his face. He really is sweet, even when he’s kind of a dick. He’s full of so much sincerity he doesn’t know what to do with it all. “I know how you are—you’re special, and funny, and intelligent, and, and Dalton—all those qualities are wasted on him. He looks at you and he just sees a pretty face. It may sound trite, but… he doesn’t deserve you.”

You sigh again, heart squeezing. The glowing light on the panel of floor numbers flickers. “I know your heart is in the right place, alright? But it’s not about who deserves me or who doesn’t. I’m not a prize. I’m a person, and people like to feel wanted. Sometimes, it’s just—it’s about who’s there, and who likes me enough to say it to my face. Sometimes that’s all I need, and I know you didn’t mean it like this, but when you say he doesn’t deserve me, it really seems like you’re not considering what I might want at all. Maybe Dalton is what I want.”

God—this elevator ride is like, comedically long. 

“Is he what you want?”

At least he has the bravery to ask. 

You glance over at Spencer, washed out bloodless and looking like he’s prepared to flinch, like he doesn’t know if he’s ready for the answer. The doors ding and slide open, and stale air whooshes from the chrome compartment into the lobby like a held breath finally exhaled. You swallow. 

“I don’t know why it matters to you.”

“Because you’re my friend and I want to see you happy,” he insists, trailing after you as you speed walk through the lobby. Every click of your heeled boots echos. 

“Then shouldn’t you be supporting me?”

“I’m not going to support you in making the wrong choice.”

The conversation spills out into the bitter-cold parking lot. You turn around to face him. 

“Respectfully, you have no idea what’s right or wrong for me. I don’t like whatever this is,” you say, gesturing with a finger between the two of you, as if the conflict were a tangible thing—a phone line hanging between your hearts. “I don’t know if it’s, like, jealousy, or some misplaced feeling of possessiveness, or protectiveness, or—”

“It’s not like that!” He splutters. 

“Okay—so what is it like? If you want to see me happy, why don’t you support me in pursuing the things that make me happy? And if that’s meaningless sex with some guy from operational tech, so be it! You are not in a position to give your two cents on who I sleep with!”

“I wasn’t trying to—I wasn’t even thinking about—about sex! I don’t care who you sleep with!”

He’s turning increasingly pink. 

“Fine. But if you weren’t thinking about sex, if you thought I was under any illusion that Dalton was going to be my fucking Prince Charming then clearly you’re not equipped to have this conversation. I know he’s an idiot. I’m not looking for my soulmate—thank you, though, for reminding me that it’s completely fucking pointless to even pretend. I love you, Spencer, but grow up. And stay out of my business.”

And with that, you’re turning on your heel and marching toward your car. Spencer calls your name—once. Twice. The wind lashes against your bare arms and stings your eyes as you fumble with your keys. 

It’s just the wind. 

Nothing else. 

-

Maybe you’re simply not meant for love. 

It’s a narcissistic thought in the sense that everyone has it at some point in their lives—everyone falls victim to the delusion that they are so uniquely wretched, so singularly incapable of being understood by another person. It’s the universal illusion of solitude. And you’d thought yourself above it for a long time. In college, there was fling after fling. Your bed was never empty if you didn’t want it to be. In your young adult life, you have other priorities—but you rarely have to be alone. 

Now, though, as you sit on a rickety metal stool deep in the bowels of the Bureau’s records room, banished to sort through files in search of one that had been mishandled during a cold case and is now supposedly relevant again, (although you’re not sure it actually exists) you’re pondering the nature of those connections you’d been so sure your life was full of. Were they all artificial? Designed by you subconsciously to manufacture a sense of complacent satisfaction? To stave off the aching, gnawing loneliness in your gut that you’re only now becoming aware of and has been eating you away in bigger and bigger bites since Friday night?

Morgan was supposed to be just as arm-deep into a box of dusty manila folders as you are now, but he talked his way out of it, and you’re sitting in an awkward twenty-minute-long-so-far silence with Spencer. Which isn’t helping anything. 

The tension comes and goes like the moon pulling the tides. It’s like you can sense it wafting off of each other—you feel it in the prickle on the back of your neck and the buzz in your stomach when he’s about to say something, and you glance over, and he’s already looking at you with his lips parted, and then he doesn’t say anything after all, and the silence reinforces itself. 

It gets frustrating. 

Not to mention this task is equal parts mind numbing and infuriating. Maybe Hotch just hates you. 

Eventually Spencer clears his throat, and you welcome the distraction. 

“What year are you on?”

You give him a long look which he doesn’t reciprocate, because you want to say, really? But eventually you pick up the edge of the box you’re sifting through and double check. 

“Uh… June 1979 through August 1979.”

He nods matter-of-facts. “They should be making us wear gloves.”

Your incoming tangent spidey senses are tingling. It’s not exactly an opportune time, but it’s better than silence. 

Plus—you’re pretty sure this is his idea of a peace offering. 

“Why’s that?” You mutter, flicking through yellowed papers. 

“Wood pulp paper contains an alum-rosin mixture to minimize ink bleeding, but in the presence of moisture such as that introduced in trace amounts by our fingertips it generates a diluted sulfuric acid solution. They didn’t start adding alkaline buffers into paper until 1986, and the cellulose chains that comprise the structure of the paper inevitably shorten and break down over time, so we’re actively degrading these documents by touching them without gloves.”

“Did you say sulfuric acid?”

“I said a diluted sulfuric acid solution,” he clarifies, utterly missing the point of your question as he so often does in that disarmingly endearing way of his. “Sorry, by the way.”

You look up from a photo of bloodied bell-bottom jeans. He’s caught you by surprise. 

“For what?”

“For—”

He struggles with the words—you watch his lips form a few silent ones before he gives up on the nonchalant act and sets his file on his lap. He can’t seem to tear his eyes from it, but you don’t mind. 

“For everything on Friday. I… I know it was none of my business. I sometimes struggle with… keeping my thoughts to myself. Especially when it concerns someone I care about. But I wasn’t judging you, I swear. What you said about—about sex, I—” he sighs, obviously frustrated with himself, and pushes a bit of hair out of his eyes. “That’s not where my mind was at, at all. Whatever you… do, or don’t do, is none of my business. Obviously. You don’t need me to tell you that. You don’t need me to tell you anything. I just really wanted to clarify that I wasn’t shaming you or judging you for—”

“Spencer,” you say gently, cutting him off and reeling him in before he can dig any deeper. 

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He glows under the canned lighting, a soft aura of white blurring the edges of him. The stale room buzzes. It’s otherwise quiet down here. Peaceful, almost. 

From anyone else, you might consider it overstepping. 

You wouldn’t have been willing to forgive them in the first place. 

But it’s not anyone else. 

“Thank you, for apologizing. I really appreciate it.”

He glances up at you, sort of hunched—always trying to make himself smaller than whatever force created him had intended. The deep brown of his eyes is melted and swirling and sweet and nervous. He’s not naturally good at these interpersonal things, but he’s always trying. He’s always pushing himself for you.

Do you ask too much? 

Do you offer enough in return?

Struck by sudden insecurity, you look away. Go back to your files. 

Perhaps you made a mountain out of a molehill and told him to climb it. 

“I mean, I am kind of a slut. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking so,” you laugh airily. “Maybe it was a good reality check.”

A trailing silence. An air conditioner kicks on. 

“What? That’s not—that’s not at all what I was trying to say.”

“Spencer, it’s fine.”

His stool squeaks as he sits up straighter. 

“No, I really want you to understand. Even if I cared or thought about how many people you might sleep with—which I don’t—and even if I determined that you were… sexually promiscuous, I wouldn’t assign a moral value to that judgement. Sexual promiscuity is observed all the time in the animal kingdom, it’s biologically sound and justified and in less misogynistic cultures where bonds forged between humans weren’t socioeconomic arrangements dependent on women being viewed as commodities first and foremost, it’s completely unremarkable. But I haven’t made that determination. All I know is that… you’re you. And that’s all that’s ever going to matter to me.”

Silence falls. Your voice gets stuck in your throat. 

How does he so casually show you more kindness than anyone else has ever managed to show you in your life?

Spencer takes pity on you. 

“And�� we’ve talked entirely too much about something that’s none of my business today.”

It’s wry and earns a chuckle from you. Even Spencer manages a chagrined smile. That same strand of hair falls loose as he looks down. Light bounces from his self-effacing smirk. 

You fiddle absentmindedly with the fraying corner of a folder, and you’re about to open your mouth, about to speak into the sparkling cloud that the easy laughter and the melted tension has left in its wake, and tell him how much you appreciate him and how kind he truly is and undoubtedly whatever you say will be made more beautiful because of it—because of the affection you have for each other—and then you stop, eyes catching on the case file between your fingers. You frown. 

“Wait—what’s the case number we’re looking for?”

“91 18 00063 7.”

You hold the file up, eyes alight. 

“I found it.”

Spencer frowns and takes it without asking. You watch as he reviews the number in tiny black typeface along the top of the document. His brow scrunches in disbelief. 

“I genuinely didn’t think we were ever going to find it,” he murmurs after leading through the photos and glances back up at you. “We had thirty years of boxes to look through and you found it in under an hour. You’re like magic.”

It’s impossible not to smile. You feel all warm and sparkly as you snatch it back from him and stand, straightening your jacket. 

“Will you tell that to Hotch?”

“I… will tell anyone who will listen,” he assures you, and you’re confident he’s following as you make your way through the maze of stacks. “Are we not gonna clean up our mess?”

“There are people who will take care of that later.”

“Yeah. Like me. During my lunch break.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be well rewarded for your efforts today.”

“What does that mean?” He mumbles, and you can practically hear his blush. 

You smile to yourself. 

Still got it. 

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Astarion prefers monogamy.

Again, simply my cup of thought tea steeped from my game experience. Its not everyone's drink. No shame, no blame, it's your game. Warning for triggers and spoilers.

*added note due to misunderstandings.

Please notice I said "prefers monogamy" not "is monogamous". He may be up for added partners later on down the line. But definitely not any time before the epilogue in my world.

So, why do I think he prefers monogamy?

Take..

"Iv never had anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you."

And mix that with...

"I had nothing for so very long. NOTHING! Not even my own body!"

And add..

"You're you. Nobody is like that."

Plus countless other comments and actions and you get a bowl full of elf who just wants something for himself only for a change.

Centuries of being forced to give up or share everything. His possessions, his person, his own thoughts. Nothing to claim as own that no one else could take or touch at any moment. I'm sure if anything was given to him, he had to fight to keep it.

I think, he would be a bit possessive of anything he could claim as his own.

You are a gift to him. Something rare and special beyond words. I highly doubt he would be willing to share anything you are sharing with him outside of friendship. I could even see him getting fussy about strangers touching you. Moving you away or putting himself physically between you and whomever just touched you without asking.

Hells, even ascended Astarion isn't 100% game to share.

"As much as I wish to sequester you in a deep chamber of my palace and keep you all to myself...there is much to be done."

But, what about Halsin? He says he's fine with it.

Is he? Or is he people pleasing?

If he had said something along the lines of,

"Oh? He wants to share does he? Of course he does. I'm not up for such activities just yet, but you are free to have as much Halsin as you wish. "

I would have gone on that bear hunt, but he doesn't.

He askes you if you are wanting to sleep with Halsin because he has not been able to meet your sexual needs. And I interpreted that as he's vulnerable and worried he's being replaced for not putting out.

Imagine you had asked your lover to not to look to you for sex for reasons you are working out. They agree and you are just relieved as hell about it.

"You were patient. You cared."

Then they come along later down the line and say they are thinking about having sex with a friend. Where would your mind go?

I would bet hard gold he weighed the options in his head. "If I don't let them do this, they might leave me for good. But if I allow it, they wont have an immediate reason to leave. Halsin is the safest option given his experience."

And what's the best way to feel less awful about a situation we cant control? Create a counter situation where we gaslight ourselves into thinking its fine.

Wheeee!

I'm not saying Halsin's offer was bad, it was perfectly fine, it was just poorly placed in the grand scheme of things. If you and Astarion were having fun again before he suggested being an extra, then it would have been easier to believe he was really fine with it.

If they wanted Astarion to be a poly partner they needed to write it better. Shadowheart makes more sense as pro poly than he does.

So for me, Astarion is a one on one elf.

I am not against polyamory. I am not trying to take representation away. I am not shaming anybody for their choices. There is just not enough specific content to support it fully FOR ME. I was actually excited at the idea of having two partners in my fantasy world. Halsin was very clear and very specific about being on board. Astarion was not. And the choice did not feel right. Add a line somewhere for Astarion where he says "Im perfectly fine with sharing, darling. As long as it is discussed and we are in agreement of course." I will happily be on board with it.

[aureliaeiter]

Polytheists from the US: please stop fear mongering

I wanna start this post by saying that, as a bisexual woman, I do feel for my fellow women and LGBT people in the US, as well as for other minorities. I also fear for all of us around the world, as US politics have a direct impact in all countries.

However, please stop projecting your fears on the gods. If you think the gods suddenly became angry after the elections, after everything the world has gone through this year, that means you think the gods care more about you than they do about everyone else. And that's not okay.

1. You're the centre of the world. Please don't be entitled.

As I said, whatever the US does has an impact everywhere. That doesn't mean we need to extrapolate that into religion.

There are two things that have happened this year that would directly impact the gods. One was Mt Olympus burning in August. The other is an Israeli airstrike nearly hitting the Temple of Bacchus in Baalbek. I saw ZERO posts about the gods being angry about that. Or about the gods being angry at all. I understand you can't read the news about every country ever, but at least try to keep up with the country your religion comes from?

To those two things I said, I could add others that don't impact the gods directly like Palestine, Lebanon and Ukraine getting b0mbed; Argentina, Brazil, Greece, Poland, Austria, Spain and many other countries having deadly fires and floods; the rights of Italian LGBT people being set years back by their current PM, as well as LGBT people in some countries not having rights at all; conservative politicians being elected all over the world; WOMEN BEING BANNED FROM SPEAKING IN AFGHANISTAN; Pakistani Pagan tribes being targeted; the whole Gisèle Pelicot case... I could go on and on and on because there's just too much stuff going on in the world.

If you think none of these things would make the gods go angry, but the moment something happens in your country they're suddenly angry then that's an issue. And if you're trying to make this into a collective truth then you're making it everyone else's issue.

2. This is not an Abrahamic religion.

I understand many of you come from an Abrahamic background. I was raised in a deeply Catholic country. In the type of town where people get their favourite apparition or Mary tattooed. So I understand. But you have to somehow unlearn that when it comes to things like these.

The gods are not angry at you. Why would they be? Did you personally do something to offend them? Did you steal from their temple? Did you brag about being better than them in any way? I'm sure you didn't. So why would they be angry?

If you start saying things like “the gods are angry because of this!!” you sound just like the Christians who repeat Christ is coming soon everytime any type of natural catastrophe happens. Please stop. You're making all of us look crazy.

And also, what do you gain from this? Making other people upset? Especially those who just came into this religion and might think the gods are angry at them? It'd be fine if you posted something like “let's pray for our fellow Americans” but this doesn't make any sense. I just don't understand you people sometimes.

Also if you're gonna reply to this post by saying something along the lines of “people are allowed to talk about their feelings” then delete the comment because it shows you have little reading comprehension.

[alexanderwales]

I finished rewatching Death Note. I always forget how short anime is, with episodes that aren't much more than 20 minutes when you skip the intro/outro.

I hadn't remembered how much of a sniveling wreck LIght was at the end of the show. There's something about the ending that makes it feel like it was written and directed by a different person, not that Light wasn't always a little weird and pathetic, and not that the show didn't consistently go out of its way to let us know what a piece of shit he was (particularly his absolute lack of loyalty or empathy to anyone, even aside from the megalomania). But he takes the loss like a loser, snot dripping from his nose, voice cracking, begging, and it's so pathetic that I almost felt a little sorry for him.

I've always found the Death Note to be a very interesting prompt, one of those hooks that's so good I'd want to watch it even if it was bad. But in writing something like Death Note, the author has to make decisions about what to show and what not to show, and also make decisions about how they're going to portray the public at large.

There are two big things that stand out for me.

One is that we never get someone arguing against Kira. We get people who are actively trying to hunt him down, but they're mostly not stopping to say "this is why what he's doing is wrong" except a few lines about how he has a childish sense of justice, which is never expounded upon. Kira, on the other hand, we hear a lot from, not just the megalomaniac stuff, but the notion that criminals must be punished, that this is what people desire in their hearts. I get the strong sense that L does not actually care and just views this as an interesting puzzle for him to solve, but for everyone else it's largely left as an exercise to the viewer, and even then, there are moments when some of our task force members come dangerously close to endorsement.

To the extent the show has an answer, it's that (to quote Kanye West) no one man should have all that power, or that Kira has crossed a lot of lines, but no one argues in favor of rehabilitation or clemency or just fundamental humanity. Kira seems to largely be killing prisoners, who have already been sentenced, and are wards of the state, and he says "this is what people want deep down, they will give you the politically correct answer but they actually want the criminal class to be obliterate", which ... there's no character who actually voices any opposition to through the whole series. And I find that weird, because yes, the show has its own answers in terms of how it plays out, but in a show filled with people possessed of immense conviction, most of the people in opposition to Kira are just intellectuals who don't actually give a shit about the ideological question.

(The one big moment when it comes to a head, IMO, is when Soichiro Yagami refuses to write Mello's name entirely because of his principled objection to killing someone. I thought this was great, and I wish the show had more of it.)

The other big thing is that we don't really get a viewpoint of the criminals, with a few exceptions. One is the is Yotsuba group, who are killing people with the Death Note, and the second is the (somehow still functional) mafia that Mello hangs out with. There's also one other scene somewhere after L's death where we see a criminal begging with the police not to have his name written down, and that's about it.

The naive view here is that the show really does believe in Criminals as being a part The Other, a different sort of human being who walk among us. The criminal class are described as rotten and evil, they're shown as grotesque and with exaggerated features or bestial characteristics, and they're generally leering and impulsive. There is no consideration of their humanity.

There's a more nuanced take here, which is that we have a criminal as one of our main cast, Light Yagami, along with everyone else who takes on the Kira mantle. So what is the show saying about criminality through how it portrays them? And here ... I don't know. I kind of don't think that it views them as criminals in the same way? When we look at the ways that Light kills, I genuinely do think that the show thinks that this is different from the way that a capital-C Criminals kill. It's reactionary rather than criminal in and of itself, a response to the injustices of the world rather than being in the same class as those injustices. Light is narratively exempted, and Misa is to. Which isn't to say that I think the show thinks highly of Light, it clearly doesn't, especially in its ending, but I almost think that in the end it Others him too (and also has Teru Mikami drawn in particularly 'evil' style, like a creepy deviant gremlin).

So I enjoyed the rewatch, but there are things that sit a little oddly with me as far as the central themes go. There's probably some discourse I should read that's come out since I first watched it in ... 2010 or whenever, but I think I'll give that a skip.

[impactrueno]

Thoughts on a potential Beetlejuice and Astrid friendship? I can see BJ trying to bond with her as part of a scheme to win Lydia's heart (by showing off his stepdad skills) but actually growing kinda fond of her. Like a weird twisted version of the cartoon dynamic.

honestly i'm very surprised we didn't see much of that at all in BJBJ, especially considering they were even selling merch about it:

i can only base this opinion off of jenna's interviews and astrid's reactions to beetlejuice getting rid of jeremy and rory, but i'm convinced that they would get along surprisingly well, just maybe not at first. she doesn't seem to be afraid of him in the slightest. maybe i'm a little biased because of how much she reminds me of musical lydia, but i think she can keep up with him relatively unfazed, so he wouldn't be able to mess with her so easily like he does with everyone else. i get the sense that this would impress him a bit.

i also think she would poke and prod with tough questions he's gonna have to figure out how to avoid. she's very sharp and can be quite abrasive too. i LOVE the idea of her being able to catch him off guard at times, like when she pointed out the contract was null and void. bro literally went "wbwuh?" lmao

does beetlejuice even have a paternal instinct? i think even he doesn't know that. he'd probably tell himself he does just to make himself feel more suitable for lydia and her daughter and then try to sell his image as such. i just know he would play that shit up to cartoonish levels with all the dad stereotypes from movies and tv. but once again, we wouldn't really know how much of that would be genuine because he's always clowning around.

i'd like to think he would genuinely care for her though. and this would completely shock him, because i'm sure that in his 600 years he's never felt something like this before. the paternal thing i mean. that's a very specific feeling he never would've seen coming because he's probably never considered fatherhood before. because i mean. he's dead, he can't have kids of his own anyway lol

if his feelings for lydia are genuine and run that deep (and they seem to be, because who the hell pines for that long) then he will inevitably care for astrid as well. even if it was part of a deal, he did save her life, and with great satisfaction too.

i feel like all of this would develop before lydia even comes around to the fact that beetlejuice isn't going anywhere, so them getting along would be to her absolute chagrin lol

[persisting]

oh, absolutely. and i think we have a ton of agency as fans to create the exact version of these characters that we want based on the huge amount of writing that’s been done about them! i’m all for people picking and choosing what they want for their own personal versions of things. i think mainly for me, where the issue of “is this the puppet or the puppet master talking/acting” can come up negatively is in the posts people make wherein the poster wants to convey that they feel their chosen ideas about the characters are the “real ones.”

a lot of people really enjoy explaining dick or jason or whoever’s “real” characterization (myself included!) to an audience. the problem is that these explanations are always going to be personal to the writer of the post based on what parts of canon they personally want to vibe with and which parts they don’t. is jason secretly a natural redhead with an acrobat background? that’s been canon. does dick have a living aunt who stays at the manor with everyone? that’s also been canon. would dick angrily deny that bruce is his “father?” he’s done that on the page. would he instead directly call him “dad?” he’s done that too. does tim still have a spleen in some universe? who knows!

so mostly i think a lot of fans need reminding that sometimes your fav did the thing because the writer wanted them to, and it’s valid for other fans to see that behavior as “out of character” (because often, based on the character’s previous behavior, it kind of is.) it’s also valid to like what the writer had them say and to feel like it IS in character (hey, sometimes the writer is course correcting back to a previous characterization, or something similar.) but we all have to live with the fact that, for example, while fan 1 thinks it’s very in character for dick to angrily want to “get out from under bruce’s shadow,” fan 2 can think it’s OUT of character because of the fact that it was an editorial mandate for him to go and lead his own team and be in other books aside from batman. it’s frustrating for all of us, i think, to talk about some aspect we love or hate in a character here, and to then have someone else come along with a bunch of comic frames from various continuities to explain how you’re wrong.

i just think it’s good for the fandom overall to try to keep in mind that this is a tremendously fragmented space, and that there’s a difference between “he would/would not say that” and “he did/didn’t say it, but it seems like he did/didn’t say it for reasons outside of his usual feelings or perspectives.” this isn’t to say that i totally frown on, like, gentle fanon correction where it’s doable, or that i think talking about all the wild canons that have existed is bad or anything. i just think people get VERY assertive about things that are personal preferences in these characters, and i’ve had people insist that i “must” accept character takes that are still just personal interpretations, and it gets old. it’s definitely a fine line between fanon and “canon” sometimes, but i think people focus down too hard on what’s the “correct” canon sometimes. there are absolutely core qualities of these characters i think most of us agree on as “real,” but a lot of the window dressing is more complicated than that, and it doesn’t always exist because it was a natural path for the character at the time.

something i keep wanting to articulate about comics fandom, and characterization of comics characters, but i never quite feel like i have the right wording: sometimes a comic book character does something because the author wanted them to.

like, it’s things like two male characters being physically violent with each other when they’re emotional, or a character leaving their previous status quo for a new one, and similar stuff. batman and nightwing get physically violent with each other several times because frankly cis male writers often consider violence to be the ultimate form of male emotional outlet, whether it really would or would not be those particular characters’ actual reactions. nightwing wanted to “get out from under batman’s shadow” because editorial wanted him to so they could run him as a main hero instead of a sidekick. it’s things like that.

i think a lot of the endless essays and arguments about “correct characterizations” that circle back to “here on the page you can see the character saying/doing that very thing” are often hollow and kind of inept with this awareness that some character actions are directly invented by writer and editorial desire. of course nightwing “canonically” said this kind of dopey and contradictory thing about himself - his current writer specifically has an agenda to write him that way. of course suddenly batman will talk about how jason todd was “always violent” (he wasn’t) and “angry” (also factually untrue) because editorial wants the character to have a specific foundation for his current all over the place behavior.

like, sometimes these essays come off like you forget there are big white cis male hands up these guys asses at almost all times. sometimes they do things because it’s what they’d do. but sometimes they do things because a nerdy comic guy with intense daddy issues is making them say and do it. you’ve got to learn to separate that a bit before you publish your big screed about how dick/jason/bruce/tim is stupid/evil/abusive/annoying on their own terms, because so often the behaviors you’re mad at them for aren’t really natural character arcs and movements, they’re clumsy behind the scenes puppet fumbling. you have to learn the difference on your own.

[ak319]

Oooo hear me out, it's up to you, something inspired by "me and the devil" by soap&skin for platonic arthur and reader?

(AN: Lmfao this is smth else, hope this caught the essence of the song!)

Warnings: Not incest, strictly platonic, fluff

──୨Pre-camp୧──

You’d always been content with the fact that Arthur and your friends hadn’t crossed paths yet. After all, there’s something universally embarrassing about siblings mingling with your friends, especially a brother like him. But today, fate seemed to be laughing at you.

You waited on the porch of Mrs Anne's house with Isla, Faye, and Mavis, caught up in a lively discussion that had everyone too engaged to notice time passing, mostly about what happened in your classes today. Usually, your friends would have left by now, but something had kept the whole group lingering in a close-knit circle.

“Alright, guys, we should really go,” Faye finally said, glancing around. Isla nodded, then smirked at you.

“Oh, right,” she teased. “Forgot you’re waiting for him. Where is he? Late again?”

You clutched your bag, trying to brush it off casually. “He’ll be here soon. You guys can head out if you want.”

Please do, please do, please do-

Before anyone could move, Mavis stretched lazily and patted your arm. “By the way, we’ve never actually seen him. I mean, I haven’t.”

“Trust me, he’s… well, you don’t want to,” Isla added, chuckling with an odd mix of awe and apprehension. “I have, and he’s terrifying, honestly.”

“Is he?" Faye raised an eyebrow at Isla's earlier comment. “I mean, your dad’s not like that. Quite normal, actually, like he’s nice.”

You rolled your eyes. "Isla, he's just a bit...tall that's it. Which to be honest I hate. I mean like how dare he be taller than me! Eugh. Anyway, you guys, he's nice too, much nicer than Dad I would say-"

"But I never saw him smile." God, Isla. She's literally your younger annoying sister who can't shut up, at this point.

"He does smile!"

You could feel Mavis and Faye’s curiosity prickling at Arthur’s character, especially since they had no clue about his line of work. Isla, though, knew enough, which left her more spooked than skeptical. You nudged her with a playful yet pointed elbow, a silent but clear Don’t spill the beans, or I’ll make you spill your teeth. Thankfully, she caught on quickly.

“Yeah, it’s more of a… ‘you had to be there’ situation,” Isla tried to wave it off, though her tone just made things more awkward. Before anyone could respond, a voice drifted over the porch, a voice that could freeze or haunt your dreams.

Arthur had arrived.

“(Y/n)!” Arthur’s voice cut through the chatter, and all four of you turned to see him, perched on his horse, dressed head-to-toe in black. But what really set your teeth on edge was the bullet belt strapped across his chest along with some guns, a blatant display of everything you’d been trying to hide. You glanced back at your friends, who stared in wide-eyed shock as if Arthur had just ridden straight out of a legend, or a nightmare. Isla, though, wore a triumphant smirk, her dramatic warnings about your “scary” brother proven right.

You shot them all a quick, apologetic goodbye before rushing over, and Arthur extended a gloved hand down to help you onto the horse. “Hurry your ass up,” he muttered. His gaze was sharp and impatient, and you climbed up with a sigh, half-irritated and half-resigned.

“Maybe you should try being patient, too,” you shot back, settling in behind him. The horse sprang forward as you waved at your friends over your shoulder, watching their stunned faces disappear into the distance as you and Arthur rode away.

Arthur’s gaze was sharp as he maneuvered the horse down the path, his voice edged with something darker. “Your friends looked like they’d seen death itself when I rode up. Got anything to explain?”

You tried for a casual laugh, but it came out shaky. “Maybe because you showed up looking like you were ready for a showdown, Arthur. You could have been less armed...y'know.?”

He glanced back at you with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Less armed?

“Yeah, you didn’t have to look like you were coming to take me hostage,” you teased, though there was a tinge of nerves in your voice. “You nearly gave poor Mavis a heart attack.”

“Maybe she needs it,” he muttered with a hint of amusement, his hand gripping the reins tighter. “Ain’t my problem if your friends are scared of a bit of leather and metal. And excuse me , for not tryin' to make you wait and rushing here after the job."

You rolled your eyes, but decided to switch gears. “Anyway! Artieee....

Artie = I want something.

"What’s really important is that I’m starving.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t cook nothin’ today,” he said, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone.

Panic struck, and you scrambled for an excuse. “Well, I did cook even with a terrible headache, but Dad was starving, and he, uh… had some friends over, so they polished off everything.” You added a dramatic sigh for good measure, hoping it’d sell the story.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but too tired to argue. “Him and his damned pals. You couldn’t save a single bite, huh?”

“Believe me, if I could’ve, I would’ve,” you lied, trying to keep a straight face. Truth is, you did cook and there was still food left for dinner but you were craving something else. Your Dad would definitely side with your lie anyway so why not take advantage of the opportunity.

"So…how about we grab some dinner? Just a little something for your favourite sister?”

Arthur groaned, but you could tell he was caving, being starved himself, “Fine."

You grinned, hugging his back as the horse picked up speed, your stomach already dreaming of food. Knew you’d come through, brother.

⋆⋆⋆

──୨Post-camp୧──

"So what's up with you?" Micah’s voice broke through the quiet, his tone drawn out in that infuriatingly lazy way, like he didn’t care about anything in the world. You kept your focus on the book in your hands, not bothering to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"I mean, I know it’s only my second visit to the camp and all, but at least the other women talk. You, though..." His voice rose just a little, like he was trying to provoke you.

You didn’t flinch. The page turned, your eyes still scanning the words.

Micah, noticing he wasn’t getting any attention, stepped closer, his boots scraping against the dirt. "Hey! What’s up with all the attitude from you girls around here? I swear, the prettier they are, the more attitude they’ve got."

That was it. You set the book down, slowly, deliberately, and looked up at him with a level stare, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing your face.

"You should go, if you want to keep breathing," you said flatly, voice laced with a coldness that might’ve warned him to stop before things escalated.

He smirked letting out a scoff, clearly not taking you seriously. "Oh really? Why, doll? What’s so special about you?"

You didn’t answer. Instead, you let your gaze shift to the side, barely looking at him as you spoke, "My brother won’t be happy."

Micah blinked, caught off guard. "Brother? Who--"

Before he could finish, a heavy, familiar hand fell on his shoulder, spinning him around with ease. "Me." Arthur’s voice was low, smooth, and cold, a tone that instantly made the air around them feel heavier.

Micah’s face drained of color as he took in the sight of Arthur, standing tall and unwavering, his stare unblinking and intense. The recognition hit him hard, and the cocky grin that had been on his face moments ago faltered, turning into an awkward grimace.

"Oh...right, I see the resemblance now," he stammered, his confidence crumbling beneath Arthur’s unblinking gaze. "Didn’t know... didn't know it was you."

Arthur’s eyes darkened as he took a slow step toward Micah, his presence undeniable and terrifying. “You didn’t know, huh?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Let me make something clear, Micah. If you ever think it’s alright to speak to my sister like that again, you won’t have the chance to be this sorry.”

Micah’s smile faltered as he looked from Arthur’s hard face to yours, clearly realizing just how deep his mistake ran. He hesitated, then muttered, “I didn’t mean any harm, just jokin’ around cowboy, y’know?”

Arthur didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. His grip tightened slightly, and Micah’s hands immediately went up in surrender. “Yeah, you should’ve known better,” Arthur growled, his voice dropping even lower. “I don’t appreciate anyone talking down to my sister or any woman in the camp for that matter. Got it?”

Micah’s breath hitched, and his eyes darted between Arthur and you, his legs wobbling a bit under the pressure of the enforcer’s glare. He took a step back, quickly distancing himself, his earlier bravado long gone. “I, I’ll just go... No harm meant, alright?”

Arthur didn’t speak, only watched him with unwavering intensity, his posture stiff and unyielding, until Micah turned on his heel and hastily retreated, all but running.

Once Micah disappeared into the distance, Arthur exhaled slowly, his gaze now shifting back to you with a slight softening in his demeanor. “You good?”

"Hm. Thanks for that by the way." You answered nonchalantly, already reaching for your book again, satisfied with how things had gone. But before you could dive back into it, Arthur snatched it away from you with a swift motion.

"Wha--"

“Go fuckin’ read in your damn tent,” he snapped.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his mood. “Hey, don’t take your anger out on me too. I didn’t do anything.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at you, still holding the book just out of your reach. “You’re sitting here, reading, like nothing happened.”

"So I just stop existing because... what? Men like him exist?!" You shot back, annoyance flashing in your gaze.

He sighed, clearly over it. "Yeah, yeah, you win the debate, but for now, go. He still has some work left here in the camp. You stay inside. Now stop yapping and go before I-"

You cut him off with a dramatic roll of your eyes, but you didn’t want to test his patience. Grumbling, you stood up and scurried toward your tent, throwing a glare in his direction as you went. Arthur didn’t bother replying, just watching you with an unreadable expression as you ducked inside. You couldn't stop yourself from imagining how he was still standing there, no doubt watching over the camp with that ever-present watchfulness of his.

But deep down, there was a strange comfort in knowing Arthur was there, looking out for you. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for the sense of security his presence brought, even if it came with its moments of irritation.

You were luckier than most women, the ones who had no one to protect them, to guard their well-being when this society felt too harsh. You had never had to face that, not completely.

Your brother could’ve just left you to fend for yourself when both of your parents died. He could’ve given up, and let the weight of responsibility crush him. He could’ve taken the easy route, let you fend for yourself, but he didn’t. He chose to provide, to protect. And that, in itself, was something you could never take for granted.

You smiled softly to yourself as you opened your book again, getting comfy. It wasn’t perfect, your life, and it didn’t come without its complications, but it was yours, and you knew you weren’t alone in it. Arthur’s attempts, and his constant presence, always reminded you that no matter what happened, he would always try. That thought made everything a little easier to bear.

Speaking of....

You were tailing behind Arthur as he checked the items on the list. Just another day buying out supplies when your eyes caught the movement outside the general store’s window. A man was yanking a woman by the arm, his grip forceful, and he struck her hard before pulling her toward a nearby house.

Your heart hammered. “Arthur…”

“Hold on.” He didn’t look up, tossing another can into the basket you held.

“Arthur!” Your voice trembled as you grabbed his arm. “That woman… He’s hitting her. Aren’t you going to do something?”

He finally glanced at you, an irritated look flickering across his face until he saw the worry in your eyes. He followed your gaze out the window, his expression darkening as he took in the scene.

“That bastard’s beating her…” you hissed. “I’ll go to the sheriff if you won’t.” You started to take a step, but Arthur’s hand shot out, gripping your arm like iron.

“Hey, hey! You ain’t runnin’ off to the station,” he growled, his tone as unyielding as his grip. “Calm down.”

“Calm down?” You tried to pull away, anger mixing with shock. “How can you say that when she needs help?!”

The shopkeeper, who had been eavesdropping, chimed in with a lazy shrug. “That’s Carter for you. Mean drunk, that one. Nothing new around here.”

"Arthur," you insisted, voice edged with urgency, "we can’t just stand here and ignore this! You’ve got to do something!”

He looked back at you, his eyes narrowing with frustration mixed with something softer, a concern he rarely showed outright. “And what, exactly, would you have me do? Burst in there? People like him, they’ve got the whole damn town used to their mess. It ain’t as simple as you think.”

You clenched your fists, your heart pounding. “So we just let it happen!?”

Arthur scoffed, glancing down at the basket you held with a resigned shake of his head. "I’m not sayin’ we do nothing. I’m sayin’ we’re not the ones here to play heroes every time some bastard acts up." He looked away, jaw tight. But then suddenly, your dejected face stung something within him. It always does.

"Fine, but let's get this shopping done first."

You bounced impatiently on your heels as Arthur went through the rest of the list, and after what felt like an eternity, he finally loaded up the last of the supplies. He gestured for you to sit in the wagon while he headed off to “handle things.” Minutes later, you watched as the blonde woman stumbled out of the house, her face streaked with tears. You jumped off the wagon and hurried over, helping her onto the seat beside you.

“Don’t worry, your husband will definitely rot in the jai-”

The words barely left your mouth when the sharp crack of gunshots rang out from the house. A moment later, Arthur sprinted out, leaping onto the wagon and snapping the reins with urgency, the horses lurching into a gallop.

“What--what was that?” you stammered, glancing at him in shock. Even the woman had stopped sobbing, her eyes wide as she clung to the edge of the wagon.

Arthur shot you a level look, his tone matter-of-fact. “I did what you asked.”

“I said jail, not… not blowing his brains out!”

“If you think they take in men jus' for that, you still have a lot to learn, and aren't you happy...? That son of a bitch had it comin',” he replied calmly, not sparing you a glance as he kept his gaze on the road ahead.

You fell silent, a part of you taken aback but another part feeling a grudging agreement with his logic. The jail thing was indeed a dumb idea. You do feel happy. "You know what? You’re absolutely right, probably the best thing you ever did,” you murmured, giving a subtle, reassuring smile to the woman sitting beside you. She was still in shock, her hands trembling as she took it all in. You deliberately missed Arthur giving you a dirty look on your comment.

“Um, don’t worry,” you said softly. “You’re safe now. He deserved it.”

The woman’s gaze flickered, her fear giving way to hesitant relief as she managed a weak nod. “Damn right he did,” she added, her voice firm. "I kinda...I always wanted to do that."

You giggled, glancing back at her with a grin. “Today's your lucky day then. What’s your name? Mine’s (Y/N) Morgan and this is my brother, Arthur.”

She took a shuddering breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “K-Karen.”

“Do you have anywhere to go, Miss Karen?” Arthur interjected, his tone gruff but not unkind.

“N-not really,” she mumbled, looking down, her hands twisting in her lap.

Arthur shot you a look that clearly said, You started this. Now what the hell are we supposed to do?

You cleared your throat, searching for the right words. “Um, the thing is, Karen… we, uh, well, we live in a camp where people are… let’s just say, not exactly law-abidin-”

“We’re outlaws,” Arthur cut in, his tone blunt as always.

“O-outlaws?” Karen’s eyes widened, her grip tightening on her skirt.

“Yeah, unfortunately…” you mumbled, casting a sideways glare at Arthur. “And not 'we', I’m not! I’m…just you know....there and normal.”

Karen blinked, her initial shock giving way to an expression of deep thought. Then, to your surprise, a hint of excitement crept into her face, as though she’d stumbled upon something she’d been waiting for her whole life.

“You know… I may not look it, but I’ve got skills,” she said with a newfound confidence, sitting up straighter. “Real skills that could be useful. My old man never liked it, but I’ve learned a thing or two about… pickin’ locks, sneakin’ around, that sort of thing.” She looked between the two of you, her smile growing. “Maybe I could… you know, join you?”

Arthur’s eyebrow arched, clearly taken aback by her enthusiasm. He turned to you, looking somewhere between amused and exasperated. You stifled a grin, giving him a shrug. “Looks like she’s got some outlaw spirit after all, better than whatever life you were living, am I right?” you said, reaching out to pat Karen on the back who nodded wiping her tears.

Arthur rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “This camp’s turning into a damn circus," earning him a smack from you on the arm.

You couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as you watched Arthur stand by, his silhouette dark against the fading light of the camp. You’d done something good today, something right. You helped someone, and he had backed you, without hesitation.

As you made your way back to the campfire, the weight of the day's events still hung heavy on you. You could still hear the echoes of the man’s voice, the rage in his eyes. But it didn’t matter now. The woman was safe, and you’d made a difference. More than that, Arthur had made sure of it.

You glanced back over at him, standing tall, looking unfazed by the confrontation. He had that look, stone-faced, like nothing ever rattled him. Yet you knew the truth. Arthur did what needed to be done, for you, for anyone who mattered to him. He’d always had a way of making sure things were taken care of, no matter the cost.

"You did good today," you said quietly, your voice carrying the weight of the unspoken things that lingered between you.

Arthur gave a half-grunt, not really one for praise. His lips curled up in the slightest of smiles, but there was no boastful pride in it. That wasn’t Arthur’s way. "Just doin’ what’s right."

You huffed a soft laugh. "I know. You always do more than what's right. You do what needs to be done." He always does tenfold what you ask of him.

He didn’t argue, didn’t try to deny it. Instead, his gaze flickered to you for a brief moment before he looked away. "You’re the one who had the guts to step in. I just made sure it ended the way it should."

You shook your head, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Don’t try to downplay it. You know damn well that if it had been anyone else, they would have just ignored it."

He snorted, his eyes scanning the horizon, ever vigilant, as if nothing could touch him. But you knew better. You knew the weight Arthur carried. You’d seen it, felt it. He wasn’t the same as the others. He was a brother, a friend, a bodyguard, and a killer all in one. Your own personal killer that too free of charge. You chuckled inwardly at the thought. This is something you never imagined even thinking of him in childhood. What a turn life has taken for both of you.

As you sat beside him, watching the fire crackle, the camp settled into a quiet rhythm. You felt proud, not just of yourself, but of Arthur too. He may not have cared for the praise, but you knew the truth, Arthur was the kind of man who would go to hell and back for the people he cared about. Especially you. And for you, that meant everything.

[narkissistikos]

"15 minutes?" "15 minutes" ~ Luke castellan

Trigger warnings : nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's just pure fluff. And also a teeny tiny bit of angst if you squint. Also 'crystal' is lukes nickname for you.

Inspired by 'Abhi na jao chod kar'

You'd seen the way Luke seemed off for the past few days, yet whenever you went to ask him what was wrong, he'd smile and say that everything was fine.

But today, today was a lot worse and you could tell. He kept zoning out from time to time. During conversations with you, or training some random camper, even during lunch. But you knew that if you asked, he wouldn’t tell you anything. So you decided to wait until next morning. If he decided to tell you what was bothering him, well and good. If not, you're grilling it out of him.

But luckily the ‘grilling it outta him’ part wasn’t necessary. Since while you were sitting at the campfire, talking with a few of your friends, you saw Luke walking in the direction of his cabin. He noticed you looking at him, and with a cock of his head you were walking beside him to the roof of Cabin 11.

None of you said anything for a few moments even after both of you were comfortable on the hard wooden roof. “You wanna say something” Luke said first.

“Somethings on your mind, and its bugging you a lot isn’t it?” You replied.

“No” Luke lied straight through his teeth, making you look at him unimpressed. “Okay yeah fine.”

“Out with it, come on”

“It's nothing. Really. It'll pass”

“I'm sure it will. In the meantime though…”

“I don’t wanna bothe-“

“If you say you don’t wanna bother me with this, I will personally push you off this roof. So spill”

“You're mean. Why am I dating you again?”

“Because im amazing. And don’t try to distract me”

Luke let out a sigh when he realized you weren’t gonna let this go. He looked out at the camp, well the part of it he could see from the point of view on the roof. The campers around the campfire, laughing along, while the Apollo cabin lead a song.

“Ive been having this dream…” he started. “same dream for like, maybe the past 4? 5 days? Every night, same thing. Im…standing on this…beach…” he paused, seemingly trying to remember the exact details of his dream as if it wasn’t the only thing he had been thinking about all day.

“I'm sitting on the sand. You're in the water. Along with Chris, Travis, Connor…all of my siblings….Annabeth's there too. And Percy. Basically everyone important to me at camp.” He continued, making you hum in response.

He takes a deep breath and continues “but then, theres this huge wave, and, everyones gone. So I start shouting your names, looking for all of you, and I keep hearing your voice, screaming for help. All garbled like you're underwater or something. But I never manage to find you… so I keep looking and I find that” He points to the thin bracelet you were wearing he had got you, excuse me stole for you, once you mentioned you liked bracelets. “Just that. Nothing else. No one else”

You knew that Annabeth was one of the most important person to Luke in the whole world, probably even more than you. And no matter how much he acted like he hated his pigs of siblings, he had a huge soft spot for them as well. And Percy, the little boy was like a brother to him. Luke saw himself in Percy, and to him he mattered a lot.

So you weren’t surprised that Luke was afraid of missing the family he had built for himself. “I mean, I know something like this will never happen. But the way we live? It could.” he said after a while, “What if I lose everything?”

“You’re not going to lose everything Luke.” You say, trying to make him believe it. Hey, no ones perfect. Not everyones good at comforting people.

“It certainly feels like I might. What if I just wake up one day, and everyones gone. Im back to how I was at 12 years old. No chris, no Annabeth, no percy, no you. What happens then?”

“You know what the chances are that all three of them leave at the same time? Extremely low. Like maybe 5%. And even if it does, I know that those three are annoying enough that they’ll come back to haunt you and tease you about the extremely dumb decisions you make through the day.”

“Are you trying to make me laugh so that ill stop thinking about this?”

“Im trying, yes. Luke, what WILL you do, if something happened to Annabeth, or chris, or percy?” you asked him.

“I-I don’t know. I wouldn’t like it much to be very honest.”

“No one would. But you see, if something did happen, you'd go on with your life. A little boring maybe. But you'll live. That’s how life works. People come and people go and you try your best to make it out.”

“That sounds an awful lot like something a fortune cookie would say.”

“Im trying ok? I know you're scared Luke. That one day everything you're trying to protect will be taken away from you. But you have to know, that honestly all of them are strong enough to fight their way through Tartarus. And you're always gonna have them. Whenever you need them.”

“What about you? What if I don’t always have you?”

“OH no. You're not getting rid of me that easy. Even deaths not getting you out of this relationship.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“What? Look you're always gonna have me. Ill even haunt you after I die if you want. Ok?”

“How about you don’t die. Huh? Can you do that for me?” he looked at you half with humor and half you wouldn’t wanna call fear.

“sure. I'll try.”“But what if-“

“You have me. No matter what. Im not going anywhere. You're not alone. And you never will be. Ok?” you reassured him.You're only half sure he believed you, but at least he acted like he did.

“I have you.” He mumbled.

“And you always will. Well unless you want me out of the room. Which lets be honest I wouldn’t leave, probably just to annoy you.” You joked causing him to grin for real, for the first time in days. “Oh thank the gods. I was starting to get scared you'd forgotten how to do that”

“Very funny.” He rolled his eyes good heartedly. Yet he took your hand, which was resting on the wooden roof beside you in his, and held it tightly.

“But in all honesty Princey, you're perfectly capable of fighting through everything alone. You're strong. Not that you're ever gonna need to fight alone. If its not me, its gonna be someone else sitting here.” You said after a few minutes.

“Nah.” Luke said suddenly. “Nope. Its always gonna be you. Nuh uh. Theres not gonna be anyone else sitting here.”

You chuckled, “I said if not when. If by some impossible ungodly chance. I'm not leaving. Not without annoying the heck outta you anyways.”

“You're not that annoying.” Luke said with a touch of humor in his voice.

“Oh really?” you got up in his face, “Really? Really? Dam im gonna have to try harder then” you flick his nose with your free hand.

“Ow.” He rubbed his rubbed his nose without any real pain his voice, “I take back what I said. You're really annoying.”

“No no no no” you waved your finger in front of him, “You said it already, no take backs. Congratutatulations Mr. Castellan, You're stuck with me for life now, since you're the only one who thinks im not annoying. So I have made it my life mission to annoy you to death.”

Luke burst out laughing when you said ‘congratutatulations’. “Congratutatulations? What?” he said in between laughs.

You chuckled along with him, proud of yourself for making him laugh, “Yea. Remember that cake I brought you, when you were made head counsellor?”

Luke thought back for a moment, “That had congratulations written on it?” He started but was confused when you shook your head, “What?”

“It had congratutatulations written on it. You're dyslexic, you couldn’t tell.”

“That’s why you were laughing your butt off?!”

“Yes. Gods I felt so bad for the poor baker that day. He looked so tired, maybe he was dyslexic too. Either way, he was running on 5 cups of coffee so I couldn’t blame the poor guy.”

“How nice of you to do that.”

“Yes yes. Im very nice.”

“Sure honey whatever you say.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed when he started snickering. You looked down at the campfire, seeing how campers were starting to go back to their cabins, “We should get going, no?”

“No.” Luke held on to your hand a little tighter, making you look at him, “You siblings can handle themselves for one night.”

“No I know that. Im more worried about your cabin.” You countered.

“I told Chris to tuck everyone in.”

“Yes, I'm sure the Stolls are gonna listen to him.” You looked at him, unimpressed.

“They wont, but I couldn’t care less. Im staying. Don’t go?” he looked you straight in the eyes.

You huff out a breath, “fine.” Causing Luke to smile, “Its 9. Stay till 10. Then I'll let you go back to the cabin. I promise.” He said and you scooted closer to him, leading him to wrap an arm around you shoulder, bringing you in front of him.

So now, here you were, sitting between Luke’s legs, your back against his chest, while he explained why he was better than fish in all aspects.

“No. im serious. I even have a better breathing rate than fish.”

“How do you know you have better breathing rate than fish?” you asked him.

“Isn’t that what you said once? Or was it Annabeth? That there’s less oxygen in water so fish have to breath a lot more times than we do?” he asked, confused.

“I don’t remember who told you that.”

“Yes. But its true.”

“Alright fine. You're better than fish in one aspect. What about everything else?”

“I look better than fish. I mean, okay they're all colourful and stuff. But seriously. I look better, right?” he looked down and saw you dozing off, “Crystal?”

“Im awake.” You woke up and looked at him.

“Yea, you are. Stay awake. I cant sleep.” He argued.

“You're the worst. What time is it?” You turned Luke’s wrist so you could look at the time on his watch, “Its 10.” You said after you saw the time.

“Till 11?” He asked sheepishly.

“Lu-” you started, but he interrupted you, “You just came here. A little bit longer.” He said in the voice, you couldn’t say no too, so you relented, getting comfortable in your spot again.

You leaned back a little bit more, wrapping Lukes arms around you a little bit tighter when the cool breeze started getting to you.

“You smell nice. New perfume?” Luke asked suddenly. But when you shook your head, he thought back and realized it was one of your old perfume, “Nah nevermind, you’ve used this before.” And you chuckled when he remembered.

“What?” You asked when you noticed him looking at you, the same way he knew would make you weak in the knees. How did he know all your weaknesses?

“What?” he asked in return, “I can look at you. Its not a crime to look at something that’s beautiful.”

“Oh ok. Now I know you're getting tired.” You giggled sleepily.

“Huh?” Luke thought for a few moments in silence. “Hey crystal?” he asked, making you hum in answer. “What makes humans…..humans?”

“Very philosophical. But um….love I guess. Everything is always about love. And when its not. Its about the absence of love.”

“So you…you make me human.” He realized.

“I don’t make you a human. You were a human long before you met me”

“Yes, but when I'm with you, I'm not just surviving. I'm living.”

“Luke?”

“Yes darling?”

“Did you read my book annotations again?”

“NO. I remember things you know?”

“OK cool.”

At this point, you were so tired that even the slightest things were making you giggle.

“She'd laughed. And if he could have bottled the sound up and gotten drunk on it, he would have” he whispered in your ear.

“Are you quoting Kaz Brekker to me?” you asked turning to your side to face him.

“I told you. I remember things. Tell me about your day.”

“I already told you.”

“No. you told me, that you woke up late. Missed breakfast. Got to lunch first. Gobbled everything up. Had archery. 10 bulls eyes outta 12 shots. Then you got to dinner after cleaning the archery range up. Gobbled everything up. Then you went to the bon fire.”

“Yea that’s everything.”

“You really cant expect me to believe that nothing interesting happened all day.”

“Nothing happened. It was a boring day.”

“Nothing happened with you friends? What about the one…um… Rihhana? Something was going on in her life right?”

“Oh yea. Completely forgot about that. You know how she likes Aaron from cabin 6?”

“Mhm”

“Yea so. This girls really a genius. She's been ignoring him for the past few weeks, like shes been trying to get over him. But you know? His ego is crrrrrushed” you rolled the r and laughed. “I love it. I mean he doesn’t deserve her you know?”

“You think no guy deserves your friends.”

“Of course I do. They are literal works of art. They deserve better.”

“Of course.”

“I saw the look on Aarons face when she didn’t even look at him. Boy was devastated. It was hilarious.”

Luke saw your face light up with energy whenever you spilled all the juicy details about whatever was going on at camp.

Sleep long forgotten as you started telling him the whole story about Rihhana and Aaron.Which took around an hour, which meant enough time for you to recharge and forget the fact that you were falling asleep some time ago.

When you finished your daily updates and Luke was done listening attentively and laughing whenever you took to looking back out at the lake.

“Hey crystal?” He tried grabbing your attention, which lead to you humming in response. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

“I'm not going anywhere. But if the harpies eat me alive im gonna make them eat you too. Okay?”

“Okay”

“Oh fault in our stars.”

“No no no no. absolutely not. Were not doing that. Nope nope nope.”

The way he was suddenly panicky over a little books name made you laugh.

“I swear to the gods, I hope no one ever asks me what my favourite sound is.” Luke said after you were done laughing.

You look at him confused, “why? I don’t think describing the waves in the sea is that hard.”

“NO no. see that’s my second favourite sound. If someone asks me what my favourite sound is, how am I supposed to explain your laugh? Huh? A horse that swallowed a bug? A car engine that won't start? The sound someone makes when they eat something spicy?” He rambled on.

“Ok while I'm extremely flattered that my laugh is your favourite sound in the world. Im going to kill you for calling my laugh all of those things.” You turned and glared at him. And the audacity of this man to laugh. Ugh! As if. So you slapped him on the back of his head. Simple.

“Luke whats the time?” You asked him when h ewas finally done laughing, to which he replied that the time was 11 30. “Im sorry the time is what?”

“11:30?” he answered, “you know, every twelve hours when its eleven, theres also a time, mostly after 30 minutes, and that time is called 11:30.” He got slapped on the back of his head again.

“Luke we gotta get back, someone is definitely gonna snitch on us.” You tilted your head up to look at him.

“You say it like we don’t have dirt on everyone who might snitch on us.”

“You make it sound like we’re manipulative people.”

“OK yea, maybe not that. But everyone is probably asleep by now. Stay. Please. I like spending time with you.”

“You always do this.”

“What?”

“That. You say ‘please’ like that. And then I don’t feel like going back.”

“I don’t necessarily see the problem here. I like having you with me.”

“Yes but have you maybe realized that I need my beauty sleep.”

“You cant go.”

“Why not?”

“Because you love me way too much and you would break my heart if you leave” he said dramatically.

“ha ha. Very funny”

“No im serious. I just…its not enough. Let me have you till my hearts content.”

“It's never content.”

He kissed your cheek trying to make you stay. Whenever you opened your mouth to give a good reason why you should leave, he would kiss your cheek making every reason die out. Which lead to him kissing your cheek about 15 times before you relented and got comfortable again.

“15 minutes?”

"15 minutes.”

I don’t think its necessary to say that you guys stayed there way past 15 minutes. You guys stayed on the roof until the sky was getting lighter, at which point Luke suggested you guys go back to your cabin so he wouldn’t have to face the teasing looks he got from his siblings.

[imaginespazzi]

Another game down, another step closer to March (it's literally tomorrow guys) and like always, I have thoughts :)

Paige Bueckers: is insane

22 points on 90% NINETY PERCENT, NINE-ZERO PERCENT like y'all I don't think we even realize we're watching a once in a lifetime kind of efficient player. She's just- yeah she's just insane. Not a flash of passive P tonight AND she got to sit for a whole quarter? Yeah, this is HER season and everyone else is just along for the ride.

YEE FUCKING HAW ASH LET'S GO! I was actually a little concerned that first half because a) no one was helping P and b) Ash just looked like she was doing cardio out there but there's no energy like the energy a halftime buzzer beater can inject you. AND THE STEALS! Girlie been working on that defense and you love to see it.

My NFOY had a "quiet" 17 points which speaks to Sarah's maturity and her ability to just get a bucket. And the IQ is just so beyond her years; it's wonderful to see. That 3-ball isn't falling yet but TRUST it's going to and it's gonna be something special.

Ice finally gave me something. I still wanna see more but she was pretty god today. More than anything, I just loved seeing her hustle for those points. She boxed out well, made smarter decisions than usual. I see the progress and she's gonna get there (off the bench), I see the vision

Kaitlyn did what Kaitlyn does. I think we could use a little more from her but I think her presence is really solid. She made some questionable decisions tonight but I do think the Storrs environment which is unlike anything she's used to maybe played a factor.

Speaking of questionable decisions, KK made a fair few of them and reminded me of her freshman self. However, she also reminded me of the really great stuff she did her freshman year with a couple defense and offensive plays.

Jana didn't get as much playing time as I'd have liked her to get but the minutes she did get? Effective as hell and I can't wait for her to geting into the starting-lineup.

Morgan's a SHOOTER. And boy did we need shooting because 3's? Not our thing at all tonight.

Allie wasn't really a factor tonight but she also didn't feel like a burden so you really can't complain because her main job is to go out there, not be a liability, maybe make some things shake so that the starters can get their much needed rest.

Overall I don't think was a particularly great game. The first half was practically a Paige carry-job which is great for the agressive!P agenda but it's USF and I don't love that we were so dependent on her. The third quarter was pretty good (made up for the last one agianst BU) and the fourth quarter showed that we're still learning how to navigate without Paige. Again, its really early and the fact that we won by so much just shows how much talent we have and how high our floor is, which means out ceiling is waaaay higher.

Free. Throws. We don't get as many as we should as it is so please, please, please, make them.

Three point defense needs a fair amount of work.

Caroline is still wearing earplugs and I just wanna give the girl a hug.

Paige and Azzi finally got to sit to next to each other and immediately started yapping as if they don't do that all day?

[hylialeia]

city of qarth ☕

really love the aesthetic of opulence and wealth and indulgence undercut by the constant presence of rotting zombie-like warlocks that the city seemingly ignores and tolerates via some bizarre, dream-like logic. love that that logic seems to permeate the entirety of Dany's time in Qarth as everything around her becomes more and more unnatural, almost hallucinogenic. love the descriptions of jewels and architecture and fine living always feeling untouchable and distant regardless of proximity, the whole illusion devolving into nightmarish absurdity that despite its ridiculousness feels deeply, deeply terrifying.

[fourspiceblend]

It's funny cause for the most part of the game, I didn't really care about people's criticisms of Engage's writing and thought they were just mad the story was straightforward and didn't try to be overly complex... But now that I'm (finally) reaching the endgame, there's a loooot of weird plotholes that 3H would be jealous of lol.

[chixiedee]

i miss Girl..... she was SMILING today and it was BRILLIANT and i wish I got to make her smile but no....

[brittlebutch]

have been thinking about Until Dawn again -- do we ever like, fully understand what Josh had planned for Matt and Emily? Like, did he steal/hide her bag or something to get them out into the woods? Or was that just some kind of coincidence that played out like he hoped it would?

[babycharmander]

(BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS)

I just finished reading The Book of Bill and I am kindof losing my mind over some of this stuff.

I had wondered if Alex Hirsch might make Bill sympathetic in some way and oh boy I was not expecting him to do it so successfully (and without cheapening Bill's character).

So, we learn that Bill was born into a 2D world... as a mutant who can see into the third dimension. He claims he was absolutely loved by all, but when talking about his powers, he mentions under Pyrokinesis:

"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane / Starting fires with his brain." The kids in grade school could be so cruel. But where are they now, huh? WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

So probably not quite as liked as he was letting on. To add to that, there's the silly straw page, which looks like silly nonsense until you decipher some of the codes:

"EYE DOCTOR OF A DIFFERENT KIND / WHO WANTS TO MAKE HIS PATIENTS BLIND" "THE DOCTOR SAYS / THREE SIPS A DAY / WILL MAKE THE VISIONS / GO AWAY"

I wasn't sure what this meant until I saw someone point out... he was seeing a third dimension that no one else could see. His parents probably took him to the eye doctor to try to "fix" him. Which, speaking of his eye doctor, the coded message in the section about human eyeballs says something interesting:

"MY OPTOMETRIST NEVER SAW IT COMING"

It could be a joke given beforehand he's talking about dissecting a human eye, but given the previous hints of medical abuse, I wouldn't put it past him that he tried to get revenge on his eye doctor.

Oh yeah and the whole thing about him setting his entire dimension on fire? Yeah it turns out it was entirely a mistake (he just wanted everyone to understand the third dimension he was seeing so they could be free of only two dimensions), he was so traumatized by it he blacks out when trying to recall it. He deeply, deeply regrets it, and...

"What? Your ENTIRE home dimension? destroyed? How? By what?" Bill looked distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him. "By a monster."

He sees himself as a monster.

And yet, he's not some innocent, misunderstood being. He still revels in causing pain and chaos. He's terrible in general, but becomes incredibly abusive toward Ford.

"YOU'RE MY PROPERTY. DON'T FORGET IT. The hillbilly abandoned you, your father won't want you returning without millions, you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow, who would even miss you?"

Which... speaking of him and Ford...

Yes, yes, I know people ship them. But like, whether you see their relationship as romantic or platonic (I see it as the latter), there's some interesting parallels to be made here.

Both Bill and Ford are mutants who were mocked for their being different. (Bill was not physically a mutant, as far as we know, but more in the sense of him having vision stronger than that of everyone else in his dimension, and also having special powers. And he does describe himself as a mutant.) Both became social outcasts, separated from their families but still haunted by them (Ford seeing commercials of Stan on TV and running across old photos of him and his brother, Bill being haunted by his family in some form). Neither could return home for one reason or another. Both more powerful than their peers (Ford intellectually, Bill in terms of actual powers). Both of them isolated and alone. (Yes, Bill does have the Henchmaniacs, but they seem like shallow friends, and only really seem to follow him out of a desire to have a place to party.)

Ford was not aware of most of this, aside from knowing that Bill could not go home because his dimension was destroyed. But Bill absolutely saw himself in Ford. There was no other person he tried to use whom he felt a stronger connection to.

And he actually seems to care about Ford--he actually gave him a birthday present, and when Ford didn't like it, he decided to get drunk and party with him instead to make up for it.

And then when Ford realizes what Bill's plan actually is and refuses to go along with it, and fights back no matter what Bill does, Bill completely breaks down.

After living for trillions of years, he met someone who was like him, and that person rejected him.

He goes berserk, wreaking havoc, being caught by the dimensional authority that he's been taunting for most of his life.

And then after dying and being cast out of hell for being too annoying, he winds up faced with the Axolotl, who sends him to therapy, where he continues to break down further, sending out the book in a desperate attempt to find someone, anyone who will help him break loose and wreak havoc once again.

"You have no friends, and if you died ... who would even miss you?"

I don't know, Bill. Who would even miss you?

In short,

[ID: The front and back of one of Bill's Valentines cards. On the front is a black void with Bill Cipher lying down without his hat, gazing blankly upwards, with the text "I DON'T WANT TO DIE ALONE" above him. On the back is a simple white "TO/FROM" in red, with a red outline illustration of Bill spontaneously growing a mouth and eating a realistic, bloody heart. /end ID]

[systlin]

So, to explain my little adventure I just got back from, it is necessary to set the scene by explaining a few things.

My dog is a Great Pyraneese. She weighs 90 Pounds. It is mostly muscle.

My neighbors a quarter mile down the road have chickens. They like to let them free range.

Now, this is not a problem at all, EXCEPT for the fact that whenever Tyr sees them something deep in her little livestock guardian breed brain goes "Oh, I am supposed to be Responsible for this Livestock." She will attempt to plonk her 90 pound furry ass down as far towards their yard as her leash will permit and want to sit there and simply stare at the chickens. She is not aggressive towards them, she simply wants to lie down and Keep An Eye On Things, the way a good livestock guardian dog is supposed to. It is the same reason she would love to fight the foxes that live under the falling down farmhouse down the street to the death and is very upset that I will not let her.

The PROBLEM is, well

3. My neighbors also have a miniature poodle. She is convinced, in every cell of her 15 pound body, that No Other Dogs Should Come Anywhere Near Her Fucking Yard. She has no concept that Tyr outweighs her by 75 pounds and is absolutely convinced that she could win this fight.

Normally if she's outside she is out in the fenced backyard and this isn't a problem. I also don't let Tyr wander into other yards, because it's rude to let your dog pee on the neighbor's grass unless they've said they're fine with it and also I live in Fuckass Nowhere. There's plenty of county owned grass on the roadside for Tyr to pee on. Still, even if I'm coaxing her along past the chickens, she will want to slow down and drift over to that side of the road to look at them.

TODAY, however, the mini poodle was NOT in the backyard. She was in the unfenced front yard, and as soon as we walked past she saw another dog not ON her yard, but heading TOWARDS her yard, and she hurled herself into battle with no thought for her own safety.

Now, Tyr is not aggressive towards other dogs. There is an exception to this, though, and it is 'unless an off leash dog comes running full speed in the general direction of one of Her People while snarling and barking'. If this happens, I suddenly have 90 pounds of Great Pyr ready for mortal combat on the end of the leash.

This brings us to item 4

4. I broke my left arm in April and while it is healing and good for light use now, 'Light Use' does not include 'restraining 90 pounds of furious livestock guardian dog convinced her person is about to be attacked by a reactive dog'

This means that I looped up the leash short and controlled her one armed. I did not think about this twice particularly. I know I can do it and just. Did it. I wouldn't walk her if I couldn't control her, after all. Once she figured out that no, the poodle was NOT going to attack me, she calmed down, but was still growling.

But I did this as a panicked neighbor dude came running out to try and get his dog, convinced that his kids were about to watch their beloved pet get turned into Great Pyr chow.

Oh and

5. I did this while wearing a Wonder Woman tshirt

So, long story short, his 4 year old daughter is convinced now that I actually AM Wonder Woman, because "She's Strong Like Wonder Woman!" and my neighbor learned that his poodle dug out from under the fence, how's everyone else's days going.

(All dogs unhurt)

[dunmesh]

okay i don't have anything smart to add i just genuinely love that these seemingly trivial jokes are actually an important part of his character. we see it throughout the entire manga, how he pushes aside his own frustration and discomfort to accommodate everyone else's and avoid needless confrontation- another example off the top of my head would be the barometz chapter in which he slowly gets frustrated with izutsumi but still tries his best to talk some sense into her calmly and soundly.

and in contrast, there are very few times he expresses his anger and hurt towards others, and it usually takes a lot for him to finally lose his patience and control.

i mean, even with kabru he tried to be polite despite the circumstances until the guy said the one thing that triggers an immense sense of shame, hurt and rage in laios. and you know, the manga does say it quite clearly early on. when we are introduced to namari and then to shuro, laios acts all friendly and shows his respect and trust in them despite how things ended between them, and everyone else gets frustrated with him for acting so strange- why are you the one who tries so hard to pacify the rest when you should be the angriest?

and they don't understand him. they don't know him well enough to be able to understand, but we as readers get to see during the manga that they aren't wrong to question him- he does, in fact, feel all those ugly emotions. and it's when the winged lion finally confronts him that we see to what extent these feelings he buried so deep go, and suddenly all those funny little moments where he sometimes pretends to be mr nice guy speak volumes about his character. honestly, ryoko kui is a master at using jokes in order to define important character traits and this one doesn't fail to amaze me.

and laios's hatred and rage and deep scars he can't get over aren't shown explicitly during most of these moments i mentioned before, but now you realize there are 26 years of emotional baggage to all of them and they sting. he is angry but he can't say shit, what difference would it make? it won't make his friends choose him instead of themselves when he needed them most, and it won't help his party get any farther. of course, this logic doesn't apply to them- they are absolutely allowed to get angry and it's fine to get mad at him, he can take that.

so after finishing the series it's so clear that he tries his best to avoid clashing with others not just due to the current circumstances and him needing to be a reliable leader but also because he knows that people don't even like him when he tries to show his good sides and hide all the rest, so who the hell would tolerate his rage and despair? who would stay after realizing that he is so deeply flawed he doesn't even like his own being?

but he does get mad. he can't help it, and sometimes it gets out of control and now everyone knows. and it's funny, isn't it? that most of those moments ended up bringing him closer to others. shuro admitting he is envy of him and actually becoming the friend laios thought he was all along, fighting for his sake and waiting for him to come back- believing in him even after he turned into a monster and searching for him the way he couldn't bring himself to do for falin when he learned of what became of her- or kabru being pushed to just let it all out because he couldn't bluff his way out of this one and get to laios any other way, so now they are even. they are both horribly honest with each other and they both choose to stay. a weird way of getting to know each other, but it is what it is.

it's simply... the more laios let himself just be, the deeper his relationships grew. and there's intimacy in being your ugly, weak and furious self around someone and them not leaving you. feeling safe enough to let it be known you are hurt and angry. and he knows that now, too.