#he has this pathological need to see the best in people even when it causes him insane amounts of harm in the long run

[silo1013]

also i was talking about this on twitter yesterday as well but when you ask “why does mulder keep trusting and believing krycek when he gets betrayed every time” especially in the context of season four it’s like. okay well it’s because he loves him. yeah sure it’s in some kind of weird fucked up way that you’d be horrified to know humans are capable of but he still does. mulder loves and trusts and believes in everybody sososoooooo much forever it’s literally his fatal flaw as a character and that absolutely extends to people mulder doesn’t fuckin want it to

[crimeronan]

there's this girl on tiktok/youtube shorts who talks about being a 'diagnosed sociopath' (which afaik isn't a thing anymore and she's too young to have been alive when it was a diagnostic thing -- i assume she just means ASPD and is using buzzword language, but it doesn't really matter either way because...... psychiatric classifications are a farce) & she'll discuss what makes her angry, how she gets revenge and/or protects people, how she forms attachments, n how she prioritizes different aspects of her life, and i keep watching some of these shorts like "this.... isn't sociopathy??? everyone with sense does this???" and then i look in the comments and everyone's going "GOD this is such good advice i wish i could do this so easily but i feel sooo bad about it 🥺🥺🥺🥺" and i'm like. huh. girl you either gotta stop being so relatable or i'll have to acknowledge a very obvious thing that i've known about myself for ages,

[now-that-i-saw-you]

You're Losing Me

I think Joe was exactly what Taylor needed in 2016. He was high above the all scene and she needed someone who's the furthest thing from the spotlight and the scrutiny and the drama, but she moved on, she changed and grew up and he didn't ("I knew you tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy"). It's great that he "didn't read into her melancholia" but he lacked empathy and understanding, and she was struggling and needed him to see her.

"Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light" hearing this line after knowing they looked to buy a house together. I think she often looks back at it and sees it as symbolic. They were looking to build their relaionship and now all that's left of it is a dark, abaonded room.

I noticed you can hear her hearbeat during the bridge before she sings "I can't find a pulse" sickness is a theme in the song and it's almost like a patient telling the doctor they're dying and begging them to do something and the doctor just...doesn't. For such a long time he was her doctor, he was her lifeline, he brought her back to life and now her pain is an imposition to him. She was dying and he couldn't even tell and she was begging him to do something, say something, risk something, choose something. Choose her!

It's weird saying they "predicted their breakup" with exile, but I really think they were writing about their struggles in some way. Maybe they talked about it or maybe they both knew it was happening but chose to keep quiet. He missed all her signs and was surprised and distraught that she packed her bags and immediately moved to someone who's obsessed with her.

I listened to the song and immediately put hoax on repeat and I could write a thousand essays about hoax and renegade and cardigan and exile and now You're Losing Me. I also think with Midnights she was looking back at her old relationships in an attempt to fix that one. "How long could we be a sad song 'til we're too far gone to bring back to life?"

I don't want to villanlize Joe. Taylor baiscally said he struggled with his mental health but...she was trying so hard to be a fire to keep him warm, to make herself a place when there was nowhere to stay. She gave him her best, she gave him so much empathy and he didn't return it. "I tried to be the bravest soldier, fighting in your only army" after The Great War is devastating. She put so much effort to work on her trust issues and communicate to save them but then she realised she was the only one fighting.

I don't want to villanize him, but "don't you ignore me. I'm the best thing at this party" sure does make me very mad.

"I wouldn't marry me either, a pathological people pleaser" was a punch to the gut. I want to hug her so bad. I don't want this to be used as a "gotcha" moment but I wonder if she looks at Lavender Haze a little different and if maybe she tried to convince herself she was unbothered because he wasn't willing to commit. It does seem like he has an indecisive nature, whereas she knows what she wants. Maybe she wanted people to stop talking about them marrying because it was a soft spot. You really should mind your business because you never know what someone else is going through.

She's such a mirrorball, a mastermind. All she wants is to be wanted and loved and she would do anything for the people she loves. She would've done anything for him.

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

It doesn't seem to get discussed very often, but what's it like to have comorbid ASD and NPD?

hard

No but seriously it's like playing Squid Games when you don't know the rules (and everyone else does). How do I suppose to get my social validation without understanding what people expect from me??

Also it makes treatment very hard because line between maladaptive NPD pattern and adaptive ASD strategy is very blurry. For example, one therapist told me that I need to stop thinking so much about how other see me. Because that's narcissistic and constant performing prevents me form forming genuine connections. Okay Gretchen, but have you ever experienced consequences of smooching your classmate on the lips in front of everyone because being 7 you were convinced that kissing is just expression of love and you loved your best friend? And you had no idea that people have different boundaries and it's socially unacceptable for girls to kiss girls, even platonically? Cause I did and that's why I know I can't just "stop thinking" what is acceptable, and what is not. Not only for my own benefit of being liked but also to not make others uncomfortable.

It's also a constant internal struggle to identify if something I do/feel is just me being autistic (normal, I can't help it) or me being narcissistic (bad, evil, should be treated). Or maybe it's all narcissistic, I just use autism as an excuse because narcissism is undesirable pathology so ofc as a narcissist I would like to distance myself from it? Seriously stigma around narcissism fucked me up. Additionally it severly influences the way NPD is treated by medical professionals. One German psychiatrist I know told me that his hospital avoids giving poeple NPD diagnosis because "it's like telling someone that they are certified shitty person". My friend I met during the group therapy was constantly criticized for forgetting about stuff and being "insensitive to others needs" and therapists blamed it on his narcissism, that "makes him so self absorbed he's incapable of paying attention to the outside world". It turned out the guy just has ADHD. It's seriously such a struggle to explain people that suppose to help you that you are not that bad, you are not careless, you seriously want to be a well adjusted person but there are some things you cannot easily change.

Also it fascinates me how little research exists about connection between NPD and neurodivesity (I have some theories why's that but I don't have enough evidence to make any serious claims). It's an anecdotal evidence but out of 11 people with diagnosed NPD I know, 7 of them have ASD or ADHD. And to me it makes so much sense because one of major factors influencing development of NPD is feeling of inadequacy. Yeah, constantly failing at social interactions and basic chores while everyone seems to be doing just fine and you have no idea what you could do better makes you feel pretty fuckin inadequate. Of course there are other things required to form PD but that's a great start.

[cienie-isengardu]

The abusive Bi-Han headcanon is definitely causing a lot of suffering for Bi-Han fans, especially since it always there in fanon even in the prior timeline and it's now booming thanks to mk1.

I never saw prior timeline Bi-Han as abusive, mainly because Kuai never mentions this and neither does Smoke. The most charitable interpretation of this that I've seen in stories is that Bi-Han is under some terribly misguided impression he is toughening up Kuai and that he is 'protecting him' and keeping him alive. Which is probably the only interpretation that makes even a hint of sense given I don't think a young Bi-Han would be kicking Kuai down the stairs for the lolz.

Even then, that's not exactly the ideal view of their relationship. I always saw Bi-Han as cold, even to his brother, thought this mainly because of Lin Kuei teachings fucking up his ability to express himself in a caring manner and not out of malice. I always imagined there's this small pocket of love Bi-Han had for Kuai in that cold heart of his but he doesn't show it outwardly because 'Love is a weakness,' nonsense the Grandmaster was probably slamming full force on the clan.

That’s the charm of fandom, either our fav characters are popular and widely liked, or hated even for things they haven’t officially done. And with lore so old like Mortal Kombat, the positive and negative personal headcanons and interpretations creep into perception of characters, their canon personalities and reasoning one way or another. That is unavoidable and the less official source material is provided, the more fans fill the gap in their own way. Sometimes that leads to perpetuating some unkind opinions which understandably is upsetting if the character, like Bi-Han, is accused of things not hinted at by the tie-in material in the first place (i.e. abusing Kuai Liang in the childhood).

However I feel like in Bi-Han’s case, the problem lies only halfway in limited details about his and Kuai Liang’s past and brotherhood before elder Sub-Zero was turned into Wraith and twisted by dark magic. For me, the negative perception is connected to his naturally cold, abrasive behavior. I suspect if Bi-Han was a more emotionally driven character, the way Hanzo is, many fans would be more likely to think he was just sadly misled by Lin Kuei pathological doctrines if not outright the tragic hero. Bi-Han however is not that emotional kind of person, he has never been. Forgive me the metaphor, but I feel that the fan treatment of Bi-Han is similar to how people, who have never had a cat, perceive those animals and how frustrated it must be when they expect cats to behave like dogs but won’t get the desired results. It is not that the elder Sub-Zero or cats are evil by nature, they just communicate and behave in a very specific way. If people mistake it for them being mean, uncaring, even for being unable to love only because they expected - demanded - a different set of behavior that would fit their narrowed idea of normalcy, then they are bound to be disappointed one way or another. But that is not fault of fictional characters (and definitely not cats’ either).

That said, I too think Kuai Liang always had a special place in Bi-Han’s life and was no less important than Bi-Han was for him, and that Lin Kuei upbringing complicated expressing those emotions, however I don’t see a point of getting worked over different opinions of strangers. Is it hard sometimes to be a fan of characters like the elder Sub-Zero that feel widely mistreated by fandom over things there is no evidence he did in canon? Sure, but each person is entitled to their own opinion. Fandom is like that sometimes and in my book, usually the best solution is sticking to things that make you happy and if needed, to ignore negative things outside of your control. I know it is not easy, but sometimes it is good to agree to disagree and move on to a comfortable niche of personal headcanons.

It works for me most of time - and if I feel enough spiteful toward fandom at large, I will just create my own Bi-Han positive fanwork to balance things out 😈

[zombiedumbie]

00. TIME MOVES SLOW WHEN YOU'RE ALL ALONE, AND TIMES MOVES SLOW;

I've been thinking about writing a fanfic after reading this one (btw this is a recommendation). it would be basically the opposite: I have a headcannon that Law would be considerably rich due to his family of doctors. So, the person who would live in all the luxury would be our dear aspiring doctor. Added a touch of drama 'cause I love a little pain.

This is just one chapter because I wanted to know if you guys like the idea, so if you'd like me to continue, please let me know.

2302 words.

modern au, she/her reader, use of "y/n", angst (?), law is 22, grief, implicit and explicit drug use, swearing, post-traumatic stress. mdni!

Grief is a complex set of emotions that humans deal with after the loss of something fundamentally important to them. Grief isn't always triggered solely by death, but also, as mentioned earlier, by the painful farewell to something significant. Today, it is understood that grief has 7 stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance; not necessarily faced in that order.

However, when grief stops being a loss and turns into a disease, it's called pathological grief.

In this way, Trafalgar D. Water Law has lived the last 12 years of his life.

Law was sprawled on the bed of god-knows-who, with his shirt unbuttoned and his head spinning. The noise he could hear was his heavy breathing, as if his ears were inside his dry throat, while his eyes moved agonizingly slowly around the unfamiliar room.

The memories of how he got there or what was happening had long escaped his mind, but he was certain of one thing: He needed water, and perhaps a shower. Maybe he should call Rosinante, despite promising him that he wouldn't do it again.

Determined to reach the kitchen, Law dragged himself out of bed, his feet hitting the floor as steadily as he could manage — which wasn't much. He was almost halfway there when he stumbled over a blazer and fell to the ground like a bag of bones, shaking the room.

He began to mutter, wondering who would leave a blazer in the middle of the room like that. The blazer was his. The door creaked open with a muffled sound due to the music, and Law felt someone touch his back.

"Damn, I thought someone was having a pretty hardcore fuck here", the voice was familiar, Law looked up to see who it was. "I was going to ask to join, but it was just you", Sabo smiled, looking at Law with that same psychopathic smile as usual.

Sabo was one of those boys whose parents always warned to stay away from, as he could become a criminal or an addict in the future. However, as he grew up, Sabo silenced everyone when he was accepted into one of the best universities in the country, becoming one of the smartest people anyone had ever seen around him; even though he often seemed to hate it all. In the end, he settled for studying International Relations at the state's best college, against everyone's wishes and only following his own reasoning.

However, he still acted like a crazy fuck. And that's why he understood the whole situation when he saw Law's red eyes. "Damn, that was strong, huh?", he helped Law to his feet.

"F-Fuck off", Law groaned as he stood up, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment from his deplorable situation. "I-I want water", the words came out unconsciously, as if his body was speaking for him.

Sabo laughed, helping him walk out of the room. "Come with me, I'll help you", the blonde shouted over the music. They practically stumbled down the stairs to the ground floor.

The silver decorations and the low light of the place, combined with the loud music and the large number of people there, made Law even dizzier. The only thing he could look at to help his mental confusion was the huge glass window that overlooked a large and well-maintained garden, which, unfortunately, was filled with people here and there.

Sabo guided them to a corridor beside the stairs. The corridor seemed to stretch and then shrink several times as they walked to the door at the end, which Sabo pushed slowly before entering with Law.

It was the kitchen that Law had longed to reach in the last 3 minutes. The light was bright compared to the rest of the party; there were some waiters hired for the night, along with some people Law had seen around.

The kitchen was filled with the most expensive appliances. The stove had so many burners it looked ridiculous, the refrigerator seemed as wide and tall as a cabinet, and all the utensils were neatly arranged, highly polished and gleaming. Not to mention the extensive marble countertops and the golden details in the corners of each piece of furniture; there was also a long glass wall that displayed the image of the distant nighttime city, as bright as day due to its ever-lit lights, divided by the scenery of a quiet beach.

Given the attention to detail in this kitchen, it was possible that whoever the owner of this house was, they never had to set foot in this kitchen.

"Oi, Sabo", Kid spoke. Kid was a red-haired guy with painted nails and lipstick on his lips, holding a blunt between his fingers and blowing smoke through his teeth. He was dressed in the rest of his waiter outfit, his apron now tucked into the back pocket of his pants and his black dress shirt open.

"Who's this guy?", Kid, another one of the waiters, asked, watching Sabo lean Law against the wall next to the door. "Damn, he's messed up, huh?", he said as he saw the man bow his head.

Law was pitifully leaning against the wall, slightly leaning forward, head down, and too weak to move his hanging arms. His vision was a blur of his tattooed arms covered with a lazily rolled-up white dress shirt on his elbows and his shoes now dirty from who-knows-what.

Sabo laughed. "Go easy on him, he's new to this stuff", Law wanted to protest, but his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth. Sabo left his blazer on the counter and opened the refrigerator for water.

Maybe he was too high, but he still felt a gaze burning his skin. He slowly turned his head to look at a girl sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, wearing a waiter outfit similar to the others', now looser; and it was her who now held Kid's blunt.

The girl looked him up and down as she brought the cigarette between her index and thumb to her lips, there was a certain pity in her eyes, but Law chose to ignore it, no matter how irresistible her figure might be.

"His name is Law", Sabo added, handing him a glass of water.

"No way!", Kid said, laughing. "The Trafalgar Law? Man, you're like Batman!", Law grunted.

"Shut up, Kid. Are you eating shit or what?", the girl on the floor said, scolding Kid.

"No parents and being taken care of by a guardian? Sounds like Batman indeed", Law mumbled with difficulty, receiving the glass of water from Sabo.

The atmosphere in the kitchen grew heavy. Everyone remembered the Trafalgar accident; it was news for a few days, and the only survivor was the eldest son, Trafalgar Law. Post-traumatic stress kept him at home for a few years, where he dedicated himself to studying to continue his parents' legacy. But here he was, incredibly high for the first time.

It had been a series of unfortunate events that led him to that party that day.

But, in short, he wanted to experience a little of what he had missed due to his years at home.

Law banged the glass on the counter in front of him; he felt like he should say some things to this Kid guy, but his head was so confused that he felt, for a moment, like he was somewhere else. "Go... fuck yourself...!", Kid seemed to turn as red as his hair, but Sabo immediately cut both of them off with a laugh.

"You're even funnier like this, Torao!", a voice came from the other side of the kitchen along with a laugh. It was Luffy, one of Law's "friends," a title he didn't really want to call him. "You should get high more often", Luffy tapped his back a few times.

Trafalgar, already annoyed at being so high and also by Kid's well-thought-out comment, seemed to get more irritated by Luffy's presence, who was laughing too loudly for his taste. He pushed himself off the counter and walked awkwardly to the kitchen door, struggling a bit to open it due to its weight, and then staggered down the corridor.

The man staggered, getting lost in the huge house, with no idea what he was doing. The suffocating feeling of not being in control made him want to cry; he felt like he was sleeping, in a senseless, noisy dream. It was too hot, too stuffy, too noisy, too crowded. Moments passed like blurred flashes, too confusing to decipher; until he seemed to "wake up" from his dream.

Law was lying on something soft. He felt a cold breeze hit his body like an uncomfortable embrace. When he finally opened his eyes, the night sky was painted before him, he could hear the sound of the music more clearly now, though a bit more distant compared to the waves of the beach, and amidst the electronic rhythm and the crashing waves, a voice seemed to speak to him.

"I hate working for these spoiled brats, they all think I'm their damn housekeeper and should do whatever they tell me", Law turned his head to see who was talking, finding the same girl from the kitchen, sitting cross-legged with her back to him in the sand, smoking a cigarette angrily. "Damn, I'm here just to serve drinks, not to make the porridge that your housekeeper makes every night before bed!", Law ran his fingers through the sand, feeling the fine grains caress his palm. He heard her venting, but he didn't understand a single word.

She turned around and looked him deep in the eyes before speaking: "You woke up, finally. How do you feel?", she smiled.

"Like I've been run over", he was honest. He still felt out of it, but conscious enough to know what he was doing.

"Huh, wait until tomorrow", she said as Law sat up. He now noticed that she was wearing his coat. "You asked me to call someone named Cora-san, but I couldn't find his contact on your phone", she reached out, handing the device to Law. "Sorry about that."

Law rubbed his eyes, confused. "What... What happened? Where's Sabo?"

"You don't remember, do you?", she smiled, and Law, fearing what he might have done during this blackout, blushed violently. "Don't worry", she laughed. "Sabo carried you to the kitchen to get some water, but then Kid started talking crap and Luffy started annoying you until you left the kitchen. Sabo was going after you, but... I think her name was Koala, she stopped him and started arguing with him. I found you sitting on a couch next to the bathroom...", she stopped, pondering whether she should continue.

Law raised an eyebrow.

"You... were crying. Like, a lot. I brought you some water, but you said you didn't want to drink anymore, and then you started talking...", she sighed. "Anyway, you asked me to call this Cora-san and gave me your phone, and then you said you wanted some fresh air. I brought you here, and you ended up dozing off in the sand".

Law widened his eyes and cringed at the thought of what he might have told her. He didn't remember any of this, which made him want to disbelieve what he might have done, but since there was no other version of this gap in his mind, he just abstained.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone anything", she said when she saw his worried face.

"... Thank you", he said, grabbing his phone to check the time; it was almost dawn. He swallowed hard before unlocking the device.

He heard her chuckle softly and looked at the city on the horizon, finishing her cigarette. "Of course".

For some reason, his heart squeezed in his chest. That girl he didn't even know the name of had just helped him in a terrible moment of drunkenness for no reason, and as much as he could easily doubt her word, he trusted that she wouldn't tell anyone about his outburst.

His golden eyes fell on her again, watching her hair being carried by the cold morning breeze. The ever-present melancholy lingered in his mind as he dialed Rosinante's number on his phone; his finger hovered over the call button. "What's your name?".

She paused to think for a moment before answering. "Y/N", she turned her face towards him. The sun had just started to rise, and the sky was a bit brighter now.

He wanted to thank her for helping him, for being so kind to someone she barely knew, for caring enough to stay with him until he woke up; to say that he appreciated what she had done and apologize for causing trouble. But all that came out of his lips was: "Why did you help me?".

And all she replied was: "Because I wanted to."

He mentally slapped himself for sounding so ungrateful, he tried again to thank her, apologize, but she kept talking. "People don't always have a reason for doing what they do..." she seemed to notice the confusion in his eyes. "You were in a vulnerable moment, I couldn't leave you like that", and she gave one of the gentlest smiles Law had ever seen.

He swallowed hard as he remembered Rosinate.

"OOOOIIII, Y/N!", someone shouted in the background, she turned her head to see Kid calling her. "WE'RE LEAVING!!", she got up and brushed the sand off her clothes.

"COMING, JUST A MINUTE!!", she shouted back. "My ride's leaving. Nice to meet you, Law. Don't forget to call Cora-san", she took off the blazer to return it. "Call me if you need anything", then she turned and started running back towards the house, shoes in hand.

"Goodbye...", he said, but then he realized something. "I DON'T HAVE YOUR NUMBER!", he shouted, his eyes filled with the image of the girl now running away.

"YOU THINK!".

Law wanted to shout back, but something clicked in his mind. His fingers touched the screen of his phone to open the "Contacts" app, sliding his finger to find a new contact saved as "Y/N :p".

[icharchivist]

Not to armchair diagnose, but Beelzebub reeks of narcissism while Lucilius seems more to be on the psychopathy/ sociopathy side of the spectrum

Narcissists need everyone to know that they're the best, they need to feel big and they need that validation, usually because of some trauma that caused them to feel small and insignificant. Behind their grandeur, their ego is quite fragile and they will lash out when it gets hurt

Compared to that, a psychopath will not care. They already know they're great, they don't require any outside validation. Their ego is unchecked and they will twist everything to not be at fault for anything, ever. There's always an outside source. Also, they don't have any emotional attachments to anything. Their brains are just incapable of caring about people, it's pure reptile brain

Neither of them are a perfect fit and I think it's a bit boring to try and put labels on characters like that, especially since their realities are so far away from our own, but they certainly check some boxes, so food for thoughts?

mhmm i would rather not pronounce myself on that, sorry :(

those psychology states tend to be widely misrepresented and demonized in fiction and i wouldn't want to contribute to it by associating them to clear genocidal villains when i can avoid it, especially without doing proper research on both of those and/or with opinions of people affected by it first.

As is, there is also the fantasy aspect that can make putting a clear human name on those mental states to be difficult; This is why i talk about Lucilius' apathy (which is a clear description of "not caring about everything around them") than to try to put a pathology on it.

(also "reptile brain"?! there's a hundred of red flag in this sentence since reptiles are capable of showing affection, and it ends up sounding like those stereotype about lizard people, be mindful please.)

As it is i feel like it is impossible to really discuss why they are like this without talking about their position as clones and as immutable/unable to change astrals. Eventually you'll just run into a wall.

but as it is i think putting those diagnostic on clear genocidal villains while it's not something the text claims to do, can easily backfire and i would rather not fall into that.

especially when we can discuss it without having to put a name on it. Lucilius feels apathy for the world around him and as such he doesn't see himself as a part of it. Also i disagree about Lucilius "twisting things to not be at fault". he rarely, if ever, actually tries to dodge any type of blame, and "being tormented by memories of the past that must come from someone else so he blames Lucio and God" doesn't strike me as something that can be justified that way. I mean when Lucilius disregard Sandalphon he clearly says it was a miscalculating from his part, i don't see how it's him dodging his own fault. Lucilius being disconnected from reality because of his state of mind has much more to do with others psychological states that lead you to dissociates and not think you're yourself in your own body than directly branding him as a psychopath.

As for Bubs's description i don't think it's a wrong one, to say those symptoms fits him, but again i would refrain to use the name of a widely mischaracterized psychological state to describe it.

you can just say that Bubs has a mix of a superiority and inferiority complex that translates in him boasting himself to not feel small.

all and all, i would say be mindful on how this can be interpreted yaknow?

so yeah personally i don't want to put hard words on how they're behaving that way; I'll discuss all sort of symptoms, sure, but this doesn't seem wise to me to put those names onto their behaviors. On top of not being really nice, i think it also runs the risk of projecting symptoms that are not here on the characters in order to fulfill this list of symptoms and i think that's unfair to the text. even if this is secondary to people being misrepresentated in that specific case.

hope it helps.

[ashknife]

Having gone through the first season of My Hero Academia, I think All Might is probably the best mentor character out there. The mentor badass is one of my favorite character tropes. They're the seasoned fighters who, despite whatever flaws they possess, 1) really are masters of their craft, and 2) are capable teachers. They're cool, they kick ass, and their mastery is hard-earned.

What places All Might at the top of this pile? First, he has sensible flaws. He's injured in such a way that he is unable to sustain his quirk. He is proud and takes his work with heavy responsibility, causing him to constantly overwork even within the bounds of his injuries. In some sense, Midoriya is his exit from the superhero life because he cannot figure out how to retire responsibly. He isn't excessively vain (there is some vanity, but it isn't excessive). He isn't a pathological pervert. He isn't excessively aloof or cold to hide some tragic backstory.

Second, All Might is compassionate. He initially doesn't tell Midoriya what he wants to hear because he is rightfully afraid it will endanger the boy. He lets Midoriya down with solid reasoning and provides a solid alternative. He does not mock the boy but respects him and his desire. All Might shows further respect by owning up to his mistakes, re-evaluating Midoriya in light of his bravery and knowledge, and judging him a worthy successor of One for All. His training is not excessive. His guidance, while sometimes rushed, is thought-out. He shows grace to Midoriya whenever the boy falters or acts brashly, even recognizing when such behavior saves his own life.

In many ways, All Might is the father that is missing in Midoriya's life. We know Midoriya has a father somewhere: he's mentioned once or twice in the present tense, but it seems he's never present, so his mother is the only one who has raised him. He is a positive masculine force who embodies virtues of strength, responsibility, compassion, respect, and temperance. Yes, some of Midoriya's peers act within some of those virtues, but they are also kids who are growing into them and make many mistakes in judgment. What sets Class 1-A apart from the rest of UA is that they had to learn early on what pro heroes have already matured into, and yet they're still learning. Those relationships with his peers are also important, but the father-son dynamic with All Might is just as, if not more, important.

I think the only other mentor badass that compares here in my limited knowledge of anime is Markarov Dreyar, the 3rd, 6th, and 8th Guild Master of Fairy Tail. Markarov is compassionate and wise in dealing with his guild. Not only that, he is a father figure to the guild in a very literal sense: the Fairy Tail Guild is essentially a wizard orphanage. However, being a Guild Master means he has a lot of work on his own plate. The relationship between him and his "brats" is not quite as intimate as what All Might and Midoriya enjoy (although that did not make his sacrifice any less emotional). Yes, there are reasons to portray broken father-son relationships because those are everywhere, and people need to know they aren't alone in their suffering. However, it is also important to see good, healthy father-son relationships, too, even if they are found family.

[andmyvape]

Talking to the shrinks I have has me really supporting the idea that label diagnosis has an unfortunate backfire in the way that the way we tend to view boxes and labels causes people to misunderstand that being under a certain umbrella does not at all lead to homogeneity

My new therapist doesn't like to approach care from the perspective of "treating bpd", not because he doesn't believe in it or thinks it's bad or dumb shit like that but specifically because of the people that come to him terrified that they'll be diagnosed with "bad person disorder"

Let's leave aside for a moment the sheer absurdity of people somehow being "diagnosable" as "bad people" when that's not even what these diagnoses MEAN because I'll get Distracted

Also he doesn't actually DO diagnoses he's not here to judge you he literally just wants you to be happy and safe like everyone deserves

My therapist won't focus on these young adults with bpd in that specific label, he does what he can to give the patients he sees resources and methods of coping with things like emotional regulation, impulse control, and ptsd causing them to have a hard time forming stable attachments. The thing is that these are not "bpd only symptoms" this is shit you'll find all over the human condition and for so many different reasons. These patients aren't "bad people trying to be good" they're PEOPLE trying to get through a crazy ass world with their own baggage and reactions

Or take adhd and bipolar for example. I got misdiagnosed with the latter, the former label has symptoms that much better fit my specific pathology. Bipolar medication never helped anywhere near as much as the adhd medication. But it's not like the bipolar medication didn't do anything at all, and while in part I think being on not quite the right meds so long did things to my brain, it's not like there's some bipolar or adhd virus that you can test positive for and take a medication that specifically targets bipolar or adhd cells. The medications regularly prescribed for a specific "diagnosis" are given because they have a tendency of helping people with their own tendencies. That's at least part of why there's so many medications for one "diagnosis", the treatment of symptoms and not the thing causing the symptoms itself. So if a medication calms a person down that needs calming down, even if it's not "the right medication" or "the right diagnosis". It's never that cut and dry, what I've found works best is identifying a specific issue I'm having, trying things that tend to help people that tend toward similar traits or issues, as long as they don't negatively affect whatever equilibrium I've got going on

And this goes beyond psychiatric conditions that the mainstream focuses on, or even psychological conditions at all. If someone has pain in their joints and arthritis stretches help, then it's worth identifying if arthritis is the cause to see what can be done, but maybe it isn't arthritis, that doesn't mean you can't do the stress. One person could have the approximate same back injury as another person and go through a different set of symptoms, struggles, recovery efforts, and so on. The misconception that all conditions can be treated in neatly divided and specific ways seems to lead to "Well I have this condition that's like yours and I did this and I'm fine so it's your fault". I understand the logic if you think that your blown ACL is the exact same as my blown ACL, but just because heat worked miracles on yours doesn't mean mine isn't also blown for being exacerbated by heat and eased by cooling packs instead

There's so many examples to be listed but the gist of what I'm seeing in advancing medical care, both physical and psychiatric, is that if you can't make the cause of the symptoms stop being an issue, there is no one right way to have or handle various conditions that plague humankind. All that matters is that you alleviate the pain in the way that does the least damage to you and to the people around you. And I think that's a beautiful component of human nature, that we can do that for each other! I like that I'm seeing things go from "how can we make you fit under the umbrella?" to "how can we make you as an individual have a more fulfilling existence?" There's no one right way to do anything or be anything or not be anything, and I like that I'm seeing people trending more toward that effort in making life worth living instead of living a life deemed worth living

Find a way to cope for now, help those around you do the same, life can be so much less horrible, you can HAVE that, a remedy can come from surprising sources and that's the sheer beauty of life

[subvertedadolescence]

monotony

i’m typing this like it’s a message to a friend, not even a friend, merely someone who cares. the problem is, you see, i also care about the people who care about me.

i can’t send this to them. it wouldn’t be right. i never want them to be subject to it. it’s not a matter of my ego i don’t think, nor even intellectual. it merely hurts me if they know about my own hurt, not that they wouldn’t want to.

the hurt in question is omnipresent, omnipotent even. my self has been rendered evanescent by it, it slowly fades away, as does the connection between it and my consciousness. i don’t know how to even distinguish the two now.

it’s not getting any better. i’ve always been kind of different, not in the genius way, but in the troubled way. some say you can’t be a genius without being troubled. i don’t know about that, but i’m proof that the reverse is true.

i remember when i first became aware of it. i was at my dad’s house, out in the front garden. someone was there, some kind of family friend or acquaintance i think. i was misbehaving, yet in that moment, i became self aware. something was wrong with me because i was doing this. that garden is still there i think, as is the awareness i gained in it.

this awareness, whilst remaining unchanging within me over the years, came to be something others who knew me were likewise in possession of. ‘he’s the worst kid in the class’, someone said in my japanese class in early primary school. i had to talk to my teachers, then my parents, then counsellors, then doctors. something was wrong with me and they all had to try and fix it.

different labels faded in and out over the years. depression, anxiety, ocd, adhd, trauma obviously, cause or effect they never really knew. i always knew they were coming, when i was young they said i had behavioural problems, family problems, special needs. linguistically speaking, i don’t think it’s meant to seem judgemental, but it is. these issues have to be pathologies, or they wouldn’t even exist in the first place. what makes a difference an issue is the pathology.

they tried to fix me, make me feel better, failing that, make me seem better. none of it really worked. the counselling, the medications, none of it really worked. i still felt bad constantly. still do. people talk about accomodations, you sometimes even get some as a kid, giving you a glimpse into a world in which your differences are not issues. they don’t exist in the adult world, they’re but a cruel joke. when you grow up no one cares.

it hurts so much, whatever it is. ‘please make it stop’, i would beg if i were to meet someone who i found to have done this to me. i want what i used to think life was and would be, not what it is been and what it will be.

no such person exists, at least i don’t think. some might argue those who raised me come close, but i don’t think so. i think’s it’s within me. nevertheless, i beg, silently, for those few who but merely tolerate me continue to do so. i know i’m not enough, i know i’m failing, i know i’m nothing, but i’m trying my best, so please stay.

[tazumihanako]

So midnights is based on Taylor swifts album midnights and now with this vault track your losing me I want to now make a chapter for it specifically after the biggest moment in the entire story. And god thinking about it I’m just like damn that chapter is going to be the most heart wrenching chapter I feel because of what the song entails and I like to try and match the story to the songs best I could with more detail. But this is probably the most slow burn I’ve even done in terms of the end game pair. Like we got an established crush and one already in love from the beginning but ya know. Plus we got everyone and there mother crushing on Kyle which we will focus on certain ones but I do love the rivalry of Kenny vs Stan for Kyle. So I might be bias haha. But now all im thinking is Kyle with the line “I wouldn’t marry me either a pathological people please” and it hits.

Since I’m taking my time I think I might be doing small character analysis for each character. This one is going to be able Kyle and Stan and their dynamic along with how they are in this story.

Kyle in this story is as we know him in the show and is as close to canon as humanly possible. He fights for what he believes in and has a righteousness to help those in need, part of the reason why Stan loves him so much. He can watch horror but actually hates it and can’t physically stand gore. (Reference the the passion of the Jew) he also can be quite guillible to a fault (reference the biggest douche in the universe for context) in this story he will most likely believe most things people tell him minus Cartman of course which in this story he does not know anyone but Stan and Wendy. It does get explained at some point how Stan met the others since the majority have lived in New York the entire time and not in Colorado like Stan Wendy and Kyle came from. Kyle is nice as he is in the show but he also has a tendency to get annoyed by things which can be seen in multiple scenes through out the story. But just cause it’s a super hero fic doesn’t mean that Kyle is some weak damsel in distress either. There will be times he will need saving cause he doesn’t have powers but he is also strong enough to defend himself and will prove time and time again that he can also save the hero’s back. He’s close with Stan but is also super oblivious to the fact Stan is in love with him and has been for years. Kyle is smart as hell but not when it comes to love.

Stan has loved Kyle for years and has always loved him. He shares a different taste in music than Kyle does because I imagine Stan be into hard core metal and things of that nature but he loves Kyle and so is trying to expand music taste to things he might love. Kyle I imagine to be unironically a swiftie and also just somehow into pop. Idk why but I headcanon that his genre is more indie, pop, rock and others but he doesn’t dive into the metal scene cause it’s too hardcore for him. Stan is also very much into gore which you can see in the same episode that Kyle was shown to not like gore. Stan is also less gullible as seen in the episode Kyle is shown to belive the guy about talking to his grandma and also seen when Kyle joins the cult till he realizes what they were planning. Stan was always the one to ground him and show him the true colors of people and Stan continues to do this through out the story. Both morally and out of jealousy of not wanting to share his best friend.

These are just some little tidbits to hold everyone over till chapter 2 is out. I got like 21 chapters or so to write so it’ll take a while but once it’s done I’ll be so happy 😁. Because this is fun and it’s all practice for me to write an actual novel in the future. But the novel will most likely be under another pen name. But I’ll be writing more tonight so hopefully can get it out tonight but I’m giving myself till end of week. I work better on a deadline.

[nonpracticinghumanbeing]

(Hey, guess which terrible little ball of anger I'm writing about yet again. Also, this is basically therapy for me. So tw for mental health issues, past trauma and a lot of self-loathing I guess? Lol.)

I write A LOT about Izzy. Both here and on Facebook. And I have very strong opinions about him, which causes really violent reactions from some people (including being called an abuse apologist for merely pointing out that he believed he was doing the right thing when he made a deal with Badminton and one person actually comparing him to a certain genocidal Austrian painter). I really DO understand why people hate him, he's a terrible abusive man and for many viewers his behaviour may be triggering. That's absolutely valid.

But. The more I think about it the more I understand why he's so important to me. And not just because we're both sad little masochistic boys, even though I don't think I'll ever get over getting proper representation when it comes to kink being an integral part of my identity. I also see something of myself in how terribly broken he is. As someone whose parents' treatment made them struggle with anxiety their whole adult life, I really sympathise with him even though I do realise he's a truly awful man.

You see, when you've been conditioned to believe there's something inherently wrong with you, it really changes you. You learn to hide who you really are and you create a person you present to the outside world that you only claim is you. You wear that as an armour meant to protect you from the world. You believe no one would ever accept the real you, so you spend all your energy on pretending to be what you think is acceptable. You learn not to talk about how you feel, because you can't risk exposing yourself. You take everything that hurts, lock it in a box, put that box under your bed, and throw away the key.

When every single day is a struggle, you become hyperfocused on staying alive in a hostile world. You have neither time nor energy for anything else when you're fighting for survival. Things like love or happiness are for other people, you can't pay them any mind 'cause if you slip up it may actually kill you.

So you find whatever it is that lets you get by and you cling to it for dear life, because your life may literally depend on it. (I have my routines that keep me stable, he has his lager-than-life legend of a captain who makes him feel safe.) And you become pathologically protective of it. If anyone threatens your source of stability, you put everything you have into making them go away, because however unhealthy your way of life is, you can't even imagine an alternative.

Years pass and nothing changes in your life, because you can't afford to let it change. You see people around you thrive and live their best lives and you just don't know how to do that. So you become angry, and you become frustrated, and you become violent. And sometimes you are violent towards those around you and sometimes you are violent towards yourself. And you come to hate your life, but at the same time you're too scared to do anything about it.

And then - if you take a second to stop and think, something I've been lucky enough to finally manage and that Izzy desperately needs - one day you realise just how hopeless it really is. That surviving is not living. That the armour you've been wearing all those years has long since become your skin and you don't know how to be yourself. And that if you want to start making things better you need to pull that old box from under the bed and deal with what's inside. And that is TERRIFYING, and it hurts like hell, which is why many people choose not to do it their entire lives.

So. What I wanna say is that I think I understand what he's going through. Yes, he's an abuser and a homophobe, and a racist. But I don't think he's inherently evil. As @internerdionality once wrote, both him and Ed are abusive because they are afraid and not because they take pleasure in hurting people. That doesn't make it alright by any means, but it makes me want to see Izzy get a redemption arc. Con saying that Izzy wants to be better but doesn't know how was like getting fucking stabbed for me, because that literally was me for years and years before I managed to get myself even a little bit together. That along with Daddy Jenkins' way of smashing cliches makes me want to believe he can get a happy ending. Because yes, I take this personally.

[gold-pavilion]

Shin soukoku and the philosophy of “meaning”

It’s a running theme that the team dubbed double black is always comprised of two very different but complementary members, from ability and skills to character and values. Shin soukoku, the new double black, isn’t the exception but actually the greatest exponent of that. 

Now, it’s also not unintentional that BSD’s characters and their viewpoints can sometimes represent different schools of existential thought, developing and clashing with others - it’s a theme that’s very central to BSD itself after all - and it’s precisely there, on that plane, where the opposition is built most strongly between Atsushi and Akutagawa.

I’ll explain each of their standpoints, and in a minute you’ll see exactly what I mean. 

Starting with Atsushi, his character arc sees him overcoming the idea he was raised under: that he needs to earn and justify his right to be alive, otherwise he’s a burden at best or pernicious at worst. And so, the need he displays to save others is both an act of empathy and a pathological need to be good for something, so that he can feel forgiven and justified. 

(Continuing under the cut due to length and plenty of imgs.)

This view has guided Atsushi from the start. It’s what pushed him to consider self-sacrifice as the only thing he could do during his ADA entrance test, what caused him to desperately want to save both the civilians during Kajii’s train hijack and Kyouka shortly after. It’s explained the most clearly in the following exchange with Akutagawa himself, during the Echo chapters:

But one thing is the ghost of the past behind Atsushi’s back, and another is his own thinking. Such ideas didn’t originate from him and they’re certainly not his own; in fact, Atsushi is fighting against them. 

Thanks to his own desire to live and the very healing effect of his time with the ADA, he’s quickly learned that no one can decide someone else’s worth or determine whether they have a right to live. That the worth in a person is inherent; a being doesn’t have to “be worthy”, it just has to be. It exists because it exists, not through virtue of being allowed by someone else. Existing, in itself, has worth, and anything more can be built up from there. That’s what he’s arrived at and what he wants to prove.

Akutagawa is aware of this viewpoint.

But Akutagawa refuses and opposes such a philosophy. He, on the other hand, has never seen or known worth in existence alone. Rather, his ideology is that a being doesn’t have worth, but must become worthy by virtue of being useful for something, being acknowledged for an achievement or use, and thus be given significance. To him, not everyone deserves their existence, not everyone gets that peace of mind. Not if they don’t win it first.

This is, of course, what his childhood in the slums and his education under Dazai taught him, what Dazai drilled into the deepest parts of him.

A being with no use is something worse than dead: it’s meaningless. It can be discarded, since it’s as good as nothing. So what he must do is earn his place and prove his significance. 

Even now, he must prove it.

In other words, we can summarize their standpoints this way: facing the question of “what makes it meaningful to be alive? What is meaning?”, Atsushi’s character as a whole represents the answer that “meaning is inherent to the self”, while Akutagawa’s says “meaning is determined externally to the self”.

When Atsushi and Akutagawa clash, it’s often a direct opposition between these two ideas. Akutagawa’s initial hate for Atsushi hinged on the frustration that someone like him, someone who didn’t prove to be strong enough and worthy enough, was being treated with humanity and given Dazai’s recognition. Likewise, Atsushi’s hate for Akutagawa was born from the latter’s disregard for life itself, for itself, which nullified his capacity for empathy.

Bearing this in mind, the following dialogues (taking place near the beginning, during Kyouka’s arc) become much clearer and more telling:

Akutagawa wanted her to have what he so desperately works for. Atsushi wanted her to be told what he so desperately needed too. Through their perspectives of Kyouka, they very much exposed their individual philosophies. And this first clash of values would shape their joint character arcs.

Of course, at the bottom of it all, what they both struggle with is the same: self-worth. And what they desire is also the same: to live meaningful lives. For Atsushi the answer is already at hand, what he must do is save lives and help people through the ADA, it’s what fulfills him and, little by little, eases the psychological ‘curse’ placed upon him by his deceased mentor. For Akutagawa, the answer is obtaining Dazai’s acknowledgement, being given worth by the only person he truly thinks can confer it to him, in order to feel that his life has been and is something of value. 

Though their search is similar, their answers are opposite and that’s what makes them two sides of the same coin, in a more profound way than anything else could. That’s what they are, as the current double black.

Or is it? Is that all?

After all, they didn’t simply stay as opposites and leave it at that, fighting each other without extending a single bridge between them. Akutagawa has shown time and time again that he understands Atsushi’s viewpoint, that he sees him. Atsushi sees him as well, and because of that, he’s set that unexpected bridge in order for Akutagawa to truly come closer and see things from his side of the divide. The constant friction of the two opposing forces erodes and begins to change them both.

Akutagawa, most of all, is still on a journey, tried and tested against Atsushi’s mostly defined arc. Through the rule of no killing, he’s gaining a new perspective on the value of life in general, and may yet see his own under a new light. Even now, he’s reconsidering what he’s proving and why.

In this setup of opposing philosophies something may yet change. This instance of soukoku, which has been built in a similar manner to the previous ones (that I believe have also had streaks of philosophical opposition written into them, but that’s thought and talk for another time) might result in something a tad different and be, in a way, more successful than their predecessors. 

But that’s the story Asagiri-sensei is still in process of telling us, so we’ll see what comes as we continue to read it.

For now, thanks for reading this! 

Manga credit: easygoingscans’s translation of BSD’s first arcs, dazaiscans’s translation of Portrait of a Father and the Echo chapters, and my translation for the recent Decay arc chapters.

[sp00kworm]

Black Oak (Part 2)

Pairing: Alcott Glyn (Headless Horseman) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Body Horror, Murder

PART 1 

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The police arrived about an hour after you had woke-up the whole village screaming. Peswick was far away from the nearest city’s response, and you sat shivering, wrapped in a blanket from the house, clutching it close as Mrs Shaw rushed to bring you a hot drink. She and her husband were dressed, but neither went into your house. They rushed back home, bringing you a cup of tea from their own kitchen along with a foil blanket for the shock. You weren’t allowed to touch the body, and you tried to ignore the swinging noise of the corpse as you sat perched on the front doorstep to your home, sniffling into the cup of tea. The police took off their hats as they stepped past your gate, and you watched as the crime scene investigation and forensic van pulled up behind them. The two officers nodded at Mr and Mrs Shaw before smiling as best they could.

“Would you like to come with us, please?” The male officer asked gently, “Lets go inside and we’ll get your statement of events, okay?” The female officer with him looked back at the tree and swallowed hard as Forensics suited up to remove the body and take evidence.

“Come on, Sully.” He ushered his companion as he helped you to your feet and nodded to your neighbours. He whistled and smiled as he opened the door for you, “Nice old place you’ve got here.” He complimented kindly, the corners of his eyes wrinkled with crows’ feet, “Mrs Finch used to live here. Are you a relative?”

 You shook as the officer led you gently into the front room, “It…She was my aunty, distantly.” You whispered as you eased yourself back onto the sofa, clutching the lukewarm tea tightly, as though it was a lifeline in your grasp.

“She was a kind woman. Made a lot of oils out of her garden, but she had nothing but trouble and vandalism with this place. Kids used to make a mess of the sides of the house regularly.” He tipped his head to the wall where the fireplace was, “It was always on the chimney. She never did anything, but the kids called her a witch and all that trollop.” He shook his head.

“You haven’t introduced yourself.” Sue gave him a lopsided smile as she pulled out the clipboards full of paperwork to be completed.

“Ah, so I haven’t!” The officer dipped his head, “I’m Officer Perks.” He pointed to the blond woman with him, “And this is my partner Officer Sullivan.”

You nodded shakily licked your lips, “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for coming. I know...Its far.” A breathy sigh left you as Sullivan took out her pens from her vest and smiled.

“We just need an account of what you did this morning and if you knew the victim.” Percy offered as he sat on your couch, “Spare no details. Even something small to you might be important to us.”

 Conflict burned in your throat and gut as you thought about what had happened, “I don’t remember anything of relevance from last night. I spent the night in bed. I’ve only just moved in, so I was exhausted.” You took a shuddering breath and continued, “I went out this morning to the tree and…and I looked up… and he was hanging there, without his head.” You looked into the tea in your hands, noting that it was now ice cold.

“How long have you been here?” Sullivan asked as she shorthand filled in the details on the paperwork, “You said you moved in recently?” Perks looked from the paper to you and smiled reassuringly.

“I moved in yesterday afternoon.” You whispered and Sullivan gave you a pitying look.

Perks shifted against the cushions, “Did you have anyone with a grudge against you or motive from where you used to live?” He asked.

“No one that I know of.” You answered as you put down the cup of tea, fighting the tears and upset.

“Okay so what time did you find the body?” Perks asked. You took a deep sigh and continued to answer the police officer’s questions well into the afternoon.

 Perks and Sullivan could drink their weight in tea, it turned out, and you offered them many drinks over the course of the few hours. They had a couple each, pens scratching papers as they took notes and an official account of the events for the records. You looked out of the window as Sue and Percy signed the bottom of the page. Crime Scene Investigations were hoisting the body down from the thick black branch of the oak, working to preserve the noose he was swinging by. Three people held the corpse up as they cut the rope carefully, keeping the knot intact and bagging the rope before they got the body down into the bag on the stretcher.

“He’ll need to go to pathology to determine cause of death…though I think I have a pretty good idea.” Sullivan whispered, trying not to be heard as she eyed you sat across from them. Perks rolled his eyes and elbowed his colleague.

“Here. Let me draw the curtains.” Perks stood and reached for the curtains before drawing them over the forensics team dragging the body into the bag, impassive to the blood that stained their tunics and gloves.

“I think we have everything.” Sullivan announced as she stood up and took hold of both their mugs, “I’ll put these in the kitchen for you.” She offered with a small, pathetic smile.

 Perks nodded his head as Sullivan as she left towards the kitchen. You heard her bang the cup on the countertop before you tugged the blanket closer and shifted uncomfortably.

“Thank you for your cooperation today.” Perks took his hat and tucked it under his arm, “I know these kinds of cases are very difficult to talk about. I have this card for you.” He held you out a green printed business card, “That’s the helpline for a couple of organisations and the other side has someone you can seek out if you would like some help talking through all this.”

You looked at the numbers vaguely before nodding and placing the card on the coffee table, “Thank you.” You replied quietly before Perks replaced his hat on his head.

“We’ll see ourselves out. Thank you once again and good afternoon.” He looked at his watch before he opened the lounge door and quietly exited.

Sue scoffed at him in the hall, “Come on. We’ve got these reports to write up.”

“Coming, coming.” Perks grumbled, “Nothing wrong with being nice. They just witnessed a damn corpse…” The voices trailed off as the front door closed behind the two of them with a bang.

 Silence.

 You looked to the curtains and stood up, letting the blankets finally fall from your shoulders as you fisted each side of the heavy curtains. They were old and embroidered with curling leaves. You tugged them open with a heave and watched the police vans trundle away back down the old stone roads, back towards the hills where they had come from this morning. With a deep breath, you tied the curtains back before taking one last long look at the gnarled, black oak in the garden, and heading towards the stairs for a shower and to get dressed. You hoped that a shower would wash away the sticky feeling of malaise on your skin and mind. Hot water usually purged bad thoughts, or so you hoped as you tried to erase the memory of the swinging corpse from the shrivelled branches of the old oak tree.

 You shivered through the house after your shower, wrapped in a jumper and heavy jeans as you tried to navigate the halls without looking out into the garden. The memory of the body lingered with the burning feeling of the heavy box in the other room, filled with an old skull. It was a skull inside. A perfectly preserved ivory skull. The teeth were yellow with age on the enamel, and you looked to the table where the muddy box sat with the key in the lock. The headless creature had moaned and groaned as its head screamed from the other room. You turned and looked at the ornate metal decorations before daring to turn the key again. The lid popped open and flew back to reveal the skull again.

 It sat perfectly still on the cushion, staring at you with empty eyes. With a deep breath, you dared to reach out and touch the skulls surface. It didn’t move. No magical energies tore out of the eye holes. It was perfectly still. It was just a skull. But the memory of it screaming and cursing inside the box was burned into your memory and you carefully picked the skull up, cushioning the bottom of its jaw before your strokes over the place where the eyebrows had once been when it was a man. It had to belong to the headless horseman, but why your aunt had it locked away in her home was another question entirely. You held the skull up to your eyes and peered into the bone of the eye sockets as you pondered your decision. There was a glimmer of gold inside the mouth which caught your eyes, and you dared to open the jaw wide enough to snatch at the shiny object. It was a single heavy golden coin which had been wedge between the back teeth. You looked at the old print and then quickly replaced it, wedging the jaw back shut as you placed the skull away on its pillow.

 It sat and stared at you, and you stared at it, wondering what happened last night as you clutched at your head and sighed. You slammed the lid closed and snapped the lock closed before you placed the box in the centre of the table.

“What the fuck were you up to aunty?” You asked the air as you rushed to the kitchen to make yourself another drink. As you set the water to boil you continued to curse, thinking about the headless man who what invaded your home chasing the poor man who had ended up hanging from the tree in your front yard. The head had screamed ‘witch’ from its confines, but you had no knowledge about what it could mean. You took the hot water and made a drink before looking at the last few boxes of unpacking and scoffing, deciding that the day would be better spent researching what had slaughtered the man and hung him from your tree.

 The village library was barely a few bookshelves put together and you sighed looking at the poor collection of books before you dated to approach the old librarian sat next to the desk. She had her own book open, some trashy romance novel set in the Victorian era, and she looked engrossed as she flipped the page and took another bite of her current tea cake.

“Hello?” You asked quietly in front of her.

The librarian jumped in her seat before she clutched at her chest and adjusted her glasses, “Dearie me! You scared the soul right out of me, love.” she took a moment to take a breath and close her book before she stood with a small wince and smiled, “What can I do for you?”

You could see the questions burning in her eyes. She no doubt knew you were the new person in town, and about what had happened at your home.

“I’m looking for some history books about the town. I wanted to try and get to know the place, but I don’t think there’s anything on the shelves.”

Her face pursed a little before she smiled again and pointed to the last one of the small walls of shelves, “There isn’t a lot but there’s a couple of books on the bottom shelf of the end one. For the records and such I’m afraid you will have to ask at the village hall. Rose keeps them in good nick there, lovely woman she is.”

“Ah, thank you.” You returned her smile and left her to her book as you went to the last set of shelves in the wall and started to rummage through the folklore and history books.

 There wasn’t a lot, she was right, and you sighed after about twenty minutes of pulling out books. You tugged the last, thick history book from the shelf and dusted the cover to reveal a history of the local mines and hills. It wasn’t what you were looking for. You peered at the shelf again and huffed before there was a glimmer of silver lining at the back of the bookcase. You squirmed your hand to the back and plucked the small book from behind the tattered paperbacks. It was a pocketbook, stencilled with an old name in cursive, faded and marred with cage.

‘Maria Theresa Glyn’

You dusted the front and followed the name before looking around and tucking the book into your bag. You felt bad just taking it, but obviously the Librarian had no idea it was there, and the name was familiar to you. You remembered the coat of arms on the old teapot. If this was the diary of someone with the same name it might have clues, or so you reasoned as you plucked a few books from the shelf and took them to the counter after replacing the rest.

 “Did you find what you were looking for, pet?” The librarian asked as you placed the books on the counter. She smiled and pulled out an old paper ticket to write your name onto. She poised the pen over the paper, and you told her your name before she copied it onto another for you and jotted the book codes down. She tutted at the date stamper and fiddled with it to get it to the correct date. Obviously not many people used the library.

“Yes, I found a few interesting things to have a flick through.” You told her as she stamped the tickets inside the books and stacked them in front of you.

“Well, you have fun...and be careful, huh? There’s a lot of weird and wonderful things that go on around here. It would be a shame if you forgot that, and something happened.” She smiled sweetly, but it sent shivers down your spine.

“Thanks. I’ll try.” You smiled awkwardly back at her before you took your arm full of books and made a quick exit back into the chilly air.

 The village seemed to watch you as you wove between the avenue of trees, crunching autumn orange and brown leaves underfoot. The chill in the air mimicked their icy feelings. You were the outsider among them, and soon enough they’d come to hound you out of their home. You only hoped to solve what you had seen. There was no way a headless man was riding around taking heads...right? You tried to console yourself as you made it to your home, and past the gnarled black tree in the front garden. It was twisted and old, and the branches seemed to creak as a greeting on your return. A glare silenced it, or so it seemed, perhaps it was just the wind dying, but the tree went silent as you walked up to the door with your keys in hand. The door swung open when you unlocked it and you clutched at your books as the wind howled into the mouth of the house, screaming down the hall like a ghost before you kicked the front door shut, shivering. The old back boiler chugged in the background as you kicked off your boots and placed the books in the lounge on the small table by the chest.

 When the chest remained still and silent you left to place away your bags and get a drink. You returned, rubbing your eyes as you opened the little journal you had found. It was penned with ink and quill, that much was obvious, and you ran your fingers over the woman’s name again before you touched the crest and went to find the teapot. You grabbed the porcelain handle and placed the two together over your lap. They were the same. The Glyn coat of arms. You placed the teapot down and opened the diary to look at the first passage. It was dated back three centuries ago, back when the alliance was beginning to form between the different races, monsters and humans alike, though you could tell this village hadn’t had such luxury. The entire populace was human, apart from the dairy farmers four miles outside the walls of the village. They were large goblins of some kind, cave dwelling and gangly limbed from years in the dark, but you had only seen them.

 The first passage was written in neat, printed cursive, echoing the care the woman had taken to write her feelings and events down.

‘Today is the day of my birth. My birthday rather. I was given this journal by the kind Mister Glynn, as a gift, and so I find myself beginning to write down the events of my daily life, so perhaps I can look back on it and reminisce when I am old and grey.

 Mister Glyn is a kind soul. He is part of the King’s Royal Entourage and the Commander of a large cavalry unit. Why he is in this small village is unknown to us all, but my father suspects it is because of the Wood Witch. Perhaps he has been tasked with taking her head? It is rumoured the armour he has is enchanted against such magic, but I feel as though those are rumours made about a dangerous and powerful man to excite fear.

 He is nothing but polite to me. I suppose my father will want to marry me off to this one as well.’

 The passages were perhaps a couple of pages maximum, and you flicked through the dates quickly, watching her words change from cold and indifferent to soft and loving of the man see always called Mister Glyn. It wasn’t until a year later in the diary that you saw his true name.

 ‘Alcott escorted me to the capital atop Mallor, his beast of a horse, though the creature seems to like me now that I bring him sugar lumps. Alcott wished to show me the city and its fruits though there is rather less fruit and more muck and grime. I am used to mud on my shoes, but I despised the odour of the place, much to his amusement. As I write, I can hear him snickering at me across the table.’

 There was a few blotches of ink and another set of handwriting.

 ‘She stood in a man’s excrement.’

 Their trip seemed peaceful, and Maria even attended a gathering at court. It seemed well until you found the final page in the diary, written across a page in shaky ink.

 ‘They took his head.’

 There was no fond farewell at the bottom of the page or a cursive signature. It was stark and naked on the yellowed paper, like a bad omen forever preserved. You ran your fingers over the words before you flicked through the last pages seeing nothing but blood splodges and blackened dark blood at the corners. It smelt faintly of rot, and you recoiled from the smell as you looked at the empty bare pages. The back of the book was burned across the inside of the cover. It was mysterious but it seemed like Alcott Glyn had been killed. But by who? You had no idea but as you looked at the chest again and thought of the head inside you shuddered.

 Alcott Glyn. There had to be a grave. You tugged your bag open and stuffed the book inside before you rushed out of the door, locking it quickly as you rushed towards the little church. It was at the top of the hill, sat in a mound of earth, subsiding on one side with props and scaffolding to try and hold it up. It wasn’t used anymore, the town hall was used to any religious needs, but it was haunting. The stained glass was dirty, and the front doors bolted and chained to prevent anyone entering. You rushed around the side of the church and looked at the dates on the graves and the dates in the diary. It had to be the 1700s. You thought back to your history lessons and tried to recall the date of the alliance war. 1774. You rushed around the small paths and glanced at the years, 1770, 1772, 1773... you looked at the gap where the 1774 stone should have stood. There was nothing, just unchurned earth and a set of roses growing from the floor. A troubling feeling settled in your gut as you meandered down the path to the back of the overgrown graveyard. There were old stones, crumbling and forgotten under blackberry vines and leaves. It was chance that you leaned down next to a short stone and looked at the faded name.

 Alcott Glyn.  

 The name was chipped and faded, like the memory of the man. Vines grew in wild abandon over the grave, and the blackberry vines had taken over the base, winding around the whole stone with wide dying leaves. It was perfectly hidden and forgotten about. The village’s little secret in the secluded corner of the graveyard, forgotten and buried. Or apparently, not buried completely. The earth was turned over, like something had ruptured from the ground and burst free. It was a long patch of upturned soil, as long as you were tall, or even longer, and the earth and stones were wet, fresh with the rain from the evening and being upturned, as though someone had run a plower through it.  Carefully, you ran your fingers through the earth, feeling the soil between your fingers before you took a steadying breath.

“Someone came out of this…” You breathed into the chilly air, your breath making mist with the cold as you stood and looked over the grave. You said it again before turning and bolting from the graveyard before the night could fall over the village.

 When you reached home, you threw your bag onto the couch and grabbed the chest, prising the lock open to peer at the skull inside. It was sat, still as a statue, on the cushion, with the glimmer of gold between its jaws. You lifted it from the cushion, carefully, pulling it up to your face level as the sun set over the horizon, bathing you in a golden glow with the skull clasped between your hands. There was nothing but the distant hum of the hot water pipes in the old house to answer your stare. The skull did nothing. It sat in your hands as the sunlight died over the horizon and the night began to settle in. In your gut, disappointment settled with the cold reminder that you were holding a dead man’s skull. A real human skull. Carefully, you placed it back down on the cushion and sighed as you went to draw the curtains, ignoring the creaking of the gnarled oak tree outside your door.

 The wind blew as you looked back at the head in the chest, positioned slightly skewed on the cushion. You chewed your lip and sighed before you stood over it again.

“Alcott Glyn.” You whispered to the skull. Nothing. The old electrics flickered for a moment, dimming before they brightened again. Silence, except for the hum of the back boiler. The breath you had been holding escaped and you turned away with a grumble before the lights surged bright and yellow, like the sun, before the bulbs exploded in a sudden thunder of noise. Glass shattered and flew across the carpet in a shower, and you gasped, covering your ears before you looked back at the cushion.

 The head was sat, jaw agape, with two lights in the blackened sockets, rolling side to side. The little lights rolled like stoned before they settled on you and the open jaw began to jitter, chattering the yellowed teeth together loudly. The skull didn’t move, just snapped it’s teeth like a scared dog before it stopped, and the eyes dimmed. It was only a moment of silence before there were three heavy pounds on your door. With a gasp you rushed to draw the curtains, and gazed upon the creature stood on your doorstep, his steed kicking and throwing it’s head by the twisted roots of the black tree. The body stood there, breathing, its undead chest moving as though it needed the air.

“Alcott Glyn.” You whispered again with a dry mouth. All the moisture dried up from you and you tried not to shake as the skull slammed against the side of the box, it’s eyes glowing.

It shook and chattered its teeth before a voice screamed from between the open jaw, “Let me in, witch!”

Fear twisted your guts as you rushed to slam the chest shut on the screaming skull. It chanted inside the decorative metal, hollering about burning you at the stake before you took it to the front door. The horseman slammed his fist on the door again, repeatedly, as though he was going to tear it open, and you shivered as your fingers shook by the latch and keys.

 The horseman began to bang repeatedly and the head in the chest slammed around, shaking your arms as you struggled to keep hold of it. You took a stuttering breath and unlatched the door, turning the keys before you wrenched it open. The headless horseman heaved puffs of misty breath up from the stump of his neck, his trachea flexing with the movement as the nerves of his spinal cord twitched and thrummed behind it, imitating life in his corpse body.

“Witch!” the skull screamed again, his head you realised as you stepped back, and the creature followed. His boots left muddy smeared marks on the wooden floors, and you looked down to see the crushed blackberries over the soles. Your heart pounded as you realised, he had crawled from the grave you had sat by earlier.

“I saw you by my grave. I will not do business with you again.” His voice came from his body this time, contorted and dark as it leaked from his lungs like a wisp.

“Business? What business have you?” You asked, voice shaking with fear.

The skull laughed in its box, a malicious and evil noise, dark and tempting, as though you were truly stupid for asking, “What business did we not have? Have you forgotten in your age, crone? Death and blood, that’s what you wanted, and I delivered it.”

“Who did you have the deal with?” You steeled yourself.

“You, you pathetic soothsayer.” He droned before his dead fist slammed the door closed, “Now give me my head. Our bargain is met.”

“I am not my aunty.” You tried, “I have no deal with you.”

 The horseman stopped, his body stiffening as his horse brayed and screamed outside, kicking its hooves at the black oak with a great smash. The tree shook, shedding twigs, but didn’t fall. He stalked closer, the bulk of his frame blocking out the light from the moon and the electric fitting overhead.

“But you have my head.” The skull whispered from inside the box before he grabbed for the chest. He touched the metal of the latch and screamed, the noise escaping the corpse before you and the skull inside the box. It was an ear piercing, unholy noise which burned your ears and made your head swim in agony. The horseman clutched at his chest and the stump of his neck, his gloved fingers pressing into the gored wound of his neck as he wobbled towards the wall and grasped at it for balance.

 “Fuck.” You cursed before you whipped the chest open and grabbed his skull by its eye sockets, hanging it over him as he slid down the wall and screamed again in agony, twitching against the wood.

“If I give you your head, horseman, will you indebt yourself to me? Your previous contract will be null, and you will only serve me.” You announced.

The horseman writhed before going deathly still. He laid like a corpse for a moment or two before shakily he braced his arm against the floor and pushed himself up. With a shudder he got onto his knees and kneeled before you, his neck dipped to expose the sore, congealed wound of his decapitation.

“I... I will serve.” The horseman gurgled.

“Then I give you your head to end your torment, Alcott Glyn.” You promised before you held his skull between your palms and lowered it to the spinal column of his body.

 There was a great groan as the spine extended from Alcott’s body and snapped to the skull, holding it in place as the eyes burned bright with purple light, the colour of blackberries, rolling in his skull as he reached and clasped at the bone, howling as light burned from the base of his neck and enveloped his skull with a whoosh of purple fire. The fire abated quickly as the moonlight disappeared behind the curtains and the skull shimmered as muscle and tendons swarmed the bone, linking and covering the surface before the he howled, and skin crept from his neck to his face, covering the surface in a perfect alabaster coating. His eyes however, remained voids of black, the centres beautiful blackberry lights in the dimness of your home. Black waves of hair grew from his head, dripping over his shoulders like ink as he howled, leaned against the old wallpaper. They finished growing with a crackle of fire, purple flames licking at the ends before it disappeared, leaving a heaving, black eyed creature curled against the wooden floor.

 Your mouth hung open as you watched the horseman shake against the wood, heaving as he reached to clutch at the hair that draped from his previously naked skull. The inky waves slid through his gloved hands and was quickly marred with dirt and blood before he peered at you through the curtain, looking at you with the purple lights in his irises which were sunken back into his skull. His lips parted before he took a deep breath, wheezing out dust and muck, coughing like a goose before he kicked the chapped skin and crawled closer to your feet. He only looked at you, staring before one gloved hand whipped out and snatched your ankle, holding it tightly in an iron grip.

“Bound to your bloodline again...” he growled, “Humiliating.” Before he pushed himself back and stood, swaying on his legs like a new-born deer as his balance came back to him. Having a head was a heavy burden.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” You breathed as Alcott slammed the side of his head and beat dirt out of his ears.

“Of course, you don’t. None of you ever do. Now I’m bound here to you until the day you drop dead and rot. Why can you never let me die?” He growled in a worked-up fury, flinging his hands to the windows before he stalked to the door, his boots slamming against the wood. He swung it open, and his mount brayed in greeting, throwing its giant head back before it caught sight of you and snorted, bowing it’s neck like a graceful Swan.

 “You are all the same!” The horseman shouted before the moon was revealed, a cloud moving away from its white surface. He shuddered and you watched the skin on his face disappear with the muscle, revealing the purple lights in a bare, burning skull. As the cloud recovered the moon, the base of his neck flared with purple smoke and fire, revealing the scar where he was decapitated, and his face reappeared.

“I gave you your head back, Alcott!” You shouted after him.

The horseman shivered and turned back to you, looking at you with his haunting eyes, both hands gripping the pommel and stand of the saddle, “How do you know my name?” He whispered in questioning.

With a small breath, you locked your lips nervously and ducked back to the table, grabbing the little diary from you bag before you stood on your porch and held it out to the wraith, “Maria wrote about you.”

He growled and snatched at the book, and you let him take it with a painful smile, “I know the townspeople killed you. They betrayed you. I don’t know what happened to Maria.” You confessed.

Alcott opened the diary and flicked through it before he looked at the night sky, “She lived in mourning the rest of her life. They institutionalised her after they found her carrying my head, wailing through the town. She died, high on cocktails of medicines, with her head buried in the soft soil of a flower bed.”

 The revelation was something of a shock and you looked at the undead man in front of you with a bitter, pitying look.

“You watched her die, didn’t you?” You asked, barely above a whisper.

The horseman scoffed, “That was the curse after all. To terrorise the town for their betrayal. But not her. I used to try call to her from the window, but she never could bare to look at me. Eventually they gave her more cocktails and she stopped coming to the window all together.”

“Jesus Christ.” You cursed.

“Such foul language.” Alcott sneered as he snapped the diary shut in his gloved hand, “She died from the madness and grief. That is the fault of the town and its yet another reason to run into each of these homes and tear their heads from their bodies.” Alcott spat furiously. As fury overtook him you could see the white scarred seem of where his head had been replaced burning with smoke the purple fumes puffing from it like a new wound before his neck popped and cracked, sending his head to the left, hanging on by a thread of flesh to the other side. You let out a screech and clasped your mouth as the horseman gurgled and reached for his head, grasping it by the hair before he groaned and dragged it back into place, snapping the vertebrae back into place with a twist and a squelch of bloodied tissue. It cracked again quickly, and Alcott held the top of his hair tightly with a groan as the smoke poured from his mouth and his head twisted backwards like a ghoul, spinning on his neck before it snapped again and came free, rolling over the floor to your feet as a skull. The flesh and hair melted in waves of muck from its surface, and you shakily took hold of the skull again.

 The horseman stumbled left and right as he reached towards you for his head.

“MY HEAD, WITCH!” He howled at you, but you dashed back up the porch steps and held it protectively.

“You are under my command. Anything against my wishes is against our contract...so you lose your head. Do you hear me horseman?” You blagged, hoping you were right, “So there will be no killing.”

“Evil, corrupt creature. I'll hang you by your feet and bleed you from the neck!” Alcott threatened as fire and smoke poured from his throbbing trachea. The smoke puffed before he went sent to the floor in agony, the black oak behind him creaking and swaying left and right as though the roots were snaking towards him. Sure enough, the ground rumbled, and the black oak’s roots exploded from the ground, snagging the horseman by his wrists and ankles hoisting him into the air as the branches hissed and his mount, Mallor, brayed and screamed, blood spraying over the fence from the horses broken throat.

 It was a curse. You should have expected as much, but you shook as the tree cinched the man’s limbs, holding them tight before it pulled, making him scream in agony as his joints were pulled tight.

“Stop!” You screamed, and the tree stopped pulling, holding the horseman aloft still as it swayed and bent towards you, its branches touching your head as though trying to figure out who you were.

“He is mine.” You told the tree, “He will obey and submit to the laws of his contract.”

The tree groaned, it’s roots wiggling in the cold, hard earth for a moment before it dropped Alcott like a sack of grain and settled down quietly, smacking at the horse inching closer to its trunk.

Alcott touched at his neck as he rose, swaying as he cracked and snapped his joints back into place like a disjointed puppet.

“Are you going to play nice now?” You asked as the man wheezed in front of you. When he nodded you offered him his skull back and watched the skin and flesh cover its surface again before he snarled behind his curtain of overgrown hair, blackberry-coloured lights burning the void of his eyes.

“You truly are her kin if that disgusting thing listens to you.” He snapped as he headed for his horse and mounted the saddle with a quick bounce on one powerful leg, his thighs locking tight around the beast’s sides as it bucked and brayed. Alcott turned his horse and tipped his head with a wave of purple smoke and fire, “Call on me then, witch, and see what havoc I can wreak for you.” Alcott laughed bitterly as he turned Mallor onto the cobbled drive and rode onto the road, his face becoming bone and flesh intermittently as the clouds passed overhead.

“I’m not a witch!” You screamed after the horseman, but he was gone into the mist and the trees, unlikely to have heard you cursing against the stairs of the porch as you collapsed.

[minipainter69nice]

First time I'm doing something like this so go easy on me please 😅.

***SPOILERS FOR GOD OF WAR RAGNAROK DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WISH TO BE SPOILT***

I've recently finished (almost, still have the berserker king and Gna to beat) God of War Ragnarok and absolutely loved it, felt as though it were the proper conclusion to a series if it is of course the conclusion since there was a lot of sequel baiting at the end. However I'm not going to gush about the game itself, but I want to talk instead about the main antagonist of the series, and how he connects to the universe around him, Odin.

Odin is the All father, a literal connection to all beings in the Norse mythology, and in God of Wars case, the biggest f***ing asshole in the game's lore. It isn't kept secret from us just how much the characters in this game both fear and despise Odin for many reasons that I don't need to bring up in the post because it is constantly brought up in the game, examples being enslaving all of Svartalfheim, destroying Vanaheim ecologically, and a millennium long history of abuse to his family, just to name a few.

Odin is truly a despised character for me, both in and outside of the game, yet I can't help but not stop thinking about him. I find this strange, as with every moment I love about the game, I can't help but think about how much Odin has created a horrible environment for it. Even in the final scene where Atreus and Kratos defeat Odin, I felt as though it weren't enough. So I'm going to discuss some things that I genuinely found interesting about Odin's character, and if y'all have anything to add just comment and we could talk more.

First off, I'd like to start with Odin as a character. I'm not one to know all about mythology, but from my general understanding of Odin as a mythological being, he is meant to be the "All Father", a person who I would assume loves all beings even if he is not directly related to them, almost a sort of adoptive father to everyone due to his powers and knowledge. However, this is not what we see in the game, quite the opposite in fact. Odin treats everyone he sees or knows of as a potential tool for current or future use, even family. I see this all the time with his interactions with literal sons and wives, treating Thor as nothing more than a big hammer (pun intended) to smash down obstacles, uses Freya to learn more about Vanaheim magic, used all of the giants to obtain knowledge and later discarding them via genocide knowing they would cause his downfall. This is further proven with one of the first scenes we see in Ragnarok, in which Odin and Thor confront Kratos about their investigation into Tyr and the murder of Magni and Modi, Thor's sons. You can tell right from the gate Thor is livid with the idea of talking to Kratos, the man responsible for the deaths of both of his sons, yet when Odin brings up Baldur's death, it's not with anger or hate towards Kratos, he states that Baldur was "my best mouser" stating he was simply the best of a set of tools to him. In addition, it's later discovered in the game that Odin imprisons many members of the different races within the 9 realms, including Tyr, cloning himself as them in order to learn more secrets, using people he dislikes as tools.

Further to discuss Odin's character, it's apparently obvious that he is a pathological liar, to the point where I even feel like he's lying to himself, so well that he can't even see it. He refuses to see any of the consequences of his actions, and covers it up with the "the consequences will make up for the actions attitude" which just makes the end of the game so much more satisfying when you see all of his work crumble (quite literally) before him with a single decision that wasn't his own. His lies to his family has caused Freya to wish a lifetime of torture upon him, the deaths of Thor and Baldur, a disjointed family that is too scared of him to even question his authority, and eventually, the destruction of all of Asgard.

As a final point I wanted to bring an eye onto the boss fight with him. Through some general viewing of people fighting him and what I recall this is what I can say. His music is gorgeous (Bear McCreary is a fucking genius with music) both being a perfect representation of a final boss fight while also having this air of a regal foe that is both awe inspiring and evil at the same time. I could go into his music as much as I could, but considering I'm not a music or English major I'm not gonna bother. His weapon of choice is a staff that comes from seemingly nowhere, but what I found extremely interesting was his power over summoning the bifrost. Typically if someone has a relationship with an element or power, it's represented through say a staff or wand or even their hands, which I would say symbolizes the power flowing through them almost symbiotically. This is not the case with Odin though, as his staff changes into a whip when he summons bifrost, meaning he doesn't see the bifrost as something that he works with, he sees the bifrost as yet ANOTHER TOOL that he can abuse. The end of the fight is a quick time event that shows Kratos, Atreus and Freya all beating the absolute crap out of Odin, which represents how wrong Odin was to consider all of his friends and family as tools to abuse rather than someone who can help him when he's at his lost dire moments.

Again I'm not very good with this type of stuff, I hope y'all enjoy reading it and please do comment if you want to give me some ideas of improvement or if you want to talk more about Odin as a character, I'll probably end up doing a follow-up post afterwards to discuss Odin's use as a foil for Kratos, not only in Ragnarok but compared to previous games.

[miraculouswolf99]

Grand Festival Showdown

The Miraculous gang as Pokemon trainers. All of them are the same, but their dreams have all been modified to include pokemon. Kagami, Kim, Alix, and Ivan are all battlers. Marinette, Adrien, Luka, Nino, Chloe, Nathaniel, and Lila all do contests. Juleka, Rose, and Mylene all do showcases. This all takes place in the Sinnoh Region.

Includes my favorite Lila Salt as well as Alya Salt.

My original characters are included in this story as well. Lyon being a champion grand coordinator, Vallia being a pokemon nurse in training, Apollo is a contest contestant, Mason being a gym leader, and Lena is a friend to the twins.

This is a long one, about 6000 words, so buckle up people.

*****

If there was one thing that Adrien loved, it was competing in pokemon contests. Since his father usually forced him to model for his fashion company, he appreciated the beauty that he saw in the pokemon that his father made matching outfits of for the photoshoots. And from watching the Pokemon League on television, he definitely also knew that they had power. So contests were the perfect blend of how he saw pokemon as the beautiful and powerful creatures that they were.

Not that his father even knew that he participated in them. Gabriel Agreste wanted his son to be a proper heir to Gabriel Pokemon Fashion. And that did not include anything involving contests, battles, or even showcases. He forced him to do all kinds of photoshoots, had him model with humans and pokemon alike, not to mention the fact that he would not have gotten his starter pokemon had he not sneaked out of the house. But he did it anyway, and his adorable Turtwig had managed to evolve into a Torterra.

But if there was one mistake that Gabriel made, it was letting him have lots of privacy. There may be cameras outside his bedroom door, but none inside of his room. That certainly helped when he had to sneak out to meet his friends, capture more pokemon, train his pokemon, or compete in a contest that was nearby. Plus, he also was able to sneak away to contests that were in the same town as a photoshoot that he was doing. He just had to lie and say that he was staying in his hotel room for a few hours. His life may have been mostly controlled, but that did not mean he was not sneaky when he was getting what he wanted.

Since contests were televised, he did have to keep his father from finding out. So he donned a disguise. He became Cat Noir, a mysterious pokemon contest prodigy that no one knew the real name of.

Only three people knew about his second life as Cat Noir. His best friend Kagami, who shared the same type of sheltered life as he did but she preferred battles to contests, and his other two friends Lyon and Marinette. Lyon is one half of a set of twins, his sister currently working under a Nurse Joy in order to become a pokemon doctor, and he was already a top coordinator back in his home region of Kalos. Marinette is a coordinator like him and also came from the Kalos region like Lyon, but she is usually shy and also has desires to become a pokemon fashion designer.

He had met Kagami during one of the social events they were both forced to attend by their parents. They got along great and both had the same desire to be free. If they were in the same town, which happened more often than one would think, they would often use each other as an excuse to sneak away for a gym battle, contest, or training with their pokemon. He met Lyon by chance when he had been training and his Turtwig almost hit the Top Coordinator with a razor leaf gone wild. Lucky for him that Lyon was a lot more down-to-earth than one would expect from a person with as much success as him while he was so young. Marinette, being a fellow coordinator, had been at a contest which she had lost to him. She had seen him take off his Cat Noir mask and recognized him from his father's magazines. She had been a great friend to him and understood why he used the mask.

There were few things that could actually make him smile so carefree other than contests. His constant photoshoots, dealing with stuck-up models, and his seemingly careless father did not make him smile that way. He hated modeling and even though he loved being all the pokemon that he modeled with, he wanted to see pokemon just as free as he wanted to be. He wanted to be famous for working hard like legendary trainers Ash Ketchum, Gary Oak, and Steven Stone. Or coordinators like Fantina, Wallace, and Zoey.

But he was now was at the top pokemon contest of the Sinnoh region. The Grand Festival. He had earned his ribbons and now Cat Noir was at his first Grand Festival. What he looked forward to most of all was that he knew that Kagami was going to be in the audience, Lyon was a special guest, and that Marinette was also competing.

He did not like the idea that he might have to battle his friend at some point, but these things do tend to happen. Especially since he was also aware that other friends of his had also made it to the Grand Festival. They had all attended the same pokemon school before it was time for their journeys to begin. He knew his friends Luka, Nathaniel, and his childhood friend Chloe were also all competing.

So, he was just getting ready backstage before all of them would have their qualifying performances before the battle rounds started. He was in his Grand Festival outfit of a black suit with green details, a black and green coat with a cape-like back, shiny green dress shoes, "cat claw" gloves, his signature cat-eye mask, and fake black cat ears on his head.

"My, my, don't you look fancy," Adrien heard near him.

The model almost jumped out of his skin but calmed down when he saw that it was just Lyon. And from looking at him, he definitely saw why people called him the White Wolf.

Lyon was in an icy outfit that almost gave him the illusion of having his own ice powers. He had on a fancy white vest over a blue short-sleeve silk shirt. It matched the white pants that he wore with his shin-high blue boots. He also wore a white hooded cloak with snowflake designs all over it. On his lower arms were silver arm-band bracelets with snowflake and wolf designs on them. His midnight-black hair also had fake wolf ears in it.

"Oh, Lyon," Adrien let himself breathe again. "For a second, I thought my identity had been discovered."

"Well, you may need to get a little better at hiding when you change," Lyon chuckled. "If you win and become Top Coordinator, the press will be even more ruthless with trying to find out your identity."

"I deal with the press on a regular basis already, Lyon," Adrien reminded him.

"Yeah, but I can tell you from experience that when it comes to being a Top Coordinator, people pay more attention to us," Lyon said.

"Well, I can see why that would happen with you," Adrien not-so-subtly flirted with him.

"Careful, kitty," Lyon teased him. "Wouldn't want the wolf to eat the cat before his big performance."

Adrien chuckled, always having liked how they could always joke around with their chosen performer names of cat and wolf. There were so few people that he could act like himself around and he certainly enjoyed Lyon's company.

"So, you here as just a special guest or also as a surprise judge," Adrien asked him.

"My dear Cat Noir, now that would be telling," Lyon smirked as he teased the teen coordinator.

"Oh, thank Arceus that I found you," they both heard a female voice.

They both turned and saw Marinette running toward them. Lyon recognized her from pictures that Adrien had sent him and of course, Adrien would recognize his best friend even if she was decked out in her Grand Festival dress. Probably a dress of her own design as well.

She was in a beautiful dress that was in a ladybug design with a little pink mixed in. It was a knee-length dress that was mostly red with black spots all over it. Under it was a crinoline that was colored pink that helped her dress by more poofy. The sleeves of her dress were elegant bell sleeves that ended at her elbows and lower arms instead of her wrists. Her hair was also extended and placed into a long ponytail coming from the top of the back of her head with roses tied where the ponytail started. On her feet were red wedge-heel boots that went up to her knees.

"How you can run in those heels is beyond me," Lyon said.

"Especially given that one of the first things that you told me about yourself was that you are extremely clumsy," Adrien added.

"Well, I was running with a purpose," Marinette said.

"That purpose being to find one of us if what you had said means anything," Lyon says.

"It's about Adrien, or rather Cat Noir really," Marinette said.

"Oh, great," Adrien sighed, having expected the fame of his mysterious identity to cause some type of drama at the Grand Festival.

"Do you remember when I was telling you about that liar, Adrien," Marinette asked him.

"Yeah," Adrien nodded. "Lila is what you told me her name was. The girl that lies with every breath she takes and has an ego bigger than a Wailord."

"Well, she somehow got her five ribbons and is going around telling people that she knows who you are," Marinette tells her friend.

"What," Adrien's eyes widen.

"Not just that," Marinette continued. "She is also saying that she is dating you and you're apparently head over heels for her."

Adrien could not help but facepalm when he heard that.

"Here comes the headache that I did not know was going to happen," he groaned.

"Here's some aspirin," Marinette gave Adrien the medicine. "I thought that if the liar managed to get here, I would need some myself. I've already had three headaches because of her. And that is just today."

"Am I missing something," Lyon asked.

"Yes," Adrien said before popping the medicine into his mouth.

Marinette rolled her eyes as she took the liberty of explaining.

"Lila Rossi is a pathological liar that I ran into after I won my first two contests," she says. "At first, I had believed her tall tales until she said that she knew the designer for Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale."

"MDC," Lyon raised an eyebrow. "As such a private designer, I highly doubt that a random girl would know her. Especially if she is bragging about it to anyone that will listen to her."

Marinette nodded. "Exactly. So I then immediately knew that Lila was nothing but a liar. Especially since she said that MDC is a boy when anyone with common sense, and access to the internet, know that MDC's only given clue to who she is that she is a she."

"Yet, people actually believe her," Lyon put a hand on his hip.

"As I said, she is a pathological liar," Marinette says. "One that uses people's knowledge to make her lies sound realistic. Like how my friend Rose is friends with Prince Ali, and my boyfriend Luka is Jagged Stone's son, and even how Adrien is Cat Noir. Lila uses people's own experiences to give her lies credibility. Like a situation of 'if I can know celebrities then so can she."

"Weirdly enough, I can see how that makes sense," Adrien said.

"What can we do about her," Lyon asked. "Can we just have Adrien call her out as Cat Noir?"

"Since Adrien has to keep his identity a secret, she could just pull out another lie about him protecting her or that they got into a fight," Marinette said. "It's how she explained when MDC posted on social media that she had never met Lila before."

"This is gonna be a disaster, isn't it," Adrien guessed. "There is no way someone like how you describe Lila would go down without a fight."

"She may be lying, but won't she lie herself into a corner," Lyon asked. "Especially if 'Cat Noir' actually does enter a relationship."

"The problem is the damage that she can cause along the way," Marinette said.

"Trust me, I was on your train of thought as well until Marinette explained things more to me," Adrien said. "Lila is not just lying about herself, she is also lying about what she can do for others. Saying that she can put a good word in for people to get certain jobs, internships, or futures in careers that they want. When it actually comes time for them to her to fulfill those promises, a lot of people will be met with disappointment. Plus, with her promising these things, they will not apply to other jobs, colleges, or internships on their own. It would take a long time for them to recover from her lies."

"I see," Lyon understood what they meant. "Guess this just gives me more reasons to not come out in public more if I have to deal with people like her."

"She hasn't happened to make any lies about Lyon, has she," Adrien asked Marinette.

"Well, she apparently was trained in the art of contests by Lyon and was supposedly the muse that inspired him to chose his 'White Wolf' look," Marinette said.

"And... now I have a headache," Lyon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Here you go," Marinette handed the top coordinator some aspirin.

"Thank you," he took it immediately.

Adrien had known Lyon for quite a while now. Lyon had come from a rich family just like he did. But while he had been almost forced to model, Lyon's parents let him choose his own path. He was known for being the youngest ever grand coordinator out there. But since he had met him, Adrien also knew that Lyon generally was very humble and kind, but was basically an ice prince to anyone that tries to use him for their own gain.

So if Lila was not in trouble before, she sure was going to be now that Lyon knew about her lying about him. And that was troubling enough without Lyon's twin sister, Vallia, hearing about this. She might have the nickname of the Flower Princess and might be trying to become a Pokemon doctor, but that did not mean she was not dangerous on the battlefield.

"If she is still telling lies, I am guessing that she still has her regular audience," Adrien looks at Marinette again.

She nodded sadly. "Alya is still her most loyal sheep and there are also a lot of other friends of ours that are under her spell as well."

Lyon looked at the two with a raised eyebrow, silently asking for more details.

"There are times where I can escape photoshoots even if I do not have a contest to sneak off to," Adrien explained. "I would meet up with Marinette as much as I could and she introduced me to a lot of her friends. I have especially gotten along well with Nino, Kim, Juleka, and Marinette's boyfriend Luka."

"And before Lila came along, my friend Alya was my best friend," Marinette said. "I went to our town pokémon school with them before we all started our journeys. But when Lila showed up with all of her tall tales and false promises, they follow her like sheep following their shepherd. Most of my old class is under her spell. Only Adrien, myself, Luka, Kim, Juleka, and our other friends Nathaniel, Marc, and Kagami know that she is nothing but a liar."

"Alya used to be a reporter hopeful," Adrien tells Lyon. "She ran a very popular blog about up-and-coming battlers and coordinators. But then Lila came along with her tales and now most of Alya's blog is about her. She basically takes Lila's words as gospel and attacks anyone that so much as even hints that they think that Lila is anything less than a perfect angel."

"Wow," Lyon gasped. "This girl sounds worse than an angry Darkrai, and you never want to run into one of those."

"Yeah, Lila is a piece of work," Adrien sighed. "She really needs to be silenced before her tales get someone into trouble."

"Yeah," Marinette said. "She has been saying how Jagged Stone wrote a song about her and that Clara Nightingale stole dance moves from her. Those types of lies can ruin their careers."

"Well, I have no secret identity," Lyon says. "She won't be able to lie her way out of me saying that I have no idea who she is."

"Just be careful how you explain how you heard about her lies," Adrien warned him. "Lila has been trying to turn people against Marinette because she knows about her lies. At a few past contests that I had won, I heard a few other coordinators insulting her all because of lies that Lila told about her."

Lyon looked disgusted by the behavior. Coordinators and battlers were both very large families. Yes, there were some bad seeds in each family, but this girl was something way beyond a bad seed. How can one person just be such a selfish liar that she is willing to ruin another person's life just because they did not believe their lies?

But before they could continue their conversation, an announcement was made over the backstage speakers. It was for the coordinators that were competing to get ready since the first round was going to be starting soon.

"Just do your best, you two," Lyon tells them. "And if that liar gives you any trouble, she won't be much of an issue for much longer."

With a "Whoosh" of his cloak, Lyon left to go down the hallway. He had his own business at the Grand Festival that he needed to take care of before he would be able to help his friends.

"He always did like to make dramatic exits," Adrien chuckled.

"I just hope we actually won't have to deal with Lila for much longer," Marinette says.

The two of them went the opposite way down the hall, to the locker room where the contestants have to stay when they are not on stage. Adrien went to the side and leaned against the wall to keep up his appearance of the mysterious and quiet Cat Noir. Looking around the room, he noticed some familiar faces. Like Marinette had gone to stand next to her boyfriend, and fellow coordinator, Luka. There was also her friend Nathaniel and his boyfriend Marc along with her former friend Nino, Alya's boyfriend. Adrien also noticed his childhood friend Chloe as well and, unfortunately, Lila.

Soon, on the screens, appeared Marian, the usual contest announcer for Sinnoh. And from the audience that was seen in the background, Adrien could make out Kagami in the crowd as well as Alya. He was surprised to see Kagami there, but it was a very welcome surprise.

"Welcome, everyone to the beautiful waterside town of Lake Valor for this year's Grand Festival," she announced into her mic, making the crowd cheer. "Sixty talented coordinators from all over the Sinnoh region have joined us here to perform and battle their way into becoming the newest Top Coordinator!"

"And that will be me," was muttered all around the locker room, from confident and cocky contestants.

"Over the next few days, these talents coordinators will perform and battle their way into being named the next Top Coordinator," Marian continued. "The first stage is the Performance Stage, where our contestants will show off the beauty of their pokémon and their moves in double performances. After this stage, we will boil down our contestants to the lucky thirty-two for the Battle Stage where they will fight in double battles to win the chance to be named Top Coordinator."

"We got this, Torterra," Adrien whispered to the Pokeball in his hand.

"And to help us, let me introduce our judges," Marian continued again. "First is the Chief of the Pokémon Activities Committee, our head judge, Mr.Contesta."

"I look forward to watching all these coordinators doing their very best," the judge said as the spotlight shined down on him.

"Next is the President of the Pokémon Fan Club, Mr.Sukiza," Marian introduced.

"Remarkable," the next judge used his catchphrase.

"And, of course, Nurse Joy," Marian announced. "She is a very special guest all the way from the Kanto region."

The spotlight shined down on the pokemon nurse.

"It's an honor to be here and to help judge these amazing contestants, I called my sisters from Pewter City and Cerulean City."

Two more Nurse Joy seemed to materialize from behind her.

"We're very happy to be here," they all said at once.

"And last, but definitely not the least, our guest judge," Marian announces, making the crowd and contestants curious as to who it might be. "He is the youngest ever Top Coordinator of three regions and has graced us with his presence from all the way in Kalos. He's known as the White Wolf, it's Lyon Garden!"

A fourth spotlight shined down and Lyon was presented, making the crowd erupt into cheers.

Adrien was both shocked and not shocked at the same time. He figured that Lyon was here for a reason, but he suspected that it was for a guest performance, not as a judge. But he did smirk as he saw Lila pale a little at the sight of one of the people that she lied about.

"Ladies and gentlemen, coordinators of all ages," Lyon says. "I hope to see plenty of creativity, skill, passion, and most of all, I want to see good sportsmanship. I wish you all the luck in the world, but I will still tell you the cold hard truth about everything you and your pokemon do."

Adrien chuckled under his breath. Lyon would always be Lyon, and that meant that the Ice Prince, which all of their friends called him, would come out every now and again.

"The performance stage will be divided into three separate stages," Marian announced as all three male judges went to a separate stage with one of the Nurse Joy's. "Blue, green, and red. And the performances will be happening simultaneously. Let's get this first round started!"

The crowd cheered. In the locker room, the three first contestants were called out for each of the stages.

Adrien certainly got the meaning of the three stages. It was an extra challenge to be able to do a proper performance when there were two others happening at the same time. It was all about being able to focus on what you were doing and not get overwhelmed.

As the performances started and coordinators showed off their skills, Adrien definitely saw a few that would be his main competition. Such as when Luka took his turn on the blue stage, he did a very enchanting performance with his Sunflora and ghost-type Oricoro. As Marinette has told him, Luka loves music and almost always includes sound in his performances. And as he heard the sound and saw the glowing musical notes of Luka's performance, he knew that boy was going to be a challenging opponent.

There was also Nathaniel and Marc. They worked on a pokemon comic book together, so both of their creative and artistic skills showed in their performances. And it was also an amazing sight to see how Nathaniel had a rare Phione that he paired with his Piplup for his performance was stunning aquatic moves. And Marc was definitely no slouch as he gave an incredible display of nature with his Meganium and Cherubi.

But that was to say that there were not some fails as well.

Sadly, this list of fails included Nino. Adrien might have once called him a friend, but that certainly stopped when the guy started believing Lila's lies about Marinette. And by how badly he failed his performance, Adrien had to guess that Nino had probably taken some of Lila's "advice" about what he should do. It certainly was not a good look to the green stage judges when his Buizel went flying back from a Will-O-Wisp from his Drifblim was too powerful for the combo he was trying to do.

When Marinette got her turn on the red stage, Adrien was proven right when he had guessed that she would do a flawless performance. It was an amazing combination of her icy Amaura with her beautiful Vivillon. Especially when she had beautiful glowing snowflakes falling all over the stage with a combination of icy wind and silver wind followed by a morning sun.

Plus, it was certainly nice to see Lila so angry over Marinette having done nothing wrong in her performance one bit.

But even Adrien had to admit that even though he hated Lila as a person, she did pretty well during her own performance. Sure, her combo moves were a little predictable with the pokemon that she chose, but they still worked out in the end for her. But Adrien had a feeling that like the liar that she was, she was probably just using combo moves that she has seen in the past and using them herself but with different pokemon so that it is not obvious that she is just a copycat.

Then, Cat Noir was called for the blue stage. Adrien took a deep breath as he went out toward the stage. He passed Marinette on his way and she gave him an encouraging hug. He knew that Lyon was the judge for the blue stage along with the main Nurse Joy guest judge from Kanto. But he knew that Lyon would not judge him any easier just because they were friends. If anything, he'd be judged harder since Lyon knows how hard he had trained for this.

"And next on the blue stage is the talk of the Grand Festival," he heard Marian announce. "A masked coordinator that has been taking the contest world by storm. The pokemon contest prodigy himself, Cat Noir."

There was loud cheering as he ran out there and pulled out his pokeballs.

"Torterra, Togekiss, claws out," he threw their pokeballs into the air with his signature catchphrase.

With the star sticker on both the pokeballs, both of the pokemon came out in a swirl of stars. Most would doubt using a pokemon as big and tough-looking as Torterra for the Performance Stage, but Adrien was not most people.

Togekiss lands gracefully on the tree of Torterra's shell. There was a reason why Togekiss were known as some of the most graceful pokemon in the world.

"Togekiss, sky attack. Torterra, leaf storm," Adrien commanded.

Togekiss shined with a white aura as it slowly floated into the air. But at the same time, Torterra's tree let out its storm of leaves and green wind. Since Togekiss was right on the tree, as it flew into the air, the storm swirled around it and followed it. The leaves and window giving off an incredible light that was a result of the combo of the light of the sky attack with the flow of the leaf storm. Togekiss then flew higher into the air.

"Safeguard," Adrien commanded.

Togekiss then unleashed the blue and sea green force field that the protection move grants. It caused the sky attack and the leaf storm to disperse in a gorgeous flash of light.

Lyon and Nurse Joy both looked impressed by how he so effortlessly made a beautiful start to his performance.

"Torterra, sunny day. Togekiss, aerial ace," Adrien commanded.

Torterra's tree glowed with sunlight as it then threw a ball of light into the air. It headed right toward Togekiss as it was surrounded by streams of white energy as it flew around to use its move. The sunny day move was hit by Togekiss, resulting in a bright flash of light.

And the crowd and judges and fellow contestants gasped as Togekiss emerged from the light. The aerial ace and sunny day had merged together and had created a stunning rainbow trail that followed it as it flew around the stage. It was one of the most stunning things ever seen in a contest in ages.

Togekiss then did an aerial twirl before landing right back on Torterra's tree and causing the rainbow trail to burst into rainbow-colored sparkles that fell all over the stage.

Adrien took a bow as his performance ended. The crowd and judges were all on their feet as they gave him a giant round of applause. Lyon caught his eye and gave him a look filled with pride and congratulations.

"I don't think I have ever seen a performance like that," Lyon says, doing his judging. "A true mastery of both the power of a Torterra and the elegance of a Togekiss. Truly the best performance I have seen in a long time."

"It was indeed incredible," Nurse Joy added her judging. "To combine two pokemon so different from each other and making them work in such harmony really is a breathtaking piece of art."

Adrien could not be prouder of himself as he returned Torterra and Togekiss to their pokeballs and then started to walk back to the locker room. He was about halfway there when Marinette basically tackled him with a hug.

"I have never seen anything like that," she practically yelled in excitement. "You're Torterra was so well-trained and Togekiss was beautiful. I will never know where you get your time to train performances like that, but that was so awesome."

Adrien chuckled at the enthusiasm of his friend.

"Thanks, Marinette," he said. "I loved your performance as well. Those snowflakes were such works of art and they were almost like fairies floating around the stage."

Marinette blushed at the compliment.

"Thanks," she smiled. "I knew that ice moves and flying-type moves are usually a good mix, so when you add in the light from the silver wind, it creates the snowflakes."

"I just know that I will see you in the finals," Adrien grinned at her. "I may not want to beat you, but I'm going to."

"In your dreams, kitty," Marinette giggled as she knew that it would be one hell of a showdown.

"Get your hands off of Lila's man, Mari-brat," a female voice was heard.

"And, here we go again," Marinette groaned.

Marinette turned around as Adrien looked at who was yelling. It seems that Alya was as much of Lila's attack Growlith now as she always seems to be since the liar showed up in their lives. And it looked like Lila was fake crying behind her while Nino was trying to comfort her.

"Uh... who are you," Adrien asked.

Now, Adrien had done some voice acting for a few movies that his dad wanted him to do. So, he was a pretty good actor. Adrien might know who Alya is, but Cat Noir has never met her before.

Alya looked at Adrien, smiling at him. But he could still see the rage in her eyes over something that Lila probably lied about. This was probably about the lies about him dating Lila with the liar probably also throwing in some other lies to make Marinette look even worse.

"Oh, I guess Lila never mentioned me," Alya said. "I'm Alya, your girlfriend's best friend."

"Uh... And who is..." Adrien tried to reveal Lila as a liar.

"Oh, don't worry about lying to protect her," Alya interrupted him, proving that they were right about how Lila would lie her way out of Cat Noir saying that he did not know her. "But I should warn you that this girl that you're talking to is nothing but a giant bully."

"Excuse me," Adrien had to stop himself from snapping at Marinette's former best friend.

"She is nothing but a bully, liar, and cheat," Alya glared at Marinette. "She is always bullying Lila and trying to steal her pokemon. She always calls Lila a liar when she is no such thing. Plus, she drugs all her pokemon to make sure her performances are good. Plus, she steals Lila's contest ideas. So, get your hands off of Lila's boyfriend, Mari-brat."

"You know, Luka used to tell me that you're heart song screamed that you were a bad friend," Marinette crossed her arms. "I did not believe him, but I will never doubt him ever again since you have ditched me for a liar."

"SEE," Alya yelled as she looked at Adrien and pointed at Marinette as if she had just been proven right. "She just called Lila a liar. She is a total bully."

"Well, she obviously is..." Adrien was interrupted again but by a different person this time.

"Hello, kitty," Lyon says as he approached the group.

"Wolfie," Adrien was immediately back in a good mood as he saw his friend.

"I have a reward for you for such an incredible performance," Lyon said.

Before Adrien could ask, he was suddenly kissed by Lyon. But the shock soon wore off as he melted into the kiss.

Marinette looked ready to burst in excitement as her ship has finally sailed. But she did now owe Luka a batch of his favorite caramel and chocolate scones since he had bet her that the two would get together at the Grand Festival while she thought it would happen after it. But she did not care.

Alya looked ready to burst in anger. Lila looked like she wanted to either cry more fake tears or just throw a monster tantrum. Nino just stood there with his mouth hanging open.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF ARCEUS ARE YOU DOING," Alya screamed.

That made them break apart from the kiss. But Lyon just put his arm around Adrien's waist.

"I believe that I was kissing my boyfriend," Lyon said. "We've had to keep it secret because of the media, but we've been together a few months."

Adrien and Marinette both knew that he was lying, but they did not care. Besides, this was to both expose Lila and have an excuse to start dating.

"You've been cheating on your girlfriend for that long," Alya continued to scream.

Lila then chose to speak up, also choosing to fake cry.

"How could you do this to be, Noir," she cried to fake tears.

"Oh, so this is the girl that you were warning me about, Marinette," Adrien decided to join Lyon in his act. "The one that was going around and saying that I was dating her?"

"Yep, that's her," Marinette played along as well.

"Well, then," Adrien started, facing Alya. "As I was about to tell you, I do not have a girlfriend. I never have and I never will. As you can plainly see, I am gay and I have a wonderful boyfriend."

"Lila is not a liar," Alya continued to scream. "You're just a cheater that is trying to make her look bad."

"Wow, this girl is a piece of work," Lyon rolled his eyes.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Alya yelled at Lyon. "She was the one that gave you the inspiration to be the White Wolf and you trained her to be a coordinator. How could you betray her like this?!?"

"Her? Inspire me? As if," Lyon gave Alya an icy glare. "This is the first day that I have ever met this girl. I became the White Wolf because my sister used to call me a wolf because of how loyal I am to my friends and family. They also all call me the Ice Prince, so White Wolf was born out of my two childhood nicknames."

"You need better friends since Marinette is most definitely is right," Adrien said. "This Lila girl is, most definitely, nothing but a liar."

"Let's go before our IQ gets any lower from being around a liar and her loyal sheep," Lyon held Adrien's hand as the three of them left. "And if someone is accusing you of drugging your pokemon, Marinette, I will lend you my family lawyers to sue that liar for slander."

Marinette wanted to laugh so hard as she saw the look of horror on Lila's face as they passed. She did start laughing once they were out of earshot.

"This is turning into the best day of my life," Marinette looked so happy.

"You're welcome," Lyon smirked.

"Won't you now get accused of favoritism when Lila will probably spread that you two are 'together' as revenge," Marinette asked Lyon.

"Everyone saw Adrien's performance, so I doubt that will happen," Lyon was confident.

"Okay," Marinette accepted that. "Also, it is about time you two got together. Adrien's had a crush on you forever."

"MARINETTE," Adrien yelled as he blushed.

All Marinette did in response was smirk and giggle.