#idk i just think this would be so interesting to try to write

[archangeldyke-all]

Angel… hear me out…

butch babies already has 4 drabbles, just one more to get an emoji and be officially a series soooo… what do we (you) think about writing about one of them being jealous maybe bc of insecurities (like idk someone was flirting with sev and reader started feeling insecure bc she is like complete opposite of this other girl), OR maybe they got on a stupid argument and they both are so dumb and stubborn that they don’t know how to solve shit (they are teenagers after all) so they try and make a move to solve everything like organizing something in their hideout but they end up planing the exact same thing JSMDMDKD. OR how would be their first time together (i kinda picture sev waiting for an adequate moment and trying to make it really special for reader, maybe as a birthday gift, or celebrating like an anniversary of that first fight when they meet).

I’m just obsessed with them atm 😭😭😭

this whole series is healing my inner teenager ugh asd;lfjas;ldkj

men and minors dni

you're having a shitty night.

you and sevika snuck up to piltover to sneak into some university frat party-- looking to sell the shitty cave-weed you've been growing in your hideout to rich college kids who don't know any better. at first, it was fun. you made good money, drank expensive liquor, and danced to piltie music.

but now, you're a little drunk, you've got a headache from the altitude, and sevika's pissing you off. she's got her signature cocky smirk-- the one usually directed at you-- pointed at some pretty, proper, pilite girl.

sevika says she's yours. she says you're her favorite girl in the world. but... sometimes you worry.

you know you're different from most girls your age. you've never been interested in typical girly things. wearing dresses makes something nervous start to crawl around in your stomach, and you prefer to keep your hair short and out of the way, not bothering with ribbons or clips or bows. even in zaun; where piltover pinks and frills are traded out for flashy piercings and bold makeup-- femininity just doesn't suit you, no matter what form it takes.

you huff as your girlfriend leans closer to the piltie girl, snatching the closest bottle of good liquor and storming out of the frat house.

you make it halfway down the block before sevika comes running after you.

"hey! don't you hear me callin' your fuckin' name?" you roll your eyes and keep walking. you can hear her scramble after you, before she reaches out and tugs your arm. "what's your fucking problem?"

"what's your fucking problem!?" you ask.

sevika gawks at you. "i-i dunno?" she asks. "i thought we were having a fun time!"

"you sure seemed to be having fun." you huff.

"well, yeah! babe, look!" sevika reaches in her pockets and starts pulling out silverware and watches. you snort and roll your eyes, and resist the temptation to show your best friend your own stolen goods from the evening.

"sev... do you ever think..."

"what?" she asks, still confused.

you sigh. "sometimes i feel like you should be with someone so prettier than me."

"what?!" sevika shouts. "y-you're the prettiest girl in the entire universe--"

"yeah, but i'm not, like..." you flail a bit, looking for the words.

sevika frowns at you. "you're not what?"

"you know sevika. you've known me since i was a kid. you're the same way, sorta." you say.

"so you don't think i'm pretty?" sevika asks.

you gasp and reach out for her with your free hand. "no!" you shout. "sevika-- you're so pretty, your face is all i ever think abo--"

"then why are you being weird?!" sevika shouts.

"because you were flirting with that girl!"

sevika freezes, then she bursts into laughter. "babe!" she cackles.

you huff and pull away from her, taking a sip off the bottle you'd stolen.

"i don't get what's funny."

"i was scamming her!" sevika cackles. you blink.

"what?" you ask.

sevika shrugs. "people up here are rich. and stupid. she was telling me all about how she snuck out of her sorority house-- how everyone who lives there is at a party tonight--"

"we cannot rob a sorority house!" you cut your girlfriend off. sevika deflates.

"but babe!" she whines.

you can't help but giggle with relief and exasperation. sevika must be even drunker than you-- she only gets this mischievous when she's drunk.

"absolutely not. c'mon, i took this bottle, we can go to our hideout and have our own party."

"but i only got like three sets of silverware!"

"look." you giggle, pushing the bottle into sevika's hands and reaching into your sports bra. underneath your shirt, flannel, and jacket, nobody could see the increasingly lumpy silhouette of all the shit you managed to sneak out of the frat house. telescopes, fancy lighters, pocket watches, bifocal glasses, and best of all-- two unlimited piltover university cafeteria passes.

"holy shit!" sevika gasps, grinning down at your haul. "you're fucking amazing!" she giggles.

you smile. "i'm sorry i freaked out."

"i'm sorry i didn't tell you my evil plan. guess i oughta tell my partner in crime about my criminal plans, eh?" she teases. you laugh, redistributing your goodies from the evening in your pockets, before grabbing sevika's hand and tugging her toward the university's campus. you're gonna treat your girl to an all expenses paid cafeteria dinner.

"yes, you should. now hide that liquor so we can get into the dining hall." you whisper.

sevika giggles. "these passes are for grad students. we're too young, they're gonna know!"

"we'll tell 'em we're child prodigies."

"us?!" sevika cackles. you snort and stop your trek, pulling sevika in by her waist for a kiss.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

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@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3

[red-cicada]

Okay idk if you guys care about my ideas at all but I do. \

Basically at this point I think these foos are just turning into my own version of reanimator ( not everything I draw of them is supposed to be taken seriously I just want yall to know that, like there is work I think of as true to my own story and the ones that are just for fun! )

Some other changes or things I think about for if i made a reanimator uhh show or interpretation whatever its called.

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

First I would make Francesca Peruvian I just would don't ask me why.

Dan and Herbert of course have some homoerotic stuff going on and things that defiantly question their relationship with each other but the ONLY time that they ever had some sort of sexual relationship is when they where in Peru. Its just very common in war for men to engage in homosexual relationships and this is the only time i think it would make sense ( this of course tho would be brough up in later times during what would be in the bride timeline )

Dan would of have been with Francesca long before even the idea of making the bride, and when the bride is in the process of being created he would start to pull away from Francesca leading her to going into their home and finding their lab and experiments ect:

I know some of you hate this idea but I would have Dan betray Herbert and turn him into the police, He would then later regret his choice because Francesca wont stay with him (obviously), meg is dead, the bride didn't work, because of the case he's lost his job and medical license he's lost everything. So he would try to get Herbert back or forgive him in some way ( like those prison pages I made except it wouldn't be until very late into the trails when dan regrets his choice, and the one that's kinda jokey but kinda not where dan tries multiple times to set up a visitation ) I can elaborate on this part further if you guys are interested in what I have to say.

There would be a lot more time of Herbert in prison and how that's effected him, like his eating pattern changing, he's a lot more clean and organized, he's more struck with pattern and time ect: AND would make it more clear that Herbert DID get physically stronger in prison, most prison systems have some sort of mandatory labor, and also as much as folks don't like to think about the violence that happens in prisons Herbert would be a big time criminals and some people are going to want to test that Herbert would have to find a way to protect himself. ( he's also just annoying people are going to want to beat him up )

Oh and also I feel like ( at least I haven't seen any ) folk don't speak about how being attacked by reanimated corpses, the experiments, war, and being in prison would have given Dan AND Herbert serious PTSD, and I would personally love to explore that idea. One of the things i loved in the original reanimator is that Herbert was constantly paranoid about his first reanimated corpse coming back to kill him.

ANYWAYS that's all my though for now, I have a lot more but everything's mixed up, I need to make a timeline and write down my ideas in a more organized way.

they should make a show like Hannibal but for re-animator, and they should let me direct and write and also let me play Herbert West

[bohemian-rhapsodys]

Have you ever thought about your funeral? if you're on Tumblr you probably have, so I suggest 1) you get some psychological help 2) pick a song for your friends to play at your funeral. Why? well, why not? it will be your last message to the world, so you have a chance to do something funny.

Don't be boring and play Highway to Hell by AC/DC or Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash, be original, choose something that represents your spirit. If you're not insane enough to listen to music and think "wow, this song would be inappropriate to play at a funeral" don't worry babe, I'm here for you and I'll help you on your way to discovering your ideal funeral song. This will work like astrology for those of us who had ask.fm in the 2010s.

So... if you're here you were probably emo or had an interest in emo or some kind of fetish idk. Don't lie. So you could use songs that are simply recognised as "emo" by all your guests to give a message. Bring Me To Life by Evanescene is a safe choice, although Going Under is another. It's never a bad time to listen to Fall Out Boy, there's Immortals or Sugar, We're Going Down. I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic! At The Disco would be good, although High Hopes is another option, but if your mother is already dead you can play Hey Look Ma, I Made It or if you die having just graduating college then Death of a Bachelor. Still with emo, My Chemical Romance can't not be an alternative: Welcome to the Black Parade, Dead!, This Is How I Disappear or Famous Last Words will prove your death because if you don't get up to sing you've really gone to the other side. You have Hard Times by Paramore too. Anthem of Our Dying Day or Until the Day I Die from Story Of The Year are bangers, think about it.

If you weren't emo or don't like emo stuff (I don't believe you, but don't worry I'm not going to drag you out of the emo closet with your family babygirl) you can joke about whether you will be buried or cremated, even more personalised!

Will they cremate you? Hot In Here by Nelly, Sean Paul's Temperature, Gasolina by Daddy Yankee, Dynamite by Taio Cruz, Burn by Ellie Goulding, Girl On Fire by Alicia Keys, Drop It Like It's Hot by Snoop Dog, Things We Lost In The Fire by Bastille, Blow by Kesha. And of course, Fireball by Pitbull. You're gon' boggie oogie oogie, jiggle, wiggle and dance like the roof on fire with these ones.

Will they bury you? Drag Me Down by One Direction or Get Low by Liam Payne and Zedd, The Box by Roddy Ricch, She Looks So Perfect by 5 Seconds Of Summer (you'll look stunning in that casket pookie), Six Feet Under by Billie Eilish, Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics, Scream & Shout by will.i.am and Britney Spears (all eyes will be on you, ofc) or Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd.

If not you can use any song used as an internet meme. Like Like a Prayer by Madonna, Goodbye by Bo Burnham, I Wouldn't Mind by He Is We (you can also ask your friends to make a video of your life -like a recap- titled it "saddest video in the world", full of made up stuff) or Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley.

You can also choose one based on the cause of death. Hit by a car? Life is a Highway by Rascal Flats (bonus points if you are a Cars fan), Ride by Twenty One Pilots, Shut Up And Drive by Rihanna. Run over by an hoverboard? Dumb Ways To Die by Tangerine Kitty (yes, the soundtrack to the video game) or Nobody's Perfect by Hannah Montana. Shot? Bulletproof by La Roux, Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benatar, Louis Tomlinson's Kill My Mind or Bon Jovi's Wanted Dead Or Alive. Suicide? Don't Try Suicide or Keep Yourself Alive by Queen, I Think I'm Going To Kill Myself by Elton John, Rock 'n' Roll Suicide by David Bowie, Van Halen's Jump. Trying to save someone from a robbery? Smooth Criminal by Michael Jackson, Help! by The Beatles, Gangsta's Paradise by Coolio and the Avengers theme song by Alan Silvestri. Overdosed at a party? Ricky Martin's Livin' La Vida Loca, Ayesha Erotica's Literal Legend, Pitbull's Time Of Our Lives and LMFAO's Party Rock Anthem. Heart Attack? Demi Lovato and One Direction have a track called "Heart Attack" or Boom Clap by Charli xcx. Slashed to death? (I Just) Died In Your Gun Tonight by Cutting Crew. Eaten by a new Jeffrey Dahmer? Cannibal by Kesha. Or if you died young it could be Die Young by Kesha or We Are Young by fun.

If you like to be ironic the following are for you: Best Day Of My Life by American Authors, Stayin Alive by Bee Gees, I'm Still Standing by Elton John, I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor, Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go by Wham!, Don't Stop Me Now by Queen, Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You) by Kelly Clarkson, Every Breath You Take by The Police, breathin by Ariana Grande, Survivor by Destiny's Child, Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen (spoiler: they won't be able to call you unless its via ouija), Lush Life by Zara Larsson, My Heart Will Go On by Celiné Dion (bonus points if you drowned), So Happy I Could Die by Lady Gaga, About That Time by Lizzo, Wake Me Up by Avicii, Unstoppable by Sia, Safe And Sound by Capital Cities, When Will My Life Begin? by Mandy Moore (who doesn't love Tangled?), Rusted Root's Send Me On My Way, Take My Breath Away by Berlin, On My Own by Ross Lynch (Teen Beach Movie 2 representation here), I Don't Wanna Live Forever by Zayn and Taylor Swift, Kool & The Gang's Celebration, Alive by One Direction (bonus points if you're gay) or Viva La Vida by Coldplay.

Do you want your friends to feel like they're inside a sad edit? Somebody That I Used to Know by Goyte and Kimbra, Big Girls Don't Cry (Personal) by Fergie, The Show Must Go On by Queen, We Go Together by John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John, Katty Perry's The One That Got Away, Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life) by Green Day, I'll Be There For You by The Rembrandts, Cry Me a River by Justin Timberlake, Die With A Smile by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga, Everybody Wants To Rule The Word by Tears For Fears. Or maybe you prefer to joke that you "abandoned" them: All You Had To Do Was Stay, Is It Over Now? or Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift, Want U Back by Cher Lloyd, Problem by Ariana Grande, bury a friend by Billie Eilish, Smash Mouth's All Star, Irreplaceable by Beyoncé, Naomi Scott's She's So Gone, Friends On The Other Side by Keith David (Tiana is the best Disney Princess), I'm Like a Bird by Nelly Furtado, Anna Kendrick's Cups (for the Pitch Perfect girlies), Take Me Home Country Roads but the Lana Del Rey version to make it more random, Eminem's Without Me, *NSYNC's Bye Bye Bye, Let It Go by Idina Menzel (extra points if you died of hypothymia).

Anyway, in any context it's funny to fuck with your guests with This Is What You Came For by Rihanna and Calvin Harris.

Would you like to play a chill good vibes song for them to smoke a joint in your name? Don't Worry Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin, Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles or Michael Bublé's Feeling Good. Have you ever heard the lyrics of Treat People With Kindness by Harry Styles? You should.

Do you like the idea of kidding with heaven/hell? try Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin, Hells Bells or Hell Ain't a Bad Place to Be by AC/DC, Locked Out Of Heaven by Bruno Mars (bonus points if you're gay cause sex won't take you to paradise), all the good girls go the hell by Billie Eilish, What The Hell by Avril Lavigne, Sympathy For The Devil or Knockin' On Heaven's Door by Guns N' Roses, Bad To The Bone by George Thorogood & The Destroyers (you can play the scene from Megamind in the background if you want), Otherside by Red Hot Chili Peppers, Cage The Elephant's Ain't No Rest For The Wicked, Back To Life by Zayn, Heaven by Niall Horan, The Smiths' Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now, Made In Heaven or Spread Your Wings by Queen, George Michael's Faith, Heaven Is A Place On Earth by Belinda Carlisle, A Whole New World From Aladdin (you can use the original version or the Zayn one if you like 1D), Defying Gravity by Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande (to leave a message that you are defying gravity to those who ground you), Almost There by Anika Noni Rose (more The Princess and the Frog representation here). Even Europe's The Final Countdown can be a good bet, as can Hozier's Take Me To Church (again, bonus points if you're gay).

I've named songs from musicals as you may have noticed, and you might like them, so One Last Time from Hamilton, My Dead Gay Son from Heathers or The Whole "Being Dead" Thing from Beetlejuice might hit the spot.

Do you believe in reincarnation or do you want to screw people that you will haunt them by being a ghost/zombie? Oops!...I Did It Again by Britney Spears, There She Goes by The La's, Dark Horse by Katy Perry, Ghostbusters by Ray Parker Jr., Thriller by Michael Jackson or The Phantom Of The Opera main track by Andrew Lloyd Webber (because it gives vampire vibes).

If you're boring you'll probably end up choosing Live And Let Die by Wings because you like the idea of telling your loved ones "let me go", and although it's part of the soundtrack of several films including Shrek the Third (so passing the scene would be funny), why not choose the actual funny equivalent? I'm talking about Let It Grow from The Lorax. "But if this ever-changing world in which we're living makes you give in and cry say live and let die" and "Let's celebrate the world's rebirth we say let it grow" are exactly the same, in case you didn't notice.

And if none of this convinces you: you can always use Boulevard Of Broken Dreams by Green Day and carve in your casket "I never thought being obnoxious would get me where I am today" which is a quote by Billie Joe Armstrong. Or just play Another One Bites the Dust by Queen, or The Office's intro, whatever.

I know if you read to the end you liked the idea, didn't you, sweetheart? So remember that you are too hot and sexy to die, don't do it. Ever. Be immortal like Castiel. Or Godzilla, your choice.

[gayspacepiratesss]

TL; DR: Saving Minrathous allows Neve to hope.

(Saving Treviso allows Lucanis to forgive, but that's another story for another day.)

***

Every companion in DATV hits a character crux during the game, but Neve's and Lucanis's characters -- being linked to the cities they love -- are especially interesting to me.

In particular I think Neve's character is a brilliant navigation of the issues the devs faced in representing the Tevinter Imperium. In previous games, Tevinter is an ancient shadow empire of blood mages and oligarchy; if Ferelden is roughly medieval Britain and Orlais is roughly medieval France, Tevinter is the remnants of the ancient Roman empire, with a hefty number of Nero-like rulers (sadistic, debauched, unchecked) still in residence.

So: how do you make that a place the player can root for? You write the story of the resistance. The anti-slavery Shadow Dragons make sense as Rook's allies, and their work is important. But Neve is how DATV tells the story of Tevinter's losers: the vast majority of regular people, who aren't mages or oligarchs or magisters, but still have to get by in this violent, corrupt place.

Neve has been manipulated and disappointed by institutions her whole life (like, let's be real, most poc and women and lqgbtq+ folks irl). She has enough privilege to protect herself: she's a mage born in a world that prizes magic. But she's not rich, and she's too fiercely ethical to take the shortcuts that would allow her to accumulate power. If you travel with her long enough, she'll tell you about the relatives who were only kind to her because they wanted to use her status as mage, and the uncle who was different. When she's in Lucanis's family home in Antiva, he complains about decorating, and she tells him her entire Minrathous apartment could fit in one room. Her clothes are well-tailored because she knows that looking good is a kind of power, but she'll explain to Bellara that it's not because she actually HAS rich patrons; she just dresses to look as if she might. She knows how to use the theater of wealth, but at the end of the day she's firmly working class, surviving off street food and bad coffee above a second-rate bookshop.

Neve loves Dock Town, sees how badly Tevinter's institutions have failed her community, and is deeply, fiercely protective of the weak and the vulnerable. If you drop a coin in a beggar's plate, she'll drop one too, and ask if they have shelter for the night. Hal insists he owes her free fish, but notice: every time, she says "Sure, next time, Hal," and pays him anyway. She knows he can't afford to give away business, but she'll never embarrass him by pointing this out. This is the same instinct that makes her so sweet to Bellara back at the Lighthouse: her elvhen fangirl is an open book, completely emotionally vulnerable, and Neve is immediately ready to look after her.

(It's also the instinct, I think that keeps her from confronting Rook about [redacted for spoilers] -- how terrifying would it be to fall for someone with that much of a blind spot?? But she's not going to kick Rook while they're down, and she can't help being drawn to them. Like, her fear is justified. It's not a great start to a relationship.)

But Neve is also a realist: she knows she CAN'T protect everyone, no matter how hard she fights. Over and over she's seen bad actors like Aelia slip through the cracks, and good guys like Brom (who ... maybe she had a thing for? some of her notes, idk) get killed trying to make it right. So when Rook meets Neve, this is the open question for her: CAN you make the world a better place? Can you illuminate the dark corners, and lift up the downtrodden, without compromising your own values? Or is it always already a hopeless proposition?

If Rook saves Treviso, and lets Minrathous burn, that's Neve's last straw. She stops looking. There's no way to be better than the Archon or the magisters, and so she'll join the Red Threads to beat them at their own game. Unlike Lucanis, she's still romanceable in this state, because ultimately she's still fighting for the things she loves; she just doesn't really believe in the future anymore. There's a pretty sad version of Neve's story in here, especially if you choose her to dismantle the wards in endgame. It's possible for her to lose everything she ever believed in. I've seen a lot of angry people complaining on the internet that her line at the end of her last companion quest -- "This is MY city now" -- is aggressive and cliché, but these people seem mainly to have saved Treviso and to not understand, as a result, how Neve's character is limited by the circumstances they've engineered. The complaint that her voice acting is hard, guarded, or flat is missing the point: her PERSONALITY is hard, guarded, and flat unless and until you help her believe that gentleness can be rewarded.

If you SAVE Minrathous, I think, Neve's character can have the most beautiful arc -- and her romance makes the most sense here, because as she begins to hope that her efforts in Dock Town might actually make a difference, she also begins to let her guard down. Both these things scare her shitless. Being visible (letting the citizens of Dock Town SEE her fight for them, letting Rook show her some risks are worth taking) is really scary. But if you save Minrathous, Neve begins to hope that there's a future for the soft, sweet, and vulnerable creatures of the world -- and that includes herself.

When her voice starts to crack in the later romance scenes, when her brow crinkles with anxiety and her eyes go wide and soft -- that's the reward for saving Minrathous. That's Neve Gallus with a future.

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Comes up to the front of the room with pitch notecards in hand, okay, I have an idea that has two very controversial things in it. And idk if people want this, but I keep thinking about it, so here goes nothing.

So, I was thinking, post-breakup, Tommy and Buck bubble each other not talking. Tommy has spiraled inwardly. Buck is using up all the flour in Los Angeles.

It's a problem.

On a call one of them gets on shift, there is a big pileup. A huge pileup.

And in the pileup?

Connor, Kameron, and their son.

The one Buck helped them have with his donor sperm. All of them have significant injuries. Maybe either Connor or Kameron are already dead. They're rushed to the hospital. The only one who survives - the kid.

Buck, who is the biological father of the kid and never technically waved his rights, decides he should take the kid in. He doesn't know if there's anyone there for the kid other than him. There hadn't seemed to be when he was helping Connor and Kameron out. He kind of impulsively rushes into it.

However, there seems to be a wrinkle. Connor and Kameron had a will. Their will states that if they were to die, it designates the child's guardian to be Kameron's older brother. And who would that be?

Tommy Kinard.

And what at first looks like it could possibly become a messy custody battle ends up settling in a co-parenting situation where the kid spends time with both of them.

And as they keep co-parenting, well, maybe something happens to Buck's loft. A pipe bursts, something.

So, Buck decides to stay at Tommy's place as the pipe gets fixed. And maybe, well, Buck never leaves. It's kind of nice to be all under the same roof, after all.

And maybe they start to actually talk about why they broke up. Why Tommy was scared. Why Buck rushed into the idea of potential marriage down the line and moving in without saying I love you first. Talk about all the baking and talk about the bubbling.

They're reluctant at first to try to make up; try to date. Because what if it doesn't work out again? And where would that leave the kid?

While they figure themselves out, another devastating thing hits them. The kid? He is predisposed to cancer, and he gets juvenile leukemia.

And you're probably thinking it's going to be Buck. Buck's going to be the donor again. And he's also going to have to go through what his parents had all those years ago.

But.

He's not a match.

Buck is not a match.

But Tommy is.

And it's this whole vortex of unpacking childhood trauma while coming together for this kid that's just really become part of their lives. And it works out because I can't bring myself to not let it work out, but it's a lot.

And by the end of it, after the kid is in remission, after everything, they admit it. They admit they want this. They want to be together. They want to be a couple. They want to be a family with this kid.

And it's beautiful.

[otaku553]

Haha

[ganondoodle]

carefully attempted to draw (still sick); wanted to give Shargon another redesign, this is an older version of him but the basics should also go for his younger self (idk yet about his lung replacement design; arms are posed weird to make anatomy clearer)

(wip, oc art, Shargon, he/they)

[lemongogo]

viktor prev 🤖

[hey-heigo]

Chapter 24

why did this chapter kick my ass?? damn!!!

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

soz for the unexpected delay i was moving + starting a new job + lost my grip on byakuya's slippery psyche

playing with my own headcanons for hiro and his backstory actually. bc. well. the original just is not very good at all now is it

tyyy @digitaldollsworld as always!!

Content warning tags: blood, mention of razor (not in intentional self-harm context), minor injury, nausea, panic attack, toxic obsessive stalker Toko, insecurity, mentions of self-starving

< previous - from start - next >

Byakuya drops his straight razor, and it splashes into the basin of his sink. Followed by a few droplets, hot and ruby-bright as it tracks down his jaw, vanishing almost instantly upon contact with the water.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, frozen, one hand still half-raised to his face, still curved in that loose grip. Then he braces his hands against the porcelain edge, knuckles tensing as he tries to keep them from shaking. The cut on his jaw stings, still slowly welling blood; his razor, silver and distorted, warbles in and out of sight with the water’s ripples, his eyes struggling to track its shape. He makes no move to fish it out of the water.

This was his second attempt at shaving. The evidence of his first attempt still throbs on the opposite cheek, near his ear. Despite moving glacially slow, other hand pulling the skin as taut and still as he could manage, the hard edge of the sink digging into his hip as he leaned as close to the mirror as he could, it was still proving to be a fruitless effort. The elegant blade that his mother’s family had gifted him, that he had been using since he became heir, was now simply too large and awkward for him to use. A task that should have been easy after all of Pennyworth’s guidance was now fraught with pointless danger.

…Maybe it’s not worth the trouble, he thinks, numbly. But the hollow, shattered defeatism that comes with the thought is so unfamiliar that it makes him grit his teeth, and then reach slowly into the tepid water to pull the razor out. His stubble was patchy already, especially near his jawline, and any more delay would almost certainly warrant someone commenting on it - maybe Hagakure, who couldn’t seem to keep anything to himself, or Celeste, who would delight in pointing it out while masking it as polite concern - but, at the rate he was going, he was going to draw more attention with a bloodied face.

His fingers scrape the basin, searching at a glacial pace until the edge of his thumbnail taps against the handle. He draws it out gingerly, shakes off the stray droplets, then wipes the blade with a silk cloth. Drying it carefully, meticulously - as Pennyworth had taught him, ‘it’s as good as useless if it rusts’ - before folding it and replacing it in the cupboard behind his mirror. He dries his face with the towel hanging around his neck, ignoring the way the Turkish cotton scraped against raw skin.

I could always just try again later, he reasoned with himself. Not so much as a surrender as it was a tactical retreat; and the results were bound to be better when he was calmer, more composed. He could still do it - he just needed some time.

And as for anyone who might notice it…

…Well. It wasn’t like he was spending much time around anyone else these days anyways.

—

Even if he wasn’t trying to seek out anyone else’s company, he couldn’t help but take note of their own routines, how they settled into their lives after feeling the world shake around them. 

It doesn’t surprise him that Celeste and Yamada have continued on as if nothing had happened at all. Celeste still maintains her airy simulacrum of a mysterious princess, occasionally inviting Byakuya to tea or dinner or a game of Othello, which he declines each time. Yamada, when he wasn’t offering himself up to be bullied and ordered around by her, would be in the newly-opened art room, and Byakuya could occasionally pass by to hear sounds of shuffling paper and the scrape of pens, and the harrowed, heavy breathing of a man possessed.

Ogami and Asahina are similar, returning to their athletic routine, though clearly more affected by the deaths of their classmates. They were attached at the hip before, but now Byakuya never saw one without the other, always in each other’s company, often holding hands - if Ishimaru were here, he might have decried it, ‘No PDA in the hallways!’ in that annoyingly shrill, school-bell voice - once, Byakuya had even overheard the two of them occupying the bathhouse together, when he had passed by with the intention of checking on Alter Ego’s laptop.

(He’d left quickly when he realized what they were doing, leaving the locker unchecked, his face hot and uncomfortable. It was all well and fine for them to cope how they pleased, but couldn’t they have some more decorum about occupying a public space? He was almost beginning to miss Ishimaru.)

…Speaking of Ishimaru. Even Mondo had found something to occupy his time with, these days.

It seemed that after that night with Alter Ego, something had shaken loose inside him, and he was an entirely new person. In some ways, he was even more troublesome than when he was depressed and languishing; loud, piercing, and always appearing when he was least expected, or at least it felt that way to Byakuya. Somehow materializing nearby, demanding to know what you were doing, why you weren’t adhering to some vague, obscure rule that he might’ve made up on the spot. An overgrown hall monitor that acted like every little infraction could mean life or death.

(It was all in the name of protecting the AI, but it was also getting on everyone’s nerves, and it almost made Byakuya regret ever involving himself in the biker’s business in the first place.)

Makoto and Kirigiri were doing whatever it was they were doing. Byakuya rarely saw them, and when he did, he never made any attempt to speak to either of them. It didn’t make much of a difference from his previous dynamic with Kirigiri, but with Makoto, it was almost like a repeat of what had happened just after the first trial. But this time, Makoto never made any attempt to approach him.

Which was perfectly fine by him. Regardless of Makoto’s intentions, his betrayal was unforgivable. There was no reason to associate with him any longer.

And lastly, there was Hagakure.

It’s not clear if the self-proclaimed clairvoyant had given up on Mondo, given the overnight change in personality (at the very least, there was no more need for a suicide watch anytime soon), but he seems to have latched on to Byakuya, for no clear reason. Frequently calling out to him whenever they crossed paths, dogging in his steps like a very determined stray. Chattering incessantly, even when Byakuya refused to deign any of his ridiculous stories with a response, often trying to herd him into the cafeteria so they could “lunch together, bond, maybe share a cup of joe? Even rich guys like joe, right?”

“...Did you mean ‘coffee’,” Byakuya replies in a flat, deadpan tone that was more resigned than irritated, during what must be the dozenth time that Hagakure had intercepted him, and maybe the third time he conceded to the other man’s insistence; if only because Hagakure had been particularly persistent recently, and would probably end up following him and broadcasting to Fukawa or Monokuma or anyone else exactly where Byakuya was seeking refuge, when not in his room.

(Not to mention that he was a little hungry himself, though he could only imagine the kind of common swill someone like Hagakure might consider coffee.)

“Hey man, to-MAY-toes, po-TAY-toes, right?” Hagakure just shrugs, and half-guides, half-pushes Byakuya by the shoulders into the cafeteria.

It’s midday. The place is empty, with even Celeste missing from her favored spot at her table. Hagakure shuffles him into the kitchen, tells him to wash his hands, and then-

-shoves two things at him. One, round, pale brown and still damp, with a slight papery texture beneath the moisture. The other, a piece of smooth, green plastic shaped like a ‘T’, with something silvery running parallel to the top. He skates his thumb lightly over it, and finds the edge of it sharp; a tiny blade.

“Whoa, careful! Don’t hurt yourself!” Hagakure tugs the tool back out of his hand, inspecting his fingers. “Like, come on. I even gave you the vegetable peeler, this is easy mode.”

“...What?”

Hagakure doesn’t explain right away, instead occupied with rolling up his sleeves, tying the brambled mass of his hair back with a strip of white. Arranged on the kitchen counter is a selection of tools, a colorful assortment of vegetables, and a hunk of something dark and pink, occupying the cutting board. There’s already a pot on the stove, and Byakuya watches Hagakure’s hand fiddle with some dark, invisible button across the top of the oven, and a telltale blue flame clicks to life. “We’re making gumbo! And you’re my assistant for the day.” He announces, with the same cadence of a cooking show host. He’s beaming, as if he hadn’t just said something utterly, completely insane.

“...What.”

It’s hard to make out, but he swears Hagakure rolls his eyes at him. Which would be infuriating enough to comment on, if he wasn’t also holding out the aforementioned vegetable peeler out, handle first, towards him. “Gumbo. It’s kinda like, curry I guess? But it’s a lot more soupy.” Apparently not put off by Byakuya’s unresponsiveness, he pushes the peeler into his slack hand. “I mean, I guess I’m not surprised you haven’t tried it. It’s not Japanese, or like…fancy, rich guy food.”

That snaps him out of it. “What,” He repeats, emphatically, with feeling. “Do you think you’re doing?”

“Um, like I said, making gumbo-”

“No, I mean-” Byakuya waves the objects in his hands, and feels only a little ridiculous in doing so. “I’m not- using these.”

Hagakure winces at that. “...No offense, Toga, but, uh…” He hesitates. “It’s…not exactly a good idea to give you a knife right now, you feel me?”

Byakuya can imagine his eyes tracing down his face, to the still-pink line on his jaw from this morning, and feels his face grow even warmer, with nothing to do with the open-flame stove not a meter away from him. “That. Is. Not. The. Point.” He hisses, emphasizing each word. “And - don’t call me that - you said we were here to get coffee.”

He spits these words like they’re poisonous, and Hagakure is still for a moment. He thinks that he’s managed to get his point across, but:

“Aww, Togster…you really did wanna get coffee with me?” Hagakure sounds genuinely touched, one hand pressed to his chest. Byakuya was about two seconds from throwing the stupid root vegetable in his hand against Hagakure’s equally stupid head. “We can have coffee after we make food. Besides, aren’t you sick of the meals we’ve been doing recently? Like I’m not a picky guy, but ramen and bread every day for the past few days is getting kinda…bleh, y’know?”

The worst part of this was that Byakuya agreed with him on that front. Even with his newfound habit of only eating when there was no one else around, or when Alter Ego threatened to stop reading for him until he took a meal, the selection was paltry to begin with and had only grown more unappealing with time.

“Your job is easy,” Hagakure continues, and grabs something hanging off the handle of a nearby oven, and drops it over his face, obscuring his vision for a moment. He jerks backwards in alarm as it settles to hang around his neck, only to realize that it’s an apron - a pale, mint-green thing that’s one size too small, with some still-visible stains splattered across it, and Hagakure had somehow gotten behind him and tied the thing in place already  - “You just gotta peel the potatoes, and I just gotta cut everything up. The roux’s already done, so all we gotta do is dump the ingredients in and let it do its thing.”

Byakuya is still reeling a little from being forced (though, there wasn’t much he could’ve done in protest, with both his hands occupied) into an apron. The things in his hands are so unfamiliar to him that they may as well be OOPart pieces in the making.

Besides him, Hagakure was whistling away, chopping meat with the silver blur of a large kitchen knife. Completely oblivious to anything around him; and Byakuya realized, he could leave right now if he wanted, and it wasn’t like the fortune-teller, of all people, could stop him.

He’s about to do just that when the other man looks up, knife stilling. “Something wrong?” He asks, with a tilt of his head. And before Byakuya could explain that, yes, there was something very wrong with this entire situation: “D’you need help?”

“No.” He says automatically, and immediately kicks himself for it.

“Oh, then-?”

“I don’t-” Byakuya says at the same time, and frowns sharply at the interruption. “I. Don’t do this sort of…thing.” It comes out a lot less assertive than he would like, and sounds a lot more pathetic than he means it to be.

“Oh. Well, yeah, I figured.” Hagakure shrugs, as he scoops up the mess of pink on the cutting board with the edge of his knife and drops it into a metal bowl. It lands with a loud, wet slap, and the bowl rings as it shakes against the counter. “No time to learn like the present though, right?”

Byakuya feels his eye twitch. In some ways, talking to Hagakure was more frustrating than negotiating with most white-collar businessmen, and more akin to arguing against a very enthusiastic wall. “I’m not supposed to do this kind of thing,” He tries again. “I’ve never had to prepare my own food in my life.”

It echoes what he told Makoto, that night he dragged Byakuya to the kitchen to prepare him a meal. But this time, it feels much less like a boast, and more like an admission. Like he couldn’t even do this much.

If Hagakure noticed the grimace passing over his face, he made no comment. Instead, he plucks the items out of Byakuya’s hands. “No time to learn like the present, my man.” He twirls the peeler between his fingers, and it spins, a foggy green circle. “It’s like a pattern, you pull the peeler down, turn it again, and repeat.” He demonstrates, hands moving quickly, with practiced ease. “Don’t worry if you miss anything. We don’t need it to be super clean, we just need most of the skin off.”

And he offers the peeler back to Byakuya, a gleam of white teeth on his face. Deceptively kind, poisonously pleasant. “Think you can handle that?”

Byakuya shoves his hand away, his patience thinning to a thread. “Take the hint,” He snaps, reaching behind himself to try and undo the knot. “I’m not doing this.”

“What? But it’s easy!”

“I don’t care,” He yanks at the ties, feels them come no closer to being loosened, and feels his face reddening with frustration, humiliation. He needs to leave, now. “I’m leaving.”

“Aw, Toga, come on-”

Byakuya reaches for the knife, left abandoned on the cutting board, and there’s a clatter as Hagakure backs himself against the ovens. “O-okay, okay, sure! Sure, jesus, okay!”

Byakuya rolls his eyes at the overreaction, already tuning him out, then starts awkwardly maneuvering the knife to try and cut the apron off. Arms twisting awkwardly to catch the bladed edge against the side of the knot. It’s not easy - he could swear, the blade seemed sharp enough when Hagakure was using it to dice meat, but now it slides clumsily against the twisted cotton, dull as a stone -

“Jesus,” Hagakure says again, but less panicked now that it was clear his life was under no immediate threat. “Okay, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I am not-”

“You totally are, man. Just - don’t slash me, please, and hold still -”

Hagakure gives him a wide, cautious berth, as if still worried he would suddenly turn into some violent, knife-swinging killer, edging until he’s out of Byakuya’s peripheral and standing behind him. A slight tug around his midsection later, and the apron is flapping loosely against his stomach.

To show his thanks, Byakuya sets the knife down before he pulls off the apron, not so much as handing it over as simply dropping it in the other boy’s direction.

He makes to leave, but Hagakure stops him - or tries to, throwing one hand out while scrambling to catch the apron with the other - “Wait, wait,” He still sounds jovial, but there’s a thin edge of nervousness to it now, residual after the earlier scare. “Listen, you don’t hafta help if you don’t want to, but like…can you just hang out? Here?”

“...You want me to stay. In the kitchen.” Where it was overly warm with a pot of water building into a steady boil, heavy with the smell of various condiments and spices, and pervaded by a general stickiness on the tile. “Why?”

“U-um, well…”

Byakuya sighs. He’s wasted too much time already. The coffee he was promised earlier was looking like a lost cause, and frankly, he wasn’t interested in eating anything anymore either. It would feel too much like accepting undue pity, somehow.

Apparently sensing his impatience, Hagakure finally blurts out: “Because-! I’m, um, scared! To be alone! So…”

Byakuya only stares. Even with his hair tied back, the shape of Hagakure’s head is still a round, dark splotch, albeit smaller than usual. And it bobs up and down like a dandelion as he ducks his head, hands clasped in an exaggerated plea. “Please, man, I literally can’t ask anyone else,” He begs. “Mondo’s all psyched-out and freaky serious now, Hifumi and Celeste were weirdos to begin with, and I’m sick of third-wheeling for Hina-chi and Saka-chi! And there’s no way I’m hanging out with Toko!”

He doesn’t mention Makoto or Kirigiri. Which, Byakuya assumes, makes sense, so he doesn’t bother to ask about it. “How do I know you aren’t trying to kill me,” He says instead, deadpan. 

Hagakure snorts. “Have you seen me?” And then immediately winces. “I mean - shit, sorry - but seriously, I’m pissing my pants every time Monokuma shows up. And at every crime scene, and every trial. You really think I could get over myself to off someone?”

“None of Monokuma’s motives struck a chord with you?”

“Well - I’d be lying if the first one didn’t make me nervous,” He nods. “But I divined how my parents were doing a bunch of times, and they were always alright, so that didn’t worry me too much. And the thing about secrets; well, mine is that I’m actually on the run from this yakuza boss I accidentally pissed off. I owe him a debt of eight million yen.”

Byakuya is certain he doesn’t miss the way Hagakure glances at him then, based on the way his ponytail twitches as his head turns imperceptibly. He decides to ignore the obvious bait, and moves on: “Fine, then. Then what’s your reasoning that I won’t try to kill you?”

“Oh.” Hagakure pauses. “...I didn’t, uh…think about that.”

Right. Byakuya can’t find it in him to be surprised about that either, though some bruised-up part of his pride does rail against the implication that he wasn’t dangerous. Like being blind meant he was harmless, helpless, defanged - he struggles against the implication, but only sickens himself more with the truth of it.

“I mean…do you want to kill me?”

Byakuya snorts. “I want to leave,” He leans back against the counter, feeling the hard, smooth edge of the marble dig against his back. “Obviously, I’m not crazy enough to spend the rest of my life here, waiting to kill or be killed.” He pauses. “And…I’ve been looking into possible causes for my…circumstance, and it’s looking more and more like it would require the work of a trained doctor, using specific equipment to resolve. Which this place,” He gestures around him. “Isn’t exactly equipped to handle.”

The other boy scratches his head. “Um, yeah. I mean I know that much. We all wanna get out and all, but like…do you want to kill someone to make that happen?”

Not in the slightest. He probably held responsibility for the deaths of multiple people at this point, but he had never had to kill them himself, nor witness the moment of their end. Dirtying his hands with someone else’s blood never appealed to him, and it was far more sophisticated to orchestrate someone else handling the messy work.

But his answer must show on his face, because Hagakure nods, satisfied. “Well, there you go! Also, I ran a divination on whether one of us would die today, and it’s not in the cards or the stars or divine intention, so we’re good!” He claps his hands. “Anyways. If you don’t wanna help, that’s all totally cool. All you gotta do is stick around.”

“You can’t be serious.” He scoffs. But he was getting sick of the earlier conversation - sick of talking about himself, sick of thinking about himself - so he stays where he is, crossing his arms as Hagakure busies himself with the ingredients. “How do your divinations even work, anyways?”

“What, you interested?” Hagakure flashes another white smile, and even through the haze Byakuya gets the impression that it’s a salesman grin. He could practically hear the cartoonish chime of a register. “My current going rate’s ten-million yen a reading, but for you I’ll throw in a buddy’s discount of twenty-percent!”

Byakuya gives him the most unimpressed look he can manage. “I’m not interested in wasting money on frivolities.”

“It’s not frivol-anything, man. They’re a hundred-percent legit! …Thirty-three-percent of the time,” He amends, sheepishly, at Byakuya’s withering stare. “But when they’re real, they’re real! With a hundred-percent accuracy!”

As he talks, his hands blur, moving with practiced ease. The small pile of potatoes changing from brown to pale yellow, to small, misshapen chunks, the green stalks of celery disintegrating under a knife, sharp-smelling and darkening the wood beneath it with its moisture. There’s a steady, fluid grace to it, and Byakuya watches on, feeling a sense of deja vu - faintly envious, partly entranced - the last he felt this way, he recalls, was being a child and watching his mother work in her studio, hewing faces out of stone.

He hasn’t thought about that memory in years, and he clicks his tongue sharply, irritated. Hagakure jumps at the sound. “M-maybe it’s more like a ninety-eight percent accuracy?” The fortune-teller tries, hurriedly. “Uh, it depends on how clearly I can convey it, I mean. Like how good the client is with understanding me…dialect differences and all that, though my English is pretty solid-”

“Why fortune-telling, anyways?” He cuts off Hagakure’s rambling. “I can’t imagine it’s an inherited position. You don’t seem the type to be taking up someone else’s legacy.”

“Oh! Well…” He turns to the pot, scrapes a bowl of brown slurry into its bubbling contents. “It was my dad who got me into it - not that he was a fortune teller or anything - but he knew stories about fortune tellers and priestesses and stuff, from where he grew up. It was pretty interesting, and I guess that’s what got me started.” He stirs, sniffs, tosses a handful of green shapes into the mix. “He actually bought me my first crystal ball, though it was just a cheap souvenir thing. I couldn’t’ve been older than, like, six or something.” He laughs. “Wow, I haven’t thought about this stuff in forever.”

“Am I dredging up bad memories?” Byakuya drawls, and Hagakure shakes his head.

“Nah, just old ones. But I got super into it; started begging my Ma to read me divination textbooks for bedtime, she thought I was going crazy. Dad just said it was normal for little kids to be a little crazy about something they like, though.” He shrugs. Another sniff, a sprinkle of red seasoning. “He was the first person I did an accurate divination for, actually. Like a real divination, not just for pretend.”

He goes quiet for a moment, wooden spoon scraping against the inside of the pot. Byakuya frowns. “And what did you ‘see’?” He asks, though only about half as sarcastic as he intended.

“Saw him in the hospital. And then leaving.” He replies simply. He turns, and scoops up the chopped ingredients in his hands, tossing them in with a hiss. “It was clear as day in that little glass ball, like I was watching a TV screen, except also kinda…I don’t know, wiggly? Like a dream. But I got shook up so bad I dropped it and broke the damn thing, and the next day my Dad went to the doctor for a check-up, and they shipped him to the hospital right after. Some genetic, hereditary thing, they wouldn’t even tell me what it was. I think Ma thought it’d freak me out if I knew, but I was just more freaked out not knowing.”

He reaches blindly behind him, searching hand patting at the counter, the cutting board. Byakuya hesitates, then grabs the bowl of chopped meat and passes it over. Its contents splash into the pot. “Thanks. Anyways, the weirdest thing was that I wasn’t, like, scared he was gonna die, or anything. For some reason I knew he was gonna make it, but I was more worried that he was gonna…hurt? Get even worse?” He pauses. “I kept on doing divinations afterwards with a tarot card set, just to see how he was doing, and each time it told me he was gonna be fine.”

His voice sounds a little thick, indistinct. Byakuya was beginning to regret bringing up this topic; he would hate it if he was suddenly expected to have to comfort a grown man. But instead of bursting into tears, Hagakure leans to the side, tucks his face into his elbow, and sneezes, gunshot loud. “Phew! Jeez, the paprika.” He sniffs, and Byakuya’s unease turns back into a comfortable sort of annoyance. “Anyways. Where was I…?”

“...Your father.” He hesitates for a moment. “When he passed away.”

“When he-?” Hagakure turns fully away from the pot to stare at him, mouth open, before breaking into a laugh. Doubling over so and wheezing like he just got punched. “Dude! No way, are you- did you really think that?!”

“What? Am I wrong?” Byakuya feels his face heating red again, with nothing to do with the steam. “Shut up. The way you were talking about it, you were acting like he kicked the bucket,” He snaps, and Hagakure stifles another laugh. “It’s the logical progression of things. You saw him get sick and die, and then-”

“No, no, dude, I said I saw him in the hospital, and then leave - oh, yeah, I guess I can see how you’d think that now.” He stands up straight again, swiping a hand across his face. “Oh man. No, I meant ‘leave’ as in literally leaving, like at an airport? He got better and swung back around, but got a job offer overseas right after, so he never really came back to settle permanently in Japan.” He turns back to the pot, turning the heat down low. “He sends postcards for me all the time, and he and Ma vacation together every year around the holidays.”

So that was it. Byakuya feels an irrational surge of exasperation, as if all his previous pity had just been wasted. “What does he even do? Your father?”

“He teaches quantum mechanics.” At Byakuya’s stunned expression, he snorts. “What, I’m not kidding! He test-runs all his lectures and speeches and stuff to me, and now I know way more about that stuff than I think most people ever need to!”

‘Prove it’ is on the tip of Byakuya’s tongue, but he holds back. He probably would never recover if Hagakure did somehow manage it and make him look like a fool. Hagakure stirs the pot in silence for a moment longer, before asking: “What about you?”

“What?”

“Your parents.” A shot of cold immediately runs down his spine. “Like, I know your dad’s a big rich unmarried bachelor hotshot, but what about your mom? Ah- ” Hagakure presses hand to his mouth. “She…is she, like…?”

“She’s not dead, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.” He replies, stiffly. “We’re estranged.”

“O-oh. Um. I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine.” He pauses, looks down at the tile floor. It was a mutual disavowment, around the time he made the decision to try for Togami heir. She was relieved to be rid of him, he was sure, and he was glad to be out of her house full of stone statues and hollow eyes. “I haven’t been in contact with her for several years. We’re as good as strangers.”

He really should just leave it at that. There’s no reason to elaborate any further, nor does he want to; he glares down at his feet, trying to count the tiles, and watches as the dark lines dividing them squiggle and disappear the moment he loses focus. And finds his mouth moving against his will. “My mother is Genevieve Delasol.”

“Cool.” A pause. “Wait, what!?”

Byakuya scowls and looks away as Hagakure turns back to him. “Like, the Delasol?! World-famous artist lady? With the sculptures? Miss Modern Michelangelo?!”

“Don’t call her that.” She had always hated that stupid nickname that the press forced on her, and so did he, though not for her benefit. It was a tasteless, and frankly disrespectful moniker. “But yes. Her.”

“Dude…” There’s awe in his voice, as if it were something impressive. “That’s crazy.”

“It’s not. She birthed me like any other human.”

“Still! Like, they talked about her in my elementary school art class. Her stuff is so-” He splays his fingers near his head, puffs his cheeks to mimic the sound of an explosion. “Like, I remember seeing pictures of her stuff for the first time, and it freaked me out. One of the older kids in the neighborhood told me she was freezing people into rock, that’s how real her stuff looks.”

“She’s a good artist, but she was an awful mother.” Byakuya says flatly, immediately draining the rest of Hagakure’s enthusiasm. “We’re not continuing his conversation.”

“Right, right. Um. Sorry.” He taps his fingers against the spoon, ladles some of it into a little dish to taste. “Okay, um. Could you pass me some dishes? From that cabinet in front of you - to the left - yeah, thanks.”

The concoction he scoops into the shallow dishes Byakuya hands him is…unappealing. At least visually - a muddy brown sludge that glops thickly off of his ladle - but it smells good, spicy and warm. One of the bowls is passed back, and there’s a conflict of sensation as Byakuya tries to decide if he’s hungry enough to risk it, something that he couldn’t even clearly oversee the process of making.

“You’re surprisingly well-versed in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, well. I get into hot water a lot when my fortunes don’t work out, especially with my, uh…higher class clients, so I had to get used to taking care of myself. Didn’t wanna bother my parents with it, ya know?” He flicks off the stove, covers the pot, and reaches to the right for the rice cooker. Opens it with a sharp smack to the lid. “Like, I don’t think I’ve seen my dad face-to-face in…it feels like two years. Maybe longer.”

He holds out his hand. Byakuya passes over his bowl, and he plops some rice into the center of it, before handing it back.

“I can’t finish this much.”

“Sure you can, you’re a growing guy.” There’s the roll of a drawer being pulled open, then a clatter before a spoon is being dropped into his bowl as well. “You better eat all of it, by the way. Every grain of rice has seven gods, so you gotta eat them all so you don’t get cursed.”

“...What kind of saying is that?”

“Dunno, but my Ma used to say it all the time. Come on, let’s go into the caf-”

He halts suddenly, halfway to the door. Byakuya nearly runs into his back, and just barely keeps from spilling his bowl. “What-”

“Um. Hold on.” The previous casualness of his voice is gone, and there’s a hard thread of unease running through it again. “Uh…wait out here for a moment, okay?”

“Why-”

“Dude, please. Just for a moment.” He sets his bowl down on the counter. “I’ll be right back.”

And then he’s out the door before Byakuya can make any protest, leaving him alone in the kitchen, now uncomfortably quiet without the soft hiss of the stove. He stands there, stunned, feeling a little bit stung - no, irked - at the sudden dismissal.

He wasn’t about to take orders from Hagakure, regardless of whatever weird pseudo-symbiotic-relationship the other boy thought they had going on. He walks towards the door, moving to elbow it open-

“I’m telling you, just leave him alone.”

He freezes, ducking his head down. Hagakure’s voice is high and scratchy with nervousness, but firm despite that. “For the last time-”

“I-I-I-” Someone else stutters. The voice is familiar, and Byakuya feels his gut drop in recognition. The last he heard it, it was seething with malice, spit like venom at his feet. “I j-just wanna l-look at him…”

Hagakure lets out a long-suffering sigh, indicating that this wasn’t the first time he’s had to deal with this. “Seven hells, Toko, I really don’t get you,” He grumbles. “You said you hated him, right? I mean, you said so at the trial, and you did…all that.” He coughs. “He wasn’t interested to begin with, and there’s really no way to turn it around after that.”

“I-It was t-to prove that we’re th-the same!” Fukawa shrieks, trigger-sudden and indignant. There’s a sharp thump as she stomps her foot, hard enough to rattle some nearby furniture. “If I d-didn’t do that, he w-would’ve never a-accepted what h-happened to him!”

Byakuya frowns at that, and sets the bowl aside in favor of sinking into a half-crouch, ear pressing up against the door, beneath the tiny window. What was she talking about? Not accepting my own condition? Don’t I know myself better than anyone else?

“That’s not up to you to decide,” Hagakure starts.

“I-It’s not up t-to you to p-protect him either!” She spits back. “Y-you’ve been keeping him a-away from me recently, wh-what’s with you? D-did you have some k-kind of awakening, or something?!”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that my type is none of your business - and anyways, ain’t it logical to wanna keep away from you?” He grumbles, then yelps. “C-calm down-! I just mean - you know, you…you don’t exactly give off warm and fuzzy feelings about hanging out with people!”

Toko barks a laugh, shrill and mirthless. “Wh-which makes him perfect for me,” And Byakuya feels disgust roll down his back. “I-I know I’m m-miserable, a-and unfriendly and unloveable,”

“Hey,” Hagakure says, a little more gently than before.

“B-but s-so is he! H-he’s just b-better at hiding it, p-pretending to be a, a perfect, white-horse prince,” She spits the words vehemently. “I-if he was p-perfect, th-then maybe, I c-could just be s-satisfied with - with being n-near him, with b-being used…”

She trails off. Byakuya fights the urge to physically cringe at the mere suggestion, instead gritting his teeth, nails scratching lightly against the door’s tacky surface. “B-but, he’s not perfect. S-so, that means I c-can reach him - i-it’s possible for someone l-like m-me to actually be with him,” She giggles, and the sound is far too childishly delighted to suit her mouth, and far too chilling to have innocent intentions behind it. “I-I dragged him off his p-pedestal, s-so now I can actually touch him.”

It’s vile, listening to her. The sound feels like a filth that clings to him, sliding into his ears, contaminating him from the inside out. Poisoning him, paralyzing him.

He’s only vaguely aware of his body sliding down lower, unable to maintain the awkward pose, curled over and unable to brace himself properly against the swinging door. He sinks into a squat, ears straining.

“...Um, ew.” Hagakure mutters succinctly. “Okay, first of all, no you can’t. Pretty sure Monokuma would have some problems about that, he’s all gung-ho about decency and stuff. Second, Toga’s still not gonna be into you. You blew that chance when you, uh…”

“When I w-what? S-strung up Chihiro?” She snorts. “H-he would’ve done the s-same if h-he was a-actually as perfect as h-he said.”

The contamination sinks deeper, claws curling cruelly into his chest. I would have never, He thinks through the tinny, lightheaded hum in his skull, but there’s a sickening sense of dread that twists in his stomach as he realizes he can’t even be sure of that. He might have. He would’ve had no use for Chihiro if he wasn’t blind, he would have barely even hesitated if the opportunity was there - to defile someone else’s corpse for nothing more than his own self-righteousness.

He’s probably had this realization already, but it’s revolting to hear it come from Fukawa. He should go out there, tell her to shut up, to leave him be-

“-a-and anyways, y-you still didn’t t-tell me why y-you’re so obsessed with p-protecting him.” She’s still saying, distantly, and it feels as if the door is suddenly several times thicker than it was previously, muffling the sound dramatically. “Y-you don’t have a-anything in c-common, I don’t s-see why you’d want t-to be near him, u-unless…y-you’re doing it for someone else, aren’t y-you?”

Hagakure doesn’t respond. Makes no sound to confirm or deny it. Byakuya waits, ringing intensifying, disease festering into his lungs. It was getting hard to breathe. His pulse thrums in his ears, too loud to think, not nearly loud enough to drown their voices out.

“I s-saw you with Makoto,” She continues, and the confirmation of Byakuya’s suspicion does nothing to make him feel better. “He- he asked you t-to do this, right? To protect him, h-how nice,” She snarls, disgusted. “L-looking out for his p-precious boyfriend, when he won’t d-do it himself-”

“That’s…that’s not it,” Hagakure protests, but he doesn’t sound convincing, voice so hesitant and soft that Byakuya barely catches it. “Mako-chi’s just…busy, right now-”

“Y-yeah, too busy trying to g-get out of here so Byakuya c-can get fixed, so he can s-stop f-feeling guilty - h-he doesn’t want to have to look at him, b-but he can’t help s-sticking his nose in anyways, he’s s-so sweet it makes me sick.” Byakuya legs shake, cramping, but he forces himself still, keeps his ear flattened to the door despite the nausea building in his gut, the light-headedness in his temples - “B-but it’s too much work t-to comfort him or drag him a-around, s-so he has to get s-someone to do it, right?”

He wouldn’t, is Byakuya’s immediate thought, but it’s weak, even in his own head. Makoto hasn’t sought him out all since that night in the bathhouse because Byakuya had requested it; had demanded that he leave him alone with as much vitriol and firmness as he could muster, and as with so many other things, Makoto had obeyed. But while Fukawa’s words are acerbic and biting, they’re also painfully, terribly logical.

He wonders now, how he must have looked to the others. Slowly falling apart, barely eating, rarely showing his face. So utterly different from how he tried to portray himself at first, an ill-fitted facsimile of how he used to be, how he should be; it’s no wonder Makoto would go behind his back to take care of him. Between disobeying him again and trying to keep him alive, the choice must have been easy.

The fact that that choice had to be made at all, however, made Byakuya want to…

There’s a thud as his legs finally give out, his knees smashing against the tile, but he hardly notices. Not while the sickness spreads, a physical decay in his torso eating away at him, swift and insatiable. He’s not hungry anymore, but he feels emptier than he’s ever been. 

The door swings open suddenly, bumping against his shoulder, and he sways, unsteady. Hands reach out, catching him before he can fall over.

“Whoa, hey,” Hagakure sounds muffled, underwater. He hooks his hands beneath Byakuya’s arms, trying to pull him upright, and only then does Byakuya realize that he’s not really breathing. Probably hasn’t been for the past few minutes. “Toga- I mean- you okay?” 

Of course not, he wants to snap, but talking would mean opening his mouth, and that would mean breaking down into tears like a petulant infant, so he clamps his mouth shut and tries to get as much oxygen as he can through his nose. Slow, stuttered, wheezing breaths, teeth sinking into raw, just-healing skin and breaking it bloody all over again. He leans away from Hagakure’s grip as much as possible and tries to brace himself against the wall, shaky hands against the cool bumps of the tile. Trying to count them, one by one.

“I,” He manages to grit out when he was marginally more calm, ignoring Hagakure’s worried clucking. His voice quavers, and he swallows hard around the shrapnel lodged in his throat. “I’m going to go.”

“Dude, come on-”

He lurches forward, clumsily dodging Hagakure’s attempts to support him, and walks as steadily as he can out of the kitchen. The moment he crosses the open space of the cafeteria and into the hallway, he breaks into a sprint for his room. As far away from prying eyes as he can manage.

__

(When he opens his door later that night, he finds a plastic container and a spoon sitting by the threshold, its contents long cold.)

(He eats it anyways and scrapes it clean, and leaves it sitting empty outside of his door again.)

< previous - from start - next >

[aggressiveguitarnoises]

why am i so interested in south american cultures and history. and why do i keep stopping myself from learning about them

[pine-arten]

guys the light deity is literally called light WEAVER ...... it makes sense to have pupa/grub dragons. they are weaving

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

You mentioned how actually endearing and compelling Justine/Verity and John/Shaun's bond is, and BOY I so agree with you. I don't see people talk about them often sadly, but I genuinely think it's one of the strongest parts of the game and its narrative (in particular John's character development itself, despite that he appeared pretty late in the story, his involvement in the final sequence was really tasty. "If I kill someone for revenge I'll end hurting people dear to me, so it all will be pointless" hmmm if there isn't a certain samurai guy in another game who needed to learn this as well... but I digress)

Prosecutor's Gambit's parent/child theme is a pretty heavy handed topic, but it's not like there aren't some really amazing parts in this whole deal! I kinda don't even care about the mastermind as much as I care about John (and Kate Hall for this matter)

THEY ARE SO IMPORTANT TO ME!!!!!! I think much of their appeal comes from Justine's shift in personality after her connection to John is revealed (like her joking about smashing Edgeworth's evidence with her gavel), but also every interaction of theirs is so sweet and lovely.

I love how protective they both are of each other, and it makes all the more sense when you take into consideration that Justine wasn't much older than a child herself when she decided to adopt him. I love how they take care to show that, yes, to an extent, they both do look after each other, but Justine is still very much his mother, and she does her job well. The scenes where she's strict with him are so deeply important to me. You know she studied parenting books and did everything she could to prepare herself for this life. And yeah, John is such a great kid!! Genuinely one of the best parent-child relationships in the series to me.

I found it kind of funny how every other relationship in AAI2 involved a dad HAHA It was so much, but I get it. They really wanted to make sure you got what they were going for, and hey, most people seem to like it. I really liked Gregory's segments, which was a welcomed surprise. I didn't expect to love him as much as I did. And, yeah, the mastermind stuff did not work for me. It's probably because I didn't trust Simeon from the moment I met him (their heavy handedness worked against them in his case for me. They were pushing the idea of him being meek and unassuming too hard; I clocked it immediately as a red herring); but even the overall reveal and final confrontation were, like... eh. okay, then. HAHA The best parts of the game for me were those character interactions with the side character. Wasn't really paying attention to whatever was going on with Simeon and the president, but John, Justine, Sebastian, Katherine, Gregory, and Raymond? My actual world.

Also taking this opportunity to share all the screenshots I took of John and Justine <3 :

[burinazar]

:( patheticposting

nearly literally reduced to tears rn by how overwhelmingly it feels like nobody cares what I make or like or think about and how meaningless any of my creativity and love and effort is

[batsplat]

idc about people being misinformed about silly sports stuff because life's too short BUT there has been one too many things recently where I'm a bit... hm. I feel the rossi/lorenzo garage situation is long enough ago now that the general understanding of this dynamic is... only very loosely correlated to reality... and now it's being discussed a lot and a lot of the takes aren't really... you know. I don't actually care about fact checking because again. who cares. but a lot of the times it's like... the truth is more interesting than this version of events that is being spread around feat. heavy flanderisation I swear...

[purpleshadow-star]

So, the season finale of Hazbin Hotel came out last night.

Spoilers ahead

I was never part of the Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss fandom(s), though I have been watching Helluva Boss since about midway through when season one was being released. I only watched the pilot for Hazbin Hotel maybe six months to a year ago, and I only ever watched it once. I never kept up with VivziePop or whatever was happening behind the scenes. I watched Hazbin Hotel as it came out the past few weeks, I’ve watched some TikToks about it over the past week, and I read through a few (like, three) of the character’s wiki pages like, yesterday.

So, with all of my inexperience in the fandom and in this universe, I’m going to try to predict how the show is going to end.

Kind of.

Well, I’m going to make a prediction.

I think Angel Dust will be the last resident of the hotel we see get redeemed.

Angel was the first resident of the hotel. It’s only fitting that he’d be the last (that we see, anyway).

I think that season one was almost like a set-up season. The main characters and their characterizations/arcs have been established. The main problem, the extermination, has been temporarily dealt with. It’s been proven that the main objective in the show, redeeming sinners through the Hazbin Hotel, is possible. Seeds of a bigger plot and future trouble have been planted.

Now that the bigger plot things are out of the way, I think the show will be able to (hopefully) slow the pace down now and really focus on the hotel itself and the redemption process of the sinners that choose to be there, along with the individual characters and their personal journeys and arcs.

I think that Sir Pentious getting redeemed and making it into Heaven proved that the concept of the hotel can work, so now that they have the bigger, newly built hotel, they’ll start to get more residents. We’ll meet and bond with more characters as the seasons go on and they’ll go through the hotel and eventually get redeemed and go to Heaven.

I think that during all of this, for the next few seasons, we’ll see Angel work towards redeeming himself too. At this point, he’s accepted the hotel. He’s accepted his place there and he’s been visibly getting better. We’ll see him continue his path to redemption while also dealing with Valentino, his contract with him, and any other personal conflicts that arise.

I think that partway through the show, we’ll see Angel start to kind of put off becoming fully redeemed. Maybe he’ll just slow down, but I think we’ll see him become more apprehensive about completing his redemption.

At this point, he’ll probably already be in an official relationship with Husk, and his situation with Valentino might be resolved or at least not as much of an issue anymore. I think he’ll start putting off officially moving on into Heaven because he realizes that he doesn’t want to leave his friends behind. He won't want to leave the friends he’s made at the hotel, so even though he might be ready or almost ready to go to Heaven, he’ll just keep putting it off.

I think Angel’s ascension to Heaven will be the big series finale. I think that it’ll be a big emotional moment. Angel will accept that it’s time to move on, and there will be an emotional scene where he says goodbye to Charlie (who, as a Hellborn demon and not a mortal soul, can’t go to Heaven like the other sinners), and Vaggie (who will choose to stay with Charlie and has no desire to go back to Heaven), and probably Alastor (who loves his power and control too much to want anything to do with redemption himself) and maybe Niffty (I’m undecided about whether she’ll try for redemption, but I’m thinking no, at least as of right now). If Husk stays behind, that’ll be an absolutely heartbreaking goodbye too, but I’m thinking that, at some point in the show, Husk might decide to try for redemption as well, so maybe he and Angel are going together and saying their goodbyes together.

I think we’ll get a teary goodbye for the people Angel is leaving behind in Hell, but we’ll also get a joyous reunion scene where he meets up with all the redeemed souls in Heaven as well. He’ll get to see all the former residents we got to meet throughout the show, and maybe he’ll even have a moment where he gets to reunite with his sister, too. It’ll be a somewhat bittersweet moment, but a happy one overall, because Angel Dust, the first resident of the Hazbin Hotel, who didn’t take it seriously in the beginning and thought redemption wasn’t possible, who went through so much in Hell and who didn’t think things could get better for him, will have finally completed the journey to redemption and moved on to Heaven.

And then maybe we’ll get an epilogue-esque scene or series of clips of Charlie and Vaggie happily continuing to help redeem sinners in the Hazbin Hotel, of Angel and the other redeemed souls happily living their best afterlives in Heaven, of the redeemed sinners meeting and welcoming new redeemed souls into Heaven as they come in.

And maybe, taking place some time in the future, maybe years after Angel goes to Heaven, we’ll get a moment of Charlie and Vaggie, and any of the other original cast that stayed in Hell, being allowed to take a day trip into Heaven. Maybe we’ll get to see them reunite with the redeemed sinners in Heaven in person for the first time since the redeemed souls left, and it’ll be a happy reunion where they’re all just happy to see each other again and catch up. Maybe at this point the show has already established a way for the redeemed souls to still be able to communicate and keep in touch with those in Hell, so maybe this isn’t the first time the two groups have spoken to each other since the redeemed souls left the hotel, but maybe it is the first time since the redeemed souls left that they’ve been able to see each other in person, so the teary hugs all around are expected and maybe even appreciated.

Maybe the show will end on a happy note, where our first and most skeptical hotel resident ends up happily redeemed with a partner who loves and values him for who he is and friends who care for him, and where our main character is able to fulfill her dreams of helping her subjects find the best version of themselves and move on to a better place.

Maybe the extermination no longer happens, so there’s no more deadlines. Maybe being redeemed is no longer just an escape from second death. Not every soul in Hell is going to want to change, but for Charlie, it’s not about redeeming every soul. The Hazbin Hotel started as a way to decrease Hell’s population so that the extermination would no longer be necessary, so that no more souls, however awful, would be needlessly killed, but Charlie knows that the extermination was never about overpopulation, and yet she’s still going through with the hotel and she’s still working to redeem sinners.

So, maybe the extermination is a thing of the past, but Charlie will still continue running the hotel and giving sinners another chance, because everyone deserves another chance. Because Hell isn’t forever, and despite whatever some people did when they were alive, they deserve the chance to try to redeem themselves. They deserve the chance to try to be better. And that’s Charlie’s dream. She just wants to give her subjects the opportunity to do better, and not everyone will take it, but in the end, we'll see that all the effort was worth it for those few souls who do.

So, to recap: I think Angel Dust will be the last sinner we see get redeemed. We might get clips and/or mentions of souls after him, but he’ll be the last character to go to Heaven who’s journey to redemption we’ve seen. In the series finale, he’ll be the last major character to be redeemed, and we’ll get to see him live his best life in Heaven while Charlie happily stays behind in Hell to help guide more souls along the path to redemption.

Or at least, that’s something I’d like to see, anyway.

[protect-namine]

I actually have a fic idea but lc is a show that's like. you will never ever have all the information and context until the end. and I am a writer who writes best and more confidently when I have all the info and context at my fingertips. so now I'm just like 🧍‍♂️

anyway. ramble in the tags