#his so called “grasping nature” is more about just wanting everything to be worth it.

[dootznbootz]

Telegony? More like the Tele-GONE-y! HAHAahhahahh BE GONE! hahahahah

*gets booed off the stage*

[nathaniel-underwood-is-an-intj]

Looong rant about chapter 16 Ptolemy's Gate and how being passive can add to the cycle of ab*se.

oof so I just read when Nat goes to see Ms Lutyens and I can't help but be absolutely furious at her??

I know that's maybe a little bit unfair given she's frightened of him as a magician and is obviously angry when she finds out the department he's responsible for, but honestly it kinda brings up the problem with inadvertent bystanders to child ab*se in my mind.

And I'm definitely not blaming her solely for who Nat becomes but it makes me think of all those people in huge child ab*se cases who give interviews to press about all the things they noticed that were wrong but they just...never do anything?

She stood up for him against Lovelace, and when Nat thanked her- "I wanted to say that I know you were trying to save me, and-"

''Yes, and I'm sorry I didn't" Like girl be for real did you really think that alone would undo the years of indoctrination and abuse he's already suffered and prevent years worth of the same in the years to come? And she won't take responsibility - "My job is with children, not the adults they become" and again while it seems harsh to blame her for who Nat becomes, it's so much easier to pass the blame to people who are more directly responsible rather than acknowledging you also play a part.

I think it hurts so much more because it's her specifically- Nat goes to her in sheer desperation, it almost seems like a goodbye- he wants to thank her, tries to set her up in a job that will pay well and struggles to communicate he's trying to help. At this point he thinks Bartimaeus has been summoned by another magician and his birth name will be revealed. He's sure he's about to die and if not he'll be stood on trial and lose everything.

He goes to her because she represents the peaceful moments from his childhood when he got away from his master. He's scared and feeling lost and really it's call for help; but he doesn't ask for anything he just wants to make her feel proud of him- he's looking for that validation that he's been chasing since childhood.

And that shows he still does have that little bit of childhood innocence in him; he thinks she will be proud, thinks she'll see him as the same little boy in the garden gazing up at his teacher in adoration. He can't quite grasp why she's separated the man stood before her from that little boy. Because in that moment the child inside Nathaniel is seeking comfort AND THAT'S WHY it makes me so angry. She's completely given up on him when he's at his lowest ebb, because she doesn't want to be associated with the magician he's become. As if it isn't a massive step in the right direction that he saught her out in the first place- what other magican would bother? I wonder if that's why she reacted so strongly to seeing him again? Before that moment she could go about her life wondering if /pretending her attempt to protect him was enough, and now she realises it wasn't, of course it wasn't, and the image she had of Nathaniel's childhood innocence is completely ruined in her mind.

Or was her contempt for him even grater than Nat realised? She was naturally disgusted by the rhetoric he'd started to repeat from a young age, and gently tried to correct him although she was clearly angry- was she just resigned to the fact that there is little else she could do to change his future? I always thought- couldn't she have looked for him? The Underwood house fire was in the papers and they mentioned the apprentice was being searched for. Did she ever worry about him? Surely something must have been in the papers since- an announcement of new ministers, ANYTHING! Look at how much research Kitty did to find out about Bartimaeus and Ptolemy. I just don't think Rosanna Lutyens cared enough, realistically Nathaniel wasn't hard to find- but he was no longer her responsibility so she could turn a blind eye.

And sadly it's not just her- I know everyone loves Martha Underwood including Nat; but I think her submissiveness to her husband has a negative effect on Nathaniel as well. In AOS when Nat is locked in his room for ages after setting the mites loose, and is forbidden to have any contact with anyone and she won't talk with him. I know she's been told by Mr. Underwood she can't, but it still boils my blood. She's an adult and going along with ignoring Nathaniel because her husband told her to...I can't even begin to imagine the psychological damage that would do to a 10 year old child. (It could be argued she's frightened of the consequences if her husband finds out she's disobeyed him which is fair, he could always be watching through magic- but this is Arthur Underwood we're talking about. He's lazy, oblivious and weak I doubt he'd expend all that energy each day to check up on her.)

And It's even more painful that Nathaniel is often described as fiercely loyal to her and I think to Ms Lutyens as well- he doesn't expect to be treated well by Arthur Underwood but he loved Mrs Underwood and Ms Lutyens so much he started to view them through a rose-coloured lense. He never feels betrayed by either of them, even though they absolutely let him down, because the pedestal he's put them on is too high AND THAT ABSOLUTELY DESTROYS ME.

Would things with Nathaniel have been any different if Mrs Underwood hadn't died? I don't really think so. Do you think she'd see Nathaniel's temper at 14 years old and be reminded of Arthur Underwood? He was awful, absolutely awful to Nat and to her; but he was under so much stress in an underfunded departement, where pressure was being put on him by superiors to accomplish far more than they knew him to be capable of, and he took it out on the easiest target. Nathaniel ends up in exactly the same place and he starts to take it out on the only person around him- Bartimaeus. Would he snap at Mrs Underwood all the time if she were still there? Because he's learnt that behaviour from his father figure, and subconsciously learnt from his mother figure that she'll put up with it. He learnt from the woman he loved so deeply, that if you don't resist, people will walk all over you. So you have to maintain control even if it ends up hurting people you care about because no one will step in to stop the suffering no matter how much you love them, no matter how much you want them too.

It's easy to blame Arthur Underwood and Simon Lovelace and the magicians that actively hurt Nathaniel but I just feel like it's a bit disingenuous not to acknowledge the role of those doing passive harm. It's really mean to say it but even Bartimaeus plays a role- he knows Nat is clinging on to him because he can't 'bring himself to break this last connection' (to his childhood) but instead of bringing it up properly he 'taunts' Nathaniel- a boy who has been taunted for his weakness by his master for years. And even in AOS when Nathaniel tells Bartimaeus he was beaten for the mites incident Bart just kinda shrugs it off. Like I get it, why should Bartimaeus do anything, he's suffered way worse due to the system so he doesn't owe Nat anything right? But from Nat's point of view this is the first and only time he's mentioned to anyone what has happened to him and nothing changes. It's like another lesson learnt: telling someone about it doesn't help. Another nail in the coffin.

And I like all these characters, I feel bad for them. They're all victims of the system, I think the chapter with Ms Lutyens is just the straw that broke the camel's back for me. All of those little opportunities that are insignificant to the narrative over all; the commoners have it worse, Nathaniel is in a privileged position in society, exerting control over others. He's very morally grey, crossing over into objectively bad person territory but I love him with my whole heart and all of those insignificant moments would have been massive to him whether he was conscious of it or not.

And it goes all the way back to the beginning with Nat's parents giving him up to the magicians at 5 years old. I can't get the image of that little boy sat crying all alone in the government building. And he's not going somewhere safer, or somewhere he'll be happier and more loved. Giving your child over to a total stranger, oh he'll be totally fine won't he? He'll grow up to be a magician and far richer than you'll ever be, he'll be happy and comfortable and be grateful he got to grow up in luxury. There's no way a stranger you've never met, who the majority of society is terrified of would ever hurt a vulnerable little kid right? And if they do? Well you aren't responsible anymore, how could you know? What could you possibly do against the magician taking care of him?

Every little thing is another grain of sand tipping the scale. Did anyone else have to analyse An Inspector Calls in school? It feels like that to me- those BIG moments and all the little moments in between that add onto the pile.

And it goes on to cause problems in wider society too- ab*se is so normalised to the magicians, they casually ask Underwood if he hits Nathaniel like it's nothing. Because to them it is nothing, they've all grown up in the same circumstances and are repeating what they've learnt as children. I can't help but feel a little sorry for them all, especially when they aren't looked at through the black and white lense of 'argh these people are the evil arseholes look at how they treat everyone around them, screw these guys.' When we see those little glimpses of humanity like Simon's anxiety with the amulet; looking to his master and father figure Schyler for reassurance, and what's sad is that Nat is "reminded...of his own master's cold impatience" It's clear Simon looks up to his master, wants to make him proud and loves him. But it seems like Schyler has just trained Simon up so he can get power through him later on. I love the little hints of similarities between Simon and Nathaniel; the anxious mannerisms like fiddling with his hair that Nathaniel starts to develop, the way their master's talk to them. Even though they're actively working against each other in AOS and Simon is placed firmly in the baddies category and Nat in the goodies category at this point in the series; these things always hinted to me they had similar childhoods, how was Simon treated? When he had the imp beat Nat into unconsciousness, was it because he'd had the same punishment used against him? Did he know the magicians in the room would do nothing to stop him because no one stopped it from happening to him? Did he ever have a teacher stand up for him only for it to change nothing in the end because all the negative influences were so much stronger? Is the reason he loves Schyler like a dad because he's almost developed Stockholm syndrome? It looks like love because he's never known anything else.

And Arthur Underwood- who doesn't think his upbringing, and being taken away from his family ever did him any harm- doesn't realise the harm done is that he doesn't even know another way of raising Nathaniel, because he was never shown another way. His childhood may also have been filled with people who hurt him and the people that didn't do enough to intervene.

There are so many psychology studies that show children copy everything they see the adults in their life doing. Nathaniel copies the magicians behaviour towards spirits and on a subconscious level I think he copies all the submissive people in his life. How many times does he end up upset and frustrated with the fact he seems to be going nowhere and how many times does he just hope things will be different rather than taking postive action.

I dislike the actions the magicians end up taking but I also find them fascinating to analyse. I tend to prefer villains in media because they're usually slightly more complex individuals and I love to think about how they ended up that way. They can all be seen as victims of their circumstances in a way, despite all the power and privilege they have had terrible and traumatic childhoods, and if the commoners had no valuable worldy possessions at least they had a sense of togetherness; of love and understanding and selflessness. I wonder if the magicians hated them at least partly because of that. Because out in the sea of faces of the commoners talking about nothing important, doing nothing great and noble- could be the parents that abandoned them. And when your life is on the line daily because of working with spirits, and your colleagues want to stab you in the back, sometimes not being responsible for anything important looks good. But you can't leave your life as a magician, it would be too difficult; you have nowhere to go, no real friends, no one who really loves you. So it's better to stay and be a submissive bystander in your own life because it's so much easier.

Doing nothing is doing something- being passive can be just as harmful.

[astaroth1357]

Showing the OM Cast Trashy Reality TV Shows

We all have our weaknesses. Mine is called "Watching People Who Watch Reality Shows Talk About Reality Shows I'll Never Actually Watch."

Contents: Well I mean. Reality TV if that spooks you.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

You cannot convince me this isn't a guilty pleasure of his. I can absolutely see him pulling on some sweatpants and watching Love Island with MC on lazy day.

Sometimes, when your life is stressful, you just want to sit down and watch the DUMBEST thing possible. Pure junk food for the gray matter, you know? Can't get enough of the trashy romance shows in particular.

He gets pretty invested, even if he denies it. He'll usually pick out a favorite person or favorite couple and gets PISSED if anything happens to them. Everyone else, he couldn’t care less about.

If he misses a week, he'll get a text from MC asking if his favorite person/couple is still doing okay and nothing more. If something big happened though, he'll secretly clear his schedule so he has time to watch it with them as soon as possible.

Very "husband who says he doesn't care but the second you mention the name of a person he doesn't like, he'll go on a 20 minute tirade" sorta vibe.

Mammon

A very enthusiastic enjoyer of these kinds of shows. He loves the drama!

Definitely has one of the long running-types (like Vanderpump Rules) like a comfort show, though he mostly sticks to Demon RTV. MC isn't going to have a CLUE what 2nd Circle Beats or Devildom Dynasty is all about...

Mammon strikes me as someone who either has been on or auditioned for a reality show in the past. Just... look at him. Tell me he hasn't!

His modeling agent probably told him to so he could get better shoots... But I'll guess he was pretty popular on whatever he showed up on. Fan favorite for sure!

Would definitely show MC some of his favorite shows if they're into that short of thing. Demon RTV is.... edgier (the violence gets pretty heated) but the causes are all the same. They should be in for a good time!

Leviathan

Reality TV is for normies!! Why would he want to watch that???

The very thought of watching attractive people go on and on about their love lives makes him physically ill... Like he doesn't get enough of that stuff from Asmo and Mammon already!!

If MC is going to try and get him to watch ANY of them, it has to be a show that's almost guaranteed to be a mess from the outset like Love After Lockup or MILF Manor (which is a crime against humanity, btw. Sigmund Freud haunts us all.)

Make him sit through a second of Too Hot to Handle or F-Boy Island and he may straight up dump them. Or melt into a smoldering pile of envious goo.

If easy-watching is what they want, why can't they watch something else? Like a cuddly Slice-of-Life or some dumb card game anime?? There's even sports anime FAR more worth their investment with a billion times the substance!!

Not a reality TV fan. Keep it away from him. He'll whine, mope, or go ballistic if he has to see it.

Satan

Approaches human reality shows kind of like he's watching a nature documentary... but still laughs at the stupid bits.

Watching a trashy reality show with Satan can be pretty entertaining because he'll spend the whole time trying to grasp "human culture" from all the chaos. Or try to deconstruct why anyone would want to what these shows AS one is playing.

What's even funnier is when he makes comparisons between how things happen in the show and how they would play out in Devildom instead. Like, if a succubus catches their SO cheating, they'll either add the new partner into the relationship or behead them both. Depends on the day.

Particularly fond of one's that follow around bombastic families because then he also gets to pick apart human family dynamics in the process.

MC has to constantly remind him that a lot of it is staged and not EVERYTHING he sees to true to human life.... but it is true to human entertainment.

Asmodeus

Keeps up with both human AND demon reality shows and has even hosted a couple in the past!

He LIVES for the tea! He BREATHES in the drama! Man can't get enough!! He'll even skim through the tabloids and keeps up with any feuds like he's following genuine war updates.

Since Asmo is such a popular figure in Devildom public life, it isn't even surprising for the paparazzi to stop HIM to get a few photos and ask him his opinions on any fights or scandals.

Unlike Mammon, he's never been in one himself (MC has no idea how bloody Demon RTV can get and does he want to ruin his skin like that?? Hell no!). He doew hang out with the stars of shows he likes all of the time, though.

He sometimes has watch parties with Mammon and MC gets invited along now. Being in the middle of those two is insane because it's like getting to know ALL of the dirty laundry of the kingdom's elite at every get together. Gossipy bitches be chattin' fr.

Beelzebub

Man will watch anything as long as they supply the snacks.

Does Beel care about reality shows? No. Not even a little bit. Will he watch all 16 seasons of Married at First Sight as long as MC refills his popcorn bowl? Absolutely!

Honestly, poor Beel can hardly keep up with the drama anyway... If a show has too many love triangles, he'll lose track of who's dating who and sit there lost for an excruciating amount of time.

Was even more confused about why anyone would watch these shows after MC told them they were staged. All that shouting is over nothing...?? This is a really weird genre...

MC would have an easier time getting him invested in like... I dunno a cooking game show than anything having to do with relationship drama. Though they would run the risk of soaking the couch in drool if they try...

Belphegor

Not super into them or super against them. He'll watch one in the background until he inevitably falls asleep.

Belphie is probably one of the brothers most likely to agree to watch any reality show MC wants with them, but with the understanding that's he's only using it as an excuse for cuddle time.

Belphie weirdly has both zero emotional investment in anything happening on the screen but also a frighteningly good memory for what actually happens per episode... MC could quiz him on actor personalities, timelines, scandals, or relationships and he'll somehow always get it right.

He can tell you that Vassago and Sitri from 2nd Circle Beats are having a feud over who sent the succubus to crash Baal's birthday party, but seriously don't expect him to care. He wants soft blankets and warm bodies to nap to. Give him that and he's happy.

Part of it is just learned behavior. Belphie was Asmo's go-to watch buddy for the longest time. Whatever part of his brain that soaks up class lessons in his sleep seems to work just as well for the dramatic minutiae of a reality show, so he's like a walking DVR.

Diavolo

Thinks that all reality shows are so quaint and amusing, but they definitely skew his impression on everyday human life...

After being exposed to some of the longer running shows, he was really surprised that MC and Solomon are so... chill with each other?

I mean. They weren't throwing drinks, talking shit, or stabbing each other in the back every second of day, right? Obviously they must be quite close!

He even comments on how truly well they must get along as Master and Apprentice! Such a beautiful bond... Stronger than their natural human impulse for complete social and emotional disorder!!

(Please educate him on actual human dynamics and NOT just the ones that get dramatized for TV. We're not that bad, Dia, promise.)

Barbatos

Doesn't exactly like the shows, nor does he have time for them, but if MC likes them then he'll swallow his distain.

Honestly, Barbs looks down on the humans in reality shows even more than he does most of humanity in general. The things some of them would do to chase fame is simply... Well. He looks forward to seeing certain individuals among damned one day.

He probably busies himself by giving MC a foot rub or caring for their nails while they watch their shows. Anything that can keep his eyes off the screen.

Occasionally, something OUTRAGEOUS will happen and MC will hear him make a small scoff of disapproval, but that's about it.

He's well aware that a portion of what is presented is fake or at least staged to some degree, so he doesn't let it paint his perception of human culture. That said, he thinks that anyone who's willing to make a spectacle of themselves for a public audience speaks quite enough on its own. (And seriously don't get him started on the demon variety of these shows unless you want to seem him get grouchy).

Simeon

Also not the biggest fan, but he does enjoy getting to guiltlessly throw shade from time to time.

At some level, Simeon thinks it's a little impolite to gawk at total strangers and judge how they handle their relationships... butvon the other hand, they ARE the ones who agreed to the cameras so...

Has a strict policy to never watch reality shows in front of Luke so he doesn't get a bad influence. But also, so the little angel doesn't end up hearing the absolute INFERNO that Simeon roasts the actors with.

"Ah... So naturally gifted in all but wits!" "I do believe that young man is quite familiar... I think I once saw something much like him at the bottom of my shoe." "Mm? MC? Are you sitting on the remote? I think you may have changed the channel to Devildom TV... No? Oh. My mistake. They just seemed so heartless that I thought they'd fit in well here..."

Tearing. Scathing. His contempt cannot be contained. It is, however, a good outlet for him so please let him roast away!

Solomon

Guy is so out of touch with the modern era that watching these shows is just as bizarre to him as watching a viewing screen into a Victorian ballroom would be to us. Who keeps creating these strange words every other month...?

Reality dating shows give him whiplash. People get married now after 90 days? Or at first sight?? Or before they even SEE each other at all??? The last time he ever thought of courtship, it was still mostly arranged by the couple's families... Things have really sped up.

Not that he's complaining too much, because that gives him all the more reason to go through with his fantasy of proposing to then marry the MC in less than 12 hours (or however long before the brothers notice he's attempting to steal them away).

He feels like he has a leg up on the angels and demons around them for once because at least MC doesn't have to stop and explain human customs to him every five seconds. ... Just the modern ones.

I feel like watching Reality TV with Solomon is a very, "Let's get a little drunk and laugh at the screen" sort of affair. Very loose with a lot of jokes flying at the actors expense. He may or may not remember what all happens in the show, but hey, it's good fun!

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock, what DO you love and like so much about Dostoevsky's work? I don't think you've ever talked about that. Please, I want to know !!!

^o^

(christianity mention jump scare below proceed with caution)

i thought this would be an easy to answer but figuring out how to put my feelings into words proved difficult .

the beginning is always a good place to start, so let's go with that. by chance, i happened upon this video on youtube and gave it a watch. about halfway in i decided i had to read notes from underground for myself. i struggled to understand what the narrator was trying to get across. the unique writing style, where the reader is addressed directly, as if in challenge, helped me preserve.

i think part of what makes his work special to me is his depiction of people. and they really do feel like people more than characters, even if some of their characteristics are unique to the era dostoevsky wrote in. everything else about them transcends time. i can see myself in some of them. whether it be the titular idiot, prince myshkin in his naivety; alyosha, who goes from devout to doubting; and ivan, whose bitterness toward religion masks his disappointment at the state of the world. 

that's why the brothers karamazov touched me in particular. for some context, i grew up in a christian household and was heavily involved in the church (american northeast white baptist strand of church). around when i was 11 or so, the introduction of left-wing politics through social media had me undergo a looooong identity crisis. these new ideas felt at odds with what i'd spent my entire life believing. what i grappled with the most relates to ivan's anecdote, the grand inquisitor, where the goodness of god is called into question. the bitterness, the disappointment from crushed expectations, all those sensations resonated strongly with me. reading it as an adult who (supposedly) 'healed' from that time period in my life was like opening pandora's box. i'd never seen my thoughts and struggles so accurately described, or treated with more than a 'his ways are higher than our ways' type platitude. i stuffed these concerns of mine away because they only ever served to make me feel worse.

i won't delve deep into the Depressing Lore. the only reason i mention it is to stress how profound an impact the work had on me. throughout the remainder of TBK (and in most of dostoevsky's discography), the best and worst of humanity is shown. our hypocritical nature, capacity for evil; nothing is shied away from or made more palatable. and yet, throughout it all, our potential for good is shown too. whether it be in the little acts or monumental self-sacrifice. sometimes those acts are honored, or ‘worth it,’ sometimes they aren’t. it’s cheesy but whatever i’ll say it — choosing to love and serve others is my greatest joy. i don’t really need a definitive answer to those problems i struggled with. that’s the takeaway i’ve had from his work. it might not seem like a big deal, but not feeling guilty for having certain doubts or anxious over those doubts never fully being resolved was. very significant for me. and healing (for real this time). 

so that’s the sentimental perspective GJSDLKFJS from my writer’s perspective, i can only describe him as brilliant. his grasp on the human psyche is incredible. he can accurately describe so many emotions, worldviews, and give the context necessary for each one to feel organic and real. it’s vivid, too, in a way i can’t properly get across. everyone’s unfiltered and messy. characters contradict themselves in the same sentence. they’ll murmur, go off on tangents, tell stories, misquote the bible (or many other significant works), and just be overall disasters. aka how people actually are. 

the man’s also funny as hell. the protagonist from crime and punishment has a mental breakdown spanning multiple pages over a sock. yes, there’s context, but that’s still the gist of things. then there’s the issue of the hedgehog in the idiot. hedgehog drama. 

ultimately, his work is so very human. there’s commentary on issues that are prevalent to this day, multiple centuries later. the topics he touches on tend to align with what i care about most. whether i agree or disagree with what i’m reading, there’s always something i glean from it. something meaningful that sits with me long after i close the book. i’ll mull over it and bother people in my vicinity until they mull over it too. no one is safe. whether it be a co-worker or my dad who drives noticeably faster to reach our destination and be free of my many questions.

i could keep going but this ended up being long enough GJSKDF i hope at least something here makes sense?>?? i apologize for the incoherent ramblings. it's what the dude does to me.

[beauty-and-passion]

CCCC Vol.1 - Calamity: introducing the chaos

Hello, everyone.

I made my offer, you accepted. And so, here I am, to talk about Chonny’s Charming Chaos Compendium, Vol. 1.

It will be quite a long ride, so let’s not waste more time and let’s start with…

_______________________________

Obligatory premise

I am not an expert on Chonny Jash, Tally Hall's albums, or any other song besides CCCC. All I know about Chonny is this album, the Q&A cj-anon told me about (thank you, bro! You can read it HERE) and that Mr. Jash has some fine curly hair - and, as a possessor of curly hair myself, I find him very stylish.

So my analysis won't be filtered through the lenses of a fan who knows everything about him. This is the perspective of someone outside the CCCC fandom, who focuses mostly on the album, the songs and all the small details an "outsider" like me might find interesting.

That means two things:

I might say things that are already well-known in the fandom. In that case, sorry for the repetition, I hoped to say something new. But also, hey, that means the album's message was so clear, even an outsider could get it.

I might say things that are wrong/have been denied by Chonny Jash himself. It's unlikely, considering that the man welcomed every interpretation and said it's up to us to decide/read the story as we want, but still, it might happen. In that case, please let me know through messages or reblogs, so I can add the correct information and make my analysis more complete.

One last thing, for all the people who have never heard of this album: the themes are mostly centered around tragedy, mental dissonance and suicide, so they’re not the funniest topics to talk about. Still, If they do not trigger you, try and give this album a chance: it'll be worth your time. I even wrote a whole post to explain why.

_______________________________

My sources

The whole album on YouTube (also, subscribe to Chonny Jash's channel and stream CCCC too, because it deserves it)

This blog that gives a wonderful insight into the songs

The great people on Genius.com always pay a lot of attention to every word of the songs

And here's the Q&A once again, because it always comes in handy

_______________________________

Why a “Charming Chaos Compendium”?

I know Chonny wanted to mimic the "Marvin’s Marvelous Mechanical Museum" album title, so instead of MMMM, we have CCCC. But also, why "Charming Chaos' Compendium" specifically? Why not "Confused Catastrophic Compilation" or something else?

Maybe it’s just because “Charming Chaos Compendium” sounds better. But if we consider the whole album, I think these words are simply the best-fitting ones to talk about.

* Chaos: That’s a chaotic album indeed: we have dark thoughts, fears, references to death. Heck, the longest, central section is called “Cacophony”, which shows even better the concept of chaos.

* Charming: Chonny said in the Q&A:

"I’ve been somewhat obsessed with the idea of duality and mental dissonance, not just from an artistic standpoint but from a social/moral perspective. The idea that the same brain can produce completely separate and juxtaposed conclusions from a single input is strange, and something I’ve noticed fairly frequently throughout my currently short life. CCCC is a manifestation of those dissonances from an extremely personal and biased perspective, in song form."

These concepts might be dark, but there’s also a charming component of them - if we consider the adjective “charming” with the meaning of “fascinating”. The “duality” of our brain is one of the mysteries of humankind’s nature that we still can’t fully grasp - a lot of people play with it, like Chonny does here. It’s fascinating to see how he does it and what his interpretation is.

* Compendium: a compendium is a "collection of concise but detailed information about a particular subject" and what's more concise and detailed than a two/three minute song that should explain the situation, show the characters and explore their feelings?

Also, it’s a word of Latin origin - and not the last one, considering Chonny will use three more words with Latin origin to title the three acts of his album (Calamity, Cacophony, Concord).

_______________________________

Time Machine Reprise: start of a new loop

What a peculiar choice for an opening song. What kind of album starts with a reprise?

Well, maybe one that is a time loop. And Chonny made it clear two things about it:

he’s stuck inside it because of the constant clash between Heart and Mind

maybe he will get out of said loop by "writing different songs"

Keep both of them in your mind, when we will reach the last songs of Concord.

Also, do not forget why this is the Calamity act: as the name suggests, a calamity is a “disastrous event that leads to tragic, dramatic consequences” - in this case, the split of Chonny’s mind into three parts.

But what is this event? What happened that was so “disastrous” to lead to such a drastic split? And how are the two things connected?

_______________________________

Dream: Soul's introduction

It’s very telling that the first character who appears right after Chonny’s introduction is Soul. And it’s even more interesting, if we remember what Chonny said about Soul in the Q&A:

"The Soul is slightly separated — fittingly — in that I didn’t know exactly what to call the character when I was first bringing them to fruition. ‘Body’ was the original name if I remember correctly, but it felt kind of wrong, as I wanted the character to be a little less concrete/tangible. The third character was always meant to be a sort of husk/shell/veneer, and so it took me a while to settle on ‘Soul’."

So, Soul:

is slightly different/separated from Heart and Mind

was supposed to be the Body

is a sort of husk/shell/veneer

And if we also consider that:

Soul’s introduction comes right after Chonny’s

Soul often refers to Chonny/Whole by using the words “me/myself” (Mucka Blucka, The Soul Eclectic, The Bidding), while Heart and Mind talk about Whole as “their vessel”

I think we can safely assume that Soul is closer to Chonny, compared to the other two sides. And we have a confirmation of that, considering Soul’s nature: since he’s a husk/shell, Soul “contains” Chonny, while Heart and Mind are more like “attributes/aspects” of Chonny.

In addition to that, Dream adds other information about this character:

*Soul is aware of the loop: Soul’s reaction to the start of a new cycle is panic, then tiredness. "I don't know if I can go another round of cacophony", he says and that alone proves he knows what happened and he knows what will happen, because he already experienced all of it.

This point is also fundamental for the worldbuilding, because it implies that Chonny and his sides have the same amount of information and the same level of awareness. Unlike works like Sanders Sides in which the parts hide information from their whole, CCCC does not have this delay. All Chonny knows, his sides know as well.

*Soul is tired of Heart and Mind: "My sympathy's draining me dry" implies that there was a time (maybe in previous loops) in which he was more sympathetic towards them. But after reliving the loop who knows how many times, he’s growing tired of their constant bickering.

*Soul is more powerful than Heart and Mind: this is only the first time he implies they need to “take him over”, but neither of them is strong enough to “control him”.

*Soul is moved by the will to live: for the entire album, Soul has one goal and one goal only. To reunite. To come back into one. And even if he gets tired of Heart and Mind, even if he ponders suicide, to finally get some peace, in the end it’s hope that prevails. Right when it seems the dark thoughts are taking over, Soul finds the strength to try again, one more time. And maybe "when we become whole, it'll hold".

All of this is not motivated by religion or faith in a superior being, but by pure, simple, will to live. Life is short, so it’s better to give it a try anyway, rather than not try at all and regret it.

But that’s not all. This song also introduces names here, so let’s talk a bit about them too:

Apollo - god of the sun, but also of arts, oracles, and knowledge. Wikipedia also adds:

His oracles were often consulted for guidance in various matters. He was in general seen as the god who affords help and wards off evil. 

and

Apollo also encouraged the founding of new towns and the establishment of civil constitutions, is associated with dominion over colonists, and was the giver of laws.

Wow, isn’t that very fitting for Mind? He also wants to become the "giver of laws" and the one who "wards off the evil” aka Heart (The Mind Electric).

Artemis - sister of Apollo, associated with the moon, goddess of nature and animals and:

(she) punishes harshly those who cross her. Artemis' wrath is proverbial, and represents the hostility of wild nature to humans

So Heart isn’t associated with love and kindness as anyone would expect, but with wilderness and instincts.

And wow, isn’t this fitting as well? Heart himself will tell he’s not just the love, but also “the hate” and “the emotional side”. Of course he’s wild and impulsive. And yes, there’s also the Juno incident which is another great proof.

Atlas - a Titan condemned to hold up the sky for eternity. Basically Soul’s job: to keep everything together, while the other two fuckers slowly make their vessel crumble. And he does it in all the time loops. Poor Soul, he definitely needs a vacation.

Harmonia - goddess of harmony and concord. That should represent the union of these three characters into Whole/Chonny. And I love that Wikipedia specifically used the word "concord" - the same Chonny chose for his third act. He was saying from the start that this is the goal to reach.

And they will, but only by going through a long, long round of Cacophony.

Next post ->

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

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[beargyufairy]

NaLu Headcanon Pt. 2

Camping.

It’s their thing and everyone knows it. Whether it is to relax after coming back from a long job or just to have some alone time, Natsu and Lucy go camping. They change the location to keep the energy alive. Sometimes they stay near Magnolia or go into a far away forest. Natsu builds the fire to keep Lucy warm throughout the cold nights. He also hunts for food if Lucy doesn’t pack ahead of time. Lucy enjoys watching the evening sky fade into darkness. She watches the fire flicker in the night. There’s something poetic about the flames reaching for the stars above. She thinks about Natsu (fire dragon slayer/demon) and her (celestial mage), how despite their differences, everything just makes sense.

During their time in the forest, Lucy uses the serenity of the wilderness to think about what she wants to do going forward. And the answer is always the same: have endless adventures and memories with the man that keeps her darkness at bay. She recalls her life before meeting Natsu. Days used to go by without anything worth remembering or living for. Days surrounded by the same four walls of a place she once called home. She now knows that home is where her heart is. With her guildmates and especially Natsu and Happy. She can’t imagine moving on with her life without them in the picture. Nothing is more precious than them.

Natsu, on the other hand, enjoys eating the meat of wild animals. There’s something extraordinary about the flavors and the hint of smoke. He won’t admit it, but he is filled with pride when Lucy compliments his skills. There’s something about his flames being used for mundane things such as making food for Lucy or creating a campfire for the night. He can’t explain the feeling, just that it’s worth more than beating his opponents. Natsu knows that his fire is known to be destructive and chaotic, so he likes the change of pace. Something only Lucy can provide for him. He’s always attentive to her, even when she doesn’t realize it. He appreciates how she watches the flames he created. Natsu also notices the soft smiles and stolen glances from Lucy when she’s deep in thought. He doesn’t disrupt the silence until she’s ready. He knows how being away from everything helps her calm down and gather her thoughts.

Camping. It’s their thing. Some of the nights are embraced by comfortable silence, the warm fire, and sounds of nature. Other times, the night seems to never end. Laughter and conversation echo through the forest. Some nights are spent stargazing. He does his best to pay attention to Lucy but he’s usually distracted by her eyes. The way they light up as if she has a personal connection with each individual star. Sometimes they watch the sunrise early in the morning. Lucy’s always reminded of Natsu when she watches the red hues of the sunlight peak through the curtains of darkness.

No one at the guild knows exactly what happens during Natsu and Lucy’s camping trips. All they know is when they return, they’re more enthusiastic about going on a job. They look recharged but mostly at peace. As if nothing in the world can take away what they have. And the truth is that they won’t let anything attempt to take it away from them.

The poetic love between flames reaching to grasp the night sky and kiss the stars. The love between Natsu and Lucy.

[pak-isms]

Worship Like a Dog | Love and Deepspace - Rafayel/MC

Burnt umber.

Sienna.

Auburn.

Coral.

Saffron.

Give him all the time in the world and it still would not be enough to discover every wonderful color he felt and saw when she was near. A work of art, not crafted by his own talented hands, but just as treasured.

She was his soul, the embodiment of everything he held dear. She’d slipped from his grasp once, but he would make sure she wouldn’t do so again.

Rafael couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d been so desperate for another’s gaze. For their touch and their attention. For the privilege of existing in their presence.

It made his face burn to think about, so he covered such embarrassing thoughts with orders and complaints that made her roll her eyes and sigh with annoyance when he spoke.

He would take it.

Cerulean.

Sapphire.

Robin’s egg.

Olive.

Sage.

He didn’t think she would give in to his demands to go on a stroll. By the seaside of course. He told her it was to find inspiration. She nodded in resigned understanding as she walked alongside him and held the bags containing his newly purchased supplies.

But while her eyes were locked on the crashing waves and bursts of foam, his eyes were locked on her. What would you call the color of the shine in her hair? What shade is the corner of her eye? What color would she turn if he held her hand?

“You must really love this view if it’s able to inspire so many of your paintings…” She commented, absentmindedly.

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t waste my time on something that wasn’t worth every second of it.”

He wasn’t talking about the view.

Byzantium.

Vermillion.

Amber.

Ivory.

Ebony.

What a wonderful thing it was, to have the privilege to feel such a love. A love that far surpassed adoration and felt more akin to utter devotion.

Indeed if she had an altar, he would kneel before it until his legs ached and his back grew stiff. Hands clasped and eyes fixed on her divine idol.

He would bring gifts of anything and everything precious. Left in the offering bowl; a glittering scale, pints of his own blood, the ocean, the moon, the sound of the sea.

And it would be bliss.

Fulvous.

Lilac.

Chartreuse.

Orchid.

Amaranth.

He’d never felt desperation, the way he did when she re-entered his life.

He didn’t care how low it made him seem when he demanded she never make him wait again. Phrased as a demand, he wondered if she noticed that it’s true nature, was a desperate plea.

What he meant was, “Don’t leave me.”

He’d never forgive her if she passed from this life and slipped from his grasp. But his devastation and fury would not stop him from seeking her out in the next life. Traveling to the ends of the earth, to meet her again.

Perhaps he’d reincarnate as one of her beloved cats. He would never admit the way it would suit him, lounging around in her lap for hours, demanding her attention and following her around, drifting through her legs as she sighed with fond annoyance.

He would do whatever it took.

Scarlet.

Juniper.

Tuscan sun.

Slate.

Jade.

Each stroke of his brush was a confession. Each sigh from his lips was a declaration of love. Each brush of his hands against his own lips was a kiss against her fingertips. Each thread of his fingers through his hair was a stroke against her cheek.

Even a single touch, would be enough to set his body alight, a thrill unlike any other.

When he was gifted with her touch, when she placed his palm over his racing heart, he wondered if she could hear what it said.

I love you, don’t leave.

I love you, never stray from my side.

I love you, I can make you happy.

I love you, please look my way.

Words he couldn’t say aloud. He didn’t know if he wanted her to hear it or not.

Green.

Blue.

Pink.

Brown.

Yellow.

After every second of pining and want, he knew it was possible she would never return what he felt.

He only hoped that if such a thing happened, she would be merciful enough to let him continue to remain at her side.

But he also dared.

Dared to hope she would look at him with love.

Dared to want the feeling of her kiss on his skin.

Dared to wish she would promise to never leave.

Dared to desire her to mean every word.

For now, he would be content, demanding her time and basking in her glare. He would complain about her gentle punches, and savor them like hugs. He would look into her eyes and let words fall from his lips that hinted at what he felt, hidden in metaphors and stories, much like the canvases he displayed in galleries.

For now he would simply dream.

And that would be plenty.

[ne0nic]

Be The Reason

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Vash x f!Reader ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

MDNI

ִ ࣪𖤐 Word Count: 31.8k

ִ ࣪𖤐 CW: NSFW, Sex, Self Harm, Guns, Knives, Blood & Gore, Angst, Hurt with Not Alot of Comfort, BountyHunter!Reader, Siblings Relationship with Wolfwood & Livio, Blind Loyalty to Millions Knives, Wolfwood Escaped the Church, Slight Trauma Bonding, Loosely Follows the Plot of Trigun Stampede, '98 Trigun Elements if You Squint

ִ ࣪𖤐 No use of Y/N, Never use of Y/N

ִ ࣪𖤐 Just a Snippet, Too Long For Tumblr

"This is an order from Knives."

"Of course it is," you drone, looking over the wanted poster. After years of being Knives' loyal soldier, he's finally tasked you with playing in the big leagues—the Humanoid Typhoon. It's the most sought-after bounty on the board, and now it's your sole target. You haven't failed Knives yet, and you sure as hell won't start now.

Finding this guy, Vash the Stampede, an awful code name by any standard, is already next to impossible. Bounty hunters have thrown heaps of cash for even a hint of his whereabouts for years, with nothing to show for it. You're not interested in the lies or wasting imaginary money. But maybe, just maybe, you know better than them.

The next time a call comes in, and some eager kid rushes into the bar spouting nonsense about spotting the Humanoid Typhoon, the hunters are instantly in a frenzy. They swarm to their trucks and speed off into the desert without a second thought. However, you don't follow their lead. In fact, you turn in the opposite direction.

He is aware that he's been hunted for a long time, and he's probably accustomed to diverting the crowd away from wherever he's hiding. Plus, he likely has a few friends willing to provide cover for him. You'll need to outsmart them all to catch your elusive prey.

Honestly, it takes a bit longer than you'd hoped, but the payoff is worth it. In a small bar, nestled in an unassuming town, the man with the biggest bounty No Man's Land has ever seen sits, savoring his drinks like there's no tomorrow. You observe from the shadows atop the stairs as he shares hearty laughs and engages in charming banter with the locals. His smile is wide and inviting, just like the one on his wanted poster. It's a bit strange coming from a guy accused of the things he has done, but, to your disappointment, it's evident that everyone here is armed and more than willing to defend him from you.

So, patience becomes your ally. It's frustrating, but he's within your grasp, practically in the palm of your hand. All that remains is to seize the moment. You quietly step back, plotting your move.

Down below, Wolfwood's gaze widens as he catches a glimpse of a shadow retreating from the railing above. There's something eerily familiar about it, but it can't be...

"Hey, everything okay?" Vash inquires, noticing the alarmed look on his face. Wolfwood lowers his eyes and takes a drag from his cigarette before flicking the ashes away.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he responds nonchalantly, though it hardly convinces Vash.

The two eventually depart from the bar late into the night, leaving behind patrons who have fallen asleep where they sat. Eager not to end up like them, they make their way toward tonight's lodgings.

And, naturally, you are there too, shrouded in darkness, silently tailing the pair. Vash sways slightly from side to side, a bit too entranced by the alcohol.

Wolfwood abruptly stops, causing you to retreat into the shadows. "What's up?" Vash asks, puzzled, as he turns toward his companion.

"I forgot something. You go on ahead," Wolfwood says abruptly, before disappearing down an alley without further explanation.

"Alright," Vash mumbles and continues down the street.

In just a matter of minutes, you have Vash pinned against an alley wall. With one hand securing the back of his neck and keeping him at bay, you deftly fasten the cuffs around his wrists. "Hey, can we maybe start with introductions? What's your name?"

"Make a sound, and I'll dislocate your arm," you warn, emphasizing your point by gripping where skin and metal meet. Vash winces.

"Okay! Okay! I get it," he says quickly. You slide his gun from its holster.

"Hey, hey, hey! That's important! Could you not touch that?" he pleads.

"Shut up," you snap, stowing the gun in the back of your pants.

The sudden hum and activation of a weapon cause you to freeze. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Wolfwood, his grip firm on the Punisher, but his eyes betraying hesitation. This isn't exactly the time or place you'd planned for a reunion, but you knew he wouldn't be far. Your training has made you acutely aware of each other's presence.

"You're alive," he murmurs, astonishment in his voice. "And you're working for Knives?"

"Stay out of my way," you instruct firmly.

"You don't have to work for those bastards! You can—" Your knife pierces through his stomach. Wolfwood meets your gaze with wide eyes. Evidently, your speed has caught him off guard. It's almost amusing to see him realize you're not the naive kid you once were.

"I can do what?" you ask, drawing your knife back, making him lurch before collapsing onto the sand. "Run away like you did? I chose this, Nico," you remind him in a hushed yet resolute voice.

"Wolfwood?!" Vash cries out in alarm.

"Move it," you snap, sheathing your dagger. You grab Vash by the coat and forcibly drag him away.

"Wait! Wait! He'll die!" Vash protests desperately.

"If I wanted to kill him, he'd be dead," you say coldly, showing no remorse for your actions. At the edge of town, you throw Vash into your car. He flops onto the seat and looks up at you with wide, bewildered eyes.

"How could you do that to him?" Vash asks, his voice filled with disbelief and concern.

Without acknowledging him, you slam the car door shut and speed away from the small town, venturing out into the vast desert ahead.

"Are you… like Wolfwood?" Vash continues, trying to make sense of your actions. You remain silent, your elbow resting on the door as you lean your head against your fist.

"Just be quiet," you mutter.

"You care about him, don't you?" Vash persists, undeterred by your lack of response. His curiosity seems insatiable. Frustrated, you lean forward and grab a half-eaten donut from a pastry bag on the dashboard. Without a word, you stuff it into Vash's mouth. He's momentarily surprised but can't resist the sweetness. A brief moment of silence follows until he finishes his bite.

"Those marks on your wrist, what are they from?" Vash inquires, determined to extract some information from you. His persistence is starting to get on your nerves.

"Enough," You snap, finally putting a stop to Vash's incessant questions. He closes his mouth, clearly surprised by your outburst. "He warned me you were talkative," you mutter, annoyed.

"Just tell me one thing. Why do you work for him?" Vash presses, determination in his eyes.

You shift your jaw, contemplating whether to answer. After a moment, you decide to offer a glimpse of the truth. "For the thrill and the cash."

"And you're from the orphanage?" Vash inquires further.

"Hell no. I was… a volunteer," you admit with a bitter tone.

"What?" Vash's heart aches as he hears your confession. After Wolfwood explained everything he went through, Vash can't fathom someone willingly subjecting themselves to such a fate.

"I became what I wanted to be, and now I'm Knives' favorite," you continue, bitterness still present in your voice. "Nico hated me when we were younger. He lost his mind when he realized I let it happen. But none of that matters. Once I drop you off to Knives, I'll be on my way with my money." Vash's gaze returns to your wrist with a new understanding.

"So then those marks—" he starts to ask, his voice filled with concern.

"I wasn't always Knives' favorite," you mumble, and Vash looks at your face, a deep sense of guilt washing over him. His brother hurt you, left scars on your body. If he hadn't… If they hadn't…

The weight of your words sinks in, leaving a heavy silence in the car as the desert stretches endlessly around you.

The car jerks violently, throwing both you and Vash around as it spins through the sand. You desperately try to keep it steady, but the sandy terrain has other plans. Finally, the car comes to a halt, thankfully without tipping over. As it settles, you shoot an annoyed glare at Vash, who has ended up leaning on you during the chaos. You push him off, not in the mood for any of this. "Get the hell off me."

"Sorry! Sorry!" Vash stammers, scrambling away from you. You quickly scan the rearview mirror as the dust begins to settle, revealing a figure standing on the dune behind you, holding a large cross-shaped weapon.

"Bastard!" You hiss, flinging open the car door, ready to confront the threat.

"Wait! Don't just leave me-" Vash pleads, but you slam the door shut behind you. Your hand darts to the back of your pants, retrieving the gun as you zero in on the figure. With a quick, practiced motion, you cock the hammer back and pull the trigger.

Click.

Is this a joke?! Why the hell was this idiot carrying an unloaded gun? Your irritation is interrupted by searing pain that shoots through your arm, forcing you to drop the useless weapon. You groan in agony as your arm falls to your side.

Shit!

Pressing your back against the car, you fight through the pain, knowing Wolfwood is closing in. You might have to kill him, even though Knives hadn't ordered it. But right now, you need to come to terms with the fact—

"Hey! Are you alright?! Let me see!" Vash suddenly pops up in front of you, the handcuffs only around his flesh wrist clinking. He reaches out toward your injured arm.

"What the hell? Get away from me!" you snap, making Vash flinch back.

"I just wanna help," Vash insists.

"Don't worry. She'll heal in a moment," Wolfwood's voice cuts through the tension as he stands at the tail end of the car.

"Bastard! I'll damn well kill you!" You screech, as you attempt to get to your feet, the pain ebbing as your arm begins to heal. Steam rises from your skin, and you can't help but wince in agony.

Vash takes a step forward, a desperate desire to help you coursing through him, but Wolfwood's firm hand presses against his chest, holding him back. Vash glances at him, and Wolfwood doesn't meet his gaze. After your pain subsides and you regain your composure, Wolfwood scrutinizes you from head to toe.

"Hurts like a bitch, don't it?" he asks in a gruff tone.

"Fuck you," you spit out venomously, leaning against the car to regain your footing. "Why the hell are you protecting him?! He's worth billions!"

"Why the hell are you working for Knives?! After what he did to us?!" Wolfwood fires back, frustration evident in his voice.

"Us?" You repeat with a scoff, fully standing from the car, which prompts Wolfwood to position himself closer to Vash. You narrow your gaze at his actions. "There is no us. You made that very clear."

"Just because I didn't agree with your insanity doesn't mean I don't-"

"Care about me?!" You finish his sentence, your tone dripping with cynicism. "That's cheap coming from you."

"I'm trying to help you, dammit!" Wolfwood yells, exasperation etched across his face.

"I don't need your help," you retort, pulling your dagger out of its sheath. "I need you to stay down."

"If that's the way you wanna settle this," Wolfwood concedes, dropping the Punisher weapon into the sand.

"You're not actually gonna fight her, are you?!" Vash pleads.

"It's what she wants," Wolfwood mutters, tossing his cigarette to the ground and smothering it.

"Come on, you two grew up together! This is crazy! We can just talk things out!" Vash insists, hoping to find a peaceful resolution.

"Stay out of this, Needle Noggin," Wolfwood sighs, cracking his knuckles. "This has been a long time coming."

"Ready?"

"Ready."

"Stop! Hold it! Hold on!" Vash steps between both of you, trying to be the voice of reason. He turns to Wolfwood. "I won't let you-" But before he can finish his plea, your foot hooks around his waist, and you throw him aside. Vash tumbles into the sand, watching the ensuing brawl unfold.

You and Wolfwood go at it fiercely, fists swinging, and landing hard smacks on each other. He dodges your blade with ease, and you deftly evade his counterattacks. It seems as if you're evenly matched for a while. Blood and bruises start to decorate both of your faces, but your healing powers kick in, burning with pain that only fuels your rage.

With a swift sweep of your leg, you send Wolfwood crashing into the sand. You leap onto him, clutching the knife tightly, ready to deliver a finishing blow. But just as you raise the knife over your head, pain shoots through your fingers as the blade snaps in half and lands in the sand. You whirl your head toward Vash, his gun still smoking. It's a move of desperation, and Vash has never been more thankful for the spare bullet he found.

Wolfwood seizes the opportunity to switch positions, pinning you to the sand. You struggle against him, demanding he get off. He holds you in place until you stop resisting. Lying back, you mutter, "Just kill me."

"I could never do that."

"I'm dead anyway," you mutter, revealing the harsh reality that Knives considers you expendable. It's a grim truth that hangs heavy in the air.

"Everything you've done has been to survive. And I was the asshole who doubted you. I was wrong for that. But right now you can trust that I won't let anything happen to you."

"Idiot. As if you're any match for him," you sigh. Slowly, Wolfwood gets to his feet and helps you stand. But before he can react, your foot lands a solid kick to his shin, causing him to keel over in pain.

"That's for shooting at me!" you declare.

"God! You devil woman!" Wolfwood curses, nursing his throbbing leg.

"Get over it," you sigh. Your gaze locks onto Vash, making the blonde stiffen. With brisk steps, you approach him. He holds up his hands, not wanting any smoke. You grip the pad of the handcuffs, and it unlatches from his wrist. He looks down in surprise.

"You're… Letting me go?"

"I lost. It's just how things are between us," you admit, already hating the unspoken agreement that hangs in the air. Wolfwood groans behind you as the elixir does its job, gradually mending his wounds.

"But if you go back empty-handed-"

"It doesn't matter," you say firmly. Vash reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"It does matter! You said it yourself. Stay with us."

You pause, your emotions conflicting within you. Finally, you admit, "I don't really have much choice anyway."

Vash's eyes flutter open, adjusting to the daylight that's already warming up the car. He stretches and yawns, glancing around the vehicle. "Good morning," he greets, still somewhat groggy. His eyes dart to the front where you're driving in silence. "Where's Wolfwood?" he asks, puzzled. You remain silent, and Vash scratches his face, gradually realizing there are cuffs restraining him. His eyes widen as he sees his revolver resting on the dashboard. He lets out an exasperated groan and rubs his face. "Don't tell me you tricked us."

"Nico, always had this thing about family. We all were put through the same shit so we're family. I never understood it but he was dumb enough to think I did."

"You're quite persistent, I'll give you that," Vash remarks with a sheepish smile. You glance at him briefly in the rearview mirror.

"You're nothing like him, you know?" you comment. "You might look just like him, but I could never imagine that man smiling before I met you." Vash falls silent.

"He wasn't always like that," he says quietly.

"You would know," you reply.

"So, where are you taking me?"

"July," you say. "I haven't had the chance to update my associates yet, though."

"Is it wise to tell me that?" Vash questions.

"I figured if you were planning an escape, you'd prefer to do it now," you say. "I'd rather keel over in the sun than make a false call to Knives."

"So you've already made time for me to escape? You're quite punctual."

"I have about three weeks left to play cat and mouse with you before Knives comes looking for me."

"And Wolfwood?"

"Idiot got out to take a leak and I just drove away," you smirk. "You slept right through all his cursing."

"He didn't shoot at the car again?" Vash asks. You gesture with your thumb towards the back, and Vash turns to see the signature cross-shaped weapon in the trunk. He lets out a sigh, dropping his head.

"One last thing," you add. "I know you removed your prosthetic hand to escape the cuff before. So if you look down, you'll see a glove over your hand." Vash examines the glove. "I've wedged it into your wrist and the cuff. If you try to remove it, it will tear," you explain.

"What's to stop me from-" Vash begins.

"That glove is the last memento I have of my grandmother. Please handle it with care," you interject.

"Oh, come on!" Vash groans, covering his face with his hands. You chuckle softly from the front seat.

"Hungry?" you ask, offering him a bag. Vash accepts it, still pouting.

"Thank you," he says.

Another silent hour of driving is slowly driving Vash mad. The desire to be doing something, anything useful, gnaws at him, making his skin itch.

"Need to stop for gas," you finally break the silence, and Vash perks up as he spots a small gas station in the distance, situated in the middle of nowhere.

"Could you get me a drink?" Vash asks, flashing a sweet smile.

"You're the one who's being kidnapped, and you're asking for a drink?" you remark, raising an eyebrow.

"Pretty please?" Vash continues to smile. You pull up to the gas pump and open your car door, muttering to yourself.

"He's lucky he's so damn cute; otherwise, I might have left him tied to the back of the car hours ago," you grumble, slamming the car door. Vash watches as you open his door and grab his arm, causing him to stumble out of the car.

"Ye-eh!" he utters, and you press your finger to the cuff, unlocking the one around his flesh wrist. After closing the door, you loop the cuff around the door handle and latch it again.

"There you go. Some outdoor time, puppy," you say, patting his shoulder, before turning away.

"Woof," Vash mumbles sarcastically. From the other side, you begin filling up the car with gas and then proceed into the store.

"Welcome!" The shop clerk greets you with a smile.

Vash tugs at the handcuffs gently, their clattering noise echoing against the car. He contemplates the idea of breaking them; they couldn't be that strong, right? Surely he's stronger. With a determined stance, Vash focuses on the metal restraints, mentally preparing them for their imminent demise. Without further hesitation, he yanks on the handcuffs. Instead of breaking, as he had hoped, the car door suddenly swings open, smacking him in the face. Vash stumbles backward, clutching his nose, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Angrily huffing away his frustration, he kicks the car door in revenge, not considering it might pull him too when it closes. After wiping his face, he looks around, relieved that no one witnessed his mishap.

However, you did see it. Attracted by the noise, you glanced over just in time to catch the hilarious moment. You wish you had recorded it; it would be perfect to show Wolfwood the next time you see him.

But then reality hits you. You won't be seeing him again. You grab a bag of chips from the shelf and continue your shopping, your clouded thoughts suddenly clearing.

Meanwhile, Vash rubs his nose one last time before glancing back at the handcuffs. His heart sinks as he realizes the glove has torn a bit. Oh no! He didn't mean for this to happen! What's he going to say to you? You'll be disappointed, and that would break his heart. Your grandmother...

Wait a minute.

You don't even have a grandmother.

Exiting the store with a plastic bag in hand, you pull the gas pump out of the car. Stepping to the other side, you peer into the bag.

"I got you some juice and chips. I hope that's..." you begin to say but trail off when you see the handcuffs - handcuffs with no hands to cuff. You mutter a curse. Just when you were trying to do something nice for him. That smooth-talking, cute smiling motherfucker.

Unfortunately for him, the unforgiving desert doesn't conceal his tracks, and they lead in the direction he ran. You jump into the car, knowing you'll catch up with him.

Sure enough, a dune over, you spot Vash sprinting for his life with Wolfwood's cross on his back. You pull up in front of him and lower the window.

"Really? The fuck were you gonna go? There's miles of nothing out here," you say.

"Hey! You started it by lying to me! You don't have a grandma!"

"I have a grandma!" You defend. "I just… Never knew her." You sigh, rubbing the tiredness from your face. "Just get back in the car. Try to escape in a more populated area next time."

Vash reluctantly concedes, realizing he doesn't have much of a choice. He opens the car's back door and tosses the cross inside. As he does, the distant sound of revving engines fills the air, drawing his attention. He listens closely, making out the sound of bandits whooping and laughing like maniacs.

"Bandits. They're attacking the store," he tells you, concern in his voice. You shake your head, leaning your arms on the window.

"So?" you reply indifferently.

"So?! We have to help them!" Vash exclaims, frustrated by your apparent lack of empathy.

"For what? Bandits take everything out here. Everyone knows the risks," you reply with a shrug. Frustrated and unwilling to wait for more of your pessimistic reasoning, Vash takes off back in the direction he came from.

"Vash! Really?!" you call after him. You sit back in the car, realizing that even if he succeeds, he'll still have nowhere else to go. You close your eyes and depress the brake pedal, shifting into drive. "God dammit."

By the time you arrive, Vash is already in the midst of the confrontation, swinging left and right, easily incapacitating the bandits. Part of you considers just watching him from the hood of the car; you expected him to have experience, but he's putting on quite the show.

From what you've seen, Vash the Stampede seems like an imbecile. But this Vash, the one with fire in his eyes, has you questioning which side of him is the real one. It also leaves you wondering why you're so mesmerized by the stark contrast between the two.

One of the bandits attempts to sneak up on Vash, wielding a pipe. With a swift flick of your wrist, your dagger pierces the bandit's shoulder. Vash turns at the screams, locking eyes with you after the bandit falls.

"You could help!" he calls out.

"Nope," you shake your head, your elbows resting on the hood. "Looks like you've got it handled." With that, Vash returns his attention to the ongoing fight.

A hand swiftly snatches your wrist, yanking it behind your back, and you hear the unmistakable click of cuffs sealing around your wrists. Startled, you snap your head toward Wolfwood.

"What the hell?! How did you get here?!" you ask, your struggles to break free intensifying. Wolfwood maneuvers you toward the back of the car, exchanging his cross for your presence, and forcefully slams the door shut.

"Nico!" you urgently press your finger to the pad, but the cuffs remain locked. "You overrode my fingerprint?! Nico! Get back here, you bastard!"

Oh, he's definitely hearing your muffled screams, and it's taking everything in him not to burst into laughter as he joins Vash. With the duo reunited the bandits flee the scene in a hurry, disappearing into the horizon.

The pair returns to the car, chatting merrily amongst themselves. "She's right here," Wolfwood announces, opening the car door and pulling you out, but you resist, tugging away from him. Vash's eyes widen in surprise.

"So, she's our captive now?" Vash inquires.

"Great, isn't it? Serves her right," Wolfwood grins.

"Prick."

"Aw, how cute. Like a pomeranian," Wolfwood teases, only for you to retaliate by kicking him in the shin. "Ow!" Wolfwood crumples.

You slink closer to Vash, who tenses up as you look up at him with big, sweet eyes. "Vashie. I've been good to you, haven't I? Please don't let Nico treat me like this. I promise to be good. Please?" you flutter your lashes.

Vash's cheeks burn crimson. He huffs, runs a hand through his hair, groans, and eventually sighs. "Let her go."

"What?!" both you and Wolfwood exclaim in unison.

You can't believe that worked.

He can't believe that worked!

"Are you insane?! She literally kidnapped you! Twice!" Wolfwood protests. "Not to mention stabbed me! Are you seriously—"

"Just unlock it," Vash insists. Wolfwood grumbles but reaches out to unlatch the cuff from one of your wrists. You swiftly pull your hands to the front, sticking your tongue out at Wolfwood.

Click.

Both of you turn, and Vash secures the other cuff to his own wrist. In silence, you examine where you and Vash are now attached.

"Oh, hell no," you declare immediately.

"The hell?"

"Look, she won't go anywhere without me, and now she won't have to. Whether I'm her captive or she's mine doesn't matter because we'll be attached," Vash says, lifting up your wrists and dangling the cuffs for emphasis.

"Absolutely not," you insist.

"What? Needle noggin, she could kill you."

"She hasn't tried to yet. I trust her," Vash responds, looking at you with a smile that makes your heart race.

Gross.

"Nico, get me the hell out of this," you demand.

"No."

"What do you mean no? You just said you were against it."

"I am against it. But it's also the only way to keep an eye on you."

"This isn't—"

"Excuse me," the store owner's voice draws all three of you to attention, and you turn toward them. They offer a warm smile. "Thank you so much for your help. I'd like to repay you with something to eat, but those bandits made off with most of my inventory."

"Oh, it's not a problem at all. But are you alright?" Vash inquires with genuine concern, making you roll your eyes.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine, thanks to you. However, it is getting late, and the best thing I can offer you is the mattresses in the back. They may not be much, but I think they'll suffice."

"Really? That's incredibly kind of you! Thank you!" Vash beams with gratitude.

Without consulting your opinion, Vash guides, or rather drags, you through the store to a shabby back room. To your dismay, there are only two beds. That means... no. You refuse to entertain that idea.

"Get me the hell—"

"Just deal with it," Wolfwood interjects with a sigh, already claiming the bed on the right.

"You must be tired," Vash says, leading you to the other bed. Reluctantly, you follow.

"Absolutely not. You're sleeping on the floor," you declare, plopping down onto the mattress.

"What?! That's not—"

"Besides, this damn thing's too small for two people anyway. Here," you toss the pillow and blanket onto the floor. "Goodnight," you announce before reclining.

"But won't you get cold?" Vash worries, lifting the blanket back to you.

"I don't get cold," you mutter, closing your eyes. Vash concedes, not wanting to disturb you any further.

It feels as though you're enveloped in a cozy cocoon, warm, soft, and filled with a pleasant scent. You could easily get lost in this comfort.

Slowly, you open your eyes, only to find yourself shrouded in darkness. Rolling over, you notice a sliver of moonlight seeping through a small window, illuminating Wolfwood's back. As if to cruelly remind you of your situation, Vash adds a loud snore to the mix. Dammit.

You shift your attention to the cloud-like sensation you're enveloped in—red. Bright red. Project seeds? It's Vash's damn coat. That sneaky bastard! You fling it away to a corner of the bed and sit up.

"Nico," you whisper, trying not to disturb Vash's sleep. He doesn't budge. "Nico!"

"Hm?" Wolfwood mumbles, slowly rousing.

"I need to pee. Come on, let me out of this thing."

"No. Just wait until morning."

"Nico!"

Wolfwood sighs and rises slowly from the bed, trudging across the room to press his finger to the pad, releasing you.

"Be fast."

"I plan on it," you reply, slipping through the door.

The store is eerily silent, but you hurry through it, your one goal to reach the car. The sight of your car has never filled you with such elation before – freedom at last. The door squeaks as you open it and hop inside.

Finally, it's time to get the hell out of here. Hopefully the two will let their guards down in another week. You shove the key into the ignition.

"I trust her."

Vash's words make you pause. Why the fuck are you hesitating?

"I won't let anything happen to you."

Your forehead collides with the steering wheel. What's wrong with you?

The worn spring mattress creaks as you sit back down. You shift your jaw and pull the cuff back over your wrist, latching it in frustration. Grabbing the discarded coat from the corner, you lie down again. With your eyes scrunched closed, you curse yourself.

Vash smiles.

It blinks blue tonight.

The sweltering heat jolts you awake, and you curse under your breath. Is it morning already? You would've welcomed a few more moments of blissful slumber. You're so comfortable that you could almost forget the world exists.

Your tired eyes flutter open, only to be met with darkness, but it's not the familiar darkness of night. It's the darkness of fabric. You lift your gaze, taking a few moments to comprehend what you're seeing.

Vash.

He's right there in the bed next to you, holding you close as if you might vanish. His gentle yet slightly calloused fingers entwined with yours, bridging the gap between you. The cuff still binds you together, and it's his warmth that's now surrounding you, ensuring you won't succumb to the cold. He holds you with a tenderness that suggests you mean something precious to him.

But something within you rebels.

No.

You shove.

"Whu-ah-uhf!" Vash collides with the floor. "Ouch," he groans. He sits up rubbing the back of his head. "What was that for?!"

"I should be asking you that! Why the hell were you-"

"Keep it down, idiots. It's still morning," Wolfwood says entering the room. He tosses some food onto the bed at your feet.

"Nico! You'd better let me out of this fucking thing right now!" You snap.

"You know that's not gonna happen." Nico sits on the other bed tearing open a new carton of cigarettes.

"Are you kidding me?!" You snap. Something waves around in the corner of your vision. You look down to the donut Vash offers to you with a smile.

"Please, accept this token of my sorryness," he says. With a sigh you take the donut.

Driving with just one hand isn't the smartest move out here in the dunes, but the idea of letting Wolfwood take the wheel? That's a disaster waiting to happen, and you're not about to find out how that might unfold. Plus, the thought of being stuck in the backseat with Vash doesn't sound much better. You shudder at the notion that he might talk your ear off, and the idea of dislocating your wrist to escape the conversation isn't appealing either.

However, as you sit in the front seat, you notice that Vash is remarkably quiet. Wolfwood succumbed to sleep not long after hopping into the car, sparing you from his commentary on Vash's silence. But you won't complain about it either.

When you steal a sideways glance at Vash, you catch a glimpse of a subtle smile on his face, which is somewhat reassuring. Not that you'd admit to caring one way or the other.

The two of them allowed you to take the wheel, as long as you steer clear of July. Instead, you're headed toward some nameless town. Right now, your destination doesn't matter much; all you care about is finding a place with a cold beer waiting for you.

The radio drones on with some evangelical station, filling the silence between the sound of sand against the car. It's becoming tiresome, and you yearn for some music, anything to break the monotony. You ponder the idea of getting some tapes or something. Hell, even Vash's chatter would be an improvement over this drivel. Finally, you decide to take action, reaching out to switch off the radio. Vash's attention finally shifts to you.

"You okay?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy," you reply, your tone heavy with sarcasm. Surprisingly, Vash chuckles.

"Trust me this town is really great. All the people are nice and the food's amazing too. But if you need a break to stretch your legs, I'm all for it."

"No. I'm fine."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I guess."

"Why did you volunteer?"

Damn. You curse yourself for not anticipating his curiosity. After all, he's been alongside Wolfwood this entire time; there's probably nothing he doesn't know.

"It's just… it's what Knives wanted from me."

"Nai forced you?"

"No. Knives saved me and I promised him I'd do anything in return. He waited until the treatment was perfected, and I became his soldier. I… Would do anything for him."

"Does Wolfwood know this?"

"He suspects, but doesn't know the whole story," you say. "I was… Born into a trafficking ring. The day I was meant to go up for auction Knives appeared. He slaughtered them all and saved me. Conrad employed the best fighters to train me and after the treatment was complete, I was perfect. I've taken on every job Knives has ever asked me to."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize-"

"Save it," you interrupt, cutting him off. "I'm not hung up on it or anything. Besides, I don't blame Nico either. We were all just kids anyway." Wolfwood's gaze drifts out of the window and no one mentions the absence of his snoring.

As the sky begins to paint itself with shades of orange and pink, you roll up to the town. Vash had succumbed to sleep a while ago, but even without his watchful eye, you continued driving to their destination. Like an idiot.

For a bit of gentle revenge, you tap the brakes a little too firmly as you park. Both men jolt forward and groan. "Oh, good, you're up."

"Devil woman," Wolfwood grumbles from the backseat.

"I'm starving," you mutter.

"Come on. I know the perfect place," Vash chimes in with a smile. The three of you step into the lively town, most of its residents hanging out outdoors despite the late hour. Vash moves through the town with an air of contentment, which strikes you as odd, given his bounty.

Unfortunately, the warmth isn't reciprocated by the townspeople. They glance over at you three but quickly sour. Vash remains oblivious, thankfully, but Wolfwood, always the observer, takes a moment to grasp that they're not looking at Vash.

"Are you famous around here?" he inquires of you.

"Something like that," you mutter. Vash raises his head and scans the crowd.

"You've been here before?" Vash asks.

"Once," you reply.

"We don't have to stay—"

"It's fine. They'll still take my money."

"Okay," Vash agrees. "It's just up here."

Vash leads you both around the corner, and you catch sight of the bar. Regrettably, the bounty hunters lurking outside also lock eyes with you.

"Shit," you mutter, grabbing Vash and Wolfwood, pulling them forcefully out of sight.

"Isn't that Millions Knives' favorite little hunter?!" one of the hunters calls out.

"You need to get this off me now," you demand, your voice trembling with urgency.

"What? What's the matter with-" Vash begins, but you cut him off.

"Those are bounty hunters who have spent their lives looking for Vash. They would eat him alive. Unlock it!" Vash turns stiff at your sudden grotesque choice of words, and with a harsh gulp nervously pulls at his collar.

"What's your plan?" Wolfwood asks, his eyes narrowing.

"They won't just let me go. Please, trust me!" you plead desperately. "And get Vash out of here!"

Wolfwood clenches his jaw, processing the danger as the voices that sing-song your name draw nearer. Nico sighs, finally unlocking the cuff.

"I'll find you," you promise, then swiftly retreat back around the corner, leaving the two men.

"Be careful," Vash mutters though he knows you won't hear him.

"Thought that was you!" one of them barks, swaggering toward you with a lopsided grin. "Who're your buddies?"

"Just some damn newbies that won't take a hint," you retort with a cocky edge. "I had to show 'em who's boss and sent 'em running." The bounty hunter laughs, and two more rough-looking figures join the group.

"You're right on time. The real party's just gettin' started," another one says, tossing a meaty arm over your shoulder.

"Really? Is DedRod here?" you inquire, making them erupt in raucous laughter.

"God rest his damn soul," another hunter chimes in.

Inside the bar, your popularity takes a nosedive. They all recognize you and know who you work for, and more importantly, they're well aware of the task he's given you. Their expectations are sky-high, and you realize you'll have to spin a tale of failure, even if that means it gets back to Knives.

"She said she'd nab the Typhoon! Look at her now—still empty-handed!" an old-timer, way past his prime for this gig, spits venomously onto the table.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave him off, the bar erupting into a rowdy chorus. "I've been at this, what, less than a week? How long have you been chasing that ghost? Oh right, a God damn decade! And you're still only chasing your tails." You slam back the rest of your pint, punctuating your point.

Vash and Wolfwood sit at a modest pop-up stand, their meal consumed in silence. Vash stares down into his bowl, the contents as cloudy as he feels. His fingers tighten around the utensil. "Should we have really left her back there?" Vash mumbles, his concern palpable.

"They're bounty hunters. She made the right call," Wolfwood replies firmly. "She knows them. She knows what she's doing."

"I just can't trust it," Vash adds, his worry unabated.

"It? You mean them?" Wolfwood probes.

"You saw the way they acted!" Vash retorts.

"Let it go. She'll be alright," Wolfwood reassures, his confidence unwavering.

Hours later, you stagger through the town, your senses dulled by alcohol. You managed to slip away when the others succumbed to sleep, sprawled wherever they fell. You may not know exactly where you're headed, but you do know you can't stay there. It's best to make your way back to your car; at least you can pass out there.

A hulking figure crosses your path, and a grating voice shatters your blurry thoughts, "What do we have here?" With half-lidded eyes, you meet the man's gaze.

"Move," you slur, attempting to assert yourself.

"Seems like you've had a bit too much to drink. Why don't you come with me? I'll take care of you," the man leers.

"Fuck off. I won't tell you again," you manage to say, trying to sidestep him, but he seizes your arm, yanking you back.

"Don't be like that. I'm just trying to help you," he persists, pulling you closer and grabbing your waist. "Promise I'll be gentle."

"Get the hell away!" You attempt to push him off, but you're drained of strength.

Help... Help... Va-

"Let her go," a chilling voice pierces the night, freezing your heart. "Now!" That signature revolver is now inches from the man's head.

"There's no need for that. You see, my girlfriend here just gets a little feisty after a few drinks," the man smirks.

"I said," Vash cocks back the hammer. "Let her go." Seeing his inevitable defeat, the man releases you with his hands raised. Vash takes your elbow with gentle fingers, his entire demeanor shifting when he looks at you. His blue eyes convey care and concern.

"You okay?" he asks, his presence feeling like a lifeline.

"You're here," you murmur in awe. In this moment, Vash appears as an angel in your eyes. He smiles before turning his attention back to the man, his sweet face now wearing a scowl you've never seen before, almost making him look like—

"Beat it," Vash orders, and the man grumbles as he walks away. Vash lowers his gun and holsters it, returning his full focus to you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

You step closer, burying your face in his chest, fingers gripping his shirt. His scent envelops you, his warmth seeping through your skin. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat pulses through you, comforting you. "Vash."

"What is it?" His hands find your shoulders.

"Vash," you repeat, his name a mantra on your lips. He's here. He came.

Vash tenderly cups your cheeks, tilting your face up. "I'm right here."

"Promise me you won't leave," you implore, your eyes revealing what you can't put into words. It's the fear of losing something you've grown to care for, a fear he knows all too well.

Vash blinks in surprise, taken aback by your request. But nonetheless, he won't refuse. "I promise," Vash assures, as his hand cradles the back of your head, holding you close. "I'll never leave your side."

Wolfwood rounds the corner, spotting the unmistakable red coat. Vash walks down the deserted street, you safely in his embrace. Wolfwood joins you both halfway.

"What the hell happened? I turned around, and you were gone," Wolfwood says, glancing down at you, fast asleep.

"I just... heard her."

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine. Just needs some rest."

"I hear that," Wolfwood says.

Still blue tonight.

THIS IS NOT THE END!

Click the AO3 link to read the full fic!

Thank you ❤

[meimi-haneoka]

I guess what really peeved me the most about the post I had seen was the umpteenth attempt at watering Akiho's feelings down as merely platonic, looking at Kaito as a father figure like Sakura's crush for Yukito.

No. I'm sorry but no.

I might need to remind people that yes, Sakura said that in the end she probably saw a bit of her father in Yukito, but she also added that she felt something a bit different. Just a bit different....She just didn't point it out to him to not make things more complicated. Yukito loved Touya, and she couldn't do anything about it. She needed to get over it.

That shows that either they conveniently forget or just dismiss the feelings Sakura had for Yukito, because you know, it's problematic to think about it.

And yet, Akiho's feelings go well over that.

First of all, you don't blush madly like that for a father figure. That's the most evident sign of it. You don't try so hard in every way to convey your feelings.

She didn't think about him, not even for a second when the school asked her to call a family member for Parent's day.

When he finally offered himself (with a second goal in mind), she was surprised. That's not his role. He's a butler, not a father figure. He's not even her legal guardian, otherwise the school would've invited him directly.

Yet, there is a "family" component to Akiho and Kaito's relationship too. That's just normal. A family isn't only decided by blood connections, family is also when people who love eachother (in any kind of way, so it doesn't exclude romantically) live together. And my god we can have different opinions on what kind of love he feels, but by this time I think even walls know that Kaito loves Akiho.

But most of all, most of anything else, sensei is showing us how Akiho turns into the best version of herself thanks to her love for Kaito. She leaves her insecurities and self-deprecation behind, grasps all the courage she can and not only tries to confess her feelings to him (oh, just so you know, "The Moon is Beautiful" isn't used in platonic context. At all.) but also tries multiple times to have him open his heart to her as well. Because she can see that he's suffering and she won't sit back and watch him falling apart. She wants him to know that he's not alone and he can count on her. She literally tells him, "I've changed ever since I met you". She becomes assertive, spells out things as she feels them, and when faced with a door shut in her face, she doesn't give up and gently insists because she's learned his ways, she knows this is the only way it can work with him. With all the smiling faces he put up with her, none of them fooled her. None of them. How can this be a negative thing?

And the fact that she doesn't demand anything of him (her "It would be good if he cherishes even just one memory we had together" line) doesn't mean that her feelings aren't real or serious. Otherwise that's insulting poor Tomoyo too.

But no, all of this gets conveniently ignored because, you know, Akiho is just 12 (make it 13 in her case), she can't posses serious feelings yet, she can't be serious or committed about a goddamned thing in her life.

I'm so tired of this narrative that wants Akiho completely at the mercy of the people around her, with no agency, no respect for her feelings and no worth in herself. Completely incapacitated by the trauma of her past.

Yes, she does have trauma scars, but she's working so hard to come out of that hell.

Try to apply the same towards Sakura in her relationship with Syaoran, try to suggest that her feelings for Syaoran aren't serious, that she's too young to know, that they aren't soulmates, and count how long it takes for the fandom to jump at your throat.

We can discuss about the nature of Kaito's feelings, but my god, Akiho's ones shouldn't even be debatable by now. I agree that not everything must be romantic at all costs and platonic love is important too, hell I agree VERY much with that. But we can also recognize that a fictional story can depict romantic feelings that don't have to end up becoming *physical* at all costs, not until the right age at least. The characters can have romantic feelings and not trespass certain boundaries. Ultimately, *the characters* define what they feel by themselves.

The official story shows us all of this and it's canon, then it's your choice if you decide to make up your own version of it in your head, and turn a blind eye because you can't accept it. That makes me wonder why you're still reading it, though. 🙄

[dailyaudiobiblechronological]

12/29/2022 DAB Chronological Transcription

Revelation 6 - 11

Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible Chronological, I'm China. Today is the 29th day of December, welcome. So great to be here with you today. Today we are jumping into back to the book of Revelation. We are in chapter six through eleven, continuing on with a New International Version for this week.

Prayer

Father, I thank you that your word is true and it is good that only you alone are worthy. We've read this whole Bible this whole year and I thank you that we have seen the pursuit of man trying to really test is the Lord good, is God good? Is he worth pursuing? And we see time and time again that you are who you say you are. Your word is good and it is true and your nature is kind and true and good. And if anything, there is a constant theme and a constant pursuit of you after your people and declaring and showing them that you are the only God, that you are the only King. And I thank you that we can read these stories and claim them as our own. We can see ourselves in these stories and we can choose to say, that was a good enough reading for me and I'm not going to go that way, I'm not going to test those waters or we can say, okay, I'm going to test this and wrestle with this just as they did. But Lord, I thank you that this whole year we have sought after you and we have found you. And I thank you that's the truth of who you are, that is the truth of your very nature. And so we praise you in spirit and truth and it's in your name we pray, amen.

Announcements

So I mentioned this yesterday and I want to go ahead and mention it again, but starting the December, the 10 December on the Daily Audio Bible Channel, my dad has thoroughly gone over all of the breaking down of Revelation and he reads it, not as collected as we do because it takes us four days to read it, whereas his is a little bit more spaced out. So starting on the 10 December, you can go back and listen at the very end of the podcast after the prayers and it's a great resource for you to listen and to kind of get a better understanding, a better grasp of what it is that we're reading. And that's just a great source. So I could, you know, I could sit here and try to explain it all, but I would not do it justice and it's already right there for you and so I would definitely encourage you to listen to it. Again it's a little bit more spursed out as ours is very dense, our readings are, so you may have to kind of listen to a couple of them to get caught up in everything that we just read. So I definitely encourage you to utilize that as a resource, but that is all for today. I'm China. I love you and I'll be waiting for you here, tomorrow.

Community Prayer Line

Good morning, DABC family, this is Laura from New Jersey, and I am just feeling very blessed and my heart is very full. And I know that God has answered a prayer that I made a couple of years ago about trying to read through the Bible and finding a community and learning how to pray. And I've just had to step back and listen to the prayers that all of you make and all of the prayer requests and knowing how a community works, to just hold each other up and to carry each other and to encourage each other and to pray for each other. And I'm thankful for this group. And I just wanted to call today because I'm thinking of Christmas and the season and how thankful I am. And I pray for you all through this Christmas time and everything that everyone is going through. Amen.

Hi DABC, this is Brooke calling from the Midwest. This is like my fifth time trying to do this because I have tears running down my face, so bear with me. But a year ago today, my sister was admitted into the hospital. She was pregnant with twins and she gave birth very prematurely. And we weren't really sure for a while there if they were going to live. And then it was a few days after that that my younger brother, he was actually admitted into a mental hospital and put on suicide watch. And it was a very dark time for my family and I called in and asked for prayer and you guys answered. And today we are celebrating my niece's first birthday. They turned one on the 26th and they are doing so well. And my brother, I, he is also, I think, doing so much better. At least I pray to God that he is, because with mental illness, you can't see it, but he just seems happier this year. So I think he really is doing better. And I really truly believe that it is because of your guys'prayers, the power of your guys'prayers, that got me and my family through such a hard time. And so there's so much to be grateful for this year. And I just had to call in and give you guys an update and just say thank you to everybody who prayed for me and my family. Thank you guys. I love you so much.

Hey, good morning my DABC family, it's a rainy Friday, December 23, and this is Blessings Flow in Pennsylvania. I wanted to leave a prayer for Adrian from Maryland as she travels today to right outside Boston and visiting family and leaving some of, I think her fur family at home. God, we just pray right now over her for protection over her and everyone that's traveling up 95 and down the highway. I just pray that these roads would stay safe, that they wouldn't become slick, that there wouldn't be any accidents or incidents, that you would just still in quiet. Her anxiety just caused there to be peace and much joy in her heart as they travel to Massachusetts. Lord, just pray for all the dabblers and adapt. Seers Lord, that we may be filled with hope. God of hope, would you fill us with all joy and peace and believe it that we may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. This is something only you can do. We thank you for it. In Jesus name, amen. Merry Christmas. And Happy New Year. It's been such a joy and gift to travel along outside this year with you.

Howdy family, this is Darren from College Station, Texas and I was calling to reach out to you all to request that you all come in agreement with me in prayer for my wife and my marriage and my mother in law. So my wife is Vietnamese and was raised Buddhist, and we have been married for about 15 years. And I have finally reached out to my wife's mother and requested that she release her daughter and my wife from the chains and the bondage that she's in right now of serving Buddha so that she can seek and search out Jesus. So now that I have made this request of her, I ask that the Holy Spirit take over and that you all agree with me in that.

[emperorofmagic]

Scarlet Annihilator

MOTHER

A mother’s love is the purest form of nature’s strength. 

Wanda Maximoff sat in the waiting room, the pale blue walls contrasted the warm evening light. She tapped her foot and picked at her cuticles. Why was this taking so long? She pursed her lips and bit on a nagging hangnail.

“Wanda?” 

She stood when she was called and followed the nurse back to the doctor’s office. With a spring in her step, she crossed her fingers. Her heart slammed in her ears, her stomach knotted. 

“Well,” the doctor said when he came in and sat down. “The good news is, you are pregnant. However,” 

Wanda’s heart skipped and she beamed. Finally. She’d been trying for over a year with no success. Her eagerness to tell Vis fell at the doctor’s concern. She listened as he continued. 

“With your combat history and exposure to high levels of radiation as a child, there’s a good chance the baby won’t make it to term.” He said. 

Wanda went numb. Even with a child in her grasp there was a strong chance she still wouldn’t be a mother. While the bomb never went off, it sealed a slow death. Her bones were steeped in gamma radiation from it. It wasn’t just the steel phantom, the doctor went on to explain some anatomical issues she had. Still, she believed it was the bomb that was the kiss of death. “Is there anything we can do?” Supplements, that was his only answer. It wasn’t good enough, she could finally have a family and the only answer was vitamins. There had to be a better answer. She thanked the doctor and left, her demeaner hardened with resolve. She was going to everything in her power to protect her family.

The was eerily silent when she walked into the house. Since Vis died, Wanda wanted to push on and have a family like they’d dreamed. Clinic after clinic, she tried and failed. The hormones shots made her sick, but, it all would be worth it to be a mother. Wanda pushed the thoughts from her mind, there wasn’t anything she could do but push forward. She turned the TV on and went to cook herself dinner. The news streamed into the living room, one tragedy after the next. The world seemingly was coming to an end but that wasn’t what made Wanda put her kitchen knife down and go back into the living room. 

“Authorities are looking for 4 year old Thomas Jones; authorities believe he was taken after a custody dispute--” Turning off the TV, Wanda shook her head and gritted her teeth. Some people were so ungrateful for what they had; it was sickening to hear how many children suffered at the hands of ungrateful parents. She went back into the kitchen and chopped carrots, losing herself in the rhythm of cooking.

The night progressed like a rerun; she ate, showered, and got ready for bed. She was supposed to be happy now, she’d start a family and things would fall into place. Instead, it was another dance between happiness and misery. As she fell asleep, she thought about Tommy; the boy on the news who’d been abducted. How miserable must a person be to put a child-- especially your own-- through a custody war. Wanda fell asleep quickly, ultimately, dreaming of the little boy and her own child, playing together.

She was peaceful and happy. Wanda was able to sleep blissfully despite the fear that gripped her waking thoughts. 

Another rerun. Wanda’s month was slow but hectic. She followed the doctor’s instructions to the letter. Supplements and rest was key in these critical months but the latter was hard. Trying to work and survive on her own was challenging, but, with a child it was triple that stress. Wanda wasn’t taking any chances, she followed the advice and did everything she could to keep a level head.

News coverage surrounding Tommy’s disappearance became Wanda’s ambience for the next six months. It was hard not to get sucked into the mystery.

4 year old Thomas “Tommy” Shepherd, became a national name seemingly overnight. Born to ungrateful parents, their addictions meant more than Tommy. He and his “Mother” vanished from their neighborhood park one morning and haven’t been seen since. It was believed to be out of a custody dispute.

 She couldn’t understand how parents could be so evil. If he was her child, Tommy would be outside playing in the yard, not this. Time was critical in child abductions. The longer the child is missing the better the chances that child won’t be found alive.

Wanda sat on the floor in her living room, wrapping presents for a birthday party at a friend’s house. She winced as her stomach cramped and ached. Getting up and down off the floor was difficult as it is without the added discomfort.

With the toys wrapped and her baked goods ready, Wanda went to the party.

Happy Birthday, Billy

Wanda arrived at the large estate. Balloons, bouncy houses and children of ranging ages were as far as the eye could see. She hugged her friends as she came in and settled her full arms on the counter.

“Jamie!” Wanda beamed and hugged her best friends and host of the birthday bash. “How are you? It’s been forever.” She dove in and helped Jamie cut some peppers for the dinner Jamie was still preparing.

“Girl, it has been a moment. I swear, getting Mark to help pay for this thing was like pulling teeth.” She rolled her eyes and faced Wanda, “I mean, the guy’s got money. He doesn’t do anything, so why not?” 

“Why is it so hard to be a responsible parent?” Wanda said. “You two get married, have Annabelle and the he decides ‘it’s too hard.’” She put the knife down and faced Jamie, mirroring her frustration. “I can’t believe he actually told you that. No shit it’s hard, you’re raising another human being!”

“I don’t want to do this but if he doesn’t start helping out, I’m going to have to take his ass to court. I can’t afford this place and Annabelle’s medical bills.” She shook her head.

“If you’re struggling for money, why did you throw such a huge party?” Wanda couldn’t rationalize spending lavishly when you couldn’t afford to pay the bills. 

Jamie shrugged and waved her hand dismissively, “I wanted Annabelle to have one normal day despite Mark moving out. It’s been hard on her.” 

Wanda could only imagine. Vis’ death hit her hard, she couldn’t imagine what that could be like for her own baby. “You can only reassure her that you both love her no matter how the family dynamic changes.” It didn’t seem good enough but that was all Wanda could say.

The birthday party lasted the day, Wanda laughed and enjoyed playing with the kids. During the end of the evening, her stomach cramps worsened with added back pain.

“Jamie, did you ever get pain and cramping at 6 months?” Wanda said as she brought the left over cake into the kitchen. The pain was getting worse. It was normal to have some pain, as the woman’s body adjusts to the growing fetus. Wanda didn’t want to sound paranoid. There hadn’t been complications despite the risk so Wanda chalked it to normal changes. However, the pain was getting worse over the weeks.

“Oh yeah, I felt like shit for those final three months.” Jamie shrugged, then, looked at Wanda worriedly. “How bad are you feeling?” She took the cake from her and looked her over.

“I don’t know. The doctor said this was a risky pregnancy and anything could happen.” She shrugged, “but if you were feeling lousy too, then, it’s probably nothing.” Wanda smiled and continued to help clean up. She did the lighter cleaning; dishes, cleaning up light trash, and helping to put leftovers away. Wanda was always told as a child, an idle hand is a lazy hand.” Or something to that affect. It was rude to sit around while others cleaned up. Especially after the host had gone to a lot of trouble to provide for the guests. 

After a few minutes, Wanda had to sit. Her feet and back hurt terribly. One of the guests asked if she was okay, commenting that her complexion looked pale.

Wanda brushed it off as fatigue, but became concerned she might be ill. Not taking chances, she excused herself early and went home. The pain wasn’t bad enough to warrant an emergency room visit.

When she returned home, she collapsed into bed and fell asleep. 

[voxxisms]

     VOX  DIDN'T  REALLY  have an answer for why.  he supposed he did cling to their past,  &&  perhaps it was a sense of nostalgia,  or the fact that it might have been the happiest of times he'd experienced in all of his life  &&  afterlife.  of course,  he adored the times they spent together while alive,  but that connection,  whether he knew about it or not,  had only deepened once they met again in hell.  the more of their past that he discovered,  the more right it felt to be tethered to him still.  for all their differences,  for all their little spats  &&  for seven years worth of radio silence,  he was unmistakably correct to have not moved on.  they were meant for one another,  in some way,  &&  vox was far from willing to break it.

good or bad;  did not matter.

         ❛  you are perfect to me.  ❜    he didn't bother saying too much more;  what else was there to say?  he meant it,  &&  it seemed only natural that he would.  maybe he did have some preconceived notions,  or perhaps there were things he was wrong about,  but he had seen much of alexander over their years together,  &&  he doubted that everything he'd ever seen was all fake.  

     even if they were,  he would just make the effort to get to know him properly this time.

But you make it incredibly hard for me to kill you when you say things like that ... and it makes me angry.

     vox found himself tilting his head slightly at such words.  making alastor angry seemed to be something he was getting quite good at these days,  but he hadn't intended it this time.  he actually rarely made the other angry when he wanted to.  he had given a direct invitation for the other to kill him,  even,  so what was it that was preventing him,  if he so chose?  it was a tad disheartening,  of course,  to hear that he did want to,  but it wasn't something he didn't already consider as possible.  it would explain the number of times knives got involved.  

     the hand moved to his shoulder,  &&  a slight shiver went down him,  hearing his living name pass through his lips, in such a familiar voice.  he would need to get used to that again,  if he chose to keep calling him that.  he'd never liked his own first name much,  but he could forgive it for him.  always.

         ❛  i do -  ❜    he didn't get to say much more,  before the pain of a blade searing through his shoulder made itself known,  at the same time as a mouth came down on his.  his whole body reacted to both,  back arching towards alex,  away from the knife,  a groan leaving his,  muffled by the kiss.  his hands moved quickly to grasp the front of alastor's shirt,  to grip and pull him closer,  a shudder of delight passing through him,  pressing forward to kiss him fervently,  mouth formed to be softer,  malliable,  gentle but firm. 

but his eyes were open,  trained on the demon before him,  refusing to miss a second,  &&  he spotted the tears quickly,  wetting his eyelashes,  pooling there before slipping down.  he pulled away,  feeling the knife slide against his flesh,  knowing well that blood was dripping slowly down his back.  it hurt,  but in the most delightful of ways,  like a reminder of being alive.  alive in this moment,  with him.

     a clawed hand raised,  gently thumbing away some of the tears as he hovered close.  his whole body thrummed with energy,  a soft static building between them.  his fans were kicking into high gear to keep him cooler.

         ❛  you're crying.  are you okay?  ❜    as if he wasn't the one with a blade buried into his body.

✘ - Admittedly he had left rather abruptly but, that was for his own personal reasons. He hadn't seen fit to tell him at that time why he was going anywhere. To him, they weren't that close, so why was it his business. And, he had started to dislike him when he started upgrading. Alexander was the type to hold grudges.. What was wrong with the old? Why upgrade, it seemed like an insult.

" You certainly did not fight like you would lay down and die. " He was quick to point out. "Why are you so insistent on the past? Why do you cling to it the way you do? Why do you.."

He trailed off, as if trying to comprehend what was being said to him and he closed his eyes.

'sun in the sky, light in his eyes, beat of his heart. ' ?

It sounded like poetry. Was it love or obsession. He knew the answer to that, so long ago he'd blurred that line and when Alexander thought he had figured it out, it just got deeper.

✘ - This was irritating.

"You compared yourself to me as perfection to achieve? You think someone like me is... perfect? I am not what you want. I am not perfect- I am worse than your idealized version of me, whatever version of me you've created in your head.. " It was strange, whatever they had. It wasn't good. Vox's intense obsession with him and what could arguably be his obsession back. Vox wanted to keep him, Alexander wanted to hurt him. He did want to hurt him, right. So why was he keeping him alive, just to torture him.

Just kill him.

Why had he been holding back, despite never being one to hold back at all. And sure he had been quite violent with him but it wasn't fatal. And yes he did want to tear him apart still, very much so. Thinking about it quite often, so why then when they met in person did he not just kill him.

It wasn't fun to kill someone who was okay with it. Would he miss him? If Vox stopped existing would he linger in doorways with the memories, would he look for his reflection in screens when he was out and about. Would that numbness he always had feel even more numb, somehow.

Isn't it lovely all alone.

" This isn't a love story, you're aware. But you make it incredibly hard for me to kill you when you say things like that...and it makes me angry. "

Removing his hand from his throat he rested it on his shoulder. "You.. are one incredibly frustrating person, George. I was going to leave you alone when I came back but you wouldn't let me..." And that was irritating as well. He wanted him in pieces but then.. " You know, I want to break you before I kill you but every time I get close to finally fulfilling that goal..." He summoned a knife, driving it into the back of his shoulder, at the same time as he pressed his lips against his. Something stinging at his eyes, had he ever cried before?

[redheadspark]

can i pretty please get an angsty/fluff with Azriel using 37. "You are worth everything and so much more" and 49. "I love you, every single thing about you" please and thank you!

A/N: I like this request! Thank you anon!

Worth

Summary: Your mating bound with Azriel makes you doubt your worth as a potential mate. Azriel, however, doesn't see it that way

Warnings: A mix of fluff and angst

"So....you and Azriel are mates then?"

"....yeah"

Mor gave you a sweet smile, you sitting nervously in your chair as you were fiddling with your fingers and grasping some of the material in your dress. This recent discovery was a huge slap across your face, making your nerves stand on end with that tug of the bound strumming hard and deep.

Strumming towards Azriel. The Spymaster of Night Court.

How could you have a mating bound with him? Of all beings there in Velaris, your bound was singing and screaming out for Azriel. You two were such opposites, his cool and almost scary demeanor to your shy and meekness. His tough fighting style to your pacifist nature. But there was something about Azriel that did draw you into him, something deep inside of himself that made you see his heart was in the right place and he fought for good and for the weak.

When you felt the bound hum, you were working in the garden at the Townhouse with Elain, it was strumming so loud in your chest that you paused in your weed pulling and you sat back on your legs. It felt like the dull heartbeat tuner your wrist that was pounding against the muscles, the aching and yearning to be near Azriel and to have his company close by to be satisfied.

You were beyond scared, and you had to talk to Mor.

"You make it sound like you're being punished for having a mate," Mor explained calmly as you two were sitting in the parlor at the Townhouse. You shook your head, reaching over to clutch your glass of water as Mor was nursing a glass of red wine, "I think it's a great match, you and Az,"

"But," You paused, Mor raising an eyebrow for you to continue, "It's Azriel!"

"That much we know thus far," Mor commented in a joking tone, but she saw the scared look on your face as she cocked her head gently at you, "Do you...not wish to mate with Azriel?" "I'm thinking of the other way around," You muttered, then chugging some of the water as Mor looked at you with wide eyes.

"You think he won't want you?" She asked, reading your mind as you were clutching the glass in a death grip, "Honey, Azriel wouldn't think like that about you. He thinks nothing but the best of you,"

"But what am I to him when it comes to being a fae?" You countered, Mor going quiet as you sighed and leaned your head back in frustration, "I'm no fighter or warrior, or one for delegations and politics. I'm not even High Fae...just a seamstress with barely a family name,"

"If I know one thing about Azriel, and I have known him for centuries on end, he doesnt care for titles or rank. He sees past that, which I find admirable because of how rare you find that in a man," Mor explained as she played her glass on the table and rubbed your arm soothingly, "And I see how he watched and interacts with you. Azriel is enraptured with you,"

You looked at her, almost dumfounded with the notion that the Spymaster would find interest in you. He seemed like someone who was too powerful and too intimidating to find love and interest in someone like you. You were always so sure of yourself when it came to your worth, but it felt like Azriel was on a different pillar and level.

"Talk to him," Mor urged you, her voice calming and gentle, "It doesn't hurt to talk to him and see what he thinks. But I know deep down, he would be honored to call you his mate,"

So after you two spoke, you decided to be brave and talk with Azriel with what was on your heart and what was making you hesitant. He deserved the truth, not wishing to play with his heart or your own. He met you at the House of Wind, the rest of the home was deserted since it seemed as though Mor warned them all. But as you stood at the balcony, overseeing the beauty and peacefulness of Velaris in the deep evening, Azriel made his presence known when he walked out on the balcony from behind you. Instantly, you felt his presence that was thrumming in your chest, not screaming out for you to recognize what was meant to be.

Why was your head getting in the way though?

"Mor told me what was bothering you about....about our bond," Azriel said calmly, sounding very certain and yet hesitant at the same time while he stood behind you. You stayed quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say or how to say it. Part of you wished to be honest and open with Azriel, but the other side of afraid of hurting his feelings in the process. From what you heard from Mor and what she has confessed to you, Azriel had feelings for you and has had them for some time. It wasn't that you didn't reciprocate the feelings, you were in the same boat and your feelings for him grew over time. But you felt your value would be less than what Azriel desired or deserved.

"I don't find myself worthy of you," You explained simply, clutching the balcony railing as your eyes were trained on the city below you and the bickering lights that made the night a bit brighter, "I wish to be honest with you, Azriel. You are a high ranking soldier here, a Spymaster, admired by everyone you meet. I'm....I'm just a dressmaker with no title or no rank,"

It sounded so pathetic when you said it, but since it was out in the open there was no need to hide it or make it simpler. Azriel had the right or know what you were thinking about and what was holding you back in wishing to accept the Bond. You thought of how others would think of the pair of you together, how the judgement would come. Not to mention how you felt as though you couldn't be up to par with all that Azriel was.

But Azriel took a few more steps over in your discretion, you could feel his presence behind you as you were attempting to stay still and not show him how scared you were in your stance and in your eyes.

"I have to disagree with you," He said simply, you pausing on your feet as he sounded very sure and determined, "I feel as though I am the one not worthy of you,"

That made you slowly turn around, seeing how he was 10 feet away and watched you with vulnerability in his eyes and looseness in his stance. You looked in shock, thinking you heard something else and your mind was playing tricks on you.

"Don't say that to make me feel better," You pleaded gently, but Azriel shook his head.

"I'm telling the truth," He explained, "Ever since I met you...you have always been on my mind. Whether it was the way you spoke about your craft and how much you love making dresses, or the softness of your soul that you would bear to me consistently. You make it seem so easy to be open and vulnerable, and I envy that."

You were watching him in silence as he took another step closer, the mating bond was thumping louder now in your ears and under your skin.

"Your kindness and need to have peace is something I wish to have and cherish, and I fell in love with that first. Then it was how you could make my day lighter and brighter with your words and jokes, even the sillier ones," He went on, you lightly smiling and feeling a few tears about to come out from your eyes from hearing all of this, "And lastly, whenever I was in your presence and your beauty....I couldn't breathe for a moment or two. Far before I felt our bond...I felt a tug towards you that I never wanted to let go. I don't wish to....and I'll do anything you ask to have you believe that I fell in love with you. I love you, every single thing about you."

"You....you love me?" You asked sheepishly, Azriel took another few steps to be right in front of you and gaze down at you with his hazel eyes. It seemed like it was too good to be true, maybe a sick dream. To hear the very Spymaster that you've pinned for and felt unworthy of, pour his heart to you and made it sound so heavenly and simple at the same time.

"I would be honored to call you my mate, because you make me wish to better. I can't picture my life without you in it, and I don't have the courage to do so," he said softly, being so close to you as he reached up to cradle your jaw with his scarred hands. You were silent, eyes wide as Azriel showed his love in his eyes and in his hold along your face, "I'll change all of me to have you as my mate. You are worth everything and so much more, and I only hope you feel the same,"

Nothing could prepare you for how your own heart was exploding with the notion of being loved by Azriel. To know that he loved you, that the feeling was mutual, and your bond was no mistake or no chance. It was real, the bonding tug was feeling so strong and yet so warm. The warm almost being a sign that you two were content in this bond and you accepted it.

All you could do was lean up to kiss him, taking the first step you were so hesitant to take. Within a moment, Azriel moved his hands to your waist and held you close in his arm, so possessively and protectively like you two were the last being in Velaris. It felt that way, the softness and intimate feeling of his lips on yours and his fingers along your hips and waist made your head spin and your bond expand.

That night was the first of your new life together, the best night of your life.

The End.

[leggerefiore]

Let's say the Subway Bosses had known reader for a while. One day they take them aside and say something like "I've kept my feeling to myself for so long, but I can't take it anymore. The thought of you with someone else makes my chest ache!" Maybe they even tear up a little...How would they react? What can I say I love stories about pining!

A bitter, cold feeling ate at your heart. A feral, brutal animal to sink its teeth into your mind and never to free you from the grasp of its maw. You watched in discontentment while the brother chatted with an obvious fan. He was not that dumb, assuredly the hat made it obvious. Their giggles loud at the most basic of phrases from the Subway Boss. Everything was growing to become too much. Everyone loved him as much as you did, it seemed.

You felt closer to them than any of the people who spoke with them, however. You were the twin's childhood friend from back in Anville Town. Days back then were wildly different from now. It was you and the brother's wandering around the small town with strong curiosity. Often, you stop by the rail yard and investigate whatever locomotive had stopped I'm for repairs. The twins began naming facts and features about the trains, one following the other in perfect synchrony. They were not Subway Boss Ingo and Emmet at the time, but rather those weird twins whose obsession for trains was uncomfortable and annoying. You loved their passion despite the popular position in your hometown.

▲Ingo▼

His eyes closed, and he nodded his head politely to the commuter. It sparked a fireworks worth of envy right through your veins. You had loved him for as long as you could remember. Ingo caught you attempting to rush into tall grass to catch your first pokemon. He nagged you about safety before handing you his Litwick to borrow. You almost cried from his kindness and thanked him over a thousand times. He just shook his head. In your teenage years, the older twin often found himself with people leaving him love letters and unexpected confessions. Once, you dared write one anonymously. He never mentioned yours like he had the others to you. You spent an entire afternoon bawling your eyes out over the unrequited love. It must have been dreadfully terrible. Even now, as adults, you could only stare as other people attempted to sweep him off his feet. Perhaps, it was your passive nature that caused him to overlook you as a partner. A spontaneous action sparked, and you called for Ingo's attention. His bright, chrome eyes glanced at your waving hand. A polite excuse was given as he wondered what you needed him for. Upon arriving in your grabbing range, you pulled him along to somewhere more isolated. If this went badly, you at least wanted a lonesome place to mourn your feelings.

“Ingo…” You began while averting your sight to the tiled floor of the station. It was harder to speak the actual words than to think of them. He hummed at you, “Yes? What's wrong?” His voice held genuine concern, but you still felt negatively. Tears stung the rims of your eyes as you continued, “I've kept this to myself since we were kids…” The Subway Boss noticed your mood shift and a placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I-I love you! Seeing you with all those people and fans, it just hurts to think about!” You blurted it all out at a volume that would make your friend blush. Embarrassed, you shoved his hand away and got ready to run away. Instead, Ingo pulled you in for a warm, tender hug; his hand stroked your hair lightly. You unconsciously buried your face in his shoulder. “There's no need to cry,” his tone carried an affectionate lilt, “I love you, as well. I have since you caught your first Pokemon.” He gazed down at you with a loving expression spiting his frown. “That battle afterwards and how you beat me. I think it's part of the reason I wanted to become such a strong trainer,” Ingo's face inched closer to your own.

Eyes closed together as an amorous, chaste kiss was pressed to your lips. Your arms curled along his neck. His forehead rested against yours as you each enjoyed the closeness of your bodies and warmth emitted.

   

▽Emmet△

Arms were wrapped around the fan as they grew a strong blush. It was no secret Emmet was the affectionate type. Hugs were given out if asked for, and he would hold your hand if you were nervous. When you were younger, he was your first opponent in battle. The young train enthusiast was merciless against you. Of course, being a small child and having your friend get way too competitive led, naturally, to you bursting into tears. Emmet rushed over at your sudden emotional display, leaving his poor Tynamo out, and squeezed you to his body. The hug was relatively uncomfortable, but the sudden contact helped alleviate the sting of losing. You think that was when it started; years of attempting to (and failing to) confess. During your teenage years, someone had thought to bully you for a feature you had become malcontent with. This went on for a month or two before Emmet learnt of your situation. Reassurances were given that you were his one of best friends, and that poor bully was subjected to Emmet's wrath in a pokemon battle.

Your feelings were never spoken to him. You felt unworthy to be with him. Even when Emmet had been viewed as a creepy train-obsessed twin, you felt beneath his surging potential. It stung your being as you watched the fan hug him back. You were not anything truly special to him, were you? The Subway Boss's gaze landed on you, and he waved you over. Shaking your head at him, you walked to a more secluded area of the station to mope around. A piece of trash was kicked around by your foot as your emotions ran wild. Sliding to the floor, you buried your face into your knees. Then, silently, you cried. People's footsteps echoed distantly, but no one approach you. Moments passed with that stasis. That was until you heard someone sit beside you. An arm looped around your shoulders and pulled you in close, “tell me what's wrong. I will fix it.” Emmet cared about you, just not in the way you wanted. “It aches when I see you with other people,” you gave no context, afraid to say too much. You were pulled even closer, your head lying right above his heart. His pulse was steady and comforting. It almost felt too perfect when the words left you with little mind, “I love you, Emmet; I have for so long.” A kiss was pressed onto your head. His hand gently rubbed at your shoulder. “I've loved you since we first met,” he admits with a rosé pink across his cheeks. “I loved how you smiled and carried yourself. I still do. All I want is for you to smile.”

His lips rested against your own. You both refused to part until air had become a concern. His grin held a fondness and deep affection that made your heart turn in a different way. The corners of your mouth twitched upward, and he absolutely glowed with elation.

[missingn000]

what are your thoughts on mahito?

...oh boy.

i'm sorry, but i love him. it took me about a year and a half to reach this conclusion -- i once hated his guts too, and i don't at all blame anyone who loathes him. y'all are totally valid. he's so, so hateable.

defending myself below cut. i have good reasons, i promise.

so why did i change my mind? okay. he's just so interesting. he's one of the most well-written villains i've ever encountered in media. it's hard to write an "evil just for fun" villain and make them compelling, but with mahito, gege absolutely succeeded. there are layers to it, in a way i've never seen written before.

he truly united almost the entire fandom against him. he fucked up so much in the story: junpei, mechamaru, nanami, nobara. his impact was insane. even beyond named characters, no body count even scratches his. towards the end, he was so brokenly powerful. i don't think kenjaku could've hoped to take him in if he weren't basically on the brink of death. even his final words are lashing out at his own ally, saying he always knew the end. yet he still did everything anyway.

honestly, as always, i'll keep most of my negative opinions to myself, but i really think every other jjk villain since shibuya looks like a joke next to him. he's my favorite jjk villain by so much it's almost funny. even sukuna and kenjaku don't reach his level for me. 

sure, their impact on the story has obviously been pivotal. i've definitely had some strong emotional reactions to things they've done, but i want to see more emotions from them. what have we seen from sukuna? pretty much just rage, annoyance, and cruelty? uh, okay. and kenjaku has never shown anything more than vaguely amused indifference. he just can't incite an emotional reaction from me with that. what are their motives? what are their ideals?

yeah, i'm sure i'm missing a lot of themes or whatever with them, but i really don't flip over sukuna (hopefully that'll change...) and i never want to think about kenjaku more than i absolutely have to.

in contrast, mahito's emotions are so human, so complex. he has the widest range of emotion of any jjk villain. mahito's ideals are concise and an incredible foil for yuuji's. take this speech of his in shibuya:

"I bet you thought you were gonna do some pest control! Or ghost exterminations like in some make-believe story! You came to Shibuya with half-assed determination didn‘t ya?! How naive, you stupid brat! This is war! Not a battle to fix what‘s wrong! But a clash of truths! You and your fragile justice! You are me, Yuuji Itadori! I kill without a second thought, just like you save people without a second thought! The instincts of a curse against the so-called dignity obtained by human reason! It‘s a battle to determine who will be left standing in a hundred years! How the hell did you think you were gonna beat me when you don‘t even realize that? Tell me, Yuuji Itadori, have you ever stopped to count how many curses you‘ve killed? No, right? Me neither, me neither!"

this is insane. are you kidding me? are you kidding me. this is so fucking metal. he studies humans because they fascinate him: he reads books, watches movies, familiarizes himself with folklore and religions. yet despite that, he still sees humans as having no worth. their lives mean nothing to him. but his fixation on yuuji, his cognizance of their nature as character foils, proves how much grasp he has on human emotional depth.

i wish there was a better word for it, but he cared about yuuji: obviously not in the traditional positive, warm, affectionate sense, but in that he viewed yuuji as important to himself, his own ideals, and his own growth. if given more time, i think his emotional range towards humans could have become even wider.

conversely, as it stands at the end, curses do have worth to him. he helps a wounded hanami back to the base. this incredible post talks about how jogo is almost a father figure to him (and it's great mahito meta, too). i wish what that meta writer talked about came true. he left the story far, far too soon. i miss him so goddamn much. there's a gaping hole in the cast now that no other character can hope to fill.

i honestly can't wait to write more of him. tpg mahito's arc is literally insane, and honestly one of my favorites in the entire story. i seriously can't wait. i'd never try to make anyone like or root for him -- he's a villain, and always will be. but i want people to feel compelled in the same way i do. i'm missing so much in this analysis; i feel like i've barely scratched the surface.

mahito. his name means true human, by the way. if you think i'm not going to explore every aspect of that, you're in for a wild ride.

[struggling-with-time]

How to spiral out of control [Simpbur x reader]

Pairing: c!Wilbur Soot x fem!reader (Simpbur x reader)

Summary: How simpbur became simpbur. And how you grew up and lived with him.

Warnings: Obsession, unhealthy obsession, stalking, murder, drugging, unhealthy relationship, and Simpbur being a creep.

Words: 5K

Masterlist: Wilbur’s Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: Listen I had brainrot. And I don't know how to defend this. (Also requests are still open! Click here!) And it's unedited for now it's 5:12 am here I will edit later today

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Wilbur was a pretty insignificant child. The death of his mother being one of the most interesting things about his childhood. While he claimed not to blame his youngest brother for the loss of his mother. He certainly had a funny way of showing his youngest brother affection.

Wilbur is the middle child of three. A charming but quiet and well accomplished older brother, who seems to never have to end to his dedication neither success. And his youngest brother, a loud ball of sunshine that just seems to make everyone in a good mood. Truly good with people, something Wilbur never seemed to grasp.

His whole childhood tainted by that fact. Always living in the shadow of his brothers, the clear favourites of everyone who came near the family of four.

So his grades was just average, never good enough to get acknowledged, never bad enough to need extra attention. Just average, like the rest of him. He grew up lanky, not athletic neither unable to run. Wilbur was grey in a family of golden people. His father raised them alone for most of Wilbur’s life. His father that despite never saying it out loud had clear favourites in his brothers. It was always, oh and Wilbur too!

Never him, never just him.

So, Wilbur spent most of his childhood lonely, disregarded and weird. A pitiful child. A pathetic child.

The thing is there was one thing, that made Wilbur worth anyone’s time. One person. You.

His childhood best friend.

Well, that’s what anyone who only knew Wilbur would say. Because you were the only friend he had. However, it was different for you, although the two of you were good friends, you wouldn’t call him your best friend for years. That didn’t happen till you became teenagers.

You had always tried your best to include the weird kid in playdates, birthday parties, and playground games. But nobody else seemed to find him worth their time, with his weird and morbid comments. But you persisted that he wasn’t that weird, besides his older brother was really cool.

So, you stick around, you stick around as playdates become hangouts, as dolls become makeup, and homework goes from learning to read to writing essays.

While you had many friends, both come and go and stay, Wilbur had been there for as long as you could remember. A playground proposal documented on home video. And a remake of it on the day of your school dance. You had played along, but it was known to everyone that your childhood friend wanted to be more than friends. But you stayed, smiled for the camera and laughed it off.

Then the school dance was over, and the last exam had been taken. That’s when you moved a country over, and slowly you lost contact with the people you used to call friends, but Wilbur stayed. Wilbur always stayed.

He finally got the spot as the best friend in your mind too. A definite win in his book.

Wilbur had always been odd, a bit to the left of normal. But now, with distance and screens in between you, he only started to act more concerning. This was around the time he started talking about feeling depressed and useless.

Of course, you always told him you didn’t believe that, what else were you supposed to say? Your friendship turning more and more into therapy sessions once a week for Wilbur on your end. While for him it was the highlight of his week.

Clicking the call button beside your profile picture, an anime girl from one he had recommended to you himself. One he had stayed up an entire night to shift through different animes to find the perfect one to send your way. One he was guaranteed you would watch.

“Wilbur, I should really get off.”

“C’mon stay on just a bit later, please.”

The silence deafening over the video call, he watches you intensely as you pull your legs into your chest, your shitty webcam standing beside you on your bed.

Wilbur reached out for the energy drink beside him, a new habit he has picked up. The more hours spent on the computer, the more he seemed to consume.

“Fine, just half an hour more. But then it’s the last half hour.”

Wilbur smiles at that, you choosing him over everything else in the world. He likes that, he likes that a lot. You valuing him. Spending time with him, and only him. Your attention is his.

“We could always fall asleep on call, then we could keep talking.”

“Another day Wilbur, another day.”

That. That sentence he on the other hand didn’t like. Not one bit. A promise never kept. A promise left unspoken and unpromised from your side, but a broken and abandoned promise on his side.

Then there was the wall incident.

Wilbur wouldn’t have told you if it weren’t for you noticing the hole in his wall. One that matched his fist quite neatly. His father had taken his PS4 in punishment for Wilbur using so much the WiFi plan to call you. At least that’s what he told you.

In reality, he had gotten into a fight with his older brother, his brother had asked about you, how you were doing, and if he could say hi during a call. There was something about the words that had irked Wilbur, something that set him off, something about him that made his brother seem dangerous to Wilbur. So, he had decked his older brother in the face. Causing a blackeye to occur.

In return, Wilbur now sported a big black and blue spot from where he hit the floor. His brother having immediately tackled him.

And to Wilbur that had confirmed his thoughts. Other guys are dangerous, he’s the only one you should rely on.

The wall had taken the brunt of his rage that night, a screaming match with his dad that ended with his little brother getting sent to his friends' house, and his PS4 getting confiscated until Wilbur had gotten a job and was able to pay back the damages.

And he did get a job, much to your surprise. But you had encouraged him throughout it all. A dead-end cashier job that only seemed to make his world staler and more bothersome than before.

A time where he searched for every distraction possible, gaming, music, you.

You were proud of him when he got the hole in his wall fixed, and even more when he kept his job. And Wilbur doesn’t remember you ever giving him more praise than the day he told you he was starting to investigate going to university.

Naturally, you helped him, and along the way, Wilbur picked up a guitar. A new asset to his den of depression that his room had become, decked in led lights, and overpriced RGB gaming stuff.

The university acceptance came rather quick, and suddenly Wilbur was packing up his life and heading to university. Boxes filled with stuff he barely remembered owning, and kitchen appliances that would never see the light of the day.

And he can feel you starting to drift, already busy with your own life. But he clings to you.

He stays, Wilbur always stays in your life. Even when you drift.

Wilbur knows it’s affecting him. It’s not hidden from anyone. The longer that goes between the two of you talking, the sourer his mood gets. The longer you don’t respond to him, the more messages he sends. The more information he craves to know.

Who are you talking to?

Who are you seeing?

Who is so much more important than him?

Hadn’t he always been there for you?

Hadn’t he always stayed?

You owe him.

Wilbur grows bitter and resentful. But not to you, never to you. But for everyone around you. His biggest joys in life now coming from the ungodly amount of caffeine he drinks, and whenever you reach out first.

This is why the day you call him asking for help is forever a day that will bring him joy.

“Hey Will, you’re really good with tech, and I was wondering if you wanted to help me start streaming.”

He chokes on the energy drink. He chokes on his words. He chokes on the air. He drowns.

His heart aching. His anger festering. His-

“Sure.”

He hears himself respond before he can even process the thought.

It takes him 2 days of absence from university, and what feels like 2 even longer nights, before he’s an expert on how to stream. He reads everything he can find, he watched everything that gets suggested.

You asked him for help, so he will help.

But Wilbur, spends these hours conflicted. You want his help, not someone else’s, someone lesser than him. Him.

But at the same time. His mind keeps wandering, isn’t he enough any longer? Isn’t he good enough for you? Why isn’t he good enough for you? Why? Why?

And thus, he learns you how to use the software, and beings alongside you. He finds comfort in knowing most of your streams whenever possible is spent with him on a call with you.

Although that happens after hours of pestering, that doesn’t matter. He gets to talk to you, while the rest is limited to a measly chat.

You seem to find yourself comfortably in the gaming category, slowly growing. Slowly rising.

Wilbur’s own streams, on the other hand, feels more like incoherent rants interrupted by his guitar plays. And once in a blue moon, you are on call with him.

It doesn’t take long before he gives up, watching you grow. Finding more comfort in watching you, instead of being the watched. Not that anyone really did watch him besides for you.

Wilbur stays out of a camera, as you only seem to grow more comfortable being in front of one.

The first time you have someone on a call with you on stream, who isn’t Wilbur. He just can’t help but break his bedside lamp. It’s a guy nonetheless. A guy from the internet. The type of guy Wilbur has never been shy to tell you horror stories about.

And this is where another bad habit of his started to emerge. He just can’t help himself. But you’re laughing with someone else. You’re smiling for someone else. You’re his. Not anyone else’s. His. His. His.

Wilbur is quick to find the donating button he had helped you set up himself. At that time it had only been used a couple of times. Nothing big. But Wilbur wants big. He wants attention. He wants you.

He fumbles with his credit card as he keys in the numbers, he’s a bit too familiarised with them. Because anything he can get from the internet will be delivered that way.

And then the notification pops up on your screen. A donation number you had never expected. And you start crying. Right there. Right on stream. And Wilbur sucks it up. He sucks it right up that you’re crying for him, whiling praising him, and only him.

The match you were playing ruined, and Wilburs smile only grows as he hears the familiar tone of discord receiving a call.

That night. You had ditched the fellow streamer to thank Wilbur and hang out with him.

Something you never thought you would regret.

But oh, how you did. How you did.

It takes Wilbur around 2 months to get used to a large sum of money means special attention to him, and only him. For everyone to see.

And he can feel you pulling away, so each time he donates, it’s bigger. Larger. Grander.

He’s never on your stream without a donation anymore. Never on call for free. But Wilbur doesn’t mind, because everyone gets to see you’re his.

And he keeps increasing the amount as you keep growing until he hits a stalemate. He’s using half of his paycheck on you, while he doesn’t mind going hungry a couple of days. His bills won’t wait for him. And he has been living away from home for far too long to ever think about calling up his father and ask for money.

Not to mention his oldest brother would never. Then neither will Wilbur. Because Wilbur is better. Better than all of them.

The larger your stream grows, the closer graduation arrives, and then Wilbur is sitting in another apartment. Another dead-end job. Another grey life.

Another dull life passing him by. Your voice constantly on loop his apartment. Constantly filling his life. As it always has. But to you, Wilbur is barely a part of your everyday. Only really showing up when a donation comes in. As you once again tell him not to spend money on you.

But he seems to stay. Wilbur always stays.

He’s the first to like anything you post on social media. Always online never off. Always lurking. Never missing. Never absent. He’s always there.

Wilbur never misses a stream; he schedules his life around yours. Even if you’re a country away.

And then one day you’re not. You’re not a country away, you’re moving back. You’re moving closer. And suddenly you live an hour away by car. Instead of an airplane ride, and shitty trains.

Suddenly Wilbur can see himself get a foot in the door. No longer grasping onto his parasitic parasocial friendship with you. He can see himself being more than the childhood friend who has always been there. He can see himself as the partner that always is there.

Wilbur is giddy the entire car ride. He’s giddy as he feels his bag burn on his shoulder. And he’s giddy until the second you embrace him in a hug and welcome him into your new apartment.

It’s bigger than the one you’ve had since university.

And then his future crumbles. You start talking about a guy named Jared. Fucking Jared. Why did even his name have to leave a sour taste in his mouth? A guy you met over the internet. Not just any guy. No specifically the fucker from the first time Wilbur had donated.

Apparently, he wasn’t a streamer, but a friend you had made during your 2 years you lived at university but never told Wilbur about. Not a single mention of him, and suddenly he’s all you’re talking about.

How could Wilbur have known? You hadn’t even mentioned him on stream. Wilbur always listened so carefully, writing down everyone you mentioned. You had called him attentive once, and he would never want to disappoint you. Maybe if he was attentive enough you would look his way.

Instead, here you are talking about this Jared guy. And Wilbur knows what he has to do. A thought he has been toying with for around 3 years now. Ever since you went to Disneyland together. A trip he paid for, and a trip that was streamed, so everyone could see you were his. You were always his.

That was easily his favourite video.

In the week up to the vacation, Wilbur had done everything he could to learn about cameras so he could help you, and do the most for you. He had even helped you sort through some of the non-streamed videos he filmed too for a YouTube video for you.

Which is where he found the clip of you changing.

The camera had been resting on your hotel bed, the video having a clear Dutch angle, leaving the hotel room slandered. But there you were, right square and centre still. Changing. It takes you a minute to finish before you turn around and pick the camera up again. Mumbling something as you turn it to show off your hotel room, and then the clip cuts to black.

He never told you about it, instead just saving that specific clip on a USB stick. A piece of tech he valued more than his life. Not that his life had ever been worth much in comparison to his.

Wilbur rips his bag open, careful not to make a lot of noise. He removed his clothes, and then the fake bottom. And underneath it reveals small security cameras.

Wilbur has never been more thankful for you being a heavy sleeper and letting him sleep on a mattress on the floor of your bedroom. He quietly sets up two in your bedroom, before moving into the rest of your house. One in your office that has been converted to a streaming room. His own personal angle to your public life.

Two more in the living room, he skips the kitchen and hesitates at the door of your bathroom. For the first time, he hesitates. His hand hovers over the doorknob, the other holding the camera.

“Wilbur?”

You’re standing in the hallway, sleep evident on your face.

“Will why are you making so much noise?”

“No reason darling, go back to bed, just needed some water.”

His breath is stuck in his throat until he hears you close the bedroom door again.

That was the first time he hesitated. And his last. He couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t afford to lose you further.

The rest of the trip passes Wilbur by as you introduce him to Jared. The douchebag himself. The asshole. The guy who dares take away what is Wilbur’s. Even on the ride home. All Wilbur can see is Jared’s image etched into his mind. His god-awful fashion sense. The way everything, he wore around you, just seemed to be a size too small. Nobody wants to see that fuckers’ muscles. Wilbur’s knuckles turn white, as he grips the steering wheel.

Jared has to go.

He’s ruining everything. He’s not part of the dream you told Wilbur you had. Jared has never been part of that. Wilbur was supposed to be part of that. Even if the dream changed through the year. Even if the one you’re living now is the unimaginable future the two of you imagined up at seventeen. But one thing was sure. Jared wasn’t part of that. Wilbur was.

Wilbur easily finds himself a new normal at home. The trip giving him a refreshed sense of hope. A plan in the making. His daily routine now including watching you all hours of the day. Not just your streams any longer. Every single second he can wrench out of those cameras.

And suddenly his friendship seems to improve with you too. Because now he can see when you’re sad and in need of a friend. He reaches out at the perfect time. Abusing your vulnerable state. Because it’s the best to do. It’s for the betterment of your future.

The more Wilbur is there for you, the more he resents Jared. He deserved to be in your bed, not that asshole. He deserves to reap the rewards of his hard labour. He is the one that has always been there because Wilbur has always stayed.

A simple click is all it takes for Wilbur and the item has been placed in a cart. Mere keystrokes and it has been paid. A single click and Wilbur has truly gone insane, as a packet is shipped off. A packet containing a bottle of sleeping pills.

The next time you invite Wilbur down, you barely recognise him as you open the door. Eyebags so deep you’ve never seen before. His entire body slightly twitching, and that manic smile on his lips. Wilbur brushes your concerns off, claiming that’s just what happens in real workplaces. Not that you would know anything about that.

Wilbur hates the feeling of insulting you, but you had barely responded the entire week. You deserved to suffer for a moment. Before he caves and apologises for being rude. That’s the moment you can see the resembles of his normal being as he hangs his shoulders.

Jared comes over that night. Just as Wilbur had planned. And this time he won’t hesitate. He even bought a bigger car for this.

Wilbur offers to mix the drinks, claiming to have learnt a new recipe. Which isn’t a lie, he has learned how to perfect just the right cocktail thick enough that covers the chalky residue of the pills. And sweet enough to make the bitter taste disappear.

He serves them, keeping a watchful eye as the night drags on, and Jared never seems to shut up. But Wilbur can deal with it for one night. Just for one. And then he won’t ever have to worry about Jared again.

He serves another.

And then another drink.

And finally. Finally. You’re starting to get tired. Slowly leaning against Wilbur. And he takes pride in that. Great pride. You didn’t choose to lean against Jared, you’re leaning against Wilbur.

Wilbur sits still until Jared too is starting to fall asleep. Wilbur is ecstatic.

He gets up slowly, gently laying you down, a pillow underneath your face. A blanket over you. He kisses your forehead and smells your hair. Taking in the shampoo scent still lingering.

Then Wilbur gets moving, he has stuff to do. Plans to execute after all.

He does his best to get Jared’s left arm over his shoulders. But their awkward height difference makes it difficult, but he can make it work. It has to work. He only gets one shot.

Wilbur gets the front door open before he realises a fatal flaw in his plan. He has to drag Jared down 3 floors worth of stairs. He realises he can’t do it the way he is now. He has to drag him down by his armpits instead.

It takes him the first flight of stairs to realise Jared shoes are making too much noise. He has to abandon them, Wilbur awkwardly gets Jared leaned against the wall before he removes Jared’s polished black shoes. Wilbur leaves them there, making a mental note to remember them when he comes back.

The rest of the stairs, while difficult and definitely breathtaking for someone who has no muscle strength. He makes it work. Wilbur actually makes it work.

He made it work. It worked. Oh god. It’s working.

Wilbur repositions Jared once more, his arm once again over Wilbur’s shoulders. The night sky greeting him as he steps out of the apartment complex. With great difficulty, Wilbur gets the two of them over to his car, where he throws open the trunk. In the proceed shaking the car, setting off the car alarm. Wilbur is quick to drop Jared as he fumbles after his car keys. It takes him nearly a full minute to turn off the car alarm.

Wilbur curses under his breath.

Annoyed with the time loss. He finally gets the knocked-out Jared into his trunk, and he shuts it again. Just as a front door in the apartment complex opens. A man steps out. He raises a hand to Wilbur, before pulling out a smoke.

Wilbur shuffles on his feet before raising a hand. And then awkwardly gets into his car.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

He has a body in his trunk. Now he just has to get to the harbour. Wilbur starts the car and starts the ride to the harbour a town over.

Half an hour has gone past when Wilbur is pulling the handbrake, and taking the keys out. He’s quick to get out, and even quicker to get to Jared. Wilbur keeps thinking about you. Your smile. Your kindness. Your voice. Your beauty. Your grace. As his hands are securing zip ties around the wrists and ankles of an unconscious man.

He has to go.

Wilbur reminds himself.

A cloth is tied around Jared’s filthy mouth, and then Wilbur is back to dragging him. It’s both easier and harder. Easier before he’s just dragging him across the pebbles and over to the brink of the harbour. Both of his arms are under both of Jared’s.

But it’s harder because if someone sees him it’s going to get difficult to explain. But nobody does. As far as Wilbur is aware.

So a splash is made by a body, and Jared is unceremoniously sinking to the bottom of the ocean floor.

Wilbur takes one more breath of fresh air. Before turning around and getting back into his new car.

He’s quick to arrive at your apartment complex. The man was no longer there. Wilbur goes to grip the front door. It doesn’t bulge.

Oh yeah, it’s locked.

He fishes the copy he made of your house key from his keychain and lets himself into the building he doesn’t live in. An invited guest, that has turned out to be an uninvited one.

He can feel the tiredness setting in his bones, as he ascends the stairs. And the realisation that he just killed someone hasn’t dawned on him yet. Instead, all his muscles are aching, and his eyes barely staying open.

He stumbles into your apartment. Another kiss gets left on your forehead as he goes for your bed. The smell is so nice. It’s so obvious to him this is where you sleep. And he’s soaking in each moment until his eyes are giving out.

His night remaining dreamless, instead, he gets awoken rather rudely around noon. You’ve pulled the comforter off him and told him to get up, so the two of you can spend some timeacting together. and Wilbur happily does that.

Not at all acing like a man who purposely took another person’s life mere hours ago. You rush him to get into his clothes. As you have something planned for rest of the day out of the apartment. You’re talking his ears off as you descend the first flight stairs your personal puppy in tow.

When you stop dead in your tracks. Wilbur nearly stumbles into you.

“Will, is that Jared’s shoes?”

And right there is in fact Jared’s shoes. The pair Wilbur had forgotten all about. The pair he had left unintentionally.

“Are you sure about that? Thought he already left.” Wilbur lies, he may be awkward, but he has gotten pretty good at lying to you through the years.

“Yeah yeah, you’re right. Why would he leave his shoes?”

The question gets left unanswered, and the tension is thick until you get outside, and the sun is shining. It seems it knows too of how good this day is for Wilbur, a dawn of a new era. Where you will finally acknowledge him as the perfect one for you.

The man from the nightstand once again with a smoke and raises his hand to greet Wilbur, once again Wilbur shuffles on his feet before he raises a hand back. You look at him weirdly, and Wilbur shrugs it off.

The rest of the day happening without any mishaps or other incidents. But the shoes just can’t seem to leave your mind, despite how hard Wilbur is trying to distract you.

And then the afternoon passes, and the night, and the car ride, and Wilbur is once again home. And as soon as the door closes. He crumbles down on the floor.

Oh god.

He did it.

He actually fucking did it.

He isn’t useless.

He’s fucking Wilbur, and Wilbur stays in your life. Even when you make such stupid mistakes as falling for another person. There’s only one person for you and that’s him.

You’re actually the first one to call him this time, and the smile never leaves his lips. Even if the call is about Jared. And how worried you are about not having heard from him. Wilbur just tells you; you should have listened to him. Guys on the internet are just like that. And that you deserve better. Someone like him.

You laugh at this and thank him for calming you down.

Wilbur suddenly loves phone calls.

This bliss is perfect for Wilbur you’re talking to him more and more. And he watches, god he watches you. Every step you take in that apartment is filmed logged on his computer.

However, all good things must come to an end, and Wilbur has barely pulled off his tie after work when a group of loud knocks sounds at his door. He isn’t expecting guests.

A group of men in blue uniforms greets him.

“Wilbur Soot, you’re under the arrest for the Murder of Jared Yarrow.”

Wilbur barely registers what’s going on, before he’s in a holding cell. A psych evaluation under his belt. A phone call to his father asking him to help him out.

The days bleed together in the unchanging environment, and suddenly a defender is telling him to plead for insanity.

Then the defender comes back again days later with a court date, and all Wilbur can do is count the seconds.

Time for the first time since arriving slows down when the doors to the court open and Wilbur is lead into the courtroom. And there you are, looking beautiful as ever. Tears and despair clearly written on your face. You look away from him, and it makes him stumble for a moment. A quick look to the other side, confirms his fear. His father is here. Alongside his brothers.

The trial goes over what happened that night, the evidence, the sleeping medication, the car. Everything. Yet even when his sentence is received, even when he is told he won’t see the sun again for a long time. There is only one thing on his mind.

They never found the cameras.

And he just can’t help but smile at that as he’s getting lead away to rot.

Because Wilbur has always stayed by your side, Wilbur always stays. -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-