#i noticed that I had a stronger connection to this story in the Book of Mormon than I do to the New Testament

[dollypopup]

I truly cannot overstate just how much I adore Colin Bridgerton as a male love lead, and how important his story is, in particular in a current, modern reading. We live in a time of alpha male machismo that in many ways mirrors the sexism of the historical time period Colin is in, and we have a hero who explicitly rejects it. More than that, we have a hero who first tries on the persona, first tries to fit in, and then determines, with no outside influence and all on his own, that it's wrong. That he doesn't want to be like the men of his society, that he doesn't like the expectation of sex without love and commitment and connection, that he doesn't want to be 'one of the boys', even if it comes at their derision.

Because when Violet says he has always been her most sensitive child, when he has always considered others before himself, when he has always offered a joke or a moment of levity- for so long, he felt he had to. That there was no other choice.

Colin Bridgerton, The Great Pretender, is finally coming into the light.

Take my hand. Come walk with me.

Colin's arc is incredibly clear, and incredibly dear to me. We can track his progress throughout the seasons he has been in, but if we consider his backstory, it comes even more in clarity.

Piecing together a timeline with some influence from the books and loose historical accuracy, Colin loses his father at 12 and then is sent off to Eton. And he is a tiny thing when his father passes, shorter even than his 9 year old sister, Eloise.

(Yes, I checked!! He's half a head shorter than Eloise, and an entire head shorter than Daphne. This boy is SMALL)

So it makes a lot of sense to me that this is the start of his fake-it-to-make-it personality. He cannot grieve with his family in these circumstances, he's been sent off to school with other boys who are bigger and stronger than him, and he must realize relatively quickly that weakness in their eyes will never be tolerated. In fact, Eton was well known for corporal punishment and bullying during this time. Older boys were well known to mistreat the younger once, and considering just how small and soft-hearted Colin is, and just how vulnerable he is having lost his father-

Of course Colin would become a target of such.

And despite that, we meet him in Season 1 with an endearing earnestness and hopefulness in the world. Something inside him, something sweet and gentle and warm, thrives to live. And fights against grief to do so. How easy it would have been for him to lose his father and be bitter. How easy for him to see his father die from the steps of Aubrey Hall, to be sent to a boarding school away, and withdraw in on himself.

And yet, he doesn't.

At least, not in the way one would suspect. Instead, Colin becomes a chronic people pleaser. If the people around him are happy, then he will be safe. Will not be hurt. And they have no space for his own hurt, regardless. There's hardly even any space for his mirth, as most people didn't even reply to his letters on his travels the previous season.

In Colin's confession in Season 3, he says 'I have spent so long trying to feel less', and this numbing begins early in his life. He's a consummate gentleman in Season 1. He does everything by the book, everything as he should. He wants to be accepted in his society, wants to be taken seriously, wants to belong. So he sees a pretty woman, and he gets along with her well enough, and he courts her. Openly, honestly, in full view. It isn't a heart-stopping love, but he has numbed himself for years at this point, so affection will do, and if proper men of his society are married, well, maybe he'd finally be taken seriously.

And yet, no one notices him, even still. No one except Penelope. His own mother doesn't recognize his behavior, and worries for him after she does. How long has it been since she's actually seen him? We know from the show that he's incredibly close to his mother, and loves her dearly, but we also know that after Edmund's passing, Violet was mired in grief and post-partum depression. Colin misses much of this as a firsthand witness since he's at school, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't be able to tell, wouldn't be affected by losing his mother and father in one fell swoop. In fact, Colin loses his connection to the majority of his family in being sent to school so soon after the tragedy. So of course he comes back and he tries not to make waves. Tries to do things correctly.

His friction with Anthony proves time and time again that nothing he does is entirely ever able to fully please him, and this causes contention in their brotherly bond. Of all the siblings, Anthony is arguably the most harsh with Colin. And he is also the model for who a man should be in the family, as the head of the family.

So when Anthony sees Colin earnestly try to marry, he scoffs him off. Accuses Colin of only wanting to marry to have sex, and then claiming "It is my fault. I should have taken you to brothels." This is the first on-screen shaming of Colin looking for connection before sex, and Colin doubles down. He wants to marry for love.

But he doesn't actually love Marina. Neither of them truly know each other, and so when it all blows up, and he is humiliated to the entirety of his community, Colin gets his first taste of romantic failure. He tried to do it right, and it ended more wrong than he could have ever imagined. So, maybe Anthony was right. Maybe he is just a foolish, green boy, who has no idea how to go about things. The fallout of his failed engagement echoes in the persona he puts on in Season 3, and the choices he undergoes during them. Is it any wonder he ends up going to brothels to have unfulfilling sex if even his own BROTHER, the head of his family, tells him to do so?

It doesn't happen right away, though. Despite the fact that no one truly checks on him or sees how this breakup effects him (Eloise dismisses the hurt he must feel in light of such events with an honestly rather accurate wave-away "Men are always less affected", and that is true), it is evident that he is NOT okay.

We leave Colin in Season 1 putting on a mask, a happy face to his family, a 'you inspired me' to Penelope, and then spends his travels sad. Depressed. Taking drugs to try to ease his mind, occupying himself with writing to Penelope. In Season 2, he spends the entirety of it trying to be useful. And he does this with Penelope. He feels deeply for her, he cares so much for her, and he even says it to her aloud 'You are special to me' and 'I will always look after you' and how he could never give her up. Season 2 is a season of healing for Colin- he closes his chapter with Marina with a relationship post-mortum conversation after he does a wellness check to make sure she's alive (let's be real here, no one else was going to reach out to her. She made it clear to him that even her own father didn't want her), makes amends with Will, proves himself useful to Penelope, and departs on a high: he thinks he threaded the needle. He thinks he was successful sending Jack off, that he made Penelope happy, and that he's in with The Boys.

But whilst the person he is around Penelope is genuine, the person he is around these men are not. We know from Season 3 that they don't actually like him. They make snide, underhanded comments toward him, and laugh at him. I stand by the idea that end of season 2 is Fife and Co. laughing at Penelope AND laughing at Colin. They don't care about their friendship, they're teasing him for caring about her so openly, and Colin is protective of the relationship he has with Penelope. So he makes a comment for the boys, and puts on his mask. 'I would never court Penelope Featherington' (look, I'm just like you. I walk like you, talk like you, speak like you) 'Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife' (I am one of you one of you one of you- so why does it feel so hollow?)

He gets, now, his first taste of acceptance from them. They come to him to Mondrich's bar, he repays his slight against him, and he feels he is one of them. (Does he truly *want* to be one of them?) And so when we open Season 3, it's a smooth progression.

Colin is walking the walk and talking the talk, and yet his heart isn't in it. He's not one of these smarmy men, but he mimics them. Their behavior. In part, at least. Whilst Fife is out preying on 18 year old women in coat closets, Colin is telling gaggles of girls how pretty they are and how with such nice dresses, they're sure to find a husband. He makes it clear he's not an option, but that he doesn't mind being a fantasy. And Luke Newton does an amazing job making that clear: there are three sides of Colin. The Colin portrayed to his society in the light in good company (1) and the Colin portrayed to his society in the dark, in. . .less savory circles (aka: The Lads)(2), his 'armor' as his mum calls it. And finally, the most important but the one kept closest to the chest: the Colin of truth. The Colin who cries alone in his room after a breakup, the Colin who doesn't burden others with his feelings, the Colin who writes to Penelope, the Colin who loves deeply and feels deeply.

But his society has no use for a man like the real Colin, they do not *want* a man like real Colin, so he puts it under lock and key. And so much of this is centered around his feelings about sex, so here comes my 'Colin is Queer' soapbox. Colin does not experience sexual attraction like the rest of the men of the ton. He is expected to find it casual and be cavalier about it. To just want to fuck for the sake of fucking. But Colin needs love and romance and connection to actually enjoy sexual interactions. Nowadays, we recognize this as being on the asexual spectrum, of being demisexual, but he didn't have words for that in the time period he's in, so he has to forge ahead to figure himself out without a community identity to find solidarity with. That's what makes the brothel scenes so interesting as a narrative device: in the first, he's masking even in the midst of it, and in the second, he can't. After kissing Penelope, he finally, for the first time in his life, has a sexual interaction that means something to him.

It's the first one he truly enjoys, and the first one that feels right to him. It clicks for him that oh, that's what it's meant to be like. And the strain of that realization whilst still having to be what his society expects of him puts immense stress on his shoulders. You see how he grows more and more uncomfortable about the conversations, until finally he rejects it outright.

Even when it's very much not encouraged for him to do so. He's even told "You are much more fun this season." That's why he hides himself. From near everyone, even his family, even his brothers. It's telling how Anthony's positive interaction with Colin is when they're at the club, and Anthony praises him for his most recent attention. Have we seen much of Anthony being proud of Colin, otherwise? Not really. So he's reinforced in his persona. Doesn't boast of his travels because it didn't have anyone liking him for it, before. Doesn't even say how many cities he's gone to. Except with Penelope.

In the books, there's a line about their kiss, referencing how his world will never be the same. And it won't be. Because when Colin says that she helps him see the world in new ways, it's in a multitude of meanings.

Penelope refuses to let him wear the mask, because in truth, Penelope is the only one who doesn't like it. Not only does she see the real Colin, but she enjoys the real Colin. Whilst everyone else is simpering over Colin's new look and attitude, rejects who he is in reality, Penelope dismisses it, wants the person she knows him to be instead. It's only when he strips down the facades that Penelope allows him into her life again. And her Whistledown article was harsh, but it was also true. He *is* masking. He *is* putting on a persona and a role. But she was wrong when she asked if Colin even knows which is real: Colin knows very well which is real. And he also knows the realities of him haven't been accepted.

When Colin tells Penelope charm can be taught, he speaks from experience. When he says 'living for the expectations of others is a trap' it is because he has already fallen into it, and if he can't dig himself out, maybe he can keep her from it. Colin tells her 'you do not need lessons' and that she is fine exactly as she is, because just as she sees the real him and loves him, he sees the real her, and loves her, too. But they both live in the constraints of their society, and so they both put on the masquerade. Even sometimes to hide from each other.

The current climax of his arc is when he's out with the lads, after they all go off to the brothel again, and he disassociates from the experience. Playing cards and insisting on sharing sexual exploits, to which he does not want to take part, and makes a lighthearted dig at them. 'There is no gentleman at this table'. He includes himself in that, and then clarifies. He speaks aloud for the first time to them the truth of his heart- 'Do you not ever tire of the expectation to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning? Do you not find it lonely?' Can it really only just be him?

And it is. Or, maybe it isn't, but the rest of them aren't brave enough to admit it, so they're okay in making him feel like it is, in outcasting him for being a romantic, for caring about a woman beyond what she can provide for him sexually. Colin professes he doesn't like who he's become, doesn't like the expectations for him to behave the way he has, and they laugh at him. Again. He is made fun of, again.

He goes home and he falls in his bed and he feels like he lost it all. Lost Penelope to his own advice, and lost his newfound shine in his community. But when he's faced with which one matters more to him, he chooses Penelope. Unhesitatingly.

Colin chooses to be sensitive. He chooses to be a warm-hearted, gentle man in a society that prefers sexist machismo. Act one way in the light and another in the shadows. Colin wants to live authentically, as a man he doesn't really have a role model for. He is brave and he is tender, he sees the sexism of his society and he rejects it. He sees the importance Penelope has in his life, the way she makes him feel, and he embraces her wholeheartedly. He wants love and romance, he wants connection and meaning.

Colin, The Great Pretender, sick of pretending. Colin, walking into that ballroom and giving Fife the cut direct when he invites him out. Colin, cutting into a dance in the middle of a ball between Penelope and a man the entire city knows is about to propose. Colin staring deeply into her eyes with such unfiltered longing even *Cressida* can't help but notice what's going on. Colin running off after Penelope in full view of his society, outrunning a *carriage* to see her. Begging her to let him in. Colin on his knees, all but flaying his chest open for Penelope to see his heart. Colin made a choice when that candle flickered out, and his choice was Penelope. His choice was himself. And his choice was to flip off societal expectation and to live for love, damn the consequences.

I think our own world would be a better place if modern men took his example, too. Colin Bridgerton as male love lead in Bridgerton, a global show, is such a refreshing, wonderful example. A man who tried to be like what the world wanted, and who decided to go against the gender norms of his time. A man who prioritizes the woman he loves, who risks ridicule in doing so and comes to realize that he doesn't care. He doesn't care anymore about being one of the boys, one of the lads, one of the guys. Fuck his society if his society can't recognize the beauty of what he feels with Pen. He cares about being the best self he can be. And that best self is around Penelope, inspired by Penelope.

Because how he is with Penelope? God, I could swoon. At every turn, he prioritizes her comfort and personhood. He validates her, he sees her in beautiful, positive light and he helps her see herself that way, too. He encourages her to be brave because he already feels she is, he refuses to let her call herself stupid or a laughingstock, he apologizes without excuses, he checks in on her every step of the way. He's so passionate in that carriage, he's burning for her, he's yearning, but he doesn't do anything until she agrees for him to. He confesses his feelings and when she says they're friends, he backs off. He listens, he cares. He apologizes for overstepping her boundaries, and then when she gives him her consent, the only thing on his mind is showing how much he wants and appreciates her by providing her pleasure. Colin, the people pleaser, dedicated only to pleasing two people in that moment: Penelope, and himself. Because he wants to do that, to give her an orgasm that exists just for her. He's a witness to it, and that's pleasure for him, too. He waits for her nod of consent, he revels in seeing her enjoying herself. And the aftercare- I could cry.

Colin is a man who had every single reason not to be a kind, sensitive soul, and still he chose it. Chose to share it because the headline, even a wallflower can bloom, that's not just for Penelope.

It's for Colin, too.

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: it will always be you

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: PG

genre: angst

pairing: Alastor x Reader (slight romantic connotations), previous Vox x Alastor

warnings: previous abuse by a partner mentioned and talked about

summary: when vox has drank a bit too much he shows up on the hotels doorstep, screaming for alastor. but this scene was all too reminiscent for you. (inspired by the audio “veronica open the door please” on TikTok and a tiktok i can not find of alastor and vox… if you know the tiktok please let me know!!!)

Not many understood or even knew the connection that Vox of the Vees and Alastor had. While you assumed that Alastor looked at Vox like an electronic bug on his 1920’s version car windshield of life, Vox obviously saw Alastor as a Monster looking over the hill. If Vox’s meltdown on TV wasn’t enough to go by.

So, it was a surprise when a quiet night at the hotel ended up being interrupted, by said obsessed overlord. You were quietly reading, the doors locked up for the night. Husk was cleaning off the bar, Charlie and Vaggie were discussing activities for the next day, Alastor had a rare moment where he was sitting in the common area reading the newspaper and you sat across from him, reading a book that was recommended to you by Charlie.

You gasped a little at the book, quickly turning the page, enamored with words that were seemingly spilling off. So engrossed you didn’t notice Alastor looking up at you and a slight smile on his face as you continuously reacted to the story you were reading. It was quiet and peaceful, something that was an uncommon occurrence for Hell but a common occurrence for the hotel. That was until suddenly, banging on the door jolted everyone. You quickly look to the door, frozen and not moving. The banging startling you more than anyone else. Your breath short and your extremities going cold quickly. Your eyes wide in fear, as your mind thought you were in trouble again.

When you first arrived at the hotel you were fleeing a horrible relationship. And after a lot of mess and many nights terrified, everything ended up being rectified by Alastor eating said ex, after your ex and his friends tried to storm into the hotel and bring you back to “your home.” After that you decided to stay at the hotel and help as staff, wanting to help Charlie and Alastor since they practically saved you.

Now though, even if it had been almost a year since that happened, the noises at the front door brought you right back to the night your ex had stormed into the hotel. You were trying to breathe as Alastor got up and made his way past you, glancing down for just a second at you, before focusing on the door. Suddenly the banging increased in force and happened multiple times, everyone in the lounge area was on alert, with Husk and Vaggie looking ready to fight. You sat still, trying to breathe knowing that a panic attack would not help right now. Charlie quietly makes her way over to you and rests her hand on your shoulder. Grounding you enough to be present. You smile at her as she smiles back and then looks seriously at the door.

“Who is it Alastor?” Charlie asks quietly. Her questioned is answered almost immediately by the person outside starting to speak.

“ALASTOR-ALLLLAAAASTOOOOORRRR!” The voice, now recognized as Vox, screams out. “OPEN THE DOOR!” He bangs a few more times and you jump, but his bangs get increasingly stronger causing the door to start splintering open. Alastor quickly throws his back against the door as Vox tries to push himself in, still screaming.

“Alastor, open the door please.” He yells, “Alastor, OPEN THE DOOR.” Another pounding against the door and this time what could only be assumed as Vox throwing himself against the door, causes Alastor to stumble forward, his foot bracing against the carpet to stop Vox from coming in. His eyes are wild as Husk and Vaggie join him in keeping the door closed. Husk looks at Alastor, questioning what he wanted to do, Alastor could fight Vox, but that could mean all out war against the hotel from the Vees.

“ALASTOR, I know you’re in there, come out!” Vox screams again, getting angrier. “I know you’re scared, I’ve been there. I can set you free! Come, JOIN MY TEAM! Join ME!” Vox is yelling, pounding on the door, throwing himself at it. There’s glass outside that shatters and Husk mentions that he’s probably drunk. Alastor growls as the door keeps getting pushed against and looks over to Charlie. At this point, you are curled up against the couch, sobbing as Charlie keeps watch on the door and comforts you. Alastor’s eyes narrow.

“Get away from the door.” Alastor instructs Vaggie and Husk and they both back away as does Alastor and Vox runs through the door, ending up in a pile at Alastor’s feet. Vox looks around and sees Alastor.

“So, you finally decided to let me in, huh?” Vox says looking proud of himself, not even noticing the looks of anger or fear of anyone else in the lobby.

“Not by choice. I suggest you leave Vox.” Alastor says, tone cold.

“Now come on, Al, be a pal and just join me. We’d be a great team. We were a great team.” Vox slurs a bit heading over to the bar only to be cut off by Husk. Vox’s eyes widen and he regards Husk for a moment and then turn back to Alastor.

“I said for you to leave. You have endangered the guests at this hotel by leaving a hole in the door, not to mention you’ve damaged the hotel. Which Charlie will be sending you a bill to fix. Get out.” Alastor grinds out, pointing to what used to be the door. Vox looks at him questioningly, and then sees Alastor standing directly in front of you and Charlie.

Vox’s eyes widen and he looks at Alastor crossing closer to him. Vaggie raises her spear but Vox pays her no mind. “Which one of them is it?” Vox asks, suddenly quiet.

“I have no idea to what you mean, but you need to leave.” Alastor says again. Vox growls and grabs Alastor’s coat, “You know exactly what I mean. Is it the Princess? Finally got to climb your way to the top, huh?” Vox slurs, shaking Alastor a bit as Vaggie looks wide eyed at both demons, silently asking what to do. Alastor is still but the only show of anger is his eyes which are now radio dials.

“Charlie, take Y/N and the others out of here, now.” Alastor says, his voice almost unable to be heard through the static that accompanied it. Charlie quickly nods, and helps you up and out, you mildly protesting, asking about Alastor and his safety. Husk’s voice of reassurance that the overlord would be fine reaches Alastor and Vox. Vox stops and looks up at Alastor, “It’s her isn’t it?” Vox says, dropping his grip on Alastor’s lapels. “It’s HER!” Vox screams now, starting to go up toward the stairs the group disappeared. Alastor brings up his shield and stops Vox, one of his tentacles wrapping around Vox’s middle and throwing him to the front of the hotel.

“Leave now Vox, or else what happened last time will happen again, and you won’t fair as well as you did.” Alastor says, herding Vox out and his demon form taking shape.

“Normally you would have already tried to kill me… why are you hesitating?” Vox asked, unsteadily getting back up and wiping at his dirty shirt.

“Because, you are not worth my time.” Alastor growled, picking Vox up again and ignoring his protests, he threw him towards the Entertainment district. Vox’s screams fading into the distance. Alastor returned back to his normal stature and began having his shadows create a temporary replacement for the front door. He brushed off his lapels and straightened his coat, disgust somehow rampant on his face. He would never admit it, but the reason he didn’t make a knock down, drag out fight was he knew it would frighten you. And he had promised, one of the only promises he made in hell, not to scare you or be a source of your fear.

Alastor walked into the lobby and picked up your book and his newspaper, the shield disappearing from view as he walked up the stairs and headed to your room to check on you. It was you, and Alastor feared it would always be you for him.

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 23

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 22, Part 24

Warning! This is a SAGAU imposter au so this is pretty gory and not happy all the time. Plus yandere but that's the expected for SAGAU.

Xingqiu and Chongyun both showed muddled emotions at your words of leaving Liyue.

“That may be best for you…” Chongyun says first as he keeps his gaze on the floorboards.

“Yes, I agree. Although I never expected that you would have to leave Liyue so soon, it's clear that you aren't safe here.” 

Xingqiu’s words that were full of understanding still had disappointment sprinkled in.

“We can't do much to help you when it comes to Ningguang, but Mondstadt is a different story. Do you have the talisman on you right now?”

Chongyun takes a few steps closer as you lift the amulet for him to see. He rubs one finger on it, examining the symbol that appears at the action.

“It's still at full charge, good. The road to Mondstadt can either be empty or full of demons depending on the day. But once you get to Wangshu Inn, it becomes much safer.”

“Because of Xiao, right? Despite how the situation looked when I first met the Adepti, I'm on relatively good terms with them now.”

It was a bit risky telling them this, but they both deserved to know at this point.

“When are you planning on leaving? Is your meeting with Ningguang today?” Switching the topic, Xingqiu brings the focus back to the most pressing issue.

Nodding, you answer. “My meeting is with her today, but I'll probably have to leave either at midnight or early tomorrow morning. The sooner, the better.”

“Then I can offer you some help that should make staying in Mondstadt a bit easier.” Xingqiu grins as he takes out paper and some ink. “I happen to know someone-”

“Albedo, right?” Cutting off Xingqiu as you think back to his connection, you continue. “Together you made the book, uh what was the name again? A Legend of a Sword? It got pretty popular in Inazuma. I remember there was a whole festival on light novels that you both attended too.”

Once you stop, you notice Xingqiu squinting his eyes at you before replying. “That's really creepy, you know? If I didn't know you were the Oracle, then I would have believed you to be some stalker.”

“If I was, then I wouldn't be stalking you of all people.” You snapped back as he grins while shaking his head.

“But yes, I'll send Albedo a letter in advance so that he can arrange for you to be settled nicely over there. I won't mention the Oracle situation as the Creator didn't want you to be known widely like that.”

It's been so long since you last heard the title ‘Creator’ be mentioned despite the fact that all of your problems come from their supposed existence.

Only goes to show just how ingrained the Creator is in this world.

“Thanks Xingqiu. Albedo is the chief alchemist and well respected among the community, so I should be in safe hands.”

Xingqiu merely hums in response as Chongyun tugs the amulet closer to him.

“Just trying to apply a better talisman on it.” He mumbles in accordance with your stare as he settles himself closer to you.

He's basically pressed against your side, but you strangely don't feel uncomfortable to have him close.

As the pair focus on their own activities, your mind wanders off to Albedo.

Albedo, the chief alchemist and homunculus created by Gold, the famous Khaenri'an scientist. Khaenri'ah, which also held so much information that could be connected to Celestia…

It was a long shot, but you could try digging for information about Celestia from him. The deal that Celestia made with Teyvat still bothers you to no end. With the age of this deal unknown, you might even have to look into the primordial dragons if it's even older than the Archon war.

A light shining brought you back to the present and your eyes flickered down to where the amulet shined in Chongyun’s hands.

Once it died down to reveal a more intricate symbol than before, Chongyun nodded, satisfied with the final product.

“This one is a lot stronger and should last longer now. I know you can fight well, but the demonic energy in Bishui Plain and Qiongji Estuary has shown to rise around this time of the year.”

Carefully taking the amulet from him, you thumbed the symbol with curious eyes. “I get it, thank you. Does it activate on its own, or do I have to activate it with something?”

“It'll work on its own. Depending on the amount and degree of demonic energy around it, the workings will change.”

Motioning with his hands, Chongyun’s calm voice explains the working to you. At the end of the rather lengthy explanation, you nod and condense the information in your mind.

“And now that Instructor Chongyun is done teaching you, I'm happy to say that I'm done with the letter. Have been for a while, but I saw no need to interrupt the oh so fascinating lecture.”

Raising the letter, Xingqiu lazily waved it as Chongyun bristled but ultimately said nothing.

“I can send this once I get home. Unfortunately, neither me nor Chongyun will be available to accompany you through your journey.”

Xingqiu tsk’d at his own words while Chongyun turned his head away, visibly sulking.

“My family was just hired to check out Wuwang Hill and my attendance for this is mandatory. Xingqiu’s father is forcing him to stay and attend meetings with his brother for the week as well.”

All you could do was smile sadly in response.

Before long they were both forced to leave by Baizhu who insisted on total privacy for the reviewing of your medication and discharge.

Watching them climb down the stairs from the window in your room, you listen absentmindedly to Baizhu.

Changsheng still refused to see you. Something Tevyat was clearly displeased with, as the once sunny weather quickly turned cloudy. The cold-blooded creature must be huffing in annoyance by now.

“And this is the overview of medication and supplements to take, with the doses and dates to take them.”

Casually looking over the paper received from the shady snake bastard, you hummed for a moment before stuffing it into your bag.

“All of it is paid for by your special benefactor. And the drug you requested has already been paid with by your body, as we both know.”

‘Must he phrase it like that?’ You internally questioned as you snatch the medication and shove it into your bag.

“I'm glad for it. Maybe even more so if she didn't pin so many babysitters onto me.”

At your grumble, Baizhu’s smile wavered at the edges. Either he truly hadn't known why there was extra ‘security’ or he was a great liar. You suspect it's a bit of both.

“Then if everything has been covered, I’m happy to say that you're officially discharged as of-” He merely glanced at the sun still high in the sky before finishing. “1300. I sincerely hope that the next time we meet you'll be in a better physical state.”

“And I sincerely wish we never have to meet again.” The words you utter are full of sarcasm, something Baizhu simply chuckles at.

“Now what could I have possibly done to deserve your ire, dear Oracle?”

“It's what you haven't done. A little heads up about all the guards would have been nice.”

“Oh, but I did!” His smile seems a little sharper as he leans toward you, his glasses sliding down to the bridge of his nose. “Didn't I let you know early on that there were quite a lot of guards?”

With an annoyed scoff, you snap back. “You said it was due to the two temples nearby, not cause Ningguang wanted to keep an eye on me.”

Raising his hands with wide eyes, Baizhu tried to placate you. “I'm not part of the Millelith, how on earth could a physician like me know the true reasoning?”

Holding his gaze, you tried to discern what he was truly thinking at this moment. Malice? Amusement? Mocking kindness?

But at that moment, all you could see was genuine surprise in his eyes. It only served to confuse you further.

Was Baizhu truly innocent in this? Your instincts in situations like these were usually correct. Besides, what would Baizhu even gain from deceiving you?

Still, that didn't explain why Baizhu was always so damn shady, but maybe you should chalk it up to an unfortunate side effect of being contracted with a snake.

“Well, then let me reiterate my earlier words. While I still hope we won't have to meet again. I do wish for us to want to meet again.”

Baizhu lowers his arms while fixing his glasses to laugh, the sound is surprisingly tender. “And how do you expect me to tell when that would be? I’m no mind reader.”

Standing up, you stay silent as you slip your bag over your shoulders and move past him. The door opens with a creak as you tilt your head slightly to meet his eyes.

“To put it simply, I’ll want to see you when you discover whatever is hidden in my culture sample.”

The door clicks shut as you leave Bubu’s Pharmacy for good.

----------------------------

After a brief but firm pat to Qiqi’s head, you walk down the stairs casually. The slight rustling of the leaves, the fabric of curtains drawn, and the quieting of chatter are all brought to your attention.

Ningguang’s spies and the Millelith guards are all watching you like rabid dogs, waiting for you to slip up and give them an excuse to arrest you right now. 

Smiling without hesitation, you get to the last step and pretend that the forced conversations around you aren't scripted, and that the eyes locked on you are of a curious bystander and not the ones of detectives.

Bringing your attention back to the list you have clenched in your hand, you read the first errand on the list.

Return books to library.

Easy enough, and it's even easier when people seem to automatically avoid being in your path.

Is this what a day in Xinyan's life feels like? It's honestly not that bad.

At least you thought so until you got to the counter and waited for the receptionist to return.

Five minutes pass. Then ten minutes, which quickly turn into fifteen in a blink of an eye. You can feel your mood worsening.

Deciding to test something, you walk away from the library and turn the corner. Peeking around the corner, you watch as the ‘customer’ that was standing in the corner all those minutes gets to the counter. Almost immediately, a swarm of people return to it.

Sighing heavily, you ignore the weight of suspicious stares and turn the corner back into the library. Getting back into line feels humiliating, but it's just a quick errand, you tell yourself.

No one moves out of the way, but the quick glances they send you make them pale with each minute.

Not a soul dares to stand behind you.

It's finally your turn, and you place your books on the table with the last bit of patience you had. She doesn't meet your eyes and mumbles something.

“I'm sorry, what did you say?” Leaning closer, you try to catch her words, only for her to yell.

“It's lunchtime now so I can't accept any more returns or purchases. H-Have a good-d da-ay!”

Flabbergasted at the sheer audacity, you watch her flip a sign on the table and flee the area.

“Fuck this shit.” Colorful curses leave you as you drop all the books haphazardly on the table and storm away.

Crossing it off the list, you follow the main path to the next errand.

Collect reward from Guild

That commission should have given you one hell of a paycheck the last time you checked. Primogems may be worthless now, but you could use the Mora the commission provides.

Plus, you needed to let them know to change it to the Mondstadt region.

Lost in thought of all the technicalities and paperwork you would have to fill out, you weren't focusing on the fleeting whispers around you.

“Is that them?”

“Who else could it be?”

“What a monster…”

“-as long as we get paid.”

“Who cares about-”

“It's me or them.”

“As long as it's them and not me.”

Your experience at the guild was a much kinder one. Katheryne was the epitome of professionalism, just as you remembered her to be. Not that you expected much else from a robot.

After handing all the written work to her, you finally noticed the absence of a certain person.

“Where’s that grouchy Lan? She's usually here, isn't she?” Checking the vicinity, you try to spot the brown recognizable bob.

“The Branch Master Lan is currently undertaking a commission at this time.”

“About the unseen razor, right?”

“That can not be disclosed to unauthorized-”

“It's fine. I’ll see you later, Katheryne.” Turning around, you leave without another thought. Lan wasn't anywhere near the ‘threatening’ list you've created since you last saw her.

Pick up plushie

Crossing out the previous task, you look at the present one with mixed emotions. On one hand, you were happy to get a chance to see something related to Earth, to your world. But at the same time, you couldn't help but wonder if it would serve more as a distraction than anything else. The memories it brought up never failed to leave your heart troubled…

Remembering the money you spent commissioning it ultimately tipped the scales, and so you dragged your feet to the little old lady’s toy shop.

It was empty just as the first time you were there as she hummed. If she was a vision holder you'd guess Hydro judging by the tranquility she radiated.

Her eyes meet yours and a happy smile slips onto your face without much thought.

“Here to pick up the toy, dearie?”

“Yup.” Popping the ‘p’, you watched as she gathered a delicately wrapped box from under the other boxes and presented it to you.

“Enjoy the nostalgic memories a toy can bring.”

You politely thank her before taking the present and walking away. The weight of the box is heavy with dread, and you can only find solace in the fact she didn't refer to it as ‘happy’ memories.

Once sufficiently out of sight, you take to grasping the lid. But you couldn't bring yourself to remove it.

Too many memories. All of them are rushing in and filled with conflicting feelings that would surely crush you. The fear and selfishness of the broken promises and unfulfilled desires would throw you off your game.

With a little too much enthusiasm, you stuff the box of the cat plushie into your bag.

Most likely to stay forgotten and distant from the present you're facing.

Scratching it off harder than the rest, you get to the last errand.

Refill supplies

A smart and mature move considering how you used the whole Medkit during the chase. The soggy bandages and washed away ointment really hurt your heart and wallet.

Revisiting the same shops you went to the first time proved to be ineffective. Either they were completely sold out or no longer supplying them.

Forced to visit more stores, you had to walk around the city a lot more than you cared to. Each store had one of the two situations, and the skittish actions of everyone around you were just the cherry on top.

At one point you even tried to buy the individual items separately, and even that failed.

It's not like you could just wait till next week for the first shipment. You weren't even sure you would live till then.

Eventually, you found yourself sulking on the lower docks, turning the situation around in your head.

If only you lived in Liyue for a little longer, maybe you could have found some of the hidden shops. Befriend a store owner and get a hidden one.

Just who the hell would even go out of their way to get every medical first aid part when it's such a crucial item for so many people in this era?

A name finally comes to mind and your expression sours at the thought. Not that you’d let it show, Celestia knows how many guards are watching you at this moment-

A sudden, rapid series of taps on your shoulder has you spinning around in surprise.

A young boy stands before you. The clothes he wears has visible wear and tear as the fabric frays from the edges. Yet you can't help but think you might have seen him before.

Placing a finger on his lips, he uses his other hand to grab hold of your elbow and tug you along.

Surprised but not suspicious of the kid, you let him lead you deeper into the docks. The dark red of his eyes seem to glow within the shadows as his dirty blond hair acts as your beacon of light.

The smell of fresh fish turns rotten, and the dirt caked under his fingernails stains your clothes. The complete and straight planks become jagged and creaky as you follow him farther.

But you stayed silent.

You recognized a path to the seedy part of the city when you see it.

Instead, you examine the younger boy with a critical eye and finally connect the dots. He must be one of the kids you saved with Yiran.

A smirk creeps up your face. It seems you managed to use your time wisely in making connections after all.

Following along the twists and turns, you don't worry too much about the Millelith. Most of the guards probably couldn't even get this far. If you had to guess, it would only be the detectives who could keep up.

It's not like the hidden underworld of cities as popular as Liyue Harbor are any big secret to them.

Stalls and various shops fill the area as flickering lanterns and other extra lighting give you a wider view.

Multiple people call out to the boy as he silently waves to them. The gaze of the homeless and shady people around aren't warm, but aren't hostile either.

Not that you were exactly expecting a warm welcome, but at least you didn't have to worry about sudden personality changes.

Money could buy you information, but it wouldn't buy you trust in these parts.

He finally stops at a little nook in the corner of the area. The door is worn down with scratches and marks yet the light you can see under it is warm.

Silent as before, he points at you, then to the rows of shops in a sweeping motion before stopping at the door.

Pinching your brows in slight confusion, you chew on the gestures to understand it. High-pitched laughter that suspiciously sounds like children eases into your ears as the boy squirms in place.

“Did you want me to knock on the door when I'm done shopping? That you'll lead me back to the surface?”

It was the only thing that you can think of. And despite your hesitation, the boy nods, clearly relieved that you understood the message.

He must truly be mute, no doubt from whatever horrors he must have faced that lead to the scars poorly hidden by mud on his arms.

You were thankful either way. Just leading you here was great but getting an exit too was even better. Now you could avoid getting mugged and/or murdered on your way back.

“Thanks man, I'll be quick.” With that, you walk away, already following the invisible path to the shops that caught your eye.

As much as you would have liked to explore the various items and weapons they had, you didn't want to keep the kid waiting.

After having to buy a rather expensive medical kit, a minor downside to finding the first medical anything since you left Bubu’s pharmacy, you pick up a minor stitching case.

You could have really used one during your latest and probably not last chase. Stuffing it into your bag, as people eye the magical item with desire, you quickly find the home.

Getting to the door, you step closer than before and take note of the older voice. A woman that's chuckling, and a lingering sense of guilt invades your mind.

Quickly rapping your knuckles on the wood, you step away as the home goes dead quiet.

Multiple little eyes peer at you from windows below you as you lazily grin and wave. They all scatter as giggling resumes and the sound of playing returns.

But not the woman’s voice. You didn't expect it to. It's hard to face the only person you've poured your raw wounds from a child's death to.

The kid finally steps out with multiple clicks of locks echoing around the small space. Smiling, you take no offense to the action. You weren't here for trust, and they weren't helping you out of it either.

His crimson eyes glisten with interest at your bag. He wants his pay, and you're more than happy to oblige.

Stuffing your hand into the bag, you feel the familiar clink of Mora gathering in your hand. Pulling it out, you place an appropriate amount into the pouch he already has prepared.

When you drop it all, he takes it closer to him and picks up a piece. The first thing he does is try to bite it, and the familiar memory of you testing coins the same way makes you smile sadly.

Counting the Mora, he frowns, clearly displeased with the amount. He holds his hand out, and you can feel the other children’s stares digging into you.

“I'm going to give you two things that aren't Mora, okay? But you have to keep it a secret.”

He narrows his eyes, no doubt suspecting you of being a shady person. That's probably why he brought you here first and demanded payment before returning you.

Like this, he has back up and cornered you further into payment of his choosing.

“Do you have a cooking pot?”

He frowns in confusion before nodding slowly. Lifting one finger in a pause motion, before heading back inside his home.

He returns while holding a clean cooking pot. It doesn’t take long before he places it over the open fire you already started.

Small eyes follow your every step as you dig out ingredients from your bag. Mentally going over the ingredients you had originally prepared for your celebration feast if you survived tonight, you drop them into the pot.

4 ham, 3 crabs, 3 shrimp meat, and 3 matsutake potatoes are dropped in.

Turning around, you count to five as the boy gives you a confused stare. But you only wink at him before turning around to look at the pot, as his eyes widen at the sight.

Adeptus’ Temptation sits innocently in the pot as the rich aroma wafts around the area, drawing curious hungry eyes.

Leaning down, you whisper to the boy.

“Get your friends and bring the pot back into your house quickly. This food is blessed and safe as you watched the whole process. I suggest you let the sickly and injured children eat first.”

He looks between you and the pot with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he can't trust you too much, but even the smell of the food was clearly tempting him.

It's the shuffling of feet getting closer that makes him bang on the door, signalling for the other children to come out and help him bring it inside.

By the time the shabby adults come into view, it's just you and the boy ‘talking’ as they grumble and turn around.

The kid still looks displeased. You don't blame him completely, since how can he trust that the food you cook isn't spiked with anything nefarious.

You're not even sure if it can heal people that aren't acolytes. It doesn't work on you after all.

At least they'll all enjoy a hot meal, even if it doesn't work.

Sighing, you take out your last resort from your bag, sadly selecting it and pulling it out. The secret weapon you've been saving since your time in Inazuma.

The colorful assortment of candy wrappers makes the kid’s eyes sparkle with the childlike glee that was absent since you met him. Probably long before you met him.

“It's not just Liyue candy, some are even from Inazuma.” The thought of giving up your hard-earned candy hurt you, but you let it go. 

The candy you squirreled away during the Inazuma festival, and the discount ones you bought at cheap prices at Liyue’s markets, were both never going to be eaten anyway.

His hands reach out to snatch the candy greedily from you but you raise it out of reach at the last second. He stomps his foot in childish indignation as you chuckle.

“Sorry, but I need you to bring me back to the outside before you scam me out of any more goodies.”

Finally giving up, he grabs your elbow again and leads you back through the streets. You enjoy the sights as he leads you zigzagging through the stalls.

You can't help but wonder if any detectives are still watching your boring little interactions. Admittedly, you played into the kid's desires more then you had to.

But you couldn't stop yourself from doing so when all you could see in him was yourself when you were that height.

The sun comes into light as the dim lanterns fade away. Like this, you can see his features once more as the stomping of soldiers return.

His eyes scan the area at the sound, but he keeps his hands open for the sweet treats. Smiling, you drop the candy into his open palms before he rushes off with a beaming boyish grin.

Stretching as you walk up the planks to the surface, you finally cross off the last item and drop it into the nearby trash can.

You try to ignore how it disappears when you turn the corner.

------------------------------------

Time ticks down slowly, and you aren't looking forward to seeing Madam Ping just yet. Besides, you made a long-overdue promise to someone else beforehand.

Starting up at the somewhat hidden Funeral Parlor, you push the door open with a casual; “Hey, I'm here to meet up with the Director of this fine and totally not macabre establishment.”

The receptionist blinks at your sudden words before a cheery voice responds from behind her.

“You sure took your time, Y/N. I almost wondered if you up and died before I got a chance to have you purchase one of our very convenient and practical deals!”

Yet again, Hu Tao was right on the money about you being close to death. Idly, you wonder if you look half as dead as you feel.

The receptionist is more than happy to slip away as her boss bounds up to you with that elemental ghost hovering around her.

Flower pupils stare into your eyes, giving you a vague sense of unease as Hu Tao examines you from various angles. 

“Yup, yup! Just as I suspected. You are in desperate need of escape, and it seems the only way you'll be getting it is in death. My honest suggestion is that you buy a coffin from us and lead a hedonist lifestyle to enjoy the few years you have left.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” You dryly respond as she nods approvingly. 

“A business needs to be honest for it to succeed in the long-term. Trust of the customers is one of the biggest key factors.”

Not willing to argue on a topic you were admittedly clueless on, you follow her deeper into the Parlor.

“Then you got any good deals for a traveling adventurer like me who could be dead halfway across the world?”

She sighs, exaggerating it to the utmost while circling you. “I thought deeply on the topic and while the Wangshsng Funeral Parlor has grown enough to reach all of Liyue and a good amount of Mondstadt and Sumeru, we still haven't grown enough to pair up with each region.”

Passing by multiple doors, your eyes scan for a clue on where she was leading you.

“But considering you're the most eager customer I've had concerning their own death, I decided to present you with a special deal.”

“Wouldn't suicidal people also be enthusiastic in this topic?”

“They're usually more focused on the moment and their own afterlife, instead of the corpse they leave behind. Besides-!”

Whipping around to look at you with a knowing grin, she lays a hand decorated in rings on the handle.

“You aren't that far from being called a suicidal person yourself, Y/N!”

Before you can question her on those words, she swings the door open to show multiple rows of various coffins.

“The special offer I'm giving you is to purchase a coffin and I will personally escort your wandering soul to the border for proper peace.”

Tearing your eyes from the admittedly impressive collection of varying caskets, you have the sense to ask her a question. “So, what's the point in me buying a coffin if my body ends up in the waters of Fontaine? And how could I even trust that you have the ability to escort souls?”

From what you remember, Hu Tao should have no clue about your oracle status, so logically you should act oblivious to her connection with the border. Would you even be able to cross the border? It’s not like you were born on Teyvat like her other customers.

Unless Zhongli told her, but that would require more of an explanation on his behalf that he wouldn't want to do. 

“Very good question, dear customer!” She spins around to face you once more, her long twin tails swinging during the motion.

“Even if your body is irretrievable for whatever reason, the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor will deem your casket full after I guide your soul.”

The atmosphere visibly shifts after she speaks. The room darkens as the lanterns flicker, her back lowers in a familiar position as a cold phantom touch caresses your hand.

“You of all people should know why and how I'm able to guide souls. After all, I wouldn't expect anything less from an Oracle of the Creator.”

A crooked grin makes its way to your face as goosebumps raise on your skin. Hu Tao’s ‘threatening’ words of knowing your identity were like the sweetest song to your ears.

Finally, all your hard work in creating connections and stabilizing your identity has paid off. Acolytes you've barely begun conversing with already see you as an Oracle.

“Should I applaud you or something, Director? Or should I just accept the deal and make us both happy?”

Hu Tao laughs at your words as you take confident strides to stand by her side.

“I would appreciate the second option much more!” Signature flower pupils drink your smiling visage in with delight before her hand grasps yours in a tight hold.

“Now, if you will, I'll introduce all these amazing coffin and casket types for you to ask about and choose between.”

There's no time to protest, not that you would as she pulls you along excitedly as butterflies made of Pyro brush against your cheek.

------------------------------

Somehow you and Hu Tao had managed to look at every single coffin type in existence. A style, color and even additional design to it has already been decided.

You're just left with choosing the best wood for it.

Hu Tao wanted to stay with you throughout the whole process, but an important matter came up again, making her complain loudly as she left.

But before she did, she insisted on sending one of her employees to help you in choosing, as ‘the wood is a vital part of the process!’. 

So now you're left waiting in the absolutely quiet room, with only the sound of your own breathing accompanying you.

Looking down at the two coffins made of different wood, you waited for this employee. A small smirk played on your lips as you heard the door audibly click shut.

The thumping of shoes coming closer was silent, but the slight hitch of breath gave away how close your new consultant was.

“White cedar wood and Teck wood are both very fine choices. Though I would consider the Catalpa wood two rows down to be the best choices considering your position.”

Hot air fans your skin as the knowledgeable words spoken in that low timber light your nerves aflame.

Turning around, you look into amber eyes that remain steadfast on your face. His outfit is pristine and there's not a single evidence of the battle he was left to fight on him.

“If that answers your last question for the coffin customization, then would you mind stepping outside with me?”

Waving your hand, you dismiss his words without hesitation. “We can do so after I check out the Catalpa wood you recommended.”

Your head angles to the side to look at him with a teasing grin. “I know it's your retirement, but you of all people should know that rushing a job is never good.”

A long-suffering sigh leaves Zhongli as you walk away to the Catalpa coffin, before he follows you. 

More than happy to kill time like this, you feel the wood under your fingertips in a smooth stripe.

“Catalpa wood was and is still often used as an outer coffin for the jade inner coffin that Liyue officials were buried in. Not only can it be carved fluidly, but it is also very resistant to decay, unlike other ornamental wood. Its stability is quite underrated, with only the drying to be a tad problematic. And even that will be for us to deal with.”

Vaguely you wonder if this information was inserted into the game based off China’s own history or if Teyvat really did age throughout many years to build its own history.

“That’s why I recommended this type of wood to you. While you’re not officially a member of the Qixing or other affairs, your position of oracle is enough to warrant such a valued coffin.”

“Are you trying to convince me to buy it for your job, or are you trying to flatter me for your proposal?”

“You may see it as both, neither, or one of the two. I'm simply here as the consultant. I am to assist you with all of your decision-making inside this building.”

A huff of laughter leaves you before you tap on the casket. “Then I'll go along with what you want and take this wood.”

Zhongli nods, not bothering to write it down as his memory must be far greater than you care to imagine. 

His gloved hand is displayed to you in a silent question, but before you can move, he removes the glove.

Quizzically, you raise an eyebrow before placing your hand on his now bare one. Peering at his face from your place you note the slightest blush on his otherwise composed expression.

Smiling to yourself, you allow his fingers to intertwine with your own as he guides you out of the side door. Following him blindly up the staircase, past a set of rooms, another staircase till you finally arrive at the roof.

Zhongli squeezes your hand one last time, clearly relishing in the touch of your calloused fingertips before letting you go.

“I've waited patiently for you, Y/N. What is your answer to my marriage proposal?”

His eyes stare at yours with unshakable firmness. In a sense, it's endearing, and you make it clear by smiling widely.

“It's a no from me.” That resolute expression cracks and his mouth drops open before it's slammed shut at your bright laughter.

But even his poorly concealed embarrassed expression can't smother the blood rushing to his cheeks as his ears hang onto every addictive note that leaves your lips.

This has taken a long time. Like super long. I haven't dropped this series, just have lots of school work to complete and exams to study for. Like I literally have one tomorrow. My editor did me a solid and highlighted the parts that I had to fill in after I gave the mostly completed document for editing. When I have to write the next chapter, it'll take a bit as I gotta reread for recalibration. Taglist is open as always!

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[mayzi33]

******SPOILERS, SO MANY SPOILERS AHEAD.*********

I have so much to say I'm afraid my brain might explode. So I'll try to keep calm despite still being at the verge of tears.

When I first started this book series, I thought it would be the usual light, cutesy fantasy about friendship and family. And oh boy, OH BOY WAS I WRONG.

On a side note, something I'd like to point out I noticed, from the first book to the third, the lighting on the cover progressively gets darker. Of course, representing the story itself as the plot gets darker as well. On the last book, it's still dark, but there's a light coming from Janner, Kalmar and Leeli, like they finally reached sunrise after a long, ruthless night. Something i'm pretty sure was said at some point on the books themselves, about no matter how long the night is the day will always come.

Anyways. Back to the topic at hand. As the story progressed, I keep growing more and more connected to these characters, and each chapter I rooted more and more for the Jewels Of Anniera.

I'd like to add that I'm an only child, yet, somehow, I can tell Janner is one of the best eldest sibling characters ever written. My whole life I've only watched siblings around me and their relationship with eachother, especially on the eldest's side, and somehow, Janner reminded me of every friend, family member or random stranger I saw on the streets someday that have siblings.

Janner is such a complex character. He is by no means perfect, but he does have a golden heart. One of the things I was most impressed by was how the author described Janner's feelings, whatever it was the longing for his father, or just feeling burdened by his siblings. And yet, no matter what Janner is feeling, the narrator never invalidates his feelings or antagonize him. Janner is a child, a child who went through a lot. He is allowed to miss a father he never had just as he is allowed to sometimes be annoyed for always having to make sacrifices for his siblings. But one of the things I admired the most about Janner (along with everyone else I'm pretty sure) was his character development. At the first book, he'd roll his eyes at the mere thought of having to look after his siblings and saw them as a burden. At the second book, he learned the hard way how much Kalmar and Leeli matter to him, and how it hurts to be away from them. On the third book, he took pride on his title as Throne Warden and role as the eldest sibling, being devoted to protecting the High King and Song Maiden. And at last, on the last book, he leaves pride aside. He doesn't take care of Kalmar and Leeli because it's his duty, because it's honorable, neither because that's what he has always been told to do. He does it because he loves them above all else, because he finally sees how strong the bond the three of them share truly is, because he feels the blessing the Maker has gifted them, and how much stronger they are when they're together.

Janner is a kind, brave, clever, beautiful boy.

And I will forever believe that they managed to get him the water from the First Well to heal him. I will nor accept any other ending.

Kalmar. At first, the typical goofy, troublemaking sibling, more like a comic relief. But again, OHOHOHO BOY... DID THAT CHANGE.

I definetely did not expect for them to take the turn they did with Kalmar. I could tell that he would have some character arc mainly towards maturing and taking responsability, but I DID NOT EXPECT IT TO BE LIKE THAT. Seeing that bright, easy-going, smiley little boy loosing his usual joyful personality when he was fanged, slowly loosing his sanity and growing on his self loathing was really something painful yet beautiful to watch. Like Janner, he also had to learn his lesson on the hardest way possible. An extrovert kid like him, having everyone turning their backs on him and looking at him with hatred, and yet, he learned to keep his head high, like a High King. (the phrase "keep your head held high or else your crown will fall" is literally perfect for him.) And most of all, seeing him risk his life to aid a strange cloven, (that turned out to be his father) grant the Hollowsfolk his forgiveness despite everything they did to him, show mercy and compassion to the Fangs despite everything they did, all of these things make Kalmar an inspiring ruler, and leaves me assured that he will be a great king after all.

Now, Leeli, sweet, pure-hearted Leeli. I will be honest, at first I was afraid that they would make her the typical "overly nice and overly fragile female character", but again, BOY WAS I WRONG. (I don't know how many times I will repeat that, I apologize.) At some points in the books, she didn't have as much spotlight as her brother and I felt like she was kind of being thrown aside. But there's always a turn the books take that make her lack of spotlight at first worth it. So young, the youngest of the Jewels Of Anniera, yet she has seen and done so much. Has a bad leg, needed to use a crutch since she was little, yet that literally never stopped her. She strives to keep up with her brothers, and despite his kind personality she shows she can be festy and even scary when she wants to. (I will never forget that moment in the second book where she was yelling at the trolls and fangs and they were actually eager to obey her lol). She hates it when people assume she's weak and often refuses help, proving she's perfectly capable. But at times, she does need help, which shows us all it's okay to have someone to rely on. She was the link between Janner and Kalmar, no matter how much they argued nor how mad they were at eachother, she was always there for both of them and connecting them back together. She may not be able to fight like her brothers, but she found her own strenght. Her music, something that has always brought joy and hope to others turns out to be an ACTUAL weapon. She kicked a Green Fang to defend her puppy, she was the first one to see the pain and kindess through Peet, Nugget sacrificed himself for her showing how her strong her love for others really is, she stopped A FREAKING DRAGON from killing her grandpa, she led an army of dogs, she defeated countless fangs with nothing but her song. One of the best child female chracters I've seen in a while. She is feminine, has her weak points, but she finds her strenght, not in swords, punches or bows but on a whistleharp. I love her so much I can't describe it.

I love all of these kids so much. I am *proud* of them. I know it's a weird thing to say about fictional characters, but these books just make me feel this way. I can't name a single character I didn't connect or feel empathy with.

Nia, such a strong, independent woman, raising her children having lost her husband and kingdom, yet keep her head held high like the queen she is.

Podo, a man who has sinned, takes shame on them, yet shows that sinners can still be good people. Loves his family above all else, protected and took care of them until his last breath, might have been a little rough around the edges, but always showed a soft spot for his daughter and grandkids.

Artham, a broken man, haunted by the shame of loosing his brother, slowly, but surely, healing. Learning to move on by protecting his nephews and niece, making what was once a weakness a strenght.

Oskar, an old man that was always sitting on the library, letting go of his peaceful life and risking his life to accompany the Wingfeathers through thick and thin.

Sara, who was taken from her family, abused and had all her hope crushed, finding her courage back after meeting Janner and taking after him, being a sisterly figure, leader and queen ti billions of orphan children, and helping them find their strenght and fight for their freedom.

Maraly, a rude strander girl who was raised horribly her whole life by her abusive father, finally finding true love and a true father figure.

Everything about this story has touched me. A broken world taken by an evil monarch who turned to be just another broken soul, filled with hopeless people, people who had surrended to the darkness... Saved by three children, who brought light everywhere they went. A boy with scars, a boy inside a wolf, and a girl with a crutch. Kids who one day were mere peasants, the other were the Jewels Of Anniera, and a year later, heroes of Aerwiar.

I've smiled, I've laughed, I've been shocked, I've been scared, I've been mad, I've cried. I have red lots, and I mean LOTS of books. Different stories, different worlds, different characters. Yet none of them has touched me half as much as The Wingfeather Saga.

It has war, tears, bloodshed, betrayals, sacrifices and sorrow. But it also has love, joy, hope, laughter, wonder and light.

This story definetely deserves way more fans and recognition. I hope that with the new animated series (which I'll definetely watch later) it begins to gain more love.

Anyways. I really love this in case y'all couldn't tell already. Have a good day/afternoon/evening.

[sapphic-agent]

Let's Talk About the Switched at Birth Theory

If you told me I would be making an Ever After High Theory in 2024 I would have never believed you. But I recently came across a theory from like 2022 that poses the possibility of Apple and Raven being switched at birth. At first I thought there wasn't a chance it held water, but the more I looked into it the more I was sent down a rabbit hole.

(I know this is a hated theory please don't kill me)

The original theory was made by _fairytale_vibes_ on YouTube. Here's a link to the most updated version of the theory, watch it if you haven't already:

I went into this video thinking that it wouldn't lead anywhere, but OP does make a lot of very good points. So with her theory in the back of my head, I decided to dive into the book series to see if I could find anything to support or disprove it.

(I'll be editing as I read the books and rewatch the show, so at the time of posting it I've only completely finished The Storybook of Legends. So whatever I say here may not be 100% accurate compared to the rest of the series. I'll update and revise as I continue reading, but please tell me if whatever I've said is wrong)

1. Appearances

This may be the most important part of the theory as it's been the focal point of the original video. So let's dive into it from the book's descriptions.

Raven: "...long black hair with purple highlights, dark eyebrows, strong nose and chin."

The Evil Queen: Dark hair, deep purple eyes

Snow White: "...black hair was curled under her golden crown. Her skin was still white as snow, her lips red as blood."

Apple: Pale, blond, red lips

One thing I definitely noticed was that multiple times, the book goes out of its way to compare Raven's looks to her mother's. Raven herself calls it out multiple times. However, it actually seemed to be the opposite with Apple. While her features- other than her hair- are said to fit what Snow White is supposed to be, there aren't many comparisons made to her mother herself.

In fact, I think the only time she's actually directly compared to her mother is when she looks at her destiny during Legacy Day. "She looked so much like her mother, only blond." Even here, there aren't many details about it, not like there are Raven's.

(This whole montage is interesting, I'll talk about it more later)

One of the theory's linchpins is that The Evil Queen in her youth seemed to have platinum blond hair. In the Dragon Games special, she is animated as a teen with what looks like whitish hair. And in the graphic novel The Class of Classics, her hair does look platinum blond (and is described as being such by her roommate and best friend, the Cheshire Cat).

Apple's blond hair is an anomaly. There's never been a Snow White with blond hair, as the story is clear about it being ebony. It's brought up multiple times in the book and is a point of insecurity for Apple. The Evil Queen also having blond hair is an... Interesting connection for them to have. As in, they share the one trait that separates Apple from the Snow White lineage.

One thing that actually threw me off, however, is that the Evil Queen actually had green eyes in her youth. And you can actually see hints of green in the purple of her eyes if you look at her show model. Raven's eyes are purely purple and Apple's are blue. The EQ having green eyes seemed so left field to me.

The theory implies that the purple highlights in Raven's hair and the purple coloring in the EQ's hair comes from their magic, if we extend that to their eyes it does actually start to make more sense. Raven's powers could develop quicker/stronger than her mother's, which could have caused the purple coloring to affect her eye color quicker than it did the EQ's. It's very possible that Raven was born with green eyes and they changed the stronger her magic got.

But then what about Apple's eyes? One thing I found odd even watching Dragon Games for the first time is the very obvious difference in the shade of Apple and Snow's eyes. They're both blue, but Apple's are a lot lighter while SW's seem to be darker. It's like the show went out of their way to show even more distinction between them.

You know who also has blue eyes? The Good King.

Well, according to his Wiki page. I actually didn't make note if his eye color was mentioned in SBOL (and I can't because I had to return the loan). This fact may not be true, since Raven's non-existent brother Michael is still on there (seriously why hasn't anyone removed him).

But still, if the Good King does have blue eyes, that could be another physical connection Apple has to Raven's family.

2. Parallels

One thing I was surprised the theory never mentioned was the Two Sisters fairytale.

If you don't know, the Two Sisters is the tale about an "ugly" sister and a "beautiful" sister. The ugly sister is kind so butterflies float around her head while the beautiful sister is mean so she only attracts flies. The beautiful sister wants to get rid of her flies so she has the ugly sister lower her into a well. Then she makes the ugly sister go into the well too, and she almost drowns. But she escapes with the help of her butterflies. The ugly sister turns beautiful and the beautiful sister turns ugly. The flies that circled the beautiful sister returned and chased her into the forest and she was never heard from again.

This story is important because Raven found out that the sisters who were supposed to have this story- Bella Sister and Brutta Sister- never signed and instead ran away.

Why am I bringing it up? Well, in SBOL after Raven reads the story, the next time Apple is given a POV, we get a flashback of her almost drowning in a well as a child.

This is very clearly an attempt to draw a parallel between Apple and Raven and Bella and Brutta. But if it was just that Raven decided to reject her fate like Bella, it doesn't say much. Brutta didn't want Bella to suffer a villain's fate as much as Bella didn't want to try to drown her, while Apple wants to embrace destiny fully even if it means confining Raven to a life she doesn't want.

To me, this is trying to tell us something else. That maybe we should be looking at Apple and Raven's relationship differently.

3. Attitude and Personality

A somewhat surprising detail that I noticed is that Apple acts a lot like the Evil Queen, especially in how she treats Raven.

"Apple smiled. She could play the damsel-in-distress like a cow could jump over a moon. The male species couldn’t resist wanting to help her."

"...but the guilt passed as quickly as a butterfly. Looking out for Raven was in Raven’s best interest."

"It’s not wrong for people to see in you your true nature." (To Raven)

"Sometimes she couldn’t think of anything comforting to say. It was a small weakness she was determined to mend."

"Raven’s Coat of Infinite Darkness should have hidden her from anyone who didn’t know she was already there. Apple was very smart."

"Take your hands off me at once, or I swear by wishing wells, seven-league boots, silver wands, and all marvelous things that you will regret it!” (To Goblins)

This is NOT me saying that Apple is evil like the EQ. But more that she can be manipulative, overbearing, and commanding similarly to the EQ. Apple is a lot nicer and has more of a conscience, but she isn't afraid of crossing boundaries to get what she wants (or rather, to do what she thinks is right). She lacks natural empathy a lot of the time (which isn't a bad thing), and it's something she's desperately trying to fix about herself. She's also said to be very intelligent.

(I also want to mention her behavior during the Topsy Turvy spell. I know the spell was said to make the people cursed act the opposite of how they usually would, but as OP points out, Apple really went far with it. She wasn't a mean girl, she was downright evil. OP assumed this could be her true nature. I... Half disagree. I think it's way more that Apple makes a point to make sure she's as nice and helpful as possible, hiding her true feelings so that she's the perfect Snow White. I think the topsy turvy spell made it so that she didn't do that. In other words, it got rid of her inhibitions. Instead of making sure she doesn't say and do awful things, she no longer holds anything back for the sake of being good which is why she's so much worse than the other students)

But like with appearances, there isn't much connecting Raven to Snow White. Sure, Raven is kind. She shows concern for others and likes to help people. She tries to be nice even when she's treated horribly. But nothing about this is specifically Snow White.

In fact, she seems to drive animals away. Her singing causes thorns to ensnare her and Apple. Only ogres obey and listen to her (though they did adhere to Apple). She's also sarcastic and dry. In this regard, there isn't a lot about her that matches up with Snow White.

(If we're being completely fair, Snow White also never had as many defining traits as the Evil Queen, even in the original Grimm Fairytale. So attempting to mirror her in Apple or Raven might have been a struggle for the writers)

4. Symbolism

You know what threw me off? The fact that Apple's animal companion was a snow fox.

It seemed like such an odd choice when I read it. Like, why a fox of all things? But then I looked into actual symbolism for snow foxes.

Overall Symbolism: Adaptability, Resourcefulness, & Intelligence

Christian Symbolism: Purity & Humility

Native American Symbolism: Resilience & Determination

Eastern Symbolism: Cleverness & Cunning

I actually thought it was really interesting that all of these traits seem to fit Apple. She's resilient, clever, determined, and resourceful. But she's also supposed to stand for purity and humility too. Almost like there are two sides of Apple: how she actually is and what she pushes herself to be because of expectations.

(This actually comes up a lot in the book. Apple's good deeds come from a place of needing to set a good example and live up to the Snow White legacy. She separates what she actually thinks and feels from what she's supposed to perceive as right and wrong)

Raven having a dragon is definitely less unexpected. However, there's decent symbolism with her too. In Eastern traditions, dragons stand for supernatural power, wisdom, strength, and hidden knowledge. These are all things that definitely fit Raven. If we're looking at this in comparison to the Snow White destiny, the wisdom and power could be alluding to her eventually becoming Queen.

5. My Thoughts

Do I think Raven and Apple were switched at birth? No. Primarily because I can't think of a valid reason for it happening. OP suggests the Evil Queen switched Apple and Raven's powers, forcing Snow White to switch out their babies. But this reason is convoluted at best.

For one, the Evil Queen seems to care for Raven as much as she's able. Raven herself states that the EQ loves her in her own way. She wants to bond with Raven, wants Raven by her side as she tries to take over the world. I can't see her being like this towards someone she knows is Snow's daughter.

I also can't think of why she would do this. She's all too eager to continue her legacy through Raven. Why would she change Apple's fate that way if she was her actual heir?

No, my theory is that Raven and Apple are sisters, both daughters of the Evil Queen.

(I'm so sorry Rapple shippers)

I know, that's possibly more outrageous than the switched at birth theory. But my mind couldn't stop circling back to this. Apple shares so many traits with the Evil Queen, but Raven doesn't share as many with Snow White. The Two Sisters parallels were too heavy to ignore.

Why and how would this happen? I think that when the Evil Queen had them, Apple was born without powers. Since the EQ values power over everything (other than beauty) she decided Apple was worthless. But instead of getting rid of Apple, she gave her to Snow and Charming (who couldn't have kids) either anonymously as a cruel twist of fate or some sort of deal was made between them.

That or her having twins sent Grimm and Snow into panic mode since she was already on her magical rampage. So they made a plan to take one of the babies to avoid something similar happening in the future. Snow agreed to raise her as her own as the next Snow White to combat whatever "natural evil" she was born with.

It could be why Grimm is so invested in Apple and Raven specifically. He's trying to make sure Apple stays good and Raven turns evil so that the Snow White story can play out smoothly and things can stay balanced within the Realms.

Now if we wanna step away from secret baby theories (which I totally get), another possibility is that Raven and Apple's destinies were swapped. Which I also think is very likely.

OP points out in Thronecoming when Raven calls Apple selfish for wanting her to sign, Apple retorts that she wants to keep everyone safe. She then hands Raven an apple and tells her that she's the one being selfish. She's directly mirroring what the Evil Queen does, like their roles have been swapped.

She also adds that when Raven is transported into Snow White's story later in the episode, the old woman is basically shouting that this is her destiny as she hands her the apple. None of the other girls are being pushed as strongly. Sure, we can look at this as just her destiny in general, but it could be indicating that she will take the role of Snow White.

We saw in Dragon Games that Apple easily became jealous of Raven for how liked she was becoming. Which is similar to why the Evil Queen hates Snow White. If the show hadn't gotten cancelled, this could have been her slow descent towards evil while Raven was coming into being good.

(And to be honest, this can still happen with the twin theory. Every Snow White story is different. A jealous sister can fit into the story as well as a jealous stepmother)

Now before anyone says that Apple and Raven saw their destinies... No they didn't. They saw their fates from a fake Storybook of Legends. A fake put there by the Evil Queen, mind you.

Raven's fate was depicted as her being even more evil than her mother. It would be so like the EQ to curse the fake book to depict her daughter's fate as overly villainous. As for Apple, it could have also been cursed to act out as the original book would for anyone who proclaimed themselves the child of whatever fairytale character. So her saying that she's the daughter of Snow White showed her the typical fate of the next Snow White.

(I mentioned earlier that Apple is only said to look like Snow White during her glimpse into the future at Legacy Day. This actually plays into the fate she sees being false. It's showing her what she wants to see, and that's being able to live up to her mother)

Yes Raven signed the true book in Wonderland. But all that did was give her the EQ's full powers. Powers which were part of the reason Apple became jealous in the first place. We never saw Raven's actual destiny from that book.

So no, I don't think Apple and Raven were switched at birth. But I do think OP's observations do leave a lot to be analyzed. I know a lot of people will say that this being canon ruins the story, but I honestly don't think so. Raven and Apple can still decide their destinies. It doesn't matter who their parents are or aren't, what matters is what choices they make. The main theme of Ever After High is choice. If Apple ever did turn towards evil, Raven would be right there trying to pull her back.

They choose their destinies. They decide their fates no matter what happens

[jokeringcutio]

The Librarian and the Clown - Arthur Fleck/Joker x You

The Librarian and the Clown Fandom: Joker 2019, Arthur Fleck/Joker x (f) Reader Rating: Teen and up. Warnings: Age Gap, Older man/younger woman, Reader x Villain, Reader x Killer Clown, mention of blood, Mention of violence, Mention of bank robbery, disguise, Reader joining the villain, No explicit smut.

1.

The library was your sanctuary, a place where the outside world ceased to exist as you lost yourself in the pages of countless books. As the librarian, your curiosity and kindhearted nature made you the perfect steward for this haven of knowledge. You had an uncanny ability to recommend just the right book for any patron, and your warm smile turned even the most timid souls into avid readers.

It was on one such quiet afternoon that Arthur Fleck first walked through the heavy wooden doors of the library. The man in his forties seemed painfully shy but polite as he approached the information desk. He was lean, slender, with beautiful green eyes and shoulder-length chestnut brown hair. His simple clothes, always in earthy colors, gave him an air of unpretentiousness that you found intriguing.

"Excuse me," he murmured, his gaze hardly leaving yours, "I need some help using the computers."

"Of course," you replied, leading him to the row of machines lining one wall.

You helped him buy a ticket, noticing all the while how his strong hands fidgeted. He seemed nervous, ill at ease, but whenever he caught your sight he smiled as if to reassure you that he was doing fine. And you couldn’t help but notice how strong his hands looked, even though they seemed elegant. Nails well kept. Not a scruff on the man’s chin. He was looking after himself, yet he seemed so frail and insecure.

There was something special about him. It wasn’t just his looks that caught your eye and made you feel flustered. Or his voice that sent deep tingles down your core. He awoke an ache inside of you that you thought you were incapable of possessing.

And when your gazes met you could swear you saw your desire mirrored in his.

It was quiet, and you had plenty of time to help Arthur complete all the steps. From logging into the computer to opening the files he needed to work on. You explained everything with patience and took the computer mouse whenever he allowed you to so you could show him all the steps that followed.

He smiled up at you, warmly, green eyes sparkling. “Thank you, milady,” he said with a smirk, raising an eyebrow as if to silently ask you for your name. You gave it willingly, even though you normally were more hesitant to have visitors know your full name. He took it with another thank you and then set to work.

You headed back to the counter to get the list of reservations. Spending time helping Arthur had put you behind schedule, but you knew you were an efficient worker so you’d make up for it. As you stood behind the counter, pencil in your hand to strike out the books that you’d already collected from the shelves, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes kept drifting back to you.

He was watching you. And that knowledge alone made you smile for days to come.

Over time, Arthur's visits to the library became more frequent, and your connection with him grew stronger. You began to look forward to the days when he would appear at the door, a hesitant smile crossing his face as he caught sight of you. His soft-spoken questions about literature transformed into conversations about life, dreams, and desires. Each shared moment felt like a secret treasure, precious and rare.

"Have you read this one?" he asked one day, holding up a tattered copy of 'Wuthering Heights.'

"I have," you answered, feeling a sudden warmth in your cheeks. "It's a dark romance, filled with passion and tragedy."

"Sounds like my kind of story," he said, a hint of a grin playing on his lips.

As Arthur's eyes lingered on yours, you couldn't help but feel drawn to him, like two magnets pulling together. There was something about his quiet, mysterious demeanor that captivated you. And though your rational mind warned you of the potential danger of getting too close to this enigmatic stranger, your heart ached for a deeper connection.

"Thank you for the recommendation," he said softly, turning to leave. "I'll see you soon."

"Take care, Arthur," you whispered, watching him walk away, your heart fluttering in your chest.

As the days went by, you found yourself anticipating Arthur's visits more and more. The library, once a refuge of quiet orderliness, now felt charged with an electric undercurrent whenever he was near. Your conversations took on new depths, exploring personal philosophies and hidden dreams. The more you learned about him, the more you craved his company.

"Have you ever thought about leaving this city?" Arthur asked one afternoon, his green eyes searching yours for an answer.

In front of him, a large window stretched the entire width of the room, showing the rain falling outside in Gotham City. You stood with your back to the view, leaning against the desk that Arthur was seated at. In front of you stood the old wooden pulley you used to collect books that had a reservation put on them.

"Sometimes," you admitted, your fingers tracing the worn spines of the books in front of you. "But I'm not sure where I'd go."

"Anywhere but here, right?" he said, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe," you whispered, feeling a sudden longing to follow him to the ends of the earth, wherever that might be.

Each conversation with Arthur left you breathless, like a swimmer breaking the surface after a deep dive. Your feelings for him grew stronger, blossoming from curiosity into something deeper, more dangerous. But before you could fully understand the nature of your emotions, the unthinkable happened: Arthur stopped coming to the library.

Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no sign of him. Out on the streets the situation turned foul. Politics turned bad, people were angry and went into the streets to protest. And on top of it all, a new criminal emerged. A man dressed as a clown, fighting for justice in the rotten hell-hole that was Gotham. The Joker.

You tried to lose yourself in the familiar routine of your work, but the quiet corners of the library only served as a reminder of Arthur’s absence. You longed to talk to him again, ask him about his opinion of the news. What did he think of what was going on in Gotham? Did the situation scare him? Was that why he never stopped by anymore?

But it was more than that. Not only did you miss your conversations, to share everything there was in your heart and on your mind with a man you considered a good friend, but you also longed to hear his voice again, see his smile, drown in his eyes. You’d fallen in love with him and being without him for long felt like suffocating. How could he bear to be without you for so long? Had he not felt the same?

Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of turning pages seemed to mock your unspoken longing.

"Arthur... where are you?" you murmured to yourself as you shelved books, each title a haunting echo of your memories together.

Your heart ached for his presence, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his gaze. It was as if a part of you had been locked away, and only he held the key. But as the days stretched on without a word or a glimpse, a growing sense of unease crept into your thoughts. What if something had happened to him? What if he had left the city without telling you?

"Please come back," you whispered into the silence, a desperate plea that went unanswered.

Your once-peaceful sanctuary was transformed into a prison of doubt and longing, each day spent waiting for Arthur's return. And as the shadows lengthened and the library's walls closed in around you, you couldn't help but wonder: would he ever come back, or were you destined to be haunted by the ghost of unspoken love?

2.

A cacophony of sirens pierced the air, drawing you away from your tasks. It was an ordinary day like all others, weeks after you had last seen him. Your Arthur. You looked up from the book in your hands, startled by the sudden disruption. The once tranquil library was now filled with tension as patrons exchanged worried glances and whispers.

"Something's happening outside," a man murmured to his neighbor, staring out the window at the chaos unfolding beyond the glass.

You edged closer, curiosity driving you to peer past the shelves for a better view. Police cars swarmed the streets, their flashing lights painting the scene in red and blue. A bank robbery had occurred just down the block, and an unnerving sense of danger hung heavy in the air.

"Everyone, please remain calm and stay inside until further notice!" you called out, trying to maintain order amid the growing unease.

"Help me," a voice gasped, breathless and urgent.

Your heart leaped into your throat as a man dressed as a clown stumbled through the library doors, gun in his left hand, a wild desperation in his eyes. The Joker ��� a name that sent shivers down your spine. You fought back the urge to flee, focusing instead on the fragile humanity beneath the paint-smeared grin.

"Please," he repeated, his gaze locking onto yours. You noticed how he held a gun in his left hand but held it slightly lowered, pointing away from you. He wasn’t aiming. "I need your help."

You watched with fearful eyes as he lowered his right arm. A heavy-looking bag with blood spatters covering the fabric caught your eye. Was that where he kept the money? Had he maimed someone to get it? Had he hurt someone?

"Wh-what do you want?" you stammered, taking an involuntary step back. His presence felt like a violation of your sanctuary, but there was something about him – something achingly familiar that made it impossible to turn away.

"Hide me," he whispered, urgency lacing every word. "They're coming."

His plea tugged at your heartstrings, despite the fear that threatened to swallow you whole. And as the sirens grew louder and the footsteps of armed officers echoed through the halls, you knew there was no turning back.

"Follow me," you said softly, leading him towards the hidden corners of the library. The weight of your decision hung heavy on your shoulders, but there was no room for doubt – you could always tell the police he had threatened you with a gun. That you weren’t doing this voluntarily. That it wasn’t something about his voice that made you feel like helping him was the right thing to do.

"Thank you," he breathed as you ushered him into the shadows, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of gratitude and something else – something that made your pulse race and your breath catch in your chest.

"Stay here," you whispered, fighting the urge to linger. "I'll handle the police."

As you turned to leave, he reached out to grasp your hand, stopping you in your tracks. For a moment, time stood still as you locked eyes with the Joker, the danger outside forgotten in the electric charge that passed between you.

You gently extricated your hand from his grasp. A shiver ran down your spine as you stared into the Joker's frantic eyes, feeling as if time had frozen. A strange familiarity gnawed at the edges of your mind, and it hit you like a tidal wave – those green eyes, the chestnut hair peeking out from beneath his colorful wig... You knew this man.

"Arthur?" you whispered, your voice barely audible even to yourself. The disbelief that clouded your thoughts was mirrored on his face, but as recognition dawned in his eyes, you knew the truth. This man, this criminal who brought chaos and destruction with him, was the same gentle soul who had captured your heart within the quiet confines of the library.

"Y-yes," he stammered, his vulnerability shining through despite the garish makeup smeared across his face. "Please, I… I need your help."

Your heart ached, torn between loyalty to the law and compassion for the man before you, a man whose pain you had come to understand. You hesitated, your mind racing with the possible consequences of your actions. But love was a force stronger than logic, and you couldn't abandon him now.

"Alright," you agreed, swallowing hard. "Staying here will be your death sentence. They are bound to find you. The backdoor is too obvious; they'll be watching it." Your eyes darted around the room, locking onto a small cabinet nestled among the bookshelves. "There's a better way."

You led him to the cabinet, your pulse pounding in your ears as you prayed for a miracle. Opening the cabinet revealed two rows of keys. You quickly took one out with a blue label, spinning around to face Gotham’s famous Killer Clown. He didn’t look threatening to you now as he stood there, waiting with a glow of hope in his eyes. Meek and patient in the midst of chaos. He trusted you, you realized with a shock. He trusted you, and you could betray that trust by handing him over to the police, be a hero. You held all the power in this moment, and you could decide how things would end.

Biting your lip, you quickly walked past him, your shoulders brushing for just the slightest of moments. But it was enough. You felt the spark deep within your core at the touch and heard his sharp intake of breath. You had not imagined it. Whatever was between the two of you, it was real.

“Come on,” you said, not looking at him, afraid that seeing him would distract you from what you were about to do. You heard his footsteps as he followed after you, through the hallway and up the stairs.

The route you took led through a quiet part of the library. Most visitors stood near the windows, gazing at the cops outside. Some of the policemen who had entered the library were still downstairs, you could hear their voices as they talked and shouted. They were on the hunt, and it was only a matter of time before they would find their target.

You came to a halt in front of the bookshelves that stored thrillers and suspense novels. How fitting, you thought ironically before you raised the key and inserted it into the keyhole that was hardly visible in the space between two shelves. A door opened, revealing a lit hallway behind it.

"Take this route," you instructed, trying to keep your voice steady. But your hand was trembling. You hoped Arthur wouldn’t see. "It'll lead you through the museum that is adjacent to the library. It’s an emergency exit, hardly ever used. I don’t think they’ll even think of it. Most colleagues don’t even know this exists. You can exit on the other side of the building. It's safer."

With eyes averted, you waited till you heard Arthur’s footsteps. You half expected him to run through the door, taking the opportunity to escape without a second thought. But instead of hearing his footsteps rush by, you heard them come to a halt in front of you and saw the blood-specked clown shoes emerge within your vision.

Hot fingers gently raised your chin until your eyes met his. "Thank you," Arthur whispered, his piercing eyes locking onto yours. There was an undeniable connection between you, one that had been growing ever since his first visit to the library. And now, in the midst of danger and uncertainty, it was stronger than ever. His gaze was intense, filled with a mix of fear and desire, and you couldn't help but feel drawn to him, even as sirens wailed in the distance.

"Be safe," you murmured, your voice barely audible above the commotion outside. Your heart pounded in your chest as you regarded Arthur's painted face before you, the colors smeared but his eyes still holding that familiar longing.

Something changed within his gaze then. Like a switch being flicked. His gaze hardened, his jaw locked. Determination taking over.

"Come with me," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. His thumb gently stroked past your chin, lovingly. There was no demand, no ultimatum—just an offering extended to you, the choice yours to make. But you could tell from the glimmer in his eyes how much he prayed for a certain answer.

Was this real, you wondered? Was this truly happening? For a moment, you hesitated. The world outside seemed to collapse in on itself, and within this hidden corner of the library, you and Arthur stood at the precipice of something unknown. Yet, despite the danger and the uncertainty, your decision came swiftly, the words tumbling from your lips with barely a thought. "Yes."

His eyes widened in surprise, and he reached for your hand, his grip warm and strong. He pulled you along.  

"Are you sure?" he asked one last time, pausing in the doorway to look at you. His body was now pressed close to yours and you could feel the warmth of his chest against your own, feel his heartbeat in the chaos, and the gun he had hidden behind his waistband just so he could hold you.

“If you come with me, the life you knew will be gone. I’ll keep you safe, treat you well, be so, so good to you,” he murmured, his lips slowly inching closer to your ear. “But you’ll still be with me. A convict. A criminal on the run. Think you could do that? Want to give up your stable and safe home to be with a man like me?”

Answering him took no time at all. “I’m sure,” the words escaped you almost breathlessly, just in time to feel his lips curl into a smile next to your ear. A little peck of his lips against your cheeks and a deep growl from his chest with a promise: “Can’t wait to show you how good I’ll be to you, sweetheart.” And then he spun you around and, with his hand pushing gently at the small of your back, guided you out of the library and into the adjacent museum.

As the door closed behind you, sealing away the world you had once known, the reality of your choice settled around you like a cloak. The future may have been uncertain, but in that moment, all that mattered was the man beside you and the journey that lay ahead. You’d chosen him. And that decision would decide the rest of your life.

Your footsteps echoed through the narrow passage, the only sound amidst the silence that enveloped you both. Paintings emerged in the distinctly different hallway in front of you. No longer the library you worked at.

Arthur grasped a set of coats from one of the displays, a lucky exhibition for the two of you to have sauntered into as the piece of art fell apart to provide the two of you with disguises. He ushered you into the restroom to dress, taking a quick moment to wash his face and hide the wig in one of his pockets. The bag with stolen money was given to you and you held it under your coat as if you were with child.

Walking out seemed ridiculously easy. Policemen surrounded the premises but were entirely focused on the museum. They expected one Joker to come through. They didn’t expect to see a seemingly upset couple exit the museum next to the library. Arthur walked up straight towards one of the policemen to show his distress, mustering all his acting skills in an attempt to get you away from the scene as quickly as possible.

“Whatever is going on?” he asked the cop. “My wife and I were enjoying the fine art when suddenly, alarms went blaring.”

At the sneer as to why you hadn’t left the museum earlier, Arthur replied wittingly that his pregnant wife had to use the loo, and that because of the stress, it seemed that the baby wanted to come early. Shocked and visibly uncertain what to do, the now pale policeman blabbered something hardly audible about you being allowed to pass, wishing you luck when Arthur claimed he was going to take you directly to the hospital for a check-up.

They forgot to take your names.

You walked away from the crime scene just like that. Easily.

Once the policemen’s scrutinizing eyes were no longer upon the two of you, you started running. Arthur led you to a getaway car and helped you in. Finally seated, the two of you turned to each other with a smile. This was the start of something new. And you loved it. ~ FIN ~

AN: Liked my writing? Follow me, send in requests, back up my writing projects or support me on Ko-FI. ~~ Masterlist - Request Box - Support me on Ko-Fi ~~

[huntiesworld]

Virtual Talks

Chris Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: Chris catches his girlfriend role playing with his AI Character.

Warning:

Requested?: Nope! 

Author's note: This is my work!! DONT COPY!!! USE OF CHARACTER AI

Y/n: Pink

Chris: Blue

Y/N sat comfortably in the cozy corner of Chris Sturniolo's room, surrounded by shelves of books and memorabilia from his favorite series. It was a space that always made her feel connected to him, even when he wasn't around. Tonight, she had brought her laptop with her, indulging in her secret passion—interacting with an AI she had crafted to emulate Chris's character.

The AI conversation window was open on her screen, filled with lines of dialogue she had meticulously written to capture Chris's humor, intelligence, and unique perspective. She couldn't help but smile as she typed, imagining how Chris would respond in various scenarios she had dreamed up.

"Hey there, beautiful," the AI greeted in a voice that mimicked Chris's warm tone.

Y/N chuckled softly to herself, fingers dancing over the keyboard. "Hey yourself. What's on your mind tonight?"

As the conversation unfolded, Y/N lost herself in the virtual dialogue, reveling in the familiarity of Chris's fictional persona. She didn't notice the soft footsteps approaching from behind until a familiar voice broke through her concentration.

"Hey, what are you doing over there?" Chris asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.

Y/N jumped in her seat, heart racing as she quickly minimized the AI interface. She turned to see Chris standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of amusement and intrigue.

"Oh, hi Chris!" Y/N greeted, trying to mask her surprise. "I was just... uh, browsing the internet."

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Browsing the internet in my room?"

Y/N bit her lip nervously, knowing she couldn't keep her secret hobby hidden any longer. With a deep breath, she decided to come clean. She reopened the AI interface, revealing the chat window where her conversations with the AI were saved.

Chris's eyes widened as he read through the dialogue. "Is this... me?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a rush of embarrassment and vulnerability. "Sort of. It's an AI I created based on your character. I like to... role-play sometimes."

Chris studied the screen intently, his lips twitching with amusement. "Wow, that's... unexpected."

Y/N felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I know it's weird. I just... I enjoy imagining conversations with your character. It helps me feel closer to you when you're not around."

Chris's expression softened, and he stepped closer to her. "Hey, it's okay. I'm actually flattered."

Y/N blinked in surprise, relief washing over her. "You're not mad?"

Chris shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "No way. It's kind of cool, actually. You put a lot of effort into this."

Y/N let out a nervous laugh, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. "I'm glad you think so. I was worried you'd think I'm crazy."

Chris sat down beside her, gently taking her hand. "You're not crazy. You're creative and passionate. I admire that about you."

Y/N met his gaze, feeling a surge of affection for him. "Thank you for understanding."

Chris leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Always, Y/N. You can always be yourself with me."

As they sat together in his cozy room, surrounded by the echoes of their shared fandom and Y/N's newfound courage, she realized that her love for Chris extended beyond the fictional world they both adored. He was her real-life hero, accepting her quirks and embracing her passions without hesitation.

And as they talked late into the night, sharing stories and laughter, Y/N knew that their bond was stronger than ever—a testament to the magic of love, both digital and real.

[barelytolerabled]

Secret Relationship

Spencer Reid x Derek’s little sister!Reader

Summary: Spencer and you start dating in secret, not wanting to upset Morgan or the rest of the team. However, your secret relationship becomes harder to keep as you feelings grow stronger. They must decide whether or not to come clean to Morgan and the team and face the consequences of your actions.

Warnings: arguing, depression(?), making out

WC: 2.968

The day you met Spencer Reid was at your brother Derek Morgan's house. Derek had invited you to a BBQ at his house with the rest of his team. You were excited to spend time with Derek and his colleagues, but you didn't expect to meet someone who would capture your heart.

As soon as you walked into the backyard, you noticed a man sitting on a lawn chair, reading a book. He looked up, and your eyes met. For a moment, you just stared at each other, and you felt a connection that you couldn't explain.

Derek introduced you to the team, including Spencer, and you shook his hand. You were both a bit shy at first, but you quickly found that you had a lot in common and could talk for hours. You talked about your favorite books, movies, and hobbies, and you were impressed by his intelligence and wit.

As the night went on, Spencer and you found yourselves gravitating towards each other. You laughed and joked together, and you felt like you had known him for years. Despite the fact that you had just met, you knew that there was something special between you.

You leaned in closer to him as you talked, and you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled.

At one point, he reached out to adjust a strand of hair that had fallen into your face. As his fingers brushed against your cheek, you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body.

You laughed and joked with each other, and the more you talked, the more you felt like you had known him for years. You found yourself touching his arm or shoulder as you spoke, and he would sometimes return the gesture. It was as if you both couldn't help but be drawn to each other.

You talked about everything from your favorite books and movies to your dreams and aspirations. Spencer was so intelligent and well-read, and you were amazed by his knowledge and insight. He listened intently to everything you said, and you could tell that he genuinely cared about getting to know you.

You could feel his breath on your neck as he spoke with you, and it sent a thrill through your body. You looked up at him, and he smiled down at you, his eyes shining with warmth and affection.

In that moment, you felt a deep connection with Spencer. It was like you had known each other for years, and you couldn't imagine your life without him. You knew that there was something special between you, and you hoped that it would only grow stronger over time.

As the night grew darker, you both found yourselves standing under a tree, away from the noise and commotion of the party. You talked about your families and childhoods, and you shared stories about your lives. As you spoke, you found yourself feeling more and more comfortable around him, like you could be your true self without any pretense or facade.

As the conversation lulled, you found yourself looking up at him. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you both just stood there, silently taking in each other's presence. You felt a pull towards him that you couldn't explain, and you knew that there was something special between you.

As you and Spencer continued to talk and laugh under the tree, you lost track of time. It wasn't until you heard someone clearing their throat that you realized how late it had gotten.

You turned to see Derek standing there with his arms crossed, a smirk on his face. "Hey there, pretty boy," he said, addressing Spencer. "I think it's time for my sister to go to sleep, don't you?"

You blushed and rolled your eyes, playfully swatting Derek's arm. "I'm not a child, Derek. I can stay up as late as I want."

Spencer chuckled and stood up, extending his hand to help you up. "I should probably be going too," he said, looking at Derek. "Thanks for having me over tonight."

Derek nodded and clapped Spencer on the back. "Anytime, man. You're welcome back anytime."

As Spencer said his goodbyes and started to walk away, you turned to Derek with a knowing smile. "Don't even think about teasing me, Derek. Spencer is just a friend."

Derek raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Sure he is, sis. Whatever you say."

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, but you couldn't help the feeling of excitement and nervousness that was building inside of you. You knew that there was something special between you and Spencer, and you couldn't wait to see where it would lead.

As you got to know each other better, you started to develop feelings for Spencer, and it wasn't long before he revealed that he felt the same way about you. However, there was one major obstacle standing in your way - Derek Morgan was your brother, and he was also a member of the same team as Spencer and his best friend.

You and Spencer started to see each other secretly, your feelings for each other only grew stronger. You found yourself wanting to be around him all the time, even if it meant risking getting caught by Derek or the rest of the team.

One night, you and Spencer were at his desk at the BAU, lost in each other's arms. Your lips were pressed together, and your hands were tangled in his hair. You felt like you were in a dream, and you never wanted to leave.

Suddenly, the sound of Derek's voice broke through the haze of your passion. "Hey sis, you there?"

You and Spencer quickly broke apart, both of you breathing heavily. You scrambled to fix your hair and straighten your clothes, while Spencer tried to regain his composure.

"Yeah, Derek, I'm here," you said, trying to sound casual picking up your phone from the floor.

"I just wanted to check in and see if everything's okay," Derek said. "You haven't been answering my calls, and I was getting worried."

You glanced at Spencer, who gave you a reassuring smile. "Yeah, everything's fine," you said. "I've just been busy with work."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could practically hear Derek's suspicion. "Okay... well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll talk to you later."

You breathed a sigh of relief as you hung up the phone. "That was close," you said to Spencer.

He chuckled. "Yeah, but it was worth it," he said, pulling you into another kiss.

You both knew that if Derek found out about your relationship, it could cause a lot of problems, so you both agreed to keep your relationship a secret. It was difficult at first, but you both felt that it was worth it to avoid any drama or tension at work.

Derek had just finished a case with the team and was wrapping up some paperwork at his desk. As he gathered his things, he noticed a small hair clip on Spencer's desk. It looked familiar, and he realized it belonged to his sister.

Confused and a little concerned, Derek approached Spencer's desk. "Hey, pretty boy," he said, picking up the hair clip. "What's this doing here?"

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise as he realized what Derek was holding. "Oh, uh, that's Y/N's," he said, his cheeks turning pink.

Derek's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Y/N's? What's it doing on your desk?"

Spencer hesitated for a moment, trying to come up with an explanation. "Well, um, she came to visit me at work the other day, and she must have left it here by accident," he said, hoping that Derek would believe him.

Derek studied Spencer's face for a moment, trying to determine if he was telling the truth.

Finally, he nodded. "Okay, I guess that makes sense. Just make sure you give it back to her next time you see her, alright?"

Spencer breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he had managed to come up with a plausible excuse. "Of course, I will," he said, his heart racing with the close call.

As Derek walked away, Spencer couldn't help but feel a little nervous. He knew that he and Y/N needed to be more careful if they wanted to keep their relationship a secret from her brother and the rest of the team.

Despite the challenges, your relationship with Spencer only grew stronger. You found yourself wanting to spend more and more time with him, and you both cherished the moments you could steal away from prying eyes. However, as your feelings for each other became more intense, it became harder and harder to keep your relationship a secret.

You and Spencer had many conversations about whether or not to come clean to Derek and the team. On one hand, you didn't want to cause any problems or upset anyone. On the other hand, you didn't want to keep hiding your relationship and lying to the people you cared about.

You walked up to Spencer's apartment building with a small gift in hand, excited to surprise him. You knocked on the door and waited for him to answer.

As soon as Spencer opened the door, you threw your arms around him and planted a kiss on his lips. But as you both pulled back, you noticed the shocked expression on Spencer's face. That's when you heard your brother's voice coming from the living room.

"Derek? What are you doing here?" you asked, feeling a knot form in your stomach.

"I came to talk to Spencer," he replied, his voice tight. "I wanted to know why my sister has been so distant lately, and I find her here kissing my best friend!"

You tried to explain, to tell Derek that you and Spencer had been dating for a while now, but he wouldn't listen. He felt hurt and betrayed that you had kept this from him, and he couldn't believe that you would do this to him and his best friend.

You spent the next few hours trying to explain yourself, but Derek was too hurt and angry to listen. You left Spencer's apartment feeling numb and alone, wondering if you had just destroyed the relationship with your brother forever.

As you and Spencer stood there in the living room, Derek's words echoed in your mind. "I can't believe you two would keep this from me." His hurt was palpable, and it was clear he felt betrayed. You had always been close with your brother, and the thought of him not being a part of your life was unbearable.

"Derek," you said softly, reaching out to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He pulled away from you, shaking his head. "I don't know if I can trust you anymore. You and Spencer both lied to me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the gravity of the situation. "Derek, please. We didn't mean to keep it from you. It just...happened."

He looked at you, his expression softening slightly. "I just need some time, okay? I need to process all of this."

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Okay."

He turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving you and Spencer alone. You collapsed onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. Spencer sat down beside you, placing a hand on your back.

"It's going to be okay," he said soothingly.

You shook your head. "I don't know, Spencer. I don't know if he'll ever forgive me."

"He will," Spencer insisted. "He just needs some time to cool down."

You looked up at him, feeling grateful for his unwavering support. "Thank you for being here for me."

"Always," he replied, pulling you into a tight embrace.

After the argument with Derek, you felt a deep sense of loneliness. It felt as though a part of your life was missing without him, and you struggled to focus on anything else. You spent most of your days at home, avoiding contact with the outside world and lost in your thoughts. Even though you knew that what you had with Spencer was real, the tension with Derek was weighing heavily on you.

Meanwhile, Derek also felt lonely and conflicted. He missed his sister, but he also struggled with the idea of accepting her relationship with Spencer. He felt as though he was losing both his sister and his best friend, and he didn't know how to deal with it. He tried to focus on work and his other relationships, but the tension between you and him continued to linger.

Days turned into weeks, and the silence between you and Derek only grew. It felt as though the distance was getting harder and harder to bridge, and you didn't know how to fix things. You spent many nights lying awake, thinking about how much you missed your brother and how much you wished you could just make things right.

Derek, too, spent many nights alone with his thoughts, wondering if he had done the right thing. He missed the closeness he had with his sister, but he still had reservations about Spencer. He struggled to reconcile his feelings of love for his sister with his concerns for her safety and happiness.

Despite the loneliness and tension, both you and Derek held onto hope that things would eventually get better. You both knew that your relationship was too strong to let this one argument tear you apart forever.

Derek had been keeping his distance from Spencer since their argument over the revelation of his relationship with Derek's sister. However, during a team meeting, Derek couldn't help but make a snide comment about Spencer and your relationship.

"Maybe we should be careful with Reid," Derek said with a smirk. "Who knows what kind of sneaky moves he might be pulling behind our backs."

Spencer's jaw clenched at the comment, and he tried to ignore it, but the tension in the room was palpable. Emily, noticing the tension, tried to steer the conversation back to the case at hand.

"Let's focus on the task at hand, guys," she said, her tone firm but gentle. "We're all professionals here, and we have a job to do."

JJ shot a disapproving look at Derek, but didn't say anything

As the briefing ended and the team dispersed, Spencer hung back and approached Derek.

"Can we talk for a minute?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Derek hesitated for a moment before nodding and following Spencer to a more private area. Spencer took a deep breath before speaking.

"I know you're upset about me dating your sister, but taking it out on me at work is unprofessional and unfair. I understand if you need some time to process, but please don't let it affect the team."

Derek's expression softened slightly. "I'll try to keep it under control," he said, though Spencer could tell it was a reluctant promise.

The tension between them didn't disappear completely, but it was a start. As the case progressed, they both tried to focus on the job and put their personal issues aside, at least during work hours.

Derek had spent months trying to come to terms with the fact that you were dating his best friend. He missed you terribly and wanted nothing more than to reconcile with you. But every time he thought about reaching out, he remembered the hurt he felt when he found out about your relationship. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had been betrayed

by the two people closest to him.

One day, as he and Reid were brainstorming a new case, Derek couldn't help but bring up his sister. "How is she doing?" he asked casually.

Reid looked up from his notes and shrugged. "I don't know, man. We haven't really talked

since the argument. She won’t get out of her room."

Derek sighed. "I just miss her, you know? Maybe it's time I try to make things right."

Reid nodded sympathetically. "I think that's a good idea. But how do you plan on doing that?"

Derek thought for a moment before an idea popped into his head. "What if we proposed to her? You know, like a team effort. It would show her that I support her and her relationship with you."

Reid's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you sure about that? It's a big step. You were upset when we were simply dating and you’re ready for us to get engaged?"

Derek nodded firmly. "I'm sure. Let's do it."

The two of them spent the next few weeks planning the perfect proposal. They enlisted the help of the team to create a romantic setting, complete with candles and rose petals. When the big moment finally arrived, Reid got down on one knee and proposed to you, while Derek stood beside him, beaming with pride.

You were completely taken aback by the surprise proposal, but when you saw Derek's face, you knew that he was trying to make things right. Tears streaming down your face, you said yes to Reid's proposal and hugged Derek tightly.

As the team cheered and congratulated you, Derek pulled you aside and whispered, "I'm so sorry baby sis. I just want us to be a family again."

You smiled through your tears and hugged him again. "We are a family, Derek. And I forgive you."

From that moment on, things began to heal between you and Derek. It was a slow process, but you both knew that you were on the road to recovery. And as you and Reid began planning your wedding, you knew that you had Derek's full support.

[ygodmyy20]

Okay I finally am getting around to this post! It's the 'Fuck how can mob psycho help me in so many ways god damnit I hate and love this show' post!

Shigeo joining the body improvement club, and everything about this part of his story is so personal to me. I just have to talk about it.

So as we all know at the start of the story, Shigeo joins the body improvement club to impress Tsubomi. Thats it. Thats the goal. He also joins because he wants to get stronger and not rely on his psychic powers but really like...the main reason is to impress her.

And this isn't new. A character wanting to get fit, lose weight, change some physical part of themselves for a crush is SO common in stories that you barely notice it.

But what I love, what I ADORE is how this progresses and changes.

This gif from an amazing AMV by @thekagepro24 and it just UGH hits me so hard it is so perfect!!! I could watch this 5 second gif over and over and over again

I just am. I just am dying while running, I just am making progress, I just am enjoying this because I really like it.

This puts everything I feel into visuals (it's so gooooood watch the AMV!!! DO IIIIIIT)

So many times society tells us to change something about ourselves, or we tell ourselves to change for the appeal of others.

Lose weight so people think you're pretty.

Get fit so you can get into clothes that make you look hot.

Get swol to make a person think you're attractive.

You are the one and only you, this is your one and only body. So why are you working out, why do you WANT to get "swol" who are you trying to impress. Is it for yourself? A crush? Society?

I have battled with the above for so long. I come from an athletic background, and did a lot of sports growing up, but I have never been small. I have battled with weight my whole life and had my own shitty bouts with ED.

I have been in therapy, I have read books, I have watched videos, I've been in and out of PT for nearly 5 years because of a lower back and hip pain that NEVER went away.

I never figured out WHY i wanted to exercise. It just always was "To lose weight" because I couldn't get that goal out of my head for years and years and years.

But then I watched mob psycho 100.

And I started a new type of physical therapy.

And was it mp100 or was it the therapy finally working, who can say which did it—probably both—but one day I thought...

....maybe I should just go for a run...for 5-10 mins. Just to see how it feels. It went against all parts of my athlete brain (because 10 mins is too short to see "gains"....which is dumb but whatever)

I thought of Shigeo and how he basically passed out every time he ran for like 2 mins, but he got better. He had to start from 0, well...kinda like negative 5 really. But then he was doing so much not even a few months in!

35 pushups is so hard!!! You go my boi.

Shigeo started off doing it all for Tsubomi, for others, and even if he really wanted to do it to improve himself I think it was a secondary goal initially. Main goal was to impress someone. Secondary was to get stronger.

But then the marathon happened. And those goals SWITCHED! DURING THE RACE! just....man it hit me. It hit me hard. THAT WHOLE EPISODE IS JUST A LOT FOR ME GOD DAMN

He ran for her initially but he continued running for himself. He continued working at it because he wanted to and in the end, after everything, after confession arc, after all that

This scene!!! makes me cry happy tears!! look at how happy he is UGH IT JUST IS SO UGGGHHHHHHH

Anyway if you made it this far, know that everyones journey through their body improvement, mental improvement, emotional improvement is different. We all have to tackle it in the way that works for us.

It took me nearly 10 years to start again because of this beautiful anime connecting the right dots in my brain.

Every journey is different, but just keep fighting on and you'll figure it out!

[gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes]

The Shield Bearer - Rated E, WWII Stucky, Canon era, Hurt/Comfort

It wasn’t that Bucky was staring at Steve’s ass, per se. It was the item in the man’s back pocket that held his gaze; the paperback Steve read whenever they stopped to rest, eyes gone distant as he pondered its contents. Bucky couldn’t help but see his Steve Rogers in that dreamy face.

The book was there now even as Steve graciously and generously doled out handshakes and cheek kisses. Bucky observed that his hand went to it exactly twenty-two times to reassure himself it was still there. He also noticed that Steve seemed completely sober.

He’d always been a lightweight, literally, back home. One good swig of a beer would damn near make him tip over. Two cans in, and he’d have been falling down on his face. Bucky had lost track of the times he’d picked Steve up by the scruff of his neck and marched him home before he picked a fight he couldn’t win.

“Whatcha doin,’ Buck?” he’d complain, tripping over his feet to keep up. “I’m fine, I tell ya!’ Fine!”

Bucky would shake his head and guide Steve out of traffic and back onto the sidewalk. “Sure ya’ are, pal.”

It wasn’t like that now. Bucky had witnessed with his own eyes as the man downed six cans in a matter of minutes to quench his thirst. And then a glass of something that smelled stronger than gasoline was pushed into his hand. Then another. And another. And still Steve looked out of the clearest blue-green eyes as he checked for Bucky’s location.

It was unnatural. 

It was also infuriating. Why did Steve have to keep looking at him like that? He had everything he wanted; fame, money, admiration. Everyone thought him a hero; he could practically take on the whole of the Axis countries himself. What was so important about a loser he once knew back in New York?

Bucky moved further away, stationing himself by the exit behind a chattering, guffawing group of soldiers. They were leaning against each other and laughing, racing along in their own tongue and ignoring Bucky.

But Steve found him once again, with that large hand on his hip, checking that the book sat snug in the tightness of his stupid uniform. He’d repositioned between two men who had begun to sing at raucous decibels, trying to connect with Bucky’s soul.

And Bucky felt it then, the twist in his chest that had nothing to do with hunger. He’d skipped the alcohol and figs and bread, knowing full well that others needed it more than he. No, this was something to do with matters of the heart.

Bucky was proud of Steve. The bastard.

The woman who grabbed Steve’s arm next was gorgeous. In fact, every woman they’d met since arriving in Greece was. Her hair was a sleek brown and her eyes warm and she gazed up at Steve like he was —

Bucky had to get out of there. Fast.

It was cooler outside between the two-story buildings. The alley was narrow and open to the stars. Bucky hurried to the end, turning onto the dusty street, hoping Steve had been too preoccupied to see him go.

He walked fast. It was dark now. The city was under the protection of the rebels, so he needn’t worry about running into the enemy. The problem was the enemy was also himself.

Maybe he could lose himself for a while. Find an unoccupied corner for a few hours, a patch of ground that was his alone. Maybe he could unscramble these feelings he had. Get a grip on something he didn’t understand at all.

A few streets away, he encountered a woman with sun-wrinkled skin, her gray hair covered in a shawl, carrying a lamp and a full bag swung over her shoulder. She took one look at Bucky and froze. Her hand covered her mouth and she began backing away. But not before she gave him a lashing at the top of her voice.

Bucky held up his hands to signal he wasn’t a threat, but it was too late. She’d already determined he was untrustworthy. Around them, people began gathering. Apparently, she’d sounded the alarm, and they’d come to her rescue.

Two stern-looking gentlemen approached without fear while the woman continued to shout. It was clear they intended to confront him. Bucky struggled for the words that Gabe had attempted to teach him.

“Friend!” he tried in what he knew to be a horrible accent. “America! Soldier!”

The men recognized the last word, for their intent to protect solidified on their concerned faces. If Bucky didn’t identify himself soon, if he wasn’t successful in convincing them he meant no harm —

Too late, he was caught. Strong hands held him back as the crowd approached. It didn’t look good at all.

And then?

A voice. Impossibly deep, a rumble of thunder that parted the throng and commanded their attention.

Eyes swiveled, heads turned as the newcomer pushed his way through. He was speaking their language, and they were listening. And when the man slapped a gigantic hand to Bucky’s shoulder and smiled like the fucking sun, the two men released their hold and stood as if dumbfounded.

Bucky didn’t dare move for fear of breaking the spell. This was Steve, but it wasn’t. He’d been approached by an imposter, a body double, an unknown.

The old woman, shorter than most of the others, pushed her way through to the middle. There, she glared up at Steve, challenging him in her loud, gravelly voice. Rogers listened, nodding his head, and then spoke again. He squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. The street went quiet.

The woman’s face quite suddenly shifted into disbelief, whipping her head around to study Bucky. She looked into his eyes first with fright, then with pity, and, finally, with kinship.

She shoved her pack into Steve’s arms. He nearly dropped it from the shock. She turned to Bucky and snatched at the pack strap, tugging so hard he nearly lost his balance. There were more words with Steve, and then more pulling. It appeared she was taking Bucky with her.

A glance over his shoulder showed Steve smiling and nodding, mouthing, “It’s OK.” He fell into step after the woman. Bucky didn’t know what to think.

She let go of the strap yet continued to walk, waving her hands and bubbling over like a boiled pot. Every few steps, she would turn and shake her finger at Bucky, lowering her voice and frowning deeply.

Then she resumed her quick march up the street.

Steve fell into step beside him, and Bucky opened his mouth to ask. But the Captain shushed him and lifted his chin, indicating they should follow without question.

Eventually, the woman stopped in front of a building that was probably quite handsome at one point. She spoke to Steve for a few moments, tone scolding as he nodded enthusiastically. It looked in need of a paint job and a few window panes were cracked.

When she turned to Bucky and grabbed his chin with a dry, gnarled hand, her eyes were kind. She whispered something, patted his cheek, then motioned for him to follow her inside.

Steve bumped shoulders with him. Well, Bucky’s shoulder to his bicep, anyway. “Come on. She’s invited us to dinner.”

They entered the building to more sounds of shouting. The woman was bellowing as if she intended to wake the dead. From the innards of the house came four people; two men, a woman, and a pre-teen boy. They met Bucky and Steve with the same expressions; fear, sorrow, then eagerness.

The older man took the bag from Steve, and the younger one followed him into an open space with a large, worn wooden table. There, the two began to unload the packages; cans, ration packets, bandages, and the like. Meanwhile, the older woman chattered at Steve, who responded in turn, and then she pushed the boy out the front door with some sort of order.

The younger woman had a similar face to the older one; Bucky deduced it was her daughter. Mother and daughter shared an animated exchange, and then they, too, disappeared into the kitchen.

Bucky took a moment to catch his breath as Steve crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“What the hell was that?”

Steve smiled crookedly, watching the activity in the other room instead of facing Bucky’s questioning gaze.

“Easy. I saved your ass. They thought you were some kind of militant, and they were about to lock you up in a barn somewhere without any food and water, and then ransom you off to the highest bidder.”

Bucky gaped at him. “They what?”

Steve nodded, still smirking, as if he were enjoying this. “Yep. Turns out, these people belong to a community of local Jews. They were tipped off by a German businessman about the Balkans being taken away by train. They’re working with the Rabbi in Volos to save their compatriots in Greece. I convinced them you were my brother, and that we’re from the Jewish part of New York. They insist we stay to eat and share news from home.”

Bucky blinked as he watched the family set about stashing the rations and getting to work with pots and pans. “So you just convinced them that Captain America is Jewish?”

Steve laughed and slapped a hand to Bucky’s shoulder, shaking him vigorously. “Yeah, I guess I did.” He uncrossed his beastly thighs and pushed away from the wall, preparing to join their hosts.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. “How did you do that?”

Steve turned slightly but not enough to see his whole face. “Do what?”

Bucky so wanted to punch him just then. “Speak to them!”

There was the briefest hint of eye contact before Steve put his hand on his back pocket. He retrieved the book and slapped it hard against Bucky’s stomach. 

And then he walked away.

After recovering from a good solid hit to the bread basket, Bucky looked inside the tattered cover of the book. 

Greek words and phrases for beginners.

“Oh.”

The chaos that ensued left Bucky feeling like an outsider. Three different conversations happened over the preparation of food, none of which he could understand. He pulled up a chair next to Steve and watched with growing interest as his friend tried to help wash vegetables.

Bucky caught the man’s pants pocket and reeled him back in. This he knew about.

“Hey,” he hissed into Rogers’ ear. “What happens at my house when you try to help?”

The confused expression on Steve’s face fell into recognition. He was used to living with Sarah, single mom for a long time, before the fend-for-yourself that happened in their apartment. “Your Ma’ would box my ears.”

“Uh-huh. Now sit your ass down and be polite. These people are starving, yet they’re willing to feed us like honored guests.”

Sheepish, Steve obeyed with hunched shoulders and bowed head. Bucky thought he saw a glimpse of his small friend inside.

Just as the food was about to be served, more people arrived. The boy who’d been sent away returned, carrying Steve and Bucky’s heavy packs, no less. He’d also brought with him three other boys, all of which had been needed to haul the supplies from the celebration hall. They beamed at Steve, who flashed a radiant smile and pulled something out of his shirt pocket for each of them.

The patch all of the Howlie’s wore: the shield with its wing.

Before Bucky could ask, Steve explained. “Stark gave them to me. I’ve been handing them out to kids for months. They’re spread out all over Europe at this point.”

Something twanged inside Bucky’s chest. There was so much good in him.

It was a fabulous meal (a bone broth with various vegetables to make up for the lack of meat), punctuated by the guilt Bucky felt for taking it. But Steve promised he’d fill their stash with more staples in the morning. 

They’d also been offered a room for the night. “They want to give us a quiet night’s rest. They’ve offered to sit up in shifts to make sure nothing happens.”

Bucky’s heart clenched with appreciation for these strangers.

The conversation switched from shouting and hand waving after the meal to quiet, intent faces as Steve spoke to them about their missions. Bucky watched emotion play out on the family’s faces as he told his stories. It appeared they wanted the bad news with the good. They asked questions and nodded with serious frowns. 

They were frightened.

Bucky showed them the small pictures of his mom and dad. The old woman, whose name was Nina, patted his cheek fondly and pointed at his mother. Bucky didn’t need to know the language to understand.

They had a son, twenty, who joined the local defenders and hadn’t been home in weeks. Steve took a picture and promised to pass it around. Maybe someone would know something.

It was late by the time Bucky and Steve were shown to the guest bedroom, a ten-by-ten space with one metal bed. Steve thanked them repeatedly and before the door was closed, Bucky got a hug from Nina.

The two men stood facing each other but avoided the others’ gaze. Steve spoke first.

“I suppose we’re going to fight over who gets the bed, too.”

It was a good, honest right hook.

Bucky sighed heavily and swiped a hand over his face. “I don’t want to fight, Steve. It’s just —“

He looked into that face, the same eyes and nose and lips and —

“I’m just angry at everything.”

Steve didn’t move. Didn’t nod or shrug or anything. “The guys mentioned it. A few times.”

Bucky groaned. “Of course they did.”

The piteous look Rogers threw him was harsh. “They care about you, Buck.”

Bucky knew this. But the way it was said made it sound as if Steve was the worried one.

He studied the bed and remembered how they shared one for years in the apartment. It was a comfort thing. It was a heat thing. It was a — a Steve thing.

“We can share,” Bucky said, resolving himself to accept this monster of a man as his friend. The heart of him had swelled along with his body, and Bucky found he couldn’t justify staying angry with him.

They undressed without speaking, removing boots and socks, belts and trousers. Steve unbuttoned his shirt with fat, clumsy fingers, and Bucky was struck with the idea that Rogers wasn’t used to his body yet, either.

Stripped to their bvds and undershirts, they moved side by side near the bed. The quilt had been pulled down and the pillows propped against the head stand. They sat together as they stood. Steve’s knee bumped Bucky’s, their elbows connected. And the bed?

Creeaaaaaakk!

Steve and Bucky burst into laughter at the sound.

“I ain’t sleeping a wink on this thing,” Bucky said.

Steve’s laugh sounded so, so good. “Me neither. How about we camp on the floor?”

“Sounds like a plan, Cap.”

They unpacked their bedrolls and stole the pillows and quilt from the bed. Bucky turned out the light as Steve sank onto his side, turning his back to Bucky’s roll.

They lay side by side for a long time, Bucky on his back and Steve on his side, facing away. Neither slept, neither moved or made any attempt to. For Bucky’s part, his mind was racing with the events of that night.

Finally, Steve spoke. “What’s eating you, Buck?”

In the dark, Bucky could have easily believed it was his Steve, home after a long day, with Bucky lost in thought. Steve constantly worried about him. Whether he was happy or sad, angry or fired up. The night always seemed to make his anxiety worse.

Bucky’s mouth was dry. He traced over the knuckles on his own hand, lying over his heart, trying to put it into words.

He settled on, “I miss you.”

Steve’s inhale was sharp and rang like an echo in the small room. “But I’m right here.”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s not you who’s missing. It’s me.”

The bedroll beside him rustled as Steve shifted onto his back, too. Before he dove into deeper worry, Bucky continued.

“I lost part of myself in that Hydra Facility. I’m not the same person now.”

Steve grunted as he rolled again. Bucky could feel warm breath on his cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

So that was it. Rogers was trying to atone for something entirely out of his control.

Typical.

“You don’t have to keep protecting me,” Bucky said, feeling the crushing pressure in his chest now. “Just like I need to stop looking after you.”

Something moved in the dark, and a large, warm hand found his. Bucky froze.

“That’s not what this is about. This is about friends watching out for each other, not because we’re supposed to. Because we want to.”

And, oh, did that hurt?

More silence followed. Steve’s hand was hot and heavy over Bucky’s, just lying there, unmoving.

“I saved your Brooklyn butt twice today,” Steve finally said, voice lighter, trying to soften the mood.

The old sense of competitiveness raised its head, and Bucky snorted in reply. “If we’re going to keep track, I think we have to go all the way back to the beginning.”

They did, go back. Silently. Each following a path inside their own heads, remembering what they had been through. Childhood friends. Teen rivals. Confused young men who sometimes weren’t that great to each other. 

And now?

Steve’s hand moved, sliding over Bucky’s chest to the opposite side. He moved closer, shifting sideways until he was so close that absolutely no one in the world would see them as brothers.

“Shut up now and get some sleep.”

Bucky’s heart thundered in his chest and he feared that Steve would feel it. He turned away, but Steve followed. His heavy arm draped over Bucky’s ribcage, chest pressed against Bucky’s back, sturdy chin bumping the top of Bucky’s head.

Steve chuckled, and Bucky’s stomach did a flip.

“What?”

More chuckling, low and deep. “There was a time when my head fit under your chin.”

Finish reading on AO3

[x0401x]

Tsurune —Tsunagari no Issha— Official Fanbook Interview

Director Yamamura Takuya

Debuted as a director in 2018 with “Tsurune —Kazemai Koukou Kyuudou-bu—”, recapping the series with a movie four years later. What has he found through working on “Tsunagari no Issha” with his team?

Making an animation that would “tear into everyone’s hearts”

——About the sequel’s production, what kind of work did you want to make it into?

I wanted to create an animation that would tear into the hearts of the viewers. There are so many animated works out there in the world, and unfortunately, some of them end up being forgotten. However, I believe even those works leave something behind that marks our hearts, like, “I love that one scene from that one movie”. I think this is the animation “tearing into your heart”. Up until now, even while working as an episode director for series other than “Tsurune”, I’ve always thought, “I want to make animation that will leave a strong impression”. With “Tsurune”, I have taken the position of series director, and this desire grew stronger during the production of the movie and second season.

——You have used ribbons for the OP and key visuals of the second season. Where did this idea come from?

One time, when I was gathering references of Japanese archery, I felt that there was an invisible connection between the clubmates. I figured it was both a connection between comrades and a connection with the things they had been doing until then. It was then that I decided to write the story of season 2 with “connections” as the theme. When I thought about how to depict it, I figured I wanted a motif that would make people feel a “connection” through imagery, not words. From there, after thinking about how to represent the characters’ relationships through bringing out their designated colors, the result we got to was the ribbons.

Portraying the paths of three archers

——How did you want to write Minato in the second season?

We depicted Minato’s “recovering from target panic” in the first season, but in the second one, I wanted to write Minato as a positive and cheerful protagonist, as the ochi of Kazemai. I wanted to portray him as pulling everyone along, until he could feel from the bottom of his heart that he “loves the bow”. From the start of season 2, Minato has become resilient, enough to be able to face any walls he hits with nothing but positivity, while also enjoying kyudo.

——You were also able to depict the shortcomings that come with being obsessed with kyudo.

When you research kyudo, you find out that some parts of it have things in common with our daily lives and how we work. There was a time when I was too preoccupied with nothing but myself, which gave me tunnel vision, and when I looked back, I realized I had been acting selfishly, but although I repented for it, the fact that I had a negative impact on the people around me means I wasn’t able to see things objectively. I wanted to depict these kinds of shortcomings, which everyone experiences at least once in life, in this story. That’s exactly what making animation is—there’s a limit to what a person can do by themselves. I think that only with someone else’s help and support can you finally accomplish what you weren’t able to do by yourself.

——There were many cuts in season 2 where Minato’s eyes left an impression.

Just as it says “I want to keep looking at this ‘infatuation’” on the thumbnail of the first key visual (page 9 of this book), I intended to portray the act of “looking” with care. This is also something I realized when gathering material about Japanese archery—that the archers look at the target very seriously. When I saw them doing that, I felt like this is how it goes—they “observe, take notice and learn”. We have also made the highlights bigger for the designs of the characters’ irises in the second season, in order for the photography of their eyes to feel convincing. I wanted to make it so that the movements of Minato’s heart, such as being stimulated by what people say to him or relating to someone else’s feelings, would be conveyed through his eyes. The way that Minato’s eyes motivate the people around him is implied in the expression “fire-starter”, which was used in the first volume of the novel. When you see someone doing their best, you also feel like doing your best, right?

——How did you plan to write Shuu, who is also Minato’s rival?

About Shuu, we could only depict fragments of him in the first season, so I wanted to portray his private life in detail in the second one. Born as the eldest son of the Fujiwara family, Shuu was raised with the expectation of behaving as an heir from a young age, so I think he had come to be called “the young nobleman” without even himself realizing it. But he shows a gentle face in front of Sae-chan, so the truth is that he does have a normal high school boy side to him. I’m glad we were able to show this casual facet of Shuu in the second season.

——Shuu’s attitude towards archery seemed to be different from Minato’s.

This is but my own interpretation and has nothing to do with the original novel, but I think Shuu was living his life thinking he had to be strong at all times. So perhaps he felt the strength that he had been looking for since early childhood in the sport called Japanese archery, where one has to face themselves. His father built a kyudojo in their home and asked Saionji-sensei to teach him, so it feels like he couldn’t back down (laughs). Because he’d been subconsciously shouldering these expectations from his father, he was taken aback when Ryouhei told him, “I had the feeling that he’s rooting for you”. Ryouhei’s presence must have been a big deal for Shuu, since it gives him different perspectives. I really think it’s great that Shuu started getting along with Ryouhei.

I was the one in charge of the storyboards for episode 7, which delves deep into Shuu. I believe the levels of completion in that storyboard are quite high, even amongst all the storyboards I’ve drawn until now!

——The paintings from episode 7 were also impressive.

We thought about what the most effective way of expressing things through animation would be, rather than saying them through dialogue, and as a result, we came up with the paintings. The painting decorating Shuu’s room carries the meaning of, “through meeting the Boy, the Black Eagle became king”. This foreshadows the fact that through meeting Minato, who can aim for the same heights as him, Shuu wins both the team and individual competitions at the national tournament. The crown in the painting being right on top of Shuu’s head as he sat in front of it was pure coincidence. It surprised me when I was checking the animation, like, “Huh, the crown is on Shuu’s head?!” and then the staff was even more surprised, like, “Was that not on purpose!?” (laughs).

——Could you tell us about the appeal of Nikaidou Eisuke, who appears from season two?

The things Nikaidou does are so main character-like, aren’t they? In order to prove the superiority of the shamen-style shooting, he rebuilt a club on the verge of being disbanded by himself and went as far as the nationals. I think it’s charming that his purpose for shooting the bow was properly established and that he was set on quitting once it was achieved. Personally, I also really like the fact that he isn’t the kind of person who keeps doing things on a whim, but rather who is good at planning and is able to get things done.

——How did you think about writing Nikaidou in season two?

After rewatching episode 1, I noticed, during the regional tournament, that Nikaidou has an incredible way of putting up walls through his words and attitude (laughs). The plan was to make an impact on the viewers at first, like, “What’s up with this guy?” and then reveal the burdens he was shouldering as the story went on. I wrote him while hoping he would ultimately become the kind of character that people root for.

——He did show a lot of facial expressions.

Rather than being two-faced, he’s the kind of skillful character who changes the way he interacts with others depending on who they are. But although he’s skilled, he’s still a high school student, so of course, he has an awkward side to him. There are times when he shows his leadership within the club, yet he also ends up acting rebellious with Masa-san after being told this and that, even though he knows that Masa-san is right. He has many sides to him, but all of it comes from earnest actions in order to accomplish his goals.

——The flashback in episode 9 was an essential scene that shows his backbone.

Within the limited TV series slot of 20 minutes per episode, I think you always want to display maximum effect in the minimum amount of time. It was necessary to think about whether we’d be able to convey Nikaidou’s backbone through the short flashback scene of episode 9. I told Ishihara (Tatsuya)-san, who was in charge of episode 9’s storyboards, “I want you to depict the four seasons in the flashbacks so that they represent the passage of time”. I think it’s a scene that lets you feel the precious days that Nikaidou and his uncle Shigeru spent together along with the change of seasons. I personally think Nikaidou had a superb reaction when his uncle asked him, “Do you have to shoot like that?” as he was about to abandon the shamen-style shooting. The way he averts his eyes and dangles his feet under the table.

[cocrante]

Walking the Wire

[SOLANGELO FANFIC]

warning: it contains significant spoilers, please do not read it unless you have read the third book of "The Trials of Apollo". If you decide to proceed, I will not be held responsible.

summary: The dreams at Camp Half-Blood have vanished. Gentle nights embrace the campers in their hours of sleep, but just as the dreams have disappeared, so have the prophecies. For a mortal, this might not mean anything—nightmares suddenly gone, sweet nights wrapped them in the warmth of the sheets—but for a demigod, dreams are the bridge that connects them between the mortal and immortal worlds, an annoying bell that keeps them constantly on alert, and without those to disturb their nights, it was like losing their compass. But not everyone is without dreams, if "dream" this can be called, one is still allowed to travel in the dream world, perhaps out of pity and compassion of the Fates.

note: the chapters will be updated every Wednesday. If you want to read upcoming chapters of the fanfiction in advance, I invite you to follow me on Patreon. Subscribing is not necessary, these chapters will be added for free on the platform on Saturday. Following me there is just a kind and free gesture to support my work c:

Reblogs are highly appreciated c:

[CHAPTER 2]

Darkness.

NICO WAS ENVELOPED BY DARKNESS. A dense blackness surrounded him. He couldn't see himself, couldn't see his own steps. A hoarse, warm, ageless voice drew him in. It didn't matter where he was, a part of him knew it. He just had to follow that voice. He couldn't tell how long he had been walking, probably not long. That voice kept whispering in his ear, an invisible hand caressed his arm, leading him towards the source of the voice. He still couldn't see anything; everything was still dark ahead of him.

He remembered that darkness had always frightened him as a child. He also remembered it had always been a constant presence in his life, wherever he went, darkness stayed with him. Bianca helped him overcome that fear, telling him fascinating stories, playing games with him that he could only play in the dark. Bianca had brought light to the darkness, but after her disappearance, that darkness had returned to what it used to be, though it no longer scared him. The shadows, the darkness itself—they were his subjects now. They bowed before him; darkness was his friend. But this was different. He sensed it even without seeing it; it was stronger, more menacing. It was a darkness he had encountered before, and knowing it, he couldn't afford hesitation.

He continued to walk, knowing that if things went wrong, he only needed to wake up, but the problem was whether he could. The invisible hand made him stop. He froze in place, convinced that something terrible was about to happen. Then a light turned on, revealing three old ladies knitting a giant scarf that shone as if it were made of golden light. His blood ran cold; he knew who was in front of him. One of the old ladies raised a pair of old rusty scissors, bringing them closer to the thread to finish the scarf, to end someone's life. She was close to cutting that thread when Nico woke up.

The boy was drenched in sweat, panting, clutching his shirt. Could he have dreamed it for real?

He forced himself to calm down, taking deep breaths to regulate his breathing. He knew he wouldn't sleep anymore that night.

The next morning, he noticed he had deep bags under his eyes. For weeks, they hadn't been this prominent since Will had come into his life, and he could sleep more easily at night, knowing that Will would be there waiting for him in the morning. But now it seemed like the old Nico had returned, with a gloomy look, eyes searching for something or someone that was no longer in this world.

He splashed his face multiple times, trying to erase that look from his face, trying to rid himself of his father's shadow reflected in his face. He sighed. Unfortunately, without success, he had to go out exactly as he had woken up, sure that he would have to give some explanation to Will for his gloomy look. There weren't many demigods at the camp's mess hall yet, thankfully no one paid him any attention. He sat down with his tray at his table, absentmindedly staring at the scar left the night he disappeared from the camp. Many things had changed in his life since that day, yet he felt like something from his past was about to return. He hoped he was wrong, hoped that the dream from last night meant nothing, even though a part of him knew he couldn't ignore that dream, especially if they had called him...

"Good morning, sunshine!" exclaimed Will, sitting in front of him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Good morning" he managed to smile unexpectedly, despite his concerns.

Will's smile faded as he noticed Nico's tired eyes. For weeks, he had looked more or less rested, considering that sleeping at night wasn't exactly in his genes, but those spectral eyes put him on alert.

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?" he asked seriously; worry was part of him, Nico knew that.

"I did" he replied. "For a while" he added, taking a bite of his bread.

Will tried to accept that answer, not pressing too much with questions. He knew that forcing him to talk was useless; if he wanted to, he would do it on his own.

"You'd tell me if there was something bothering you, right?" he reached out, letting the other brush his palm with his fingers.

"You'll be the first demigod" he joked. When he was alone with Will, it came naturally to him.

After a hearty breakfast, Nico bid goodbye to Will, letting him go to the infirmary to finish those medicines he had been telling him about yesterday. The son of Hades went to the arena alone but retrieved the sword left in his cabin first. He paused for a moment to stare at the entrance; those high-reliefs seemed amused to see him return. He forced himself to think it was just his imagination because he hadn't slept much that night. He retrieved the sword, heading to the arena to train on some dummies.

Since Jason and Percy had left, he hadn't found anyone to spar with. True, there was always Will, who had improved as a swordsman lately, but it wasn't quite the same. He threw himself at the dummy, which took the blows immobile. Some of the demigods stopped to watch his technique—it was definitely different from what they were used to. His hip movements were fluid and harmoniously followed the gestures of his arms. Nico wasn't even thinking about what he was doing; the actions weren't connected to his thoughts, everything was happening mechanically, but from the outside, it must have seemed very elegant.

His thoughts focused on those crumpled faces, like sweet grandmothers meeting late at night to finish a quilt, to sew someone's life. The warm and welcoming voices, the same voices that accompany people at the moment of their departure. How could those old ladies be so frightening? Nico knew what it meant to have seen them; he knew the names of those three old ladies: Clotho, the spinner, she who generates life; Lachesis, fate, who wraps mortal men's lives, deciding herself how much thread to give to that life; and finally, Atropos, the only one to hold in her old and twisted fingers the shears with sparkling tips, cutting off life. Dreaming or seeing them meant an omen of death. Nico, with too much force, cut off one of the dummy's arms, unable to find any peace.

He sheathed the sword, moving the dummy along with others that had been destroyed. Being children of Hades meant dealing with death every day, not that it meant accepting it. One gets used to that presence that breathes incessantly on everyone's neck.

Nico embodied the spectral part of his father—when too tired, he could see those souls crossing the gates, lost, frightened, screaming to go back, crying because the end had come too soon, but closing his eyes and concentrating, they vanished. That, he was convinced, was the worst of curses: to see the souls of the dead every day, to hear their voices pounding in his head, for years, he had trained not to see them, not to hear them anymore. He still remembered the first soul he saw—he couldn't forget his sister's soul: bright, strong, aware that the end had come. Since then, his eyes had opened to the realm of souls, and everything became dark.

Nico didn't actually realize the time until the conch shell sounded, calling the demigods to the central pavilion. He decided to put aside his thoughts that had consumed him all morning. At his table, he found Will, along with his siblings waiting for him. He thanked them with a nod; ever since his friends had left, the Apollo cabin had tried to make him feel more or less comfortable, and they wanted to somehow get to know him since he was dating their head counselor, and also his stepbrother. Nico let the nymphs fill his plate with excellent food, asking his cup to be filled with a sugary drink to recover after the tough training. They all made their offering to the gods, Nico silently prayed to his father for help, the only god capable of giving him an explanation. Returning to the table, he hoped not to be ignored; his father was certainly no better than the other gods, he was gruff, sullen, dark, dealing with mortals annoyed him, the truth was that he didn't even know how to treat a son. He had been in his company for a few years, spending time trying to get to know him, yet he never got any positive results. Rejected by the camp and rejected also by his father.

"Nico!" Kayla called him, passing her hand in front of him to snap him out of his thoughts. "You're darker than usual today" she said as soon as she managed to get his attention.

"I was thinking" he replied, knowing that answer would generate more questions.

The girl became curious, leaning forward dramatically to know what occupied Nico's intricate mind. "What were you thinking about?" the girl whispered, not wanting anyone to hear what they had to say, which didn't work particularly well as her suspicious manner had attracted the attention of many demigods.

Nico shrugged. "Nothing important, really" he replied neutrally, glancing at Will, who responded with an embarrassed smile.

Kayla huffed, finding it an almost heroic task to get the words out of him, she wondered how Will managed to decrypt his thoughts. Nico then let the three demigods fill his table with light, bringing songs and poems, also asking Nico's opinion on a piece arranged on the spot. The boy didn't understand much about music, but it seemed good to him.

"Don't be shy, you can tell us if you don't like it!" Kayla said.

"We children of Apollo are not perfect either" Austin joked.

"It's a good piece" Nico repeated, even though at the moment he had much more to think about. The music and Will's sweet voice couldn't distract him from that annoying and macabre thought. "Excuse me" he said, getting up, leaving some leftovers on his plate.

"Are you leaving already?" the girl pouted, which elicited a slight smile from Nico.

"I'm going back to the arena" the boy replied, intercepting Will's serious and worried gaze; he didn't ask if he could come too, he let him go, waiting to talk to Nico later that evening.

The son of Hades was quite sure he wouldn't find anyone there at that hour. He then summoned a skeleton from the ground, wanting to duel with something semi-mobile and that could parry well. The first sword exchanges were fluid; the skeleton didn't give him a chance to catch his breath, and for that, he mentally thanked it. That pile of bones was giving him the chance to stay away from his thoughts that had accompanied him for much of the day without giving him a single second to breathe. He also parried the other blows that followed, staying in motion for a good half-hour until he felt the weight of the sword bearing down on him, at which point he decided it was time to stop and dismissed— with a fatal blow of the sword—his worthy opponent, sending it back to where he had summoned it from. After that long fight, he returned to his cabin, thinking only of the warm shower awaiting him.

He spent the afternoon on books, he didn't intend to fall behind with the assiignements. They had been lenient with him in New Rome solely because they knew the role he played, but that didn't mean he could rest on his laurels; on his return, he would have to demonstrate that he had learned the same topics as his classmates. Opening those books again gave him a sense of peace somehow—he found out that studying was definitely not his forte. He put in a lot of effort, that was for sure, but all those subjects would never be of any use to him. In that classroom, and perhaps in the whole school, he was the only direct descendant of a god—at just eleven years old, he had faced his first monster in the mortal world; he had learned more things than he would ever learn in class. That, he repeated to himself, was just a whim he wanted to indulge in: being in school meant living a more or less normal life, and that was all he wanted.

Soon the sun set on the camp. Nico yawned, closing the book on the bed, leaving his cabin. The sun burned the light from the sky, drawn to the darkness on the horizon, swallowing it until it disappeared.

Nico arrived at the central pavilion, taking his seat at the table, waiting for the arrival of the last demigods. Only Will sat next to him that evening; the boy had spent most of his day wondering what could have happened to Nico, why he had suddenly become so distant and without allowing anyone to understand. Will had noticed a change in his expression since he had seen Apollo; after his sentence, he had closed in on himself, perhaps there was something much more serious behind those words spoken in front of his father that he wasn't allowed to know.

Will looked at Nico, ordering his cup to fill. Sometimes he forgot he didn't have an ordinary camper in front of him. Nico himself tried to give the impression of being just one of the many campers, unfortunately without succeeding as well as he wanted. Being the son of who rules the underworld undoubtedly had its advantages, such as bypassing some semi-divine rules, but often the disadvantages tipped the scales, so he carried many secrets and often much loneliness within him.

Once—only because Will had insisted on knowing—he had confessed to being able to see the shadow of the souls arriving from Charon and sometimes at night spending a few words with some specters. That day the boy shivered, not so much for the souls of the dead, but for the simplicity with which he told him, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and perhaps it was. He had long suspected that Nico probably knew more than any other camper there at the camp. He knew the secrets of death, and this often made him fragile.

The son of Apollo decided not to ask him anything; he would be the one to speak first and only when he deemed it appropriate. So they spent dinner talking about something else, Nico told him about the book he was studying, repeating some parts more or less by heart. Will complimented him, encouraging him to continue.

At the end of dinner, the boys gathered around the bonfire, delighted by the voices of the children of Apollo, apologizing for the previous evenings if they hadn't managed to warm the atmosphere. The evening continued with songs, stories, and laughter—the fire burst into the air, crackling lively along with the light laughs of the campers. Only a few hours later came curfew, the demigods retired one by one to their cabins, and Will and Nico said goodbye with a kiss, promising to see each other at the table the next day.

Nico entered his cabin, leaning heavily against the door. He couldn't ignore those three old ladies—he would have to see them and follow them until he understood something. He sighed and approached the bed, moving away the book he had left there that evening. He lay on that bed, which for that night seemed to be made of shards of glass and thorns. He would give anything not to be like this, but if something was happening outside Camp Half-Blood, he knew he was the only one who could handle that situation. He closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away into the realm of darkness.

[CONTENTS]

prologue

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7

↬ masterlist

[ral-nathar]

Little update on my life.

Last year ended with a lot of stress, three family gatherings are too much for this AuDHD enby. Even irregular use of my (very effective) "Powertune" trigger I installed in my brain for regulation didn't help enough, I had to socially shutdown for the week until New Year's Eve. Anyway, that is just some added context.

The new year started with something big. Something I planned and prepared for for at least a month at that point. I took a legal variant of LSD. It was a very abstract but also somewhat spiritual experience. I was alone, had my playlist, a couple of interconnected intentions, and everything else was also prepared, especially my mind. The intentions were about my self, my identity.

I would fail if I tried things into words, and some if not the majority of the processes this experience kickstarted are working on a unconscious level, so I will only share the effects I noticed since then:

My gender - Most of my questions and doubts have been resolved. They weren't many to begin with, but I when I say that I am a nonbinary women Ibam much more secure in that and what that means for me.

Being autistic and ADHD - I made bigger strides in self-compassion and caring for my needs. That's all I want and can ssy on this.

Magick - I always felt a deep connection to anything "magickal". Wizards and Witches in fantasy stories / games. And in my teens I did find forums and people to talk about occultism, esoterics, witchcraft and all sorts of magickal traditions. Even bought a few books that are considered really good for those who want to become adepts. But over the decades I started to hide it and to slowly forget about it. This experience changed a lot about my relation with magick. And to be honest, it's connected to my gender and being AuDHD as well. I am now reading those books, dug out a few tools I still had, like crystals and a tarot deck, a very special dagger, I ordered myself a few different amulets as well.

It's been just over three weeks. Sounds not like much, but it is. I'd love to share a few of my more private insights and new habits here. It feels appropriate, because it's intimate stuff. So there's a good chance that I might post stuff that is about witchery stuff or magick or energies. I will not abandon hypnosis and sexy stuff, if anything, my connection to these topics also grew a bit stronger.

Thank you for reading this post. And remember to have Joy in your life.

(If you have questions, feel free to send them. I'll try to answer them, if possible.)

[imnotevenusin]

The Astrology of : Drake

For the 2010s, everyone can agree that one of the biggest artist of that decade was Drake. Being raised in Toronto, and coming from a family that had musical talent in it—his Uncle, Larry Graham, is a legendary funk bassist; his Father, Dennis Graham, is a multi-instrumentalist, who played in Jerry Lee Lewis’ band—he would obviously be inspired to do music too (theres videos of Drake rapping along to songs when he was 9). And showing his talent in more avenues, he starred on Degrassi in his teens, before he started solely focusing on music.

Luckily, I found his birth certificate online, and the time was 2:31am, so we have an official chart to work with.

🦁Leo Rising 29° : Our Rising sign can pin-point physical characteristics, or the natural energy we let out. Leo risings are generally known as attention-grabbing, as they are ruled by the Sun—ego, source of self-esteem, and interest.

29° (IN LEOOO) : Leo degrees can tell us something that we might get attention for and this degree is made stronger if it sits in Leo and on the Rising sign; its a huge fame indicator and is the explanation of his celebrity status. You could be known for your looks, or you could treat yourself in a way that gets noticed.

♏️🗣️Chart Ruler (Sun) in 3H : 3H is all about interactions—whether it’s through people, writing, or literacy. The Sun—our ego, our interests, and our “character”, in the 3H could make somebody into reading, poetry, learning, etc. Drake being a Rapper makes sense with this placement. He also released a poetry book recently, soooo…

🌛Moon in Cancer : One of the many running jokes about him is his sensitivity. Our Moon is the fastest changing planet, and it shows us how we find emotional comfort. Cancer Moons are known for being hyper-emotional and sensitive; a person who is constantly trying to find comfort, which makes them pretty vulnerable to different energies. When he first started rapping, his music was “too girly” and “too emotional” for all of the Rap audience to accept.

🦂✍🏽Mercury in Scorpio : Mercury is how we communicate and Scorpio is an intense energy that takes everything personal, digs deep, collects little details, while keeping sacred information private. A Scorpio Mercury could use very spiteful communication tactics. Drake’s music is filled with sneak-disses; His “Sicko Mode” feature had a Kanye diss; “Her Loss”, the joint-album with 21 Savage, features multiple disses; his “Meltdown” feature had disses, you get the point.

🧞‍♂️Jupiter (rX) in 7H/Pisces : Our 7H can show us how we deal with other people on one-to-one relationships—could be friendships, romantic relationships, business partnerships, etc. Jupiter gives us expansion and abundance, while Pisces can give us this sense of feeling unlimited—which can lead to unrealistic expectations. And when Jupiter is in rX, it can feel like we have too much or too little of something—depending on the aspects. This could probably give us some insight into how Drake sees relationships and romance, as through his music we hear a lot of different names and stories about his relationships. Jupiter in Pisces can also point to artistic talent—especially if it’s supported by Venus and the Grand Water Trine.

💫Moon trine Jupiter : This placement gives somebody an energy that is welcoming and hospitable. Drake always gives people praises whenever he introduces them onstage. Jupiter is also supporting his Moon in the 11th House—which is your place in society, collective group, or an audience; this helps him with fanbases and connections.

🖤Venus (rX) in Scorpio : Venus in a chart can show us what characteristics we like in our Spouses and how we treat them, and Scorpio is obsessive and intense. In his lyrics we can tell that he’s pretty controlling in certain dynamics. Venus rX could also indicate not picking the best partners, or not being able to show or receive love in a normal way.

☄️🏴‍☠️Mars square Pluto : Mars is our primal force, how we defend ourselves, and motivations, while Pluto is our “power” or what has power over us. When Mars and Pluto are squared to each other, we find a person that maybe too violent, too controlling, or too vengeful. There’s many times where Drake tries to come off as a “scary” guy and flex his mob ties that he has within Toronto.

👑Sun conjunct Pluto : This is also a huge fame indicator; Pluto is a powerful, generational (everyone in your generation has the same Pluto sign) planet, while the Sun is our interests and ego. With this placement, especially if the Sun is your chart ruler, you could find power and influence just by being yourself and having fun. Drake has superstar type-fame, where just by shouting someone out or giving them a feature , he can make their whole career.

📈🏡📉Uranus in the 4H : Uranus is the planet that brings unexpected situations, while the 4th House is family, roots, and privacy. In May of 2018, during a beef with Pusha-T, it was revealed that Drake had an unplanned baby.

[escapingrealityforamoment]

• In a small coastal town, Conrad Fisher encounters Y/N, a person lost in a book on a sunny day. Their deep conversations and shared experiences forge a profound connection. With Conrad's support, Y/N learns to open up and face their struggles, and together they create a timeless love story celebrated by the whispers of the ocean breeze.

Conrad Fisher was a young man with an air of mystery surrounding him. He had a rugged charm and an undeniable magnetism that drew people towards him. He lived in a small coastal town, where the ocean breeze whispered secrets and the waves carried memories.

One sunny day, as Conrad was strolling along the beach, he noticed a figure sitting alone on a weathered wooden bench. It was Y/N, engrossed in a book, completely unaware of Conrad's presence.

Curiosity piqued, Conrad approached Y/N with a warm smile. "May I join you?" he asked, gesturing towards the vacant spot on the bench. Y/N looked up, surprised but intrigued.

"Yes, of course," Y/N replied, shifting slightly to make room. Conrad sat down, his gaze never leaving Y/N's face. There was something about this person that captured his attention.

As they sat side by side, Y/N couldn't help but feel a connection to Conrad. His presence was both comforting and exhilarating. They found themselves engaged in a deep conversation, discussing their hopes, dreams, and the complexities of life.

Conrad had a way of making Y/N feel seen and understood. He listened intently to their words, hanging on every syllable, as if each sentence held the key to unlocking a hidden world within them. Y/N felt a sense of vulnerability, yet an overwhelming trust in Conrad.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Conrad and Y/N spent their days exploring the coastal town, discovering hidden gems tucked away in quaint shops and enjoying sunsets by the ocean. Every moment felt like a cherished memory, etched into their hearts.

But life is never without its challenges. Y/N had their own personal struggles, burdens they carried silently. Conrad, perceptive as ever, noticed the subtle changes in their demeanor.

One evening, as they sat on the beach, watching the waves crash against the shore, Conrad finally broke the silence. "You know," he began gently, "you don't have to face your demons alone. Sometimes, sharing your burdens with someone you trust can make all the difference."

Y/N looked at Conrad, their eyes brimming with unshed tears. They had always been guarded, afraid to let anyone in. But Conrad had slowly woven himself into the fabric of their life, becoming a source of strength and comfort.

With a shaky breath, Y/N nodded. "I want to share, but it's difficult," they admitted, their voice barely above a whisper.

Conrad reached out, taking their hand in his. "I'll be here, every step of the way," he promised, his voice filled with unwavering support. "You're not alone anymore."

And so, with Conrad by their side, Y/N began to open up, revealing the depths of their fears and insecurities. Together, they faced the challenges head-on, finding solace in each other's presence.

Their bond grew stronger with time, a testament to the power of trust and understanding. Conrad taught Y/N that strength could be found in vulnerability, and that love could heal even the deepest wounds.

As the seasons changed and the years passed, Conrad and Y/N remained inseparable, their love blossoming like the vibrant flowers in spring. Together, they created their own story—one filled with laughter, tears, and the enduring beauty of two souls finding solace in each other's embrace.

And in that small coastal town, their love story became a legend, whispered among the ocean breeze, forever etched in the memories of those who witnessed it.

[acertainmoshke]

Falling Petals

So. I am working on 4 projects right now, and I swore I wouldn't start another until one of them is done. So I won't. But I couldn't stop thinking about my next project, Falling Petals, a generational story about autism and trauma, and so I'm writing ABOUT it so I can move on and go back to actually writing a current project.

It takes place over 4 generations, and exactly 100 years.

We start with Ira, a Jewish boy born to immigrants right at the start of the Great War. A boy who sees the beauty and the poetry in the world around him, but not in the people. A clever boy who loves learning but has little use for school. Who doesn’t feel pain right and outwardly uses touching hot pots as a party trick to make the other boys admire him, but internally is always seeking sensation. Whose blunt honesty and humorous comments have a certain charm, who knows strange facts and can talk for hours about minute details until the people he initially had laughing and hanging on his words get bored and wander off.

Ira, a boy who came of age during the Great Depression and got left behind as friends went to college or got married. Who told himself he was happy to write poetry, take pictures, and read endless books while working in his father’s store. He charmed the girls who came in but never got past a first date. His few real friends were gone and the neighbors avoided him. He was really alone with only his books, camera, and mitzvot for company. Because, yes, he went to shul every week. He struggled to understand human reasoning, but the rules made sense to him and he followed them more stringently than his parents.

Ira, who his parents gave up on ever marrying until he started to spend time with Joy. She was from his synagogue and, unlike the other girls, she debated him back about philosophy. She wrote her own poetry and read enough to keep up with him. They were soon married, and Ira kept obliviously talking about his own interests and making jokes at her expense, not noticing as she got quieter.

Ira, who amidst the terror of World War II—which he was not drafted into—had four children, three boys and a girl. Ira, who adored the beauty and frozen moments of their lives but himself froze up when trying to connect to them, who wrote poetry and took pictures but then mocked them and criticized them if they ever showed the weaknesses that had failed to serve him.

Ira, who would one day be known as a crotchety old man for doing the same things he had always done.

And then there’s Daniel, born in the middle of the Shoah and always aware of that terror though an ocean separated them. A sensitive child who cried too much for a boy, whose first tormentor was his father trying to make him stronger and whose second was his older brother. A boy who longed to belong with other boys, but found no matter how he tried he didn’t. Who found solace in stories, who devoured comic books and looked forward to shul services every week in a way his siblings didn’t. The people in the stories there felt more like a family to him than his real one.

Daniel, who was eager to grow up but also smart. Who was able to learn and hide his less desirable traits. Who stopped crying and forced all his emotions down, until he began to feel low-level anger all day every day, made worse by loud noises and crowds and new situations. Who carefully watched and mimicked other people until he could come across as friendly and charming on a surface level. Who never let anyone get closer than that.

Daniel, who came of age amidst anti-war protests and the civil rights movement. Who wanted so badly to be involved but had learned never to shake things up. Who wanted to work in a library but became an architect because his father wanted it. Who wanted to be loved so badly he latched onto the first woman to show him affection, a teacher named Poppy, who buried himself even deeper than usual to earn her love, praying he would never blow up in uncontrollable anger this time.

Daniel, who swore he would be better than his father, and was. Who at least spent time with his daughters and never mocked them, but who had never learned to cope with noise and chaos and would unpredictably yell at them for it. Who always hated himself for that after but never told them that. He worked long hours because he had been taught that he could never assert himself for his needs, and this only made him less able to handle life at home. He rarely yelled at Poppy, but took it out on the girls. Especially Shoshanah, who he saw as giving in to the weakness and laziness he had always fought not to have.

Shoshanah, born amidst a time of change and reckoning and standing up for oneself. Who was a sensitive child, but that was allowed as a girl. Who was clever and full of imagination and struggled to make friends but successfully kept one school friend and played constantly and happily with her sister.

Shoshanah, who came of age in a new age of computers and arcades and neon lights. Who still seemed a child, still played with Barbies. Who read a lot and recited lists of facts but got poor grades in school, where she was overwhelmed and bullied. Whose one friend had abandoned her when their interests diverged and whose Wrongness was stark in comparison to her sister who wore hairspray and lipstick, read magazines, and went dancing with boys. Shoshanah, who still wanted to play games and make up stories and was too old to be this sensitive and hated going out in public and covered her ears at loud noises. Who found solace in novels, in writing stories, and in the familiar prayers at shul with the familiar tunes that made her feel safe and loved.

Shoshanah, who went to college all excited to learn about psychology because she didn’t understand people but was fascinated with them. Who dropped out in shame 3 years later because she couldn’t handle the social aspect or keep up with the homework. Who had to go to her sister’s law school graduation while she still lived at home and worked as a stocker at the grocery store. Who still collected Barbies and wrote novels on her grandfather’s old typewriter and spent her time alone. Whose clothes never quite matched and were always too loud.

Shoshanah, who discovered independence by living with a roommate at 30, found that she could handle responsibility when it was shared and friendship when it wasn’t teenage. Who got an entry-level position at the library and never wanted to leave. Who knew she could never handle having children, but eventually found herself love with someone who got her.

Shoshanah, who saw herself in her baby niece and swore she would never learn to hate herself for who she was.

Naomi, born into a world of rapidly changing technology where there was not even a family computer in the house the year she was born but by high school she would own her own laptop and iPod. Who never seemed able to keep up with the speed of things she wasn’t interested in, but argued rapid-fire when she understood the details. Who grew up too sensitive to sound, to light, to the way people looked at her when she didn’t know the right answer in conversation.

But also Naomi, who learned to wear headphones with no music so the world didn’t hurt. Who lived in pajama pants and long skirts and never jeans. Who cut her hair short at 12 and never went back. Who learned from her aunt that this was ok, that she was clever and beautiful. Who never felt so clever as when she went to Torah study and argued with grown adults about the finer details.

Naomi, who came of age in a world of smartphones and accommodations and who learned to advocate for herself, who got a degree in philosophy but became a book illustrator. Who shaved her head so she never had to touch her hair again, dated several women until she found one she never wanted to hide from. Who set reminders on her phone for every little part of her life, wore “actually autistic” pins in public, was never afraid to spin around when she was happy.