#he's lived such a long full life

[violent-kurumi]

Tonight, my mum has made the decision to put down her horse. Nakita, who is 38 years old and has been by my mum's side for over 20 years.

Despite it being the time for him to go, and knowing that it's the right thing to do- it doesn't make it easier.

I got a surprise day off work today and actually managed to get down to the horse paddocks to see Nakita, not knowing it would be the last. I gave him some pats, he knows we all love him- and he loves us.

He's been here for such a long time and tonight is his last. I wish I could be there right now, with him and my mum. Unfortunately, I can't get there so I'm just holding onto the fact that I got to see him at all today.

Rest In Peace tonight Nakita

1984-2022

You will be in our hearts forever 💕

[sharkylad]

Thinking about the fact that Mabel and Dipper didn't know they had two great uncles.

Yeah they are 12 and at 12 I had a shotty understanding of my family tree- But really? Nobody brought up their great uncle? Stanley? Especially since they'll be staying with his twin brother, Stanford?

Shermie never went to Stan's fake funeral, which to me means the twos relationship was strained on some level. If Shermie is older that means his view of Stan was poisoned in some way, that even as kids they weren't close. If the Shermie is younger then he never even got to meet Stan and all he knew about him was how he failed his family. Hell, people probably barely mentioned Stanley TO Shermie.

The fact that Stan had become a black stain upon the Pines family name makes me so vividly upset. Stanley faked his death and the family just- seemingly decided to strike him from the record. To pretend he didn't existed to spare themselves the sadness and shame.

Stanford and Shermie Pines. The only children worth mentioning of Filbrick and Caryn Pines.

It was never Stanford that was lost to the world. It was Stanley, ever since he had to leave New Jersy- it was always him that had to be struck from the record. Change his name, change his state, change his affiliations, destroy the remains of ghost that was Stanley Pines. Kill him so the family doesn't bring him up, doesn't ask questions, stops asking "Stanford" about his twin.

I just keep thinking about the fact that since the day he made one single mistake all the way up until Ford walks out of that machine- Stanley Pines was killed and did not exist. And Stan himself had no one to blame, he had to play the part in his own demise- He is the only one who ever knew Stanley was alive and has been for decades.

He lives in the multitudes of every personality he's ever taken, all in the hope that he himself can stop being Stanley Pines.

[my-darling-boy]

(TW injury description)

I am SO glad you asked I lose my mind over this man. Sidney Beldam! He’s most known for his miraculous recovery from a major facial injury sustained while he served as a young sergeant in the First World War. If you’ve read the Facemaker by Lindsay Fitzharris you might recognise him! Sources differ slightly about his story, so I’ve pieced it together as best I could. The photos below were from about February 1919!

Born in 1897, Sidney was about 17 living with his mother in Cambridge, England when the Great War commenced. While he didn’t enlist initially, he was soon conscripted when it came about in 1916 though thankfully he was in a non-combatant role driving lorries transporting soldiers to boats headed for France. It’s where he learned he enjoyed driving! However in April 1917, Sidney was transferred to the Machine Gun Corps and eventually rose to the rank of sergeant where only 7 months later, his life would change forever.

During the battle of Passchendaele, one of the muddiest most gruelling segments of the war, Sidney was on the frontlines when a shell burst, sending a shrapnel fragment tearing diagonally through his nose and the right side of his face. The young soldier collapsed face first into the mud which ended up saving his life as falling backwards would have caused him to choke on his own blood. For three days Sidney laid in a mangled heap floating in and out of consciousness while vermin scurried about his body and the other dead and wounded around him. No one would ever know the details of those agonising three days, but the trauma he experienced there left him with a lifelong phobia of rats and cockroaches. After the initial wounded had been cleared out, a wandering band of stretcher bearers discovered Sidney alive after one man touched him with his boot fully expecting him to be dead. Miraculously, he was still clinging to life.

The 19 year old sergeant was rushed down the line and then transferred to two different military hospitals where his wounds were hastily stitched in an effort to save his life before infection could spread. Unfortunately, closing the gap where he was missing flesh in his cheek caused his upper lip to be pulled into a sneer and a sunken depression formed where most of his nose was missing around the bridge. Still, he was lucky to be alive, which he later used to remark. Well he was luckier still as he would be transferred to Sidcup military hospital in Kent where he would become a patient under Sir Harold Gillies, the man often considered the pioneer of modern plastic surgery. When he arrived at hospital in 1918, his wounds were healed but his face still bore the heavy trauma of his experience. If you want to see his photographs upon arrival, I won’t post them here but if you search his name, the photos are everywhere. IMO they’re not graphic but I know it can upset some people.

Gillies went to work trying to restore Sidney’s face. This required him to reopen the wound in his cheek where a skin flap was grafted to allow his upper lip to return to normal. He also folded down a skin flap from his forehead in order to create a new nose. Behind his facade, a series of tubes and canals had to be inserted for proper sinus drainage and other unnamed functions. While his initial handful of surgeries did most of the work to reconstruct his face, Sidney underwent over 40 surgeries between 1918 and the 1930s, some reconstructive and some to evacuate the tubes behind the flesh, meaning the common cold was a routinely painful affliction for him. Gillies understood operations were traumatic for the men at Sidcup, especially since most required more than one, and so made a point about creating a lighthearted ward environment, one Sidney says was quite jolly with the staff doing everything they could to make them feel comfortable and dignified as possible. And while I thought the topmost photos were the most updated case study photos for his recovery, I stumbled upon another set from 1920 in the Faces of War by Andrew Bamji I have not seen posted anywhere!

And lads listen. In such a sweet little twist, while Sidney was still recovering from the bulk of his major surgeries, a local pianist by the name of Winifred volunteered to play for the resting servicemen, all of whom had some form of disfigurment or amputation. Carrying in her sheet music, she and Sidney laid eyes on each other for the first time and she later remarked how his smile instantly lit up the whole room! For them, it was love at first sight. The two were soon married, and although it was in the 1920s, I don’t have an exact year for this. This most likely came after Sidney was finally discharged from service in 1921. There is a photo of their wedding and y’all look how SWEET!!

Between his initial surgeries and army discharge, Gillies asked if Sidney would be his personal chauffeur, an offer he took up quickly as he loved driving from his time with lorries during the war. One somewhat humorous account tells of Gillies—who was a bit scattered at times—asking Sidney to renew his driver’s license as the surgeon left it until the last day to take care of; Sidney in a rush waited in a long line at the county hall before jumping the queue and begging the administrator to expedite his employer’s license as it was needed to drive him to the hospital the next day. The man refused, even for a surgeon to get him to his patients. Sidney went to another staff member who was friends with Gillies and begged him the same. The man cheerily agreed but was still in need of a signature from the stubborn administrator who again refused... at least until he found out Harold Gillies nearly won a golfing championship, at which point he took Sidney to his personal office to expedite the license as he was happy to do business for a skilled golfer (apparently saving people’s lives doesn’t matter as much??). A no doubt perplexed Sidney was finally able to get back to the hospital on time!

After his army discharge and most likely about the time of his marriage, Sidney moved back to Cambridge where he worked for the council as a rent collector. He was so well liked, apparently even from the people he collected from, that he soon worked his way to Housing Manager for Cambridge. About this time, he had a daughter, Pam. Every account I read of him, people gush about how sweet he was. His wife recalls how Sidney was always adored by all his family and friends. His granddaughter Marilyn McInnes in an interview said, “He was the most warm and optimistic and loving man. I adored my grandfather, I was constantly on his lap as a small child. I never noticed anything funny about his face, I guess I thought all grandads looked like mine.”

Sadly, Sidney Beldam passed away from cancer at about 80 years old in 1978. But considering the man was given 6 months to live and ended up living for 60 years more surrounded by a large and loving family, I’d say he certainly had a full life. There is a picture of him and his wife in the 60s and they are absolutely charming!!

But anyway that’s me done rambling I’ve a massive crush on him. His story makes me genuinely happy to tell and I’m so glad you asked!

[hopeswriting]

tsuna is the patron saint of the mundane, of the normal and common place, of the average and unimpressive. he's the unshakable believer of that being enough in and of itself, of that being fulfilling and fundamental to achieve happiness. and he's the unyielding protector and defender of the beauty and love and kindness within the ordinary, of the holy and divine and sacred within it, and of them being worth fighting for.

tsuna's the guy who makes the ordinary extraordinary from the sheer way he holds it so very close to his heart like it's the most precious thing in the world, and it's the thing about him i, for one, love him most for

[doverstar]

actually I love Tentoo and he is the Doctor and it was the only ending for Rose that worked and it is a huge gift to be able to have the man she loves grow old with her, they were always heading for that, y'all be quiet. I 100% understand the angst but it's okay, they're okay, good ending-

[clowndensation]

it's like. louis attempted to tell this story to daniel the first time, broke down, and attacked him before he could finish it.

and then decades later he's convinced himself that it was leaving the story unresolved that's holding him back from living his life fully now. so he invites daniel back again. and louis is sitting poised and put together, confident in his ability to recite his history in a pretty, poignant, neat little narrative that will resolve all the guilt and yearning and emptiness inside of him. that if he can just tell a compelling, satisfying story, maybe it will actually be that, and not the life he lived through, with all the pitfalls of his own failures lurking inside.

and then season 1 ends with him once again being forced to confront that the story he wants to imagine and the life he actually lived aren't the same thing. the boundaries around his narrative are shredded and he's left exposed, and subsequently able to face his past for the first time since that original interview. and you think, you think, "well this is it. they've crossed the event horizon. there's no use hiding the truth anymore, not after it's come flooding out into the open like this"

and then season 2 opens. not only is it back to the original, practiced distance, we now have armand literally enforcing that distance. a man sitting at the table who's interjections must be disregarded, an intentional interruption to the flow of the story. he doesn't exist to aid or add detail, he exists to distract louis when he gets too deep in the story. the only time we do get louis allowing any deep truth to come out is when armand leaves the room.

it's like. louis wants a story that's true, and the truth is what he's convinced will leave him satisfied. armand wants a story that will satisfy louis, to the extent louis will accept it's true.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Dean is such a paradox for me because on the one hand, I have been actively triggered by him in the show, there are moments where, intentionally or not, the writers managed to create a portrayal of manipulation and abuse and control issues that it sets off actual alarms for me. And on the other hand, I would not have him any other way. There is something — not comforting, that’s too soft a word — about knowing where Dean’s actions stem from, having seen and learned all that we do about his childhood neglect and parentification and the trauma he goes through repeatedly in the show, and that he doesn’t come out clean. He comes out a goddamn mess who ends up hurting the people around him in reaction to his own pain!

There’s a reality there that’s. Almost nice, actually. Distressing to watch, but it is a fucking mess, it’s a good mess! He’s got zero healthy coping skills and a healthy relationship with say, his brother, is terrifying because it leaves him open to abandonment!

I’m not sure I’m wording this correctly. There is a way to be a good abuse victim. Take the pain, martyr yourself on it, and then, even if you have no support or idea how to, then you have to become a Good Person who never hurts anyone the way you have been learning to your entire life. Simply toss everything that shaped you out the door and emerge a saint with a tragic backstory. And Dean is not that. And that’s so fucking good. Everything that he has gone through continues to effect the way he treats the people around him, and he can’t fight the behaviors he might recognize as harmful because he also sees them as protecting him (or protecting Sam by keeping Sam with him.)

And sometimes, idk. It feels good to see a guy who didn’t heal the “right way.” Who mostly didn’t heal at all, just keeps the wound open because it’s easier that way.

[wttcsms]

horribly short summary of what im trying to accomplish here, but if you were to read a fic featuring character, a soldier honorably discharged and is officially off the battlefield and yet he can’t seem to shake off the war from clinging to his body, and he’s basically a bit of a mess and feels incapable of returning to ordinary life and there’s you, the sweetest thing in the whole world, and he keeps trying to tell you he’s no good and you’re there to help him with everything (and it kills him a bit, to see you wasting your time to help him, and it kills him because he feels like he shouldn’t be the type of person who needs help) and !! just slowburn and falling in love and just read the tags for the vibe ok, who would it be for

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Akai Shuuichi isn't afraid of heights. Like any sane person, however, he dreads the fall.

Though he questions his sanity. Because try as he might to stay away from the edge, it calls to him. Staring into sweet oblivion sends shivers down his spine, the uncertainty of his fate a thrill like no other. Most days he trusts in himself, his ability to walk the razor's edge, but he's fallen before. And it hurt.

Of course, pain is just a part of life he's learned to live with. In his line of work, people get injured all the time. And if you can't handle that, you have to be very lucky to make it out alive. For the longest time, death wasn't an option.

(Now, it wouldn't be so bad.)

So he steadied himself, got smarter, hardier. Better at avoiding situations that result in pain. And better at shutting it out, too, when it did appear, in order to keep going.

Why, then, does his chest ache and burn?

It's quite simple.

Layers and layers of ice, degrees of separation in place precisely to protect him from pain like this, melted through by Rei's blazing heat.

What a stupid thing he's done, to get attached again.

He could've tried to resist, at the start. Before things had gone too far. Before he got to know Furuya Rei.

But maybe, by then, it was already too late. In truth, he probably doomed himself years ago, when he accepted Scotch's offer of companionship. It brought Bourbon into his orbit, and the man's never been any less than doggedly persistent. Once Shuuichi let him in, he was never going to escape unscathed.

Shuuichi let him get too close, and got burnt as a result. Could see it coming, too, for the longest time. But how was he supposed to escape Rei's brilliance? His touch, devastatingly kind? It would be like trying to block out the sun - an exercise in painful impossibility.

So he's stopped trying, and embraced the wildfire that is Rei. Of course he burns, it's his nature.

(There's some things Shuuichi will need to reevaluate about his own, now that he has time. Because he certainly never thought of himself as a masochist, and yet, despite the pain, he knows one thing for certain: he wouldn't want things any other way.)

(Not one that is available to him, at least.)

Thus, he resorts to clinging to the vestiges of patience and composure he has cultivated for years to keep working through the situation with a cool head.

To do what is right.

He's putting back together what he tore apart, unwittingly, some three years ago now. Their struggle is over. They deserve to rest and recover, nurse their wounds - together.

It doesn't matter that he feels like he's bleeding out. He's used to patching himself up, after all.

And he's glad that he can do this for his... friends. The term invokes a foreign, gentle joy. They're no longer team mates, no longer allies, no longer forced together by circumstance. That's in the past, now. They stick to each other by choice, these days. That makes them friends, right?

He's happy for his friends.

Shuuichi pours himself another glass of scotch.

.

He should've picked a different hotel than his family.

Rather, his family should've really looked into a permanent residence already, considering Masumi has decided she doesn't want to go back to Britain. It's not like mother could refuse, after all the things his little sister did for her - not least of which, coming clean to Shiho and convincing her to share the APTX antidote, when all was said and done.

They're certainly not lacking in money, and Shuuichi's sure the Hanedas have connections that would make finding a flat, or even a house, possible, even on short notice.

Then again, Masumi told him they've been living in a hotel for more than half a year - maybe they've simply grown used to the comforts. It's not for him, but he's rarely seen eye to eye with mother.

Regardless, none of this excuses banging at his door at seven in the morning, on the dot.

"Shuu, are you up yet?"

Well, if he wasn't, he surely would be, now. Years undercover have left him a light sleeper out of necessity - it's a habit he won't be able to break for quite a while, even if he wanted to.

Still, the splitting headache and nausea make him consider playing dead. He doesn't feel much better than it, in any case.

Another set of knocks shakes his door. He loves his sister, and her determination is one of her best traits. But some of these days, it's also highly inconvenient.

"One moment."

He drags himself off the barstool, checks the mirror. Can almost hear Rei telling him he looks like death warmed over. Roughly two hours of sleep half-draped over the hotel room bar certainly didn't do him any favours.

He buttons up his shirt in an attempt at modesty, combs back his hair roughly. Part of him wants to send Masumi away - she's idolised him for too long. His little sister doesn't deserve to have the illusion of composure shattered, shouldn't have to see him, like this.

But she told him, at her birthday party, trying alcohol for the first time in their family home, under his watchful eyes. Always direct, but, as it turned out, even more so when tipsy:

'When all of this is over, I want my brother back. Just...you, however you are.'

If Shuuichi waits for a time where he feels ready to talk to her, won't stain her merely by existing in proximity, they'll never get to meet at all.

(He can't have that. He's missed too much, already.)

So he drags himself to the door, dishevelled, morning breath and all. Opens it a crack.

"Morning." If his voice is a little rougher than usual, there's nothing he can do about it.

Masumi pushes the door wide open so she can step in, giving him a wide berth. Inspects him head to toe, worry clear in her scowl and the wrinkle of her nose.

"...is this a bad time?", she asks, a glint to her eyes as she notices the half-empty bottle of scotch on the bar's counter. She can't help it - a detective through and through, and not good enough at feigning nonchalance yet. The evidence at the crime scene is surely forming a rather damning picture - he really should have put the bottle back into the bar before letting her in.

She plops down on the small sofa, makes herself comfortable while he opens the window. That should at least give them some relief from the smells accumulated overnight in the room.

"No. You're just here early. Is something the matter?"

He doesn't bother with pleasantries on principle, but at this hour he finds himself even less inclined. Besides - she wouldn't be here this early if it wasn't important. At least Shuuichi dearly hopes she has more sense than that.

Masumi looks down at the floor, a little guilty. He settles on the barstool and waits for her hesitation to blow over. Must really be looking like shit, if he's managed to curb her usual enthusiasm.

"I was going to ask for a favour, but I'm really not sure-"

He gives her an unimpressed look, from up upon his perch. It's a little too early to beat around the bush.

"Masumi." A single word, aimed to cut her off with calm precision. "How do I help?"

He might not be feeling well, but he's a professional - he's worked in worse conditions, for less important reasons. He'll drag himself out of his slump, if she needs him.

"You don't have to. It's silly." She gives him a sheepish smile, fangs and all.

"That's for me to decide, once you let me know what you need. So?"

She steadies herself, looks up at him, and sighs.

"For context, it's been months now, but Ran's still down about the whole Shinichi fiasco. So, we've decided to surprise her with an outing, tomorrow night."

So far so good, although he doesn't see where that concerns him.

"It was gonna be just us girls, and I'm confident that between Ran and myself, we can handle anyone stupid enough to try and cause trouble. But you know how it is in Beika. There's always a risk."

He does indeed know how Beika has somehow overtaken Osaka in every single criminal statistic there is. If she didn't have friends here, he would suggest moving elsewhere. He hears Nagano is very lovely, all year 'round.

"So we were discussing if there's anyone we could bring for company. And, well-"

"Go on."

"Sonoko somehow - I'd really like her resources - caught wind that Okiya Subaru is back on 'vacation'. She might have suggested asking him to accompany us?"

Not entirely unexpected - miss Suzuki had taken something of a liking to him, for whatever reason. It's a testament to the improvement of his acting skills. Engaging with kids and teenagers is a far cry more difficult and involved than his cover as Rye, somehow.

"...she may also be under the inaccurate impression, you, well, he could be a potential match for Ran."

At least his sister's on the right page there. That's not happening, never in a thousand years. Even if Ran wasn't barely more than half his age, she's too innocent, selfless, kind. If something like love exists in his heart, it couldn't ever be for someone like her - not again.

"You want me to decline the offer, then?" Simple enough.

Masumi shakes her head.

"No, Sonoko's right. It's always good to have an extra pair of eyes, and I'd love to have you with us. Been too long since we last spent time together. Besides, I don't think Ran is even interested in you - or anyone, really, after that disaster..." It takes him a moment to place the bitterness in her voice, uncharacteristic as it is.

"And that is unexpected?"

"No. I get it, she needs time. But she's miserable, and I want her to cheer up already..." Masumi mumbles the latter half to herself, subdued. Shuuichi's not sure he was supposed to hear that, but, well. He did.

"You'll get through to her eventually."

Good back-up gets one out of the toughest of scrapes, he can attest to that. If his sister is determined to get Ran to feel better, her persistence will make it come true, eventually.

"I sure hope so." She smiles up at him.

He finds his lips quirking up in response. "You focus on helping her. I'll cover your back."

He's sure he'll manage not to indulge miss Suzuki's delusions too badly. Rei often let him know how off-putting he can be, after all - finally a good use for his skills.

"Thanks, Shuu."

She gets up. Stops a couple of steps away from him, hovering uncertainly. When he raises an eyebrow, he can almost see the 'ah, fuck it', and then she's hugging him. Shuichi pats her back, a little awkwardly.

"Any time", he says and means it. "If there's anything else..."

She tenses next to him, but shakes her head.

"No, it's...I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Well, now he is a little worried. He'll need to keep an eye out for whatever's troubling her.

"Alright." He won't push her; she'll tell him if she needs to.

Masumi lets go and scurries off, fleeing for the door.

"Text me the time and place, I'll be there."

"Will do. See you tomorrow." She nods and waves her goodbye. He follows to lock the door behind her, the bolt sliding shut with a satisfying clack.

There's just one small problem. He currently doesn't have Okiya's get-up. And Okiya doesn't live in this hotel.

After dropping him off yesterday, Shuuichi had planned not to bother him for a couple of days. Well. That plan has just been tossed out the window rather unceremoniously.

It can't be helped. With a bit of apprehension, he calls Scotch.

.

Under the cover of darkness, Shuuichi scales the garden wall, dropping into the Kudo's backyard without issue. The alarms have been disabled according to the schedule he provided.

He slips in through the unlocked backdoor, shutting it behind himself. The security systems of the place are too familiar; he reactivates them on autopilot. Better to avoid unpleasant surprises, wherever possible.

Clearly, Scotch had a similar idea - Shuuichi can barely see his outline in the darkened kitchen, but the revolver he gave to him gleams in the dim light. It's nice to see he's making good use of it.

Sharp blue eyes scan him.

"The passphrase?"

Nostalgia steals the air from his lungs. Between unsafe safe houses, a trigger-happy Bourbon, and working with people best described as shapeshifters, they needed a way to identify themselves, and quickly, when they returned home.

It's been years since he's last spoken it, but the passphrase comes to him as easily as breathing.

"Eat, drink, and be merry..."

Scotch had suggested the words, years ago. The motto he lived by, when not on the job, in order to not lose his sanity. The motto he'd imposed on Rye, as well, when they became partners.

A cheshire grin in the night.

"...for tomorrow we die." Scotch finishes their creed, lowers the revolver.

"Welcome home, Rye."

.

It's always been easy to find comfort by Scotch's side. Between the greeting, making gyoza together - which goes much better than their attempts years ago - and watching mindless action movies with a glass of bourbon, ripping apart impossible stunt work, it's difficult not to fall into a simulacrum of the fragile peace they'd carved out for themselves, away from organisation work.

Only this time, the peace is real.

Despite his apprehensions about meeting Scotch, Shuuichi's glad he's here - travelling with him is one thing, but he didn't realize just how much he's missed downtime with his ex-partner. Scotch's sharp intellect and easy-going attitude make for pleasant company.

It's exactly what he needs to unwind.

Which is why he doesn't see how Scotch has him cornered until it's too late.

.

The neighbourhood of the Kudo manor is quiet, at night.

As they head out onto the balcony for a smoke in the moonlight, their conversation turns to hushed whispers. Mellowed by an evening of pleasant company and several drinks, the world sharpens into focus between them, illuminated by the glow of their cigarettes.

Standing would be too visible, so they sit on the stone floor, side by side, like so many times before.

"Hey, Akai?" His name, not his monicker. A chilling sense of dread creeps into his chest. Please, no.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Shuuichi closes his eyes. He can take a good guess where this is going. Thus, he takes a deep drag from his cigarette, and braces himself.

"You know. For letting me meet Zero."

He'd been hoping against hope they could avoid the topic altogether. After all, they've made it several hours without addressing it. But unfortunately, it seems his luck has run out.

(Still, having seen Scotch in good spirits all evening makes it worthwhile, just a bit.)

Maybe they can just move along quickly.

"Think nothing of it."

"No. Akai, listen. I know you had to pull some strings to make it happen, and I want you to know I appreciate that. We appreciate that - even if Zero is pissed. First thing he did was slap me; told me I was late."

Scotch laughs, low and sweet in the night air.

They both know he let himself get slapped - Rei tends to telegraph too much, when he's angry, and surely it's even more obvious for someone so intimately familiar with him. The thought stings. And yet, through it, Shuuichi can't help the help the small smile creeping on his face. That sounds like Rei, all right. He would've liked to see it - someone else the target of his anger, for once.

Scotch seems happy to just bask in the memory, but Shuuichi's curiosity has been piqued.

"Did you manage to resolve your issues?" After all, that was the goal. If they didn't, none of this was worth it - several hoops he jumped through, bureaucratic and personal, for nothing.

"It's tentative, so far, but I have faith we'll get there. We've been through too much, together, at this point. This won't break us... I hope."

Shuuichi is reminded painfully of the bits and pieces he's heard of their childhood adventures. Fishing and fighting and being friends. It must be nice, to have found love so early in life. To get to keep it, too.

"I don't think so, it's clear how much he missed you. I'd be surprised if he ever let you go again." It leaves him a little cold, to no longer be the focal point of Furuya's burning determination. Chasing him was always just a means to an end for getting to Scotch. And now his wish has been granted. Shuuichi hopes it's worth it.

When he smiles, Shuuichi is sure this is Hiro, the person closest to Rei. It burns, but at the same time he finds himself glad that Scotch shines with such utter fondness when he talks of Zero. That's what Rei deserves, after all.

"I hope so. I don't intend to leave again, anyways. Every single day when I was hiding, I missed him."

It's a quiet, gentle admission Akai isn't sure how to handle. All these emotions are a bit too much - he's not used to being thanked, unless it's with useless medals, and he's not used to being confided in. He supposes it's nice that Scotch trusts him enough to lay himself bare like this, nowadays. Still, he can't help but wish for the old times, when they were much better at keeping their feelings out of his face. He's already happy for them; isn't that enough?

Scotch turns to look at him, blue eyes burning bright in the moonlight.

"And I missed you, too."

Cold wind tousles his hair. Shuuichi stares at Scotch.

If he didn't know what to say before, he certainly doesn't do so now. How can Hiro say that so easily? It's too personal. It's one thing to have his little sister say it, who only ever saw an idealized version of him to look up to. For Scotch to say this, despite knowing what he did, who he is - it makes Shuuichi nauseous.

Because he can tell Scotch is being painfully genuine.

'I missed you too', burns in his throat. But too many conflicting emotions keep it tightly sealed. His breathing becomes difficult, requires a conscious effort to take air in, hold, breathe out. Repeat.

And Scotch isn't even done yet.

"Akai. I have to get used to that name now, huh? Feel free to call me by my name, too, if you want."

With how his mind is spinning, it's difficult to figure out what he wants at all, besides for Scotch, no, Hiromitsu to stop. He's ripping apart the bubble of warm nostalgia that was enveloping them so nicely, leaving them exposed to the present. The night is cold and uncertain, without its protection.

"...you haven't been meeting my eyes all evening. Please, Akai - let me know what's wrong. We couldn't, back then, but I'd like to be your friend, now."

It's the kindest smile he's seen on Sc- Hiromitsu yet, and it's too much. Shuuichi has to avert his eyes, can't keep looking at his former partner, all earnest focus placed on him. A shiver runs downs his spine.

There's few things he wants more, in life.

"...we are", he manages to tear from his aching throat, choked up with emotion. This is a bad idea. He's not supposed to get attached. He's just making the same mistake, over and over again. He should've kept quiet.

(If he'd told Akemi how he truly felt, would it have mattered?)

"Then why do you seem miserable, whenever you look at me? Why do you try to avoid me? Don't think I didn't notice."

Of course he did, always too sharp. So helpful, on a mission, and occasionally in private too; he'd know they were getting sick before they really felt it, start treatment with soup and tea early. Taking care of them, even then.

"It's got nothing to do with you, it's-" 'me', he wants to say. Fear and bitter envy, the brunt of which Hiromitsu really doesn't deserve to face. So Shuuichi's been trying to avoid them, and, by extension, his former partner.

He manages to catch himself in time, before he gives voice to feelings that can't be unsaid.

"Yes?" Hiromitsu's voice is calm and patient and Shuuichi hates him for the attention he's paying to him.

He manages to correct his course in time, if barely.

"You and Rei deserve some time alone, now that you're finally back together." It's close enough, only a partial lie. They're so important to each other, and he truly wants them to make up. He'd only be in their way.

"Rei, hm?" Hiro smiles at him. Of course he picked up on Shuuichi's blunder.

He's had just about enough of being cornered. Gets up and is about to head inside and maybe hide in the attic for a while. The door can be barricaded from the inside. Hiromitsu rises after him, puts a hand around his wrist in a vice grip.

"Let. Go." It takes all his patience to not just break Scotch's arm and leave.

"I'm sorry for pushing you, Akai. Please, give me half a minute more."

Unfortunately, his best glare stopped working on Scotch several years back. Shuuichi looks at his wristwatch, starts counting down. As soon as Hiromitsu starts talking, he knows his time is better spent focusing on what he has to say, instead.

"Look at me, Akai, and listen up. You can't get between the two of us. I've offered you a place at my side years ago, and Zero... well, he's come around. The offer still stands. It wasn't conditional, but if it was, you would've earned your place easily, by now. I owe you my life, and so does Zero, several times over."

"We did what we had to, and you did the same for me." For the longest time it was that simple, their relationship purely transactional, because Bourbon could only ever deal in exchanges. A favour for a favour.

It's long since stopped working that way, and Shuuichi knows it.

"Oh, please. None us had to do anything more than cooperate on missions, and yet we all chose to do so anyways. You're one of us, Akai. Stop fighting it."

And he wants to, desperately so. The thought of spilling his rotten insides for them to see has him sick to his stomach, and yet, how much worse could it be than what they've already witnessed?

Hiromitsu squeezes his arm, a burning brand of human connection. It staves off the cold, just a little.

When he speaks again, it's soft, but firm.

"You should've joined us for dinner, yesterday. Both of us missed you."

Shuuichi doesn't know what to say to that, too busy fighting his internal battles, but surely something shows on his face, because Hiro laughs at him.

"As amusing as it is to see you flush, no, that wasn't an invitation to a threesome."

...he isn't quite sure whether he's supposed to be relieved, or crestfallen, at this.

"I didn't think-"

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't." Hiromitsu's smile is too sly and knowing. It's a testament to the fact Shuuichi's spent too much time with Furuya, because wiping it off his face in a fight sure sounds appealing, right about now.

He's always been better at expressing himself through deeds rather than words, anyways.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't need to set the record straight. Zero's furious, by the way. Count yourself lucky that I'm the one breaking the news to you. He doesn't appreciate being set up on a date with his best friend."

Hiromitsu pauses, presumably to let that sink in. Shuuichi stares him down. That is supposed to be new information, how?

"Let me be perfectly clear: I love Zero."

He says it easily, with a sweet smile. It stings fiercely in Shuuichi's chest. By now, he thinks he knows what Hiromitsu is playing at, but unfortunately that knowledge doesn't prevent it from being an effective tactic.

(If this is how Hiromitsu treats his friends, he doesn't want to be his enemy.)

"He's my best friend, I love him like a brother. But he's family. Nothing more, nothing less."

There's a small pang of guilt at the relief that floods his system, but he needs it said explicitly to really believe it.

"You aren't a couple, then?"

Hiromitsu raises an eyebrow, as if to ask 'and why would that matter to you?' But thankfully he's done teasing, or Shuuichi really would need to break something, or rather, someone.

"No. I can see how you got the idea, but there's never been anything between us. Zero says you have a brother? Imagine we presumed the same about you two, just because you're close."

The confirmation lets him breathe more freely, even if it will need time to settle. His mind is still spinning, too many thoughts fighting for control. From this mess, of all things, his long-forgotten manners emerge as the failsafe. "Sorry."

Hiromitsu waves it off with a grin.

"I don't mind too much, we got excellent dinner out of it. Thank you for that, by the way. But do make sure to apologize properly to Rei."

Hiro winks at him, then straightens, looks him in the eye.

Squeezes his arm a final time, before he lets go.

"I mean it, Akai - you're our friend. And I hope you rest a little easier, knowing the truth."

Shuuichi does.

.

He's five minutes late to the requested location downtown - through little fault of his own, this time.

Masumi's text arrived a mere twenty minutes ago, and the things PSB liaison Akai Shuuichi might get away with, such as speeding, don't apply to the civilian Okiya Subaru (though that would admittedly be a very nice perk of the job).

He can hazard a guess why Masumi didn't send the details earlier as he drives past the building in question to find a parking spot - she probably didn't want to give him time to reconsider and back out.

Because she's dragging him to a goddamn karaoke bar, and, standing in the huddle of girls waiting for him, is Miyano Shiho.

His instincts tell him to cancel, to take up position on the rooftop bar across the street - it would provide easier surveillance options.

(But he's tried to protect Akemi from afar, and failed her, miserably.)

Besides, he promised, and he really does try to be better, these days.

So he smiles, all awkward and apologetic Subaru, as he joins them. It's going to be a long night.

(He's soothed by the smell of Rei's hypoallergic fabric softener clinging to the sweater he picked. Can't help but feel that there would be a certain appeal to sharing them, if Rei were open to the idea.)

.

The evening goes better than he imagined, all things considered, even if there's crying involved - as is often the case when he meets Mouri Ran.

It's a pleasant distraction, if nothing else.

He keeps an eye on Masumi all night to see what could possibly be bothering her, but as far as he can tell she's genuinely happy to spend the night with her friends. In fact, considering she told him how it had been too long since they'd last seen each other, she pays surprisingly little attention to him.

He prefers it this way.

(Although he would've liked to ask for her advice on how to apologise properly. Alas, this is probably not the right time, or place.)

.

Mostly he stays at their table, watching the girls' drinks and the crowd, occasionally giving guys who seem to consider chatting the girls up cheerful glares. Masumi made her wishes very clear, after all.

It's a good thing he talked to Scotch Hiromitsu yesterday. Enthusiasm permeates the bar, but unfortunately confidence doesn't equate to talent. Several of the loud, out of tune performances would've been torture with a hangover.

He finds himself humming along to the classics regardless.

As it is, it's almost pleasant. Sure, Shiho keeps ignoring him when it's just the two of them left at the table, but that's better than open hostility. Probably.

(It feels a little worse.)

.

Two hours in Sonoko ushers Ran to stay with Subaru rather conspicuously.

Smalltalk is stilted between them, lacking in common ground, and it doesn't really help that their connection is through the Kudo family, the memories of which she's here to escape for the night. She's polite as ever, but without the other girls as buffer, the conversation quickly runs dry.

Thankfully, the girls' singing distracts them soon enough. A cutesy pop song about moving on, dedicated to Ran.

She seems about ready to cry halfway through, and by the time they're done she's sniffling and trying to discreetly wipe her tears. Shuuichi gives her a handkerchief and pats her back rather awkwardly in an effort to try and soothe her. He hopes the girls will be back soon to take care of this. He's woefully underqualified to handle this kind of situation.

When they finally do get back, he plans to excuse himself, but before he finds a good time he's swept up in a group hug instead.

Turns out he might have misread the situation - what with Ran being overjoyed at her friends' continued support, and needing to express that, somehow. How exactly that translates into him also being included in their huddle is beyond his comprehension, but he's not going to struggle and cause a scene.

(It's kind of nice to see her smile again - gloominess doesn't suit her.)

.

It might've been a bit too much excitement for Ran, because around midnight she's almost falling asleep at their table. At this point, the rest of the girls declare their mission a success, and the focus shifts to trying to figure out how to get back in the middle of the night.

Shuuichi volunteers to drive them home.

It's crammed in his little Subaru, but the girls manage, and once he's dropped off Sonoko, things quiet down considerably.

Masumi makes him swear not to tell their mother how long they were out.

He agrees, of course, knowing he got up to much worse as a teen - back when he was still susceptible to peer pressure and living abroad in a fraternity, alcohol made him do very stupid things indeed to prove his worth.

If this is how Masumi chooses to defy their mother, he'll take it - she could be up to so much worse.

She's arranged to stay with Ran; thus, he's released from his services for the night. He watches as they help each other up the stairs, leaning in close, whispering and laughing to each other.

He would make an assumption, now, but Hiromitsu's words are still clear in his mind.

So for now, he refrains, and is simply glad they're supporting each other.

.

In the end, predictably, Shiho is the only one left in the car.

"Didn't dare to join us wearing your own skin, cousin?"

He shrugs. "Masumi requested Subaru."

"Well. At least you didn't creep on us from several buildings away. Baby steps." 'But progress, nonetheless', her small smile says.

He doesn't know why he says it. Maybe because it's late. Because Scotch Hiromitsu has chipped away at his protective tissue. Because it's Shiho.

"Staying away didn't save her." He doesn't need to say who - the same wound is carved into Shiho's heart, after all. And judging by the songs she chose to sing today, it still bleeds just the same.

She sighs, long-winded and too world-weary for a girl her age.

"No. No, it didn't. All it did was rob us of the time we had with her. Utter idiocy, in retrospect."

Shuuichi hums in agreement. Lost opportunities they'll never get back, all thanks to lies and the wish to protect her.

"I tried to push her away, you know? I was too involved - maybe, if she didn't know what I was doing, she could retain her innocence. Maybe she could even leave, one day, I'd hoped. But she clung to me stubbornly."

Never backing down from what she wanted, from those she loved. That's the women he fell for.

Shuuichi finds himself smiling, somewhat pained.

"She loved you dearly, to the bitter end."

He hands her the flip phone that has been his constant companion for almost a year now. Past the lockscreen waits Akemi's last message to him. With its P.S., asking him to protect her dear little sister, if the worst should come to pass.

He never got to reply to her, to promise that he would, of course he would.

It's short, so Shiho doesn't take long to read it. She attempts to hand it back, eyes glistening, but not crying.

Always composed, in front of him.

"Keep it."

It hurts to let go of it, but Shiho deserves to have assurance of Akemi's love, even in death.

(Unlike himself, who only ever lied to her.)

She looks up at him, uncertain, but what she reads on his face seems enough to convince her. She snaps the phone shut, cradles it to her chest.

Smiles grimly at him. "Thank you."

The rest of the car ride passes in silence.

They split up in front of the Kudo mansion.

"...I was planning to visit her grave on the weekend. You should come."

.

Shuuichi knows where Akemi's ashes have been laid to rest - he was the one to pay for her funeral, after all.

(Once upon a time, he'd dreamt of a future with her, of being family. Cruel irony, how that turned out to be true.)

Since her parents were never officially buried, and he hadn't been able to reach Shiho, he'd made the selfish decision to have Akemi's ashes stored in the Sera family grave.

He hasn't had the time to visit, yet - first, things had been too dangerous, then too busy, and by now, he's really just been unable to face her, alone. He's glad he doesn't have to, now.

Shiho sets down an incense stick, and some cut flowers - white gladioli. Shuuichi squats down next to her, puts down his flowers - lilies, also white - into the vase and lights the incense.

"Hey, sis. Look who I managed to drag along."

"Hello, Akemi." Sorry it took so long.

They stand, side by side, in silent prayer.

He's had days to prepare himself, to think about what he wants to say to her. But as he stands before her grave, all that's left is sorrow, a hollow in his chest where she should be.

(Filled with regret, and someone else. Jodie's right. He's a terrible partner.)

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth.

I'm sorry I left you behind.

I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.

I miss you.

The gentle smile when she talked about her little sister. The sweet blush when he'd kissed her hand. The way she'd awkwardly apologize for flipping the pancake she was making for breakfast into the sink. The ikebana arrangements she'd spend hours and hours on, decorating her flat. Her kind hands, mending his body and soothing his soul. The way the sunlight would turn her hair into gold.

A thousand small joys she gave to him, and all he had for her in turn were lies.

He doesn't remember the last time he cried - maybe as a child, when he fell and scraped his knee. It feels so far away.

His body doesn't remember how to, either - otherwise he surely would be, now.

How cruel. Even in death, he can't show her his honest feelings.

Shuuichi shows her cold comfort, instead.

Takes out a plastic evidence bag he requisitioned from the PSB, and places it on the altar as an offering. In it, the shattered scope of a rifle, splattered with its owner's blood. Gin's. It was found by his side, together with his Beretta, the instrument of his voluntary destruction. As the PSB forces had closed in on him, he'd chosen to kill himself, rather than surrender.

When Shuuichi lies awake at night, it irks him that Gin had a choice, at the end, where he took it away from so many others. He didn't deserve that kindness. A part of him is furious that he wasn't there to see his enemy's dying breaths, preferably through the scope of his rifle.

But it was probably for the best - if he'd been there, he's not sure he could've reigned himself in. Might've murdered Gin with his own two hands, and become the kind of monster he swore to hunt. (And if he's completely honest, there's another possibility: caught in a struggle with his enemy, he might have lost sight of his surroundings and slipped up. Facing Gin, that would've been a death sentence.)

Instead, and he's got the boy to thank for that, he was tasked with keeping their allies - Rei - alive and breathing. He can't help but feel like that matters.

I'm sorry I couldn't avenge you; you deserved better.

But he won't be making anyone miserable, anymore.

It's over, and they're still standing, in defiance of the bloodlust of their enemies. He's managed to keep one promise to Akemi, at least.

I'll continue to watch over her, if she lets me.

Shiho claps beside him, done with her prayer.

Thank you for everything.

The incense stick's stump turns to ash and scatters in the wind.

I hope your spirit can find peace, Akemi.

.

When he lights himself a cigarette to calm his mind, Shiho holds out a hand, wordlessly, expectantly.

He regards her with mild curiosity, but offers the pack regardless.

"What. You think I haven't done worse?"

She snatches his lighter, and with a hiss of flame, lights up her own cigarette.

"Akemi used to tell me to stay away from drugs, but I deserve this for bringing you here."

She takes a deep drag, managing not to cough. It's clear, from her posture and practiced ease, that it's far from her first foray into smoking.

"I hated you, you know? For the longest time. For playing with her, breaking her heart, leaving her behind, all alone. Leaving her to die."

It burns his lungs, to have his own thoughts voiced out loud, by Shiho of all people. But he deserves every cruel word dropped from her lips - she speaks nothing but the truth, after all. He needs to bear her judgement.

Shiho smiles, grimly. Doesn't look at him, focused on the grave instead.

"But not Akemi. She saw through you, and loved you still. Forgave you, even, because that's the kind of person she was."

A cold spring breeze plays with her hair. The sweater and cap protect him from the worst of it, but it still bites at his face, makes his eyes sting.

"I don't think I can ever be as forgiving as she was. You were, and still often are, an unrepentant jerk."

She turns to look at him, eyes as hard as steel. So familiar his eyes burn. He can't look away.

"But her death is not your fault."

It's cloaked in insults and pain. But it's an absolution he could never have asked for, one no one else could have given him. His breathing stops, then comes a little easier.

"Neither is it Kudo's. Did he ever tell you? He was there, watched her die. For the longest time, I blamed him for not saving her. He's brilliant when he puts his mind to it. Did he care so little, as to not even try?"

She shakes her head.

"It is a cruel thing to begrudge him for having witnessed her death. He was just a kid - small, powerless, afraid. Up against enemies that tried to kill him, too, only failed through sheer luck. I had to first be put into the same shoes to understand that."

As if she's not just a kid now, too. Neither of them should have gone through what they did, and yet it happened, has left them weathered and worn, tired beyond their years. They're still young - he hopes they can recover from the worst.

"I'm trying to tell myself it's not my fault either. She died for me, for us, trying to get us out of there. But I didn't know. She kept it from me, in case something went wrong. And I lie awake, going over conversations, wondering if I missed any signs. If I could've warned her or stopped her. If she could still be here, that way."

He's familiar with the spirals and hypotheticals, repeating the scenario over and over, to look for a way out. It never changes the facts.

"That kind of thinking gets you nowhere."

She gives him a sharp glare, a wordless threat to 'shut the fuck up'. He takes a step back, raising a hand in surrender.

"I know it's useless. Because she is dead, and no amount of analysing can bring her back. At least the one person who truly is at fault will not be a problem any longer. That's a small comfort."

She glares at the scope with barely concealed hatred in her eyes.

"And that's all there is. Akemi was proud and strong-willed - she chose her path. Not reaching out to any of us for help was a choice she made. I can't take away her agency in this matter."

Shiho smiles, pained and beautiful in the setting sun.

"The worst thing is that if she hadn't done what she did, I might still be a prisoner of the organisation. I'd like to think she didn't want to die to achieve it, but she'd be so happy to see me living in the sunlight, once more."

"She would be overjoyed." It's an obvious and simple truth he can't help but confirm.

Oh. Shiho's crying, now, quiet tears trailing down her cheeks, reflecting the sunlight in streaks of gold. It shaves years of her worn face, makes her look as young as she truly is.

He gives her a handkerchief, is glad to see her accept it. She wipes her face, smudging some of the make-up - he'll need to let her know before they return to the public. She doesn't usually like it when people can see past her composure. Shuuichi's pretty sure he, too, shouldn't be here to witness this.

But she doesn't hide from him, today, so he'll take all she gives to him, and treasure it.

"I brought you here because I'm trying to be better. I got a second chance at life, and I want to take it, all of it, for myself and for Akemi. But I won't be able to, if I hold on to useless grudges."

She looks at the handkerchief in her hands.

"You're a jerk, but you're not horrible. And you're trying to be better, too."

She holds out her hand.

"I want to get to know you, Akai Shuuichi. Maybe we could start with meeting for coffee?"

He waits for her to take it back, to reconsider.

She just looks at him expectantly, raises an eyebrow too when he doesn't comply immediately.

Shuuichi is many things, but he tries not to be a coward.

So he fights the vertigo, takes a leap of faith.

"I'd like that."

And shakes her hand.

.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost

[blackcathjp]

in eighth year, animagus harry unexpectedly transformed into a 3 month old black kitten.

the trio didn't understand why his animal form was so young, but he still had full capacity of his human abilities and magic. he roamed around the castle at night, avoiding other students and animals, but a group of slytherins took a liking to the cute little black kitten that lurked around the dungeons.

he visited the slytherins a few times a week, who set out water, food, and even toys for him. it was different being around them, far nicer than he expected - he was just a cute castle cat, not harry potter the savior. he hated being in the spotlight, but he didn't mind the adoration or pampering he received as a cat. he liked being cared for. he felt carefree and comfortable when they played with him, made him refreshed and relaxed the next day. he liked not having to think each day, be stared at, or live up to expectations.

maybe that's why he was a kitten. his magic sensed something, manifesting this form so he could feel like and be a child again. whenever he thought about that, he felt so much grief and sadness that his magic might be compensating for his childhood and teen years. on those days, it was easier to be in his cat form because he didn't have to think so much. and on those days, he found comfort in someone he least expected: draco malfoy.

draco was reluctant at first, deterred by a mysterious cat who seemed to understand him, purring or meowing at just the right moments as if they were talking. the cat hissed and placed paws on him whenever he said something self-deprecating, as if scolding him. he noticed how the cat politely refused others' attempts to pet him, but welcomed draco's affection, nuzzling and asking for more. it was strange that a cat would drag a blanket over to him when he so much as shivered, or nudge a goblet of water to remind him to drink.

he noticed a pattern: on the days harry potter skipped class, the kitten was found asleep in the middle of the day, curled up on draco's favorite seat in the common room. the next day, the cat was gone, but harry potter was there, softer and calmer, less twitchy and alert like he'd been days before. sometimes harry's hand would linger as he brushed against draco, reminding him of a soft cat tail wrapped around him.

eventually, it clicked.

the startling green eyes, the heart marking on one paw, the zigzag lightning marking on the other. it was unsettling to know the cat sleeping on his lap was harry potter all along, who's been secretly living among them the past few months, pretending. yet, he was thrilled to have his attention, to be his favorite, to have harry potter come back to him, every single time. it was such a heady thought, and now draco couldn't stop staring at harry potter, couldn't stop thinking about kissing him senseless.

"you're such an idiot, potter! you're a much better listener when you've got the whiskers on," draco accidentally blurted during an argument in potions.

harry's spoon clattered to the table. "what?"

"i know, you know," draco scrambled out, softer and quieter this time. "i won't tell anyone."

harry stared silently at him, before glancing away, blush high on his cheeks. "how did you know?"

"i didn't at first. but i must say, it's such a classic move of yours, following me around even when you're, well."

"you seemed really sad and lonely," harry whispered as he resumed his stirring. "but you became happier and kinder when i was like that. i felt really comfortable and safe around you, not like when i was with the others, and it made me like you. a lot."

"oh," draco whispered back, brain short-circuiting. "oh. well, i quite like you too."

to the slytherins' disappointment, the kitten's visits slowly dwindled down, along with draco's presence in the dorm. it was common to find him in the corridors, the library, or the lake, sometimes with the black kitten, but most of the time with a smiling, happy harry potter.

[grimmweepers]

life comes at you so fast

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Group Counseling for previous Dungeon Lords-

Mithrun and Thistle get caretakers and do fucking hobbies or smth

Laios gets a dietitian

And Marcille is just kinda there

[alliebirb]

finally came up with an older atem design ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_

(+ ko-fi dono sketch for @kahluasin)

[swatato]

I refuse to believe a damn thing I’m seeing thanks <3

[laugtherhyena]

Okay so maybe the wrinkly split head devil isn't the Aging devil itself, since it being called aging definitelly feels like a mistranslation and and public safety wanting to erase old age by sacrificing the younger generation fits the point the chapter is trying to get across much nicer than if the devil was aging itself (+ if you think about it for 2 seconds erasing aging as a whole is a terrible fucking idea since no one will be able to grow anything anymore and people will be stuck as babies and kids forever whereas erasing old age should just make people not age past adulthood and probably cause people who are already elderly to just dissapear on the spot)

But that doesn't mean i'm keeping Cherryboy the exact same because if old age specifically is enough to achieve primal fear level then aging as a whole has gotta be one too. So hooray! someone's getting a slight revamp in the future :)

[cator99]

I always get detained at da border because PROFUNC never ended but basically I'm like if a targeted individual didn't even care