#or maybe i just need an actual anger outlet. because right now i have absolutely none

[silverislander]

i think i need to learn how to be angry. i think that would actually be very beneficial for me

[unicornachos]

Getting tired of seeing gotcha posts on Tumblr lately shitting all over vegans. They've gotten more common over the past few years...

Usually it'll be a post criticising a choice like maybe 3% of vegans actually make, or more usually an imaginary vegan they've pulled from thin air based on their own stereotypes and assumptions, followed by vibes along the lines of' "I know better, actually you don't care about sustainability or human rights at all! You're completely uneducated about (insert any topic here). Gotcha! Who's the morally superior one now, huh" Followed swiftly by the implication that there is no ethical consumption under capitalism, so why try at all.

Like yeah maybe there are some young idiot vegans who think buying pleather boots is ok for the environment, but every vegan I've ever met is more likely to get a second-hand pair of leather boots at an op-shop, because it's better for the environment. Every vegan I know has cared immensely about issues with soy and quinoa, about where their food comes from, about water use and microplastics, who picks their fruit and veg, and human rights in general. More than any non-vegans I know.

So why are we still constantly berated for not doing every single other thing that non-vegans want us to do? It's starting to feel like people have a very specific idea of vegans in their heads and need an outlet for weird anger and misery and frustration, and we're an easier punching bag than the large corporations and governments who dictate the rules of our late-stage capitalist hellscape, so why not have a go?

It really feels like people are unconsciously mad with themselves that they can't do more to help the world and possibly have unexamined issues or guilt with consuming animals themselves, and feel better about themselves after telling vegans they're just not doing their activism hard enough, and that everything they buy from the grocery store is a human rights violation, so really you're just as bad as the rest of us.

Idk man I just. It really feels like a lot of whataboutism most of the time from non-vegans who have a weird, skewed view of militant white vegans, while the majority of vegans (who aren't all white, might I add) are just living their lives, trying to make the world a slightly less shitty place. We should absolutely criticise racist white vegans. Take them the fuck down. I don't think you think vegans are who you think they are, though. Vegans are from intersecting identities just like everybody else, and come from many different countries. And also there are some silly, uninformed vegans with misplaced ideas, just like there are silly, uninformed non-vegans with misplaced ideas. But if you imagine a vegan to be someone you'd hate, it's a lot easier to ridicule them to make you feel like you're right and good.

I just wish that the people who make these posts and the folks who join in and/or reblog, would take a look at themselves and think about what they themselves are doing to prevent cruelty in this world, in any shape or form. Like are you painstakingly making sure you're not buying clothes with plastic in it? Are you checking the label of every food item you buy to make sure you knew where it came from? Do you only buy your veg from local farms within 10km or only eat things from your own garden? If not, idk what to tell you, but it's probably that you should give vegans a break if you're not doing all the very things you tell us we should be doing.

It just feels like a lot of misplaced anger. Why are you so, so enraged at vegans not being perfect people when you could be going and protesting outside the farms of migrant workers, if you're so pissed about where our fruit and veg comes from? If you're mad about fruit and veg, wait till you hear of the human rights abuses in abattoirs.

When someone tells a vegan that there's no ethical consumption under capitalism, it just feels like a cop-out. You're not trying so why should anyone else, right? I just think people should be allowed to try to make the world better in their own ways, and not be ridiculed for not living up to an unattainable standard set my non-vegans.

Being vegan is about doing the least harm you can, within your means. It's not an on-off switch- it's a sliding scale of effort to do less harm. It's not stupid to acknowledge unnecessary suffering and choose not to take part in what's within your means to abstain from. Some vaccines still use animal products. Some of my medication has animal product ingredients. Am I going to go off my meds and become an anti-vaxxer? No. Do I think Indigenous Peoples should stop eating the foods they have always eaten, often for tens of thousands of years before colonisation? Of fucking course not. It's possible try to unsubscribe to shitty things in this world without doing it perfectly. The whole world would be a lot better if most people consumed 70% less animal products, than 2% of the world doing veganism perfectly.

I think most non-vegans are too afraid of what they might find out if they actually research animal agriculture so they stubbornly make excuses not to bother. So that's their choice, but until you're as perfect as how you claim we should be, literally shut the fuck up and find something more productive to do with your time, like actively try to fight against the very things you think we've all somehow decided to turn a blind eye to. Because I bet the majority of people consuming whatever unethical product you've decided on aren't vegans.

Coming across one silly vegan on the internet doesn't mean you have permission now to write off the crucial need for our planet to massively reduce animal agriculture, and the possibility that you might potentially be able to opt out of it. Criticising veganism doesn't mean you've absolved yourself of any harm you yourself are doing, and also doesn't absolve you of finding ways to do less harm to people, animals, and the planet.

And if you're pissed about vegans having moral superiority, I'd really like to see non-vegans examine their own moral superiority they seem to feel they have over vegans.

Ok signing off lol

[yanderenightmare]

France here :D!

So I have a question, how would the yandere's react to their darlings suddenly taking an interest in something they've heard about and absolutely loving it and near begging them to try it with them? Like maybe gardening, being able to plant both of their favourite flowers, baking a new type of sweet.

Also I personally am quite a bookworm myself, how would their darlings react to their lover just wandering about the home reading a book they're absolutely entranced with. Maybe the yandere asks them what they're reading and their darling goes on this automatic tangent about this book because they're enjoying it so much?

Dhsjdbshd sorry if this is a bit much bby, im just a sap for your writing and it's fun to see your take on things!

yandere ! BNHA fluffy headcannons

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: noncon/dubcon hinting, mind-control, profanity

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

FOOD – trust-exercise

He won’t lie, it did start of as a trust-exercise.

To see if she could be allowed around knives and such. To see if she’d be grateful for the freedom or take it for granted.

But now, he must admit, the time spent in the kitchen has become a time of day he cherishes. Looks forward to even. Independent from whether or what they’re making.

Purely based on seeing his darling fuck up in whichever task he gives her.

It’s to that point where he actually can’t trust her with knives. But not based in fear of her stabbing him... no no no, rather fear of her accidentally stabbing herself.

He, himself, has always spent a significant amount of time cooking. His body being a temple and all that.

He’s always been passionate and involved and nitpicky with what his body consumes. Needing the right amount of nutrients to support his more strenuous activities, and that food needing to be something he’ll actually want to put in his mouth.

A good meal can make a day, just as well as a bad one will ruin it.

And he doesn’t trust anyone to perform these tasks to his liking outside of himself and his mother.

Where his mother is a pain in the ass to ask for such things and it not being plausible to live with her his entire life. For not to mention him wanting to have gotten out of his childhood home as quickly as possible once he become of age.

So naturally, he took it upon himself to learn rather early in life.

What more, he surprisingly found he quite enjoys cooking. To some extent at least. It’s something he respects.

It’s not such a meagre and tedious task as people make it out to be. And definitely not only reserved for stay-at-home-wives.

It craves dedication, understanding, focus, precision, experimentation, bravery, patience and most of all: openness and acceptance of failure.

All things he should work on in all aspects of his life.

Cooking just gives him an outlet where he can work on these less evolved qualities.

Besides, eating something self-made fills him with such pride. Such fulfillment.

It feels good when hard work pays off. Especially when you’re being rewarded at the same time with your reaping.

But she, in great opposition to him, is completely hopeless and it’s fucking adorable.

He knew he was better than her just by his history within the field, but he’d never guessed she’d suck this badly.

And it would have angered him, but she performs all those graceless acts with… well… such grace.

Meaning, she isn’t a sore loser like him when he fails in something.

She handles it all with a type of humility. Apologising and laughing at herself and thanking him for his understanding.

A trait Bakugo has never managed to master.

So, perhaps he can learn something from her after all.

Besides... she can't reach the top shelves. And his heart clenches to the point where he swears it hurts while he watches her timidly ask for his help. That outmost adorable little ‘thank you’ she gives him afterwards and the shy smile that pulls at the corner of her mouth once he says ‘you’re welcome’.

He just wants to drop everything and kiss her. Fuck the food, there are other things he wants to eat.

Where on top of that, his heart does this stupid fluttering each time he sees her in her apron. Especially if she’s all covered up and caked in with flour. Powder on her nose and in her hair and that crooked smile displayed on her face as if asking for forgiveness.

He shouldn’t give her tasks that will end up on the floor, but… it’s just so precious to see her fail so spectacularly time and time again.

Of course, it’s fun seeing her beam when she actually manages to do something for once too.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

MUSIC – comfort

He was never one for music.

Not by choice though. It’s just his home growing up didn’t really entertain such arts. Such wastes of time. Such distractions.

And those times he’d snuck out to go to festivals and concerts, he wasn’t really in it for the music but for the other back-alley activities.

Such as those that left his lungs burning and head buzzing.

So, no. Music was not something he ever thought too much about. Among the many other things he’d not quite learned how to appreciate.

That all changed when he first heard his darling though.

His darling sings like an angel. And he swore hearing her must have been the first time he ever heard anyone.

Truly heard. Listened.

As though her voice dug him out of a grave or blew the fog away. Allowing him to breathe. Allowing him to see.

He thought at first it must have been her quirk. Surprised to find it was no such thing. That what he was hearing was real, no faux, no mockery or manipulation.

That’s probably what got him. How she sang, not to ensnare like the siren, but to uplift downtrodden hearts.

It’s cliché, but he felt as though she saw him. Sang about him. Sang to him. Sang for him.

Many others thought the same though. Many other predators stalked in circles around her. Heavy-lidded eyes eying her with such ugly lust.

Sleaze-bags burn just as well as any other type of flesh through. And no amount of begging or screaming can tame blue flames. Where not even hell could help them if it so wanted to.

Yet, wipe a few shits off your windshield and more are bound to pop up.

It was only a matter of time...

Which is why she ended up tied to his bedpost. Why it needed to happen. Where she would be neatly removed from any other throbbing hearts leaching of off her sweetness.

Kept all safe and sound with him and him alone.

She would sing to comfort herself in the beginning. Humming small tunes to suppress how scared and alone she felt trapped with no one but him.

She’s a strange creature. Where she'd refrain from spending her time pulling at the chains in favour of creating various clanking sounds to scent the background music while she sang.

He didn’t keep her in chains for too long though. She never fought against him in such a manor he found threatening enough to have to keep her bound. She would mostly just cry if and when he got too rowdy.

She would sing herself down from panic-attacks. Sing herself off to sleep. Sing herself out of crying. Which was a real sweet and un-disturbing coping mechanism that aided him in many of the same endeavours.

As the time went by, the fears shrouding her eyes more and more uplifted like smoke from dying embers. And soon she looked at his scars no longer as proof of what terrible things he’d done, but as evidence of all the cruel things that had been done to him.

She used to sing to comfort herself, but now she sings to comfort him.

She’ll sing him to sleep. Stroking his hair gently and motherly as he rests his head in her lap. Hugging him close when she feels his body begin to tremble as those stifled sobs jostle his body with no hope of him hiding it. Now with no need either.

He takes it upon himself to fiddle with a guitar.

His darling teaches him how to tune it to the right chords. Showing him a couple basic sequences. Ones that work well with any number of songs.

They can sit like that for ages. A sweet type of smoke scenting the air just like how it did in those back-alleys when he was young.

Though this time he can say he’s actually looking forward to waking up in the morning.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

VIDEOGAMES – synergy

It’s no surprise Tomura enjoys his fair share of video-games.

He spends a lot of money on it too. And a lot of time and dedication and patience and screaming.

At first it was a simple leisurely joy. One lacking focus and end-goal. Where the target wasn't anything outside the confines of the concept of the game itself. And the other players where simply that, not assets nor assistance, just white-noise in the background.

Mindless and tactless. A simple means of making time move quicker.

Yet over time the activity evolved, or rather, he evolved.

Spotting the cohesiveness, like falling dominos. Levelling up, new abilities, boss fights, strong allies. Everything was connected.

Sharing the same root.

Much like life, yet not at all at the same time... because life unlike games is unpredictable, and players choose incorrectly, and plans fail.

Things don't do what they're supposed to do, what they should be programmed to do and turn out entirely different than what he had decided.

Life is frustrating.

Whereas games are an escape to better deal with those frustrations. Where he can apply rules to a system that receives them gratefully.

In the end what Tomura enjoyed about it was the control. That’s what he stayed for at least. Not to satiate some bottomless bloodlust or warlike hunger, but for the assurance that everything he did, either a win or a loss, was simply a learning experience executed without fatality.

It’s a mere simulation, where everything goes. If he wishes to burn it all up he can and simply click reset to restore.

Video-games gives him a place to vent and exercise control and more importantly lose control.

A safe place, his place.

One where he can manipulate each and every aspect. Everything just his for the taking. Where failing only means an opportunity to try again and abandon faults.

One where he could start over however many times he liked.

Reset, respawn, replay, repeat, repeat, repeat, perfect, prosper, win.

A place he can finetune his skills, or create those he lacks. Such as patience, respect for consequences, appreciation towards allies, strategy over brute force, knowing when to retreat and when to push forward.

He plays with teammates all the time. People half-way across the world or a couple blocks down the road.

He read their tags, knew their skills, talked to them from time to time. And he would never think having one of them next to him would be any different, that the result would be different, that the energy would be any different than what it was online.

But having his darling there...

Cross-legged with the game-controller cradled in both her hands, her head facing the screen with such stoic focused features lit up with the sole light-source coming from the gameplay...

Roaring when riding a kill-streak and grumbling when falling short, biting his shoulder or slapping his thigh in the fit of her short-lived resentment for when he wins over her, and storming his composure with a fit of maniacal cackles and mocking giggles when she manages to win over him...

Or how she praises him when they’re on the same team and bites out bitter yet comical comments about the other team-players...

It hardly seems like a game anymore when she’s there to bring such life into the mix.

He’s now learning things he never would have had she not been there to show him how.

When she howls in glee and gorges herself in the moment, he’s learning how to savor each and every victory to the max, no matter how small or insignificant the win actually is.

He must admit it was a tactic to make the room feel bigger in her case. Letting her roam free in digital form given how her physical physique is not allowed to leave.

But it would be a falsehood and a sin if he were to say that it stayed his reasoning for long.

He’s forgotten what his initial goal was in the beginning of their gaming sessions, forgotten that there even was a goal.

As he’s now fallen prey to falling even deeper and endlessly and hopelessly in love with her. Unable to understand just how he got so lucky.

SHINSO HITOSHI

GAMBLING – system

Ironically, Hitoshi’s never been too good at control.

All aspects of it.

He has a hard time controlling himself and a hard time letting other people take control. Usually ending up out of control with his controlling of other people.

His hero-work gives him an excuse to exercise those less moralistic qualities. It gives him an outlet to be manipulative and a scene to play puppet-master.

But he doesn’t want to take those liberties when with his darling. No matter how tempting it is at times. No matter how many times she insists on pushing his limits.

The last thing he wants is for her to break and become a mindless puppet on his strings.

That’s why he’s setting boundaries.

Not just for her, but for himself as well. So they can control how much he gives and how much he takes.

Simply put: they play a game.

A game with a construct of rules and goals, producing a winner and a loser.

What game they play doesn’t really matter. It’s the side game that holds the real action.

What they bet.

They usually result to chess though. It being fair and near impossible to cheat in.

Where if she wins, she gets benefits, rewards, free-passes, liberties, a wish to do anything of her choosing. All within the premises of that they’ve established beforehand of course.

For example, she can do pretty much anything if it’s inside the apartment. However, if she wants to do something outside, she’ll need to be escorted by him, where there obviously is a time-limit to how long each of these rewards last.

Then there’s the case of outcome where he’s the established winner of their little game...

Where, naturally, his choice of reward is her.

Allowed to have her in every way he so wishes.

It’s funny and cute... how big a sore loser she can be.

Pouting and folding her arms over her chest. Huffing and puffing as she demands a roll-over or a re-match. Suggesting a higher gamble that can only end in her demise.

Sometimes he’ll indulge in a greater wager. Wanting to get more out of his award. Maybe one where he can make her put on a show for him or perhaps have her allow him to cross the limits and play with her mind.

But, most of the time he’s content with the reaping of one game.

The outcome of having her comply to his carnal wishes where she dresses up in lace and stockings and chains only for him to dress her down with his hands. Licking his lips as he unwraps her like a gift.

She’s an even bigger ugly winner though...

Flashing that shit-eating grin. Mouth stretched so wide like the Cheshire-cat. Flouncing and haughty and so in his face about it. Rubbing salt in the wound.

It’s almost like she wants him to break his promise.

Like she wants him to lose control.

Sometimes he does.

He’ll flip the table. Queens and rooks and pawns flying every which way. Clattering to the floor.

She’s not so full of herself then...

He loves seeing that wicked glint in her eyes dwindle into a beautiful expression of regret once he has her tail in an iron-grip. His much stronger hands pushing her against the table, extracting that cat-like whine from out of her as he growls in her ear and pulls some more.

He’ll have her wishing she’d lost instead.

As mentioned earlier, he’s not too good at control.

But honestly, if he’s trying his best in exercising control of himself, so should she.

If she decides on being a nasty bratty cocky bitch, then he will most certainly decide on being just as nasty.

Perhaps then they both learn.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

STARGAZING – meditation

Keigo’s always enjoyed the night sky.

He enjoys the consistency. The big presence of the moon that never leaves. The stars like eyes in the sky looking out for him as he sweeps through the air.

The night sky is reliant.

The only thing that’s stuck with him since when he was a child learning to use his wings properly to now as he slices through the clouds like a fish in water.

But, despite loving the night sky, he surprisingly knows next to nothing about it. In great contrast to his darling.

It was perhaps a means of making her calm down the first few times, but he was pleasantly surprised when he flew her up to the roof only for her to reveal what a great astronomy nerd she was.

It’s endearing, how excited she gets.

Seemingly forgetting how much she hates him in favor of taking about the thing she loves instead.

And he’s left awestruck at what alien knowledge she has about zodiacs and star-alignments and planets and gods and all these things he never had much interest in knowing yet somehow seems like the most precious of entertainment as he watches her light up with thrill.

She's quite like the night sky herself in that manner. Where the words like blitz pour out her mouth like a meteor shower.

It’s insane what stories she knows of old myths born under the night-sky. How she spurs up such great passionate tales or how their fates were said to be written up there.

She told of him of Icarus and his quest to reach the sun. Of how its fire-y mane cast a plethora of colour across the sky, like paint on a canvas. How the clouds swept the air with golden dust and how the otherwise murky waters reflected the heavens as though jealous of the light. How reaching above the welkin the stars were beginning to appear, reciting the story of the poor boys ill fate. Hauling in the dark and weeping while at it for they knew how those soft feathers of his would burn with spite and glory and sear upon his skin. Knowing how his lungs would fill with soot as the water welcomed him into the dark.

She told him that Icarus was a lot like him. How his eyes reflected the gold of the sun as well and how the wind had whipped his locks into chaos too.

Her eyes moon-big and locked with the vast void above them.

No longer paying any mind to how he insisted on holding her in his arms. No longer resisting the heat of his chest and wings.

Rather welcoming it as the bitter cold of the night bit through her clothing and needled at her skin.

She told him that not all starlight share the same age. She told him that some of the light they saw had travelled millions or even billions of years apart, even though they reach their eyes at the same time.

Speaking as though she’s given it a world of thought.

She told him that the night sky might be perceived as a single moment for them, but was in-fact a patchwork of time, years in breadth. An intricate god-made puzzle that they had the blessing of seeing.

It’s precious...

How all viciousness seems to mellow, as though not worth her time in comparison to what glory found above them.

It’s a good reminder for him too. To see her like that.

All humble and sweet. Falling asleep in his arms with that gentle smile on her face. Her nose red in the cold.

Sometimes he forgets that she’s just a little human. Incapable of hurting him even though her sharp words cut him so deep sometimes.

In many ways he looks at her like she looks at the sky.

And he’ll cast his wishes up at the stars every day until she looks at him the same way.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

BOOKS – quality-time

Being a nerd is one of the greatest gifts the world has ever given Izuku. Granting him with such interest and curiosity for things that require much thought, much in-depth focus and determination, studying the greats, allowing him to become the greatest of all time. Clips and interviews of former heroes, documentaries and movie adaptations and such are obviously great sources for inspiration, but books, books are the greatest and truest form of information, because you can trust in a book that the author has taken good time sitting down and writing something not meant purely as a means of entertainment but knowledge as well.

Because of this, Izuku has a lot, meaning an abundance, of books stored in his house. We’re talking libraries, not just a nook, not just a room, but a whole wing in his mansion dedicated to books. Books are thorough, whereas other media often come up short, and they have taught him a great deal of how, as a fan, you should always be your idols greatest critique. Where All Might was a great hero, he wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the toolshed, as many of those fights he engaged could have been entirely avoided if he’d just given it a bit more thought. Because of this: Deku exercises the wonders of manipulation and negotiation above pure sheer brute force. Those same tactics being abused when tackling handling his darling.

While in his observing of her he got the impression she also held a certain love of books in her heart, he couldn’t help but want to exploit it. At first he gave her just one book, keen eyes observing her reaction, how her eyes grazed the title before looking to him, the curious and hopeful question at her lips answered when he placed it in her lap, no price to pay. The way she spluttered out her gratitude was enough to make him look forward to what he would be introducing her to once she finished reading it. He so wishes he could replay the moment he first showed her to the library. How her mouth dropped open, eyes widening as though not believing what was displayed in front of her, flittering to the swirling staircases and the rows upon rows of books, reaching several floors up, taking those first careful steps into the aromatic smell of old paper, the smell that reeks with knowledge, the nervous laugh she gave when she realized her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

She’s so cute it’s nearly annoying how much she distracts him with how she kicks her feet and giggles every once in a while or scrunches up her nose with eyes skidding through the pages, getting so wrapped up in every scene, even crying if the story calls for it. It’s difficult to keep track of what he’s reading, let alone keep his wondering thoughts at bay, especially with how she wiggles on his lap, gasping and humming in response to what unfolds between her pages. On the other side, she poses as a great source for feedback. He’ll often recite things to her, her eyes fluttering at the sound of his voice reminding her she isn’t alone, requesting her innocent thoughts regarding this and that of what philosophy he’s reading. It’s quite useful having the opinion of someone like her to contrast his biased ones, shedding new light on something of which he viewed entirely different.

Also, it’s so sweet seeing her beam when he asks her what she’s reading, his curiosity craving she tell him what has her so intrigued. How she’ll bounce in her seat on his lap, telling him of the main characters and the plot and her hopes and her fears, hands vividly painting the air with her passion. It reminds him of how he treated All Might comic-books as a child, with such intense vigor. It’s nice to see such baseless boundless childlike wonder displayed so earnestly before him, especially when cradled in his scarred bloody hands.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

GARDENING – health

He hates it. He loathes it with every fiber of his being. It’s disgusting, it’s gross, it’s appalling and everywhere. Dirt under his nails, on his shirt, in his pockets, in his hair, on his skin, on his darling, literally covering his darling from head to toe. Why did he allow this? Why did he support it? Why was he partaking in the activity? And why on earth wasn’t he stopping it?!

All he need is say so, all he need is put his foot down. His darling is in no right and no position to oppose him, but… look at her, or, don’t look at her, but listen to her, and strangely enough, feel her. He doesn’t know exactly how to explain it, but she seems so at peace in this chaos of dirt and water and fertilizer and perlite, handling the plants with such care and ease, as though she’s genuinely concerned with their survival, treating them with such heartfelt affection, replanting them in bigger pots when they grow too big, spritzing them with mineral water when they look weak, never once resulting to abandoning all hope for what looks to be a goner, she persists and saves them.

For the longest time he’s viewed himself as above other things, as though the people he surrounded himself with should be grateful to be in his presence and as though the floor should rejoice to be trod upon by him, but now, as his expectations are being thrown in his face, his darling literally smearing mud in his face and giggling like some mischievous squirrel as she does so, he can’t help but realize just how ridiculous he’s been all these years. What’s the harm of a little mud after all? How could it possibly harm him in any way? Things can only make you feel inferior if you give it consent, mud cannot possibly hope to disgrace him if he chooses not to care. It’s good therapy, he realizes, his darling helping him overcome his suffocating anxieties, his crippling phobias. He’s able to let lose more and more with her help, feeling comfortable enough to be graceless in light of her gracelessness.

What more, he’s gradually coming to the understanding that gardening is actually one of the cleanlier hobbies. And when he says clean, he doesn’t mean clean as in spotless, but clean as in lacking bacteria. Plants and such actually help filter the air, and he must admit ever since they brought specimens of the garden inside the house, something he was in great opposition to do yet managed to be swayed by his darling’s relentless insisting, he’s been breathing for what feels like the first time, he feel lighter, his skin looks better, no itching, no boils, smoother and less irritable, and by the gods does he sleep well.

He’s being introduced to all sorts of witchcraft. His darling chipping of leaves from this and that plant, creating mixes that can be used to several peculiar things. Add water and you’re brewing tea, add fire and you’ve made sage, add oil and you’ve made creams and salves and masks. He’s always skeptical to her requests, when she asks for him to eat this or drink that, smell and wear and feel and try all strange concoctions she’s whipped together, yet pleasantly surprised when her smooth hands smear fresh-feeling organic lotions onto his irritable skin, soothing the fire, taming the itch. 

She makes him feel so calm, at once when he comes home, smelling the herbs, it’s as though some weight lifts off his shoulders, forcing him into a docile state and feeling of peace and harmony.

TODOROKI SHOTO

ART - creed

Shoto had never thought art was something for him. He never understood it. Paintings so fine that they look like carbon copies, the same product taking a picture would produce. He didn’t understand the point it served in modern society were maintaining history is done best through photography. He could see why his great-grandparents had their portraits painted when they were young and why landscapes of old wars were documented through the tools of paint on canvas, but certainly there is no need for such extremities anymore. On another note, he didn’t understand why people would dedicate their lives to creating such replicas of real life, where he knew the skills to do so is at an unbelievable scale. He knows it is nothing he could ever produce himself. He doesn’t have the precision, he lacks the finesse and aim and focus it craves. His quirks don’t call for any of that. He just shoots and knows by the great coverage his ice mountains make that he’s immobilized whatever threat he needed to. Where he respected the skill, he didn’t respect the outcome and found the purpose pointless.

But then he met her. She who didn’t paint properly. She who threw whirlwinds of color and created such mock mangled representations of reality, something so wrong yet more accurate a picture of what was real than any photograph could ever produce. He saw not fact portrayed, but emotion. Passion, he believes the word is, something of which has always eluded him, where he’s never been at all any good at fine-tuning his emotions into anything as potent as passion. He would enjoy her and her work from afar, loving the color, the seemingly senseless sporadic of the abstract that sometimes even seemed a strange form of harmonic. He would enjoy the association that some pieces beckoned from him as he quietly observed. Some pieces looked like scars and bruises, others like falling debris, great icicles, or flames.

She was a strange type of creature, and the more he watched, the more he needed to talk to her, and the more he listened to her outlook on life, did he fall immensely in love, obsessed with having her depict artwork of his bruises and his flames and his ice and his pain and his anger, and the more the inclination he felt to make artwork of his own, perhaps using her body as his canvas.

He views everything different now, his scars are stories, figures running across him like wild cattle in a field, his left side, the large burn covering half his face, no longer a burden, but a trademark, his peculiarity, his individualism. When he comes home with blood splatter spluttered on his costume, he feels the slight inclination to refrain from washing it away, viewing it no longer as dirt, but as a statement, a shout of victory. No snowflake is the same, they are all individual, special, their complete own, posing no equal, and though he knew this from before, now he feels a slight sorrow each time they all melt, because he’s learned to appreciate the complete exceptionality of it, a pattern lost forever, no hope of recreation. He sees it in his flames as well, viewing them in a different light, the shadows on the walls, how they create such a show, as though conjuring life, as though casting spells, as though roaring with the passion he thought he didn’t have.

And it’s all thanks to her. His hands on her body is not just that, it’s more, it’s like religion, it’s like sacrifice, like offering, like absolution, like reverence, like praying. His lips on her skin, the blood trickling down her throat when he’s bitten through, how he holds her naked frame in his embrace, her warmth, her quaking, her whimpers, how she can cry from pain yet moan from pleasure all at the same time. It’s art. Their love is art. Their love is God.

[chaoticrobotics]

Is vanny up for questions if so how is afton and one for whole glamrock gang who do you dislike the most

[No, Vanny is not up for questions, even if she was, I wouldn't answer anything relating to the Afton Virus at all. Vanessa maybe. But even then, no mention of the Virus is going to be answered.]

Similar ask I got: Question for everyone! Who do you hate the most and i am guessing that sun and freddy don’t hate anyone love all of you!

Freddy: You are right about me, I do not hate anyone! There is no reason to. Of course I may dislike some people, but I don't think it is nice to share those kinds of things. It will just cause trouble and hurt people's feelings.

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Roxy: Oh there's times where I absolutely HATE Monty! Especially when he's cheating at games! Oh it's so damn annoying!

Sometimes Freddy is annoying too. I don't think I ever hated him though, and he's usually pretty nice and encourages me a bit, so I wouldn't even say I dislike him all that much.

Oh, wait. Moon. I don't care for Moon. They are just... weird. I get he can't be out in light, but it's super fucking creepy to be in my room just for him to try and talk with me from the vent while he's on his way to Monty's room. Also the fact that he won't let me swear when there are no kids around, or their stupid cleaning habit. It's really just annoying.

Like Sun can be overly excitable and annoying, but that's actually FUN! And Sun only scolds you if you swear, he doesn't clamp your mouth shut like Moon does. I don't know. I just don't care for Moon too much. Probably my most disliked animatronic here.

Now, if we get into staff, wooooh! We'd be here all day with all the humans I hate!

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Monty: If we're talking about anyone, then Bonnie. That fucker was a total piece of shit. And Freddy just made things worse whenever he tried to mediate our fights. I hate both of those assholes.

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Chica: Oh! Uh. Let's see... I don't HATE anyone, at least, not enough for me to think of it off the top of my head... But uh, I don't really like Monty all that much.

Like, don't get me wrong! He can be really nice and fun to hang around with! But he ends up pushing people a bit too much. Especially Moon and Roxy. And he can be pretty violent at times. I know he has some anger issues, but he should really try to destroy things away from others. One time I got hit with something he broke and it shattered my eye... I think he just needs a better outlet or something, because I don't think golf is working for him. Maybe if we had a real gym with exercise equipment, or at least a punching bag, that would help calm him down a but...

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DJMM: If I am being honest. It's Sun who I care the least for. The way he treats others, especially Moon, is not fair. They have his own set of rules, and if people don't follow them, then he gets upset. His solutions to problems are either ignoring them or getting rid of them to ignore. It's not healthy. Not for him, and not for anyone around him. Honestly, it feels like walking on eggshells whenever he DOES come to the arcade, and I am glad those visits are rare.

I wouldn't say I HATE Sun though. He doesn't know any better. They were never told how to properly manage their emotions, and Moon's coddling of Sun doesn't help... *sigh* Those two need more help than I could ever hope to give... Either that, or they need to be separated...

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[Sun and Moon are temporarily off limits, they will be back soon!]

[birdy-bat-writes]

Lovesick

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Damian wants to confess to you but he sees someone leaving your apartment. The night goes by with him trying to get a hold of his feeling and try to express them.

Warnings: Intense fluff and some cheesiness.

Pairing: Damian x Gender-neutral reader

Thanks. @anothertimdrakestan for last night’s conversation that inspired this and thank you @animefangurl1981 for calling me a “fluffy bitch” because you were right :) Enjoy some fluff people!!!

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Today was the day. Damian Wayne decided he was going to tell you how he felt about you. He didn’t know what prompted him to do something like this tonight, out of the blue but he was ready to. He didn’t take a car, just began walking to your building. The walk turned into a jog when it started to drizzle and then rain. He reached the gate, butterflies in his stomach, and then he saw you hugging a man. The butterflies now felt like bullets striking into him. Who is that?

"You sure you don't want me to drive you there?" He heard you ask. Damian’s heart shattered.

"Stop worrying I'll be fine. I'll text you when I get home." Damian turned away with an ache in his chest and just stood there in the pouring rain. The man’s car passed through the gateway and he glowered at its tires as it drove away. He marched around the building and paced around the lobby for maybe the thirty minutes. The heat radiating off of his body from sheer anger was enough to keep the cold at bay.

"What are you doing out here?!" He turned to find you in your pajamas, brightly colored rain boots and a big umbrella over your head. He had thousands of thoughts going through his head and he wanted to scream, shout, say anything. He wanted to confess, demand to know who just left your apartment and scream at the sky all at once but for some reason, the ability to speak flew out the window as soon as he saw you standing in front of him wide eyed, concerned and confused. He didn't like seeing you upset or worried in any way, and in his head and heart, that took priority over what he had to say. He realized he had been standing there for nearly 10 seconds without saying a word, so he mustered up to the strength to say something when, "You are going to catch a cold, you absolute Muppet!" You grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him up the stairs. "Its 40 degrees Fahrenheit! And raining! What are you doing here and why didn't you come up to the apartment? You’re soaked." The questioning continued all the way up with only short, curt answers from him. His voice softened slightly when you stopped talking and just looked at him with genuine worry.

"I'm fine, Y/N I just wanted to see you. I got stuck in the rain." There was way more to that than he was letting on and you knew it. He even knew that you knew it, but the great thing about being best friends is that you knew when not to pry, and you both knew that when he was ready, he would tell you. Right now, your main concern was getting him out of these wet clothes and into something warmer. You appeared in front on him with a towel in hand.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?" Evidently, you didn’t realize how that sounded.

"Actually, just go have a warm shower, you already look like you've caught a cold." You handed him the towel. Everything from the way he stood stiff as a board to the way he couldn't meet your eyes gave away his intense agitation. With a softer voice, you continued, "I’ll leave some dry clothes on the bed. After that we can watch movies or just talk. What are we feeling tonight? Chinese take-out? Italian?" The corners of your mouth turned up a little at the end. It was clearly contagious because he looked up a little and said with a slight smirk,

"Y/N, who would pick Chinese over Italian?" You smiled back at him and walked off to place the order while he walked over to your bathroom. It wasn't until the warm water hit his skin that he realized how cold he really felt. Most people think and let their mind wander while they shower but all Damian needed right now was to clear his head. A good 20 minutes later, he stepped out and saw a black sweatshirt and a pair of gray sweatpants on your bed, complete with a pair of rainbow tube socks. He shook his head in amusement, knowing that you picked the rainbow ones on purpose. After getting dressed, he stepped in front of the mirror and raked his fingers through his still wet hair, taking notice of how familiar this sweatshirt looked. Deciding not to dwell on it, he made his to the living room.

"Good news, the Italian place delivers so it should be- why is your hair still wet?"

"Tt, it will dry soon enough." You just looked at him blankly and sighed. He watched you walk right past him and into your bedroom and return with a hairdryer and his damp towel in hand. You motioned for him to sit down on the couch and plugged the dryer into the outlet.

"We can watch 101 Dalmatians if you want" He scrunched up his face while you jostled the towel around his head. It was actually quite funny.

"We can watch anything you want." You turned the dryer on and hovered it over his head, making sure to gently hold his forehead so hair didn't fly on it.

"Lion King then, also, I think you have a fever. Your forehead is warm."

"It’s probably the heat from the dryer you're feeling."

"Deny it all you want, but remember if I don't take care of you, Alfred will. There's no escape." His body relaxed slightly, and you took this opportunity to lay his head back against your stomach, lightly combing through his dark locks with your fingers.

Ever since Damian saw that man, he had been a little broken. Nothing felt right with the world. The world was right when you would hug him and hold on tighter when you thought he would let go, and when you laughed so hard you would stumble, the world was right when you were with him and when he was with you because you were, are and will always be his world. Things still weren't clear, and he didn't yet have the courage to ask about the man, but for now, your hands in his hair and your sarcasm were enough to bring him comfort. You turned off the dryer when his hair was dry and combed the front slightly to the side. When you moved in front of him to admire your work, you had to bite back a laugh. His hair wasn't in its usual tame form, but instead slightly wavy and very fluffy, with tufts of it sticking up in every direction.

Eventually you couldn't hide your laughter which caused Damian to toss a pillow at you!

"Alright, what did you do to my hair?"

“I dried it!” He started walking up to holding another pillow when the doorbell rang. Saved by the bell.

You laid the food out on the table and picked up your boxes, opting to eat in front of the TV. Damian took the spot next you with his food and started flipping through networks until he found Disney+. Various dramatizations of Hakuna Matata, and a few “Fight me’s” later, you both put away your boxes and sat back down. He noticed the way you huddled close to him and pulled a blanket over the two of you. Warmth coursed through your body and you felt yourself relax. He expected you to move away but instead, you rested one arm on his chest and pulled your body closer to his. "Dami, are you okay?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just didn't seem yourself today."

"Y/n, who's clothes are these?"

"The sweatpants are my brother's and the sweatshirt is yours actually. Well, was yours. It's mine now."

"Hold on, mine?"

“It was that one time we had dinner at your place, when my shirt tore. And I was hiding upstairs so no one would see it and then you came and asked me what was wrong and when I told you, you gave me this. When I wore it, you took me back downstairs and complained-"

"That no one there was fun to talk to except for you." You breathed out and smiled against the soft material of the sweatshirt.

"I offered to give it back once, but you told me I could keep it. I love this thing." You couldn't see it but Damian was looking down at you with a smile. How can a person be so cute? No wonder that man was here. Anyone would fall for you.

"Y/N, there was a man here earlier, right?" You raised your head up in question.

"Yeah. My brother stopped by today for lunch." Hold the phone. Brother?!

"Your brother...?"

"He’s going on a business trip tonight, so he spent some time here before he left. How did you know?"

"I saw his car leave." He sniffled. Oh my gosh it made sense now! If you were seeing someone you would have told him. There was nothing for him to worry about now.

"Y/N-"

"I'll be right back." you said, getting up. A few short minutes later, you arrived with a thermometer, cough drops, cold medicine, tissues and vapo- rub.

"Ok, put the vapor rub on your chest, and say ah."

"This is undignified."

"I could always call Alfred." With and eye roll, he opened his mouth. 100 degrees.

"You have a fever." To be honest, he had a bit of a headache, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. And he had tissues for the leaking nose. In all honesty, Damian did not want to admit that he was sick, nor that he got sick because of his stubbornness and silliness. "You're spending the night over. Want me to put some spare blankets in the guest Room?"

"I appreciate it, but you don't have to do all of this. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but you don't have to all the time. And besides you'd do the same for me if I was sick. Plus, more scolding and more blankets." Your generosity always astounded him. You were one of the few people who didn't make help seem like charity and he trusted you enough to be vulnerable around you because you never made him feel weak. You always lifted each other up, and he loved that.

"Thank you."

“You're more than welcome." You said, dabbing some vapor rub on his nose and hugging him once more.  His hand instinctively went up your head and stroked your hair.

"Y/n do you like someone?"

"Yeah, do you?

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Do you?"

"Yes."

“Who?”

"I asked you first!" It wasn't normal for him to pull a card like that.

"Ok, pinky promise, I'll tell you if you me." He just looked at your hand on his chest, uncurled your fingers and slide them between his, gently rubbing the side of your thumb.

"You."

"Really?" He felt your voice shake and stopped.

"Who's yours?"

"You." The two of you sat there in an exasperated silence. You were both happy and speechless. The silence was broken by a sneeze, courtesy of Damian. "Bless you."

"I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“You didn’t tell me!”

“How long?”

“A while. How about you?”

“Long enough to fall in love with you.”

"I probably love you more." You challenged, blushing.

"Not-" your lips were on his. He let himself melt into you. The kiss was slow but deep, conveying the years of yearning and love you had for one another. Then his better judgement kicked it and he pulled away. "You'll get sick."

"I don't care, I just really had to kiss you."

"Oh god, you're so cheesy.”

"You love it, love bug."

"No." He laughed out.

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Taglist: @anothertimdrakestan

[anothertastelesstetrahedron]

Descole headcanons maybe 👀

Did someone say Descole? 👀 I’m just gonna put the whole thing under the read more cut, since this ended up being a very long post - and I mean looooooong - like almost 3000 words long. Major spoilers for most of the games - mainly the Descole Trilogy (looking at you AL), but there’s also one UF one.

Des has terrible handwriting. I just think it would be funny if that's the one thing he cannot change about himself while impersonating someone else. He can manage faking signatures, but free writing as someone else? He has to try very, very hard to get that (nearly) right. Tbh for most of his roles that’s also hardly a problem, so he doesn’t bother.

He dehydrated/had a heat stroke at least once while in full costume. There must be a reason why Raymond tries so hard to make sure the AL gang takes water bottles, sunscreen and so on with them. Des has no self-preservation instinct (unless having Raymond around counts as Des taking care of himself?) He also probably almost died in Monte d’Or due to the heat.

Des beat up those guys who hurt Layton in UF. Listen, no one is allowed to hurt his bro except for him.

The first thing Des did after AL was visit Umid - after getting the much needed medical treatment. Because I absolutely love their interactions he promised to do so. It would be funny for him to show up in full costume as well.

Des eventually got used to Kietz (because the cat is now living with Raymond and Des. You cannot change my mind about that) At first he hated Kietz. Des is basically the old cat in the Bostonius that now has to get used to the new one lol

I know it was just the writers having no idea about Des’ backstory in LS but I still can’t stop thinking about how Hershel felt that Descole (in full costume) was familiar. So what if young Hershel Bronev actually liked to dress up in a costume similar to the Descole one? And that had left an impression on young Theo...

I also still cannot get over the fact that Des knows how to make Layton the perfect tea. Well, he had Raymond make it, but still. How does he know what kind Layton likes? Theory one: Layton’s taste hasn't changed from when they were kids. Theory two: He stalked observed Layton’s tea-drinking activities. Maybe he even posed as a waiter sometimes to find Layton’s favourite tea.

Des had kept track of how Layton was doing for a long time. He also was very close to introducing himself a couple of times. Obviously he never did. One reason why he decided against it was certainly to keep Layton away from everything. Des had given him the chance to live a peaceful life, so he obviously didn’t want to risk that. But that’s not all to it. Though Des hated himself for even feeling that, he was a bit jealous. It’s not that he regretted his decision from back then, but he still couldn’t help feeling that way. Plus, Hersh was a reminder of his past life. So while Des had his family that was another reason why he didn't approach - though in the beginning, he had actually thought even more about talking to Layton. However, Des had really tried to let go of his revenge and thus also his past - so Layton couldn't be a part of Sycamore's life. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he also couldn't help but think about their father whenever he looked at Hersh. He knows that’s not fair, but it’s what it is. The same way he thinks about Bronev whenever he sees his own eyes in the mirror. After his family’s death and after he became Descole he stopped approaching Hersh altogether and kept his distance. Not only because, again, he wanted to keep Layton out of all of this - even more so than before, because Des had already lost his family again, so losing Hersh was not an option (I write even though Des tried to kill Hersh himself hjasdjd)-, but also because he was afraid of how disappointed Layton would be were he to find out about all the things Descole had done. Des feared that he’d hate him.

Relating to one point in the previous point, Des absolutely hates mirrors. His reflection is bearable while being dressed as Descole, but he still avoids them like the plague. Even more so as AL Desmond. He also absolutely hates it when someone compliments his eyes - the thing he hates the most about his appearance.

Relating to that, I know Des’ glasses are just for show, but what if they are optical glasses nevertheless? Like, he cannot stand seeing clearly (especially since he ran into Bronev a couple of times and he absolutely doesn’t want to see that guy’s face). Maybe it’s also to help him distance himself even further from the others - especially Layton(?).

Des only possesses one photo of his family. It had been in his wallet when they died. I am just gonna assume Targent blew up his house, leaving Des with almost nothing. As much as he wishes to have the photo with him at all times, it's far too dangerous to do so while being Descole. Maybe Raymond keeps it safe? Or Des just keeps it in Desmond’s office? Maybe that was one of the things he actually liked while being Desmond again, at least he actually could carry the photo around this time.

Des lies a lot (obviously) - also to himself. (This is also me just trying to make his writing make more sense, since it often seemed to me he was written by 4+ people who didn't tell each other what they’ve written). I am thinking of that one bonus scene in MM where Des acts all empathetic towards Randall. “Just the thought of those poor parents, desperately looking for their own child.” That line does sound a lot like something Des himself knows too well… And then, one moment later, after Randall has left, Des just admits to himself that he’s just using Randall. (srsly writers??) I’m not saying that’s not right, because he’s certainly using him - no point in sugar-coating that - but he’s also very much trying to distance himself from Randall and his issues and reminding himself to focus on his goals and to not get distracted. Because Des does care. And I also think that he could have achieved his goal without Randall, but when he had learnt that Layton lost his best friend, Des tried everything in his power to get him back.

What is Des’ “true self”?

That is the one question I’m thinking about the most. It’s probably gonna get a bit complicated now… Let’s see if I can make my own words make sense (I really tried haha). For clarity's sake I’m gonna use three different names now: First, we have Des - the name I’m gonna use for the “true(est)” version of him - whoever that really is. Then we have Desmond - the AL Desmond Des “played” during AL. And, finally, there is Descole which is of course the Descole “role”.

Des has some serious identity issues - because of course he does. Descole started as a role (Des is even literally wearing a non-practical costume) that served a specific purpose. Des initially “created” Descole to have an outlet for all his rage and despair - and to get back at Targent without revealing himself. And I imagine some characteristics of Descole are things Des added, because he wanted Descole to appear a certain way different from how Des presented himself outside the costume. No one was to find who was behind the mask after all, so Descole had to act differently. Descole’s arrogance comes to mind, like that one just strikes me as not (fully) being Des himself. Des pretty much hates himself and blames himself for a lot of things. But Descole is also much more than a simple role. He’s very much a part of Des himself - it’s Des' own anger and his own feelings Descole is based on after all. Over the years, the lines between Des and Descole got more blurry. And now Des pretty much cannot tell the difference anymore between the things that make him him and the things he had just put into the Descole persona. So while Descole was initially based on parts of Des himself, over time Des truly lost himself in Descole who had become its own thing as well. Think method acting gone completely wrong - or right?

In a similar yet also opposite way, (AL) Desmond is also a role Des played during the game. Des said that he had just assumed Desmond’s identity again to get close to Layton and use him (which I don’t believe is 100% true, because I am convinced that a part of Des wanted to be saved. And also longed to see his brother again - and wanted Layton to like him), but it does make me think that Des mostly runs around as Descole. Obviously Des had kept the Desmond persona alive enough for Desmond to be regarded as a world-famous archeologist. But then again, it clearly doesn’t matter in the PL-universe if people don’t do their jobs.

I still do not know how much of Desmond is the “true” Desmond. Even if Des based Desmond on how he used to be with his family, there’s still the question how close Des actually comes to that. Memories can be deceiving and I doubt Des remembers exactly how he used to be. So maybe Desmond’s speaking style, his mannerism could be an act instead of that being Des’ true (past) self. Or which I like better, it’s a confusing mix between “lie” and “truth”. Some things are exaggerated (people tend to romanticize the past, so even with his family Des(mond) might not have been as nice as he presents himself to be as AL Desmond). Some aspects are more or less really Des(mond) and some other things are just stuff Des added to the Desmond role - consciously or not.

Let’s take this thought even further. When Des tried to leave his revenge behind and concentrate on his family, was that Des(mond) really his true(est) self? Or did Des play a role during that time as well (at least partly)? Des cannot let go. That has been shown throughout the games. So while he had tried to put Targent behind him, he might not have been able to do that completely. Thus he buried some things deep inside him and concentrated on “playing” Desmond Sycamore. Who might be the person he wished to be(?).

Long story short, I think that maybe AL Desmond is an idealised version of the Desmond Des used to be. Des acted like how he used to be while his family was still alive - or as much as possible, since he absolutely cannot let go of the pain completely. So his AL Desmond appearance could also be how he had looked like back then. I honestly do not even know if AL Desmond is the “true face” under the mask. Or if Desmond is also kind of like a “costume”. His appearance could be inaccurate as to how present Des really looks like. Descole’s character model also makes no sense. Like the hair that is sometimes visible doesn’t really look like Desmond’s most of the time after all. So is Descole wearing another wig? Is Desmond? I kind of like the idea that Des met Layton with his true appearance, so I’m on the fence here. Maybe he’s not wearing a wig, but extensions?I very much like the idea of Des appearing with his true face though… So I am kind of reluctant to have Desmond look too different from Des. Plus, Layton could have noticed if Desmond was in fact wearing a wig and that might have made Layton suspicious. But maybe Des dyed his hair a bit, and/or is wearing extensions? Maybe he actually already has grey hair, who knows. I certainly don’t.

However, I also believe that Desmond is far less of a role than Des probably thinks/admits. Over the course of the game, he might have lost himself in the Desmond role in a similar way to how he has lost himself in Descole.

Des' time as AL Desmond changed him for sure. And he does act differently as Descole after he changed into the costume than in the previous games. (I’m gonna make a whole separate post about how the German version uses different forms of politeness - and Des does speak rather … strange/different after his revelation than in other games… Again, I know that that’s just the writers being the writers, but where is the fun in that?)

Present day Des has probably no idea who his true self is anymore… Him “playing” Desmond further complicated things. Which parts did he make up, which parts are truly him? I don’t think there’s an easy answer to that… But that also makes Des so fascinating to me. I also really wonder what name he prefers after AL…

As much as I like the idea that Des himself came up with the plan to approach Layton as Desmond, I also very much like the idea that it had been Raymond instead who had suggested it. Raymond probably has to listen to a lot of Des’ angry rants. And after hearing another one about Layton seeing through one of Des’ disguises, Raymond came up with the idea to just go as himself next time. Partly also because Raymond knows Des better than anyone else and he knows how much Des longs to see his brother again - even if Des himself doesn’t admit that.

Des has acquired quite a lot of scars over the years… He does fall down a lot, so it’s bound to happen. He was probably wearing a fair bit of makeup in AL to hide some of them - in addition to his visible lack of sleep. Speaking of, I don’t think Des slept all that much during AL. He probably has nightmares that wake him up screaming. No way he could (or would want to) explain that to the others. Maybe that’s what he has been doing while he was not with the gang. He was taking a much needed nap… Or ...

… or he goes into the one room in the Bostonius that’s completely sound-proof (because that surely exists) and just screams (and cries) for a bit. In full Descole costume. He cannot bear being Desmond and being around the others at all times. He needs to have an outlet for his emotions.

Des really tried to retain his (emotional) distance from everyone in AL. I noticed that in the beginning he hardly ever said anything while I was clicking everything (and I hope believe that I’ve really clicked everything for potential Des dialogue). But he says more over time. It also takes a long time for him to talk about his family. So maybe that’s him slowly warming up to the others. Des was also probably still figuring out how to be Desmond (again). In a way, I think Desmond was one of his easiest yet also his most challenging role he ever had to “play”. No one is more familiar to him and yet also a total stranger. Plus, he had to be extra careful not to reveal too much. Can’t have been easy (which is why he needed to go scream for a bit sometimes).

He feels immensely guilty about caring for Aurora. He was especially reluctant to get closer to her, but he also just couldn't help caring for her. Because she reminded him of his daughter. He just feels very conflicted as he got more and more attached to her, not only because he knew he would eventually betray her, but he felt like in caring for Aurora he was betraying his daughter in a way… This guilt could apply to Flora as well when he eventually meets her.

One day after AL he found the Popoño he had bought for Aurora. He keeps it close ever since.

His revenge is achieved after AL, so there should be no reason for Descole to continue existing. But I don’t think Des will be able to let go of Descole right away. The AL ending shows that anyway. I feel him putting the mask back on in his last scene makes sense for him. He still cannot bring himself to leave Descole behind and he also very much still cannot bear to see his father’s eyes whenever he looks in a mirror. It would have been too sudden for him to just put all the pain behind him. Des’ revenge was basically also the one thing that defined his whole life. And Descole has been a part of his life for a long time as well - the pain and anger that led to Des creating Descole have been inside Des long before his family got killed. I can’t imagine it easy to just let go of all of that. Des is truly lost at the end of AL. He has lost his purpose, the one thing that made him go on. And he needs to figure out who he is himself. Even more so after his whole posing as Desmond again. I like to think that Des will be able to let go of Descole eventually, but that will be a slow process and not something that’s gonna happen overnight. Instead he’ll probably put on the costume fewer and fewer times until, eventually, Descole just disappears. Maybe he’ll stop when he runs out of costumes lol. No matter what, it’s gonna be a long road for Des to be able to heal… (And he should totally go get back to Layton and apologise to Layton and to a loooooot of other people and then they both go to therapy)

[candiliam328]

So um… pianist Five, huh?

Hey, @kakakuroo? Remember that playlist? The one with the classical pieces I think Five should play?

Um, I made it... 

and um, it’s about 40 minutes long (sorry). Highkey, it was originally longer, but then, I decided to focus on pieces that I think would resonate with our current Five as the pianist playing them.

But... oops I made myself sad.

Note: I said “our current” Five and yes, that means our post-season 2 Five.

(….. interestingly enough, I do have a few pieces in mind for pre-apocalypse, actually 13-year-old Five and some pieces for apocalypse Five....)

These aren’t even pieces that I think would actually play in the context of the show (yes, I have pieces for that too), but really, just pieces that I think Five would vibe with *as the pianist playing them.*

Now, a warning: I’m about to go on a whole thing about why I think this is the case, so if you don’t want to be bothered with me blabbing in depth about music and unnecessarily projecting onto a fictional character, don’t click keep reading…..  

OK, HERE WE GO

(Special shoutout goes to @disco-tea​ for letting me ramble about this with her for literal weeks)

Full disclaimer: I am NOT a music major nor do I claim to be super knowledgeable in music theory. This is just my personal take and experience and LOL I’m just a (barely) pianist with enough knowledge of music theory and composers to shitpost about them occasionally and apparently a lot of emotions about pianist!five (lol).

So, yeah, UM ANY ACTUAL MUSICIANS PLEASE DISREGARD THIS ENTIRE POST OMG – I’M ASHAMED.

ANYWAY --

Most of the pieces I included are by Chopin.

Bit of background: Frederic Chopin was a Polish composer of the Romantic era and a virtuosic pianist. At the core of his artistic process was improvisation and his pieces are known for their lyrical quality. The way his pieces are written allows for a lot of interpretation from the pianist performing the pieces.

But what do we mean by interpretation?

… oof um, where do I even start…

Okay, so each musician and in fact, each performance of a musician has a different interpretation, a different feeling if you will. There’s a certain level of flexibility in how you perform any piece and there’s a fine line each performer has to walk between being respectful to the source material and adding your own kind of flavor.

But what does that sound like? For pianists in particular, we’ll play around with articulation, phrasing, dynamics, pedaling, and (most importantly for this post) rubato.

Chopin pieces tend to be played with a lot of rubato.

Now, what’s that? Well, to be honest with you, in my head, rubato has always been a fancy term for “messing around with the rhythm of the piece.” There are some pieces for which you absolutely cannot do this (like a march, where you need to keep constant time), but remember, Chopin was a fan of improvisation, so he always had a “go with the flow” kind of thing going.

Rubato means you can stretch some beats and speed through others – it allows you to build suspense and breathe some life into your piece. That way, it’s not boring for the audience and it gets you invested as the pianist. 

Speaking from experience, some pieces require you to be vulnerable as the pianist playing them. These pieces that utilize tons of rubato? They practically demand it. You have to pour a little bit of yourself into them and allow yourself to feel the piece and get in your head a little to do justice to the notes the composer wrote. Inherently, each time you play the piece, your performance will be different and will sound different. You know the journey the piece is going to take you on, but not even you know exactly how your piece is going to sound -- it’s all about how you feel in the moment.

(And yeah, that’s why all the videos in the playlist show you the actual pianist playing the pieces -- sorry, I tried to find versions that had the least amount of coughing and clapping, but… live performances *shrugs*. It’s important for the sake of this (long-ass) analysis that you realize there is an actual person behind the music, feeling the notes and sharing themselves with you through the music.)

Now, I’m here to tell you that it can be incredibly therapeutic to play these pieces alone. For no one else. Just you and the piano. You can be feeling all these emotions and you can pour them into these gorgeous pieces and you can hear the emotions as well. Yeah, and remember that fine line I talked about for interpretation? That’s out the window. You’re just playing for you. You can stretch out this measure for as long as you want or you can rush through this run as much as you feel. You are completely free to manipulate this piece to how you feel in that moment and just play your feelings out. And it’s amazing.

 ...

And yup, all that brings us to our favorite time-traveling assassin.

Post-season 2 Five... um… he’s had a rough few days to say the least.

He was so close to getting his siblings safe back in their timeline, but he just… can’t… seem… to… do… it… right.

He’s been on edge for so long now that he seems kind of... weary?

What was it the old man said?

“I’m too tired.”

Anyway, there’s… emotions. He’s got a lot of them.

But he’s shit at being able to express himself non-violently, especially when the emotion isn’t anger. (and whenever he has tried to be vulnerable, it hasn't necessarily ended well...)

He needs another outlet. One that forces him to be vulnerable and honest with himself.

Enter: The piano. And these beautiful pieces with tons of room for rubato and self-expression.

(Let the man feel his feelings and play his heart out gdi.)

Now, if all I cared about was room for rubato, I could have chosen from a billion other pieces. So why would Five vibe with these ones in particular?

Well, I’m not going to use any musical terminology, because that’s not what matters here. I’m talking about the journey the pieces take you on as a pianist and as a listener. Give it a real close listen. 

None of these pieces feel like they’ve “arrived.” 

None of them feel “grounded” or “settled.” 

They’re all kind of wandering… yearning for something possibly beyond their reach. 

(Perhaps a desire to relive the past. Perhaps an unattainable dream.)

So, yeah, if I had to name the vibe, I would call it “longing”… but maybe with a twinge of “resignation.”

For 45 years, Five was wandering about in the apocalypse, longing to return home. His primary motivator became to return to his family and to go home. To keep them safe. Maybe even settle down.

And this hasn’t changed for the entirety of the series.

…

But what can he even call his home now?

And will he ever be able to rest?

[kessielrg]

[Kingdom Hearts] The Heart of a Dandelion

Summary: By far, Ven’s got the most boring job at the flower shop; the cashier. Sitting day in and day out for someone to browse along the rows of flowers and gardening tools, then probably walk right out again. Sometimes an interesting thing would happen- but they were few and far between. [flower shop AU focused on UX kids][Part 5 in a series of oneshots][VenxOC][EphemerxOC/F!Player]

Rating: K

Word Count: 1,725 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

“Strelitzia needs a different job.”

Ventus gave a rather annoyed eye up at Elrena. Finals were coming up soon, and he was using this time to study. Of course, Elrena wasn't talking to him, she was talking to Lauriam. The older man was gently spritzing some flowers with a glycerin mixture. Elrena felt the need to lean against the front counter and shout at him from across the store. It was really starting to get on Ven's nerves.

“Why are you telling me this?” Lauriam gently asked as he looked over one flower, gave it a small tilt of his head, before giving its petals two sprays of glycerin. “Strelitzia's shift ended ten minutes ago. If you wanted to tell her this, you could have done it before she left.”

“She wouldn't, and didn't.” Ven retorted as he wrote down a math formula to memorize later. “Strelitzia makes her feel emotions. It scares her.”

“Shut up Roxas.” Elrena demanded as she reached over to slam his book closed. Ven blinked for a moment before looking at Elrena with a rather dark glare.

“You know my name is Ven.” he informed her, opening his book back up.

“See if I care.” came the nasty retort.

“Elrena, don't be rude to Ven just because you're worried.” Lauriam idly noted as he inspected another flower. He frowned in finding that it was wilting a bit.

“I'm not worried!” she immediately spat back. “I just… I just hate when she gets hurt.”

“No wonder you're always in a bad mood.” Ven remarked without thinking about it. Elrena flashed him a glare so dark, Ven physically recoiled from it.

“It is nice to know she's cares, isn't it?” Lauriam just as easily laughed. Elrena gave him a dark glare as well, but he simply shrugged it off. Instead, he picked up the wilting flower and brought it up to the front counter.

“In any event,” he said, taking the flower out of the ceramic vase. “You and I both know that Strelitzia's not going to change jobs anytime soon. She loves it here.”

“Must be a stupid masochist then.” Elrena huffed, even folding her arms in defiance. “Not a day goes by that she comes home with some new cut, or bruise, or headache from all these stupid plants...”

“Pretty sure everyone in our family has a high tolerance for pollen.” Lauriam laughed. “I think it just depends on your perspective.”

That earned him a peeved eye roll, along with another huff. Lauriam was definitely not paying her any mind while he laid the flowers in a single row. He placed the vase close to Ven- a hint that the younger needed to dump out the water. Ven made a mental note of it; he was still studying, after all. He did hand Lauriam some loose newspaper when he asked for it, though. Apparently Lauriam was going to dry the flowers out later.

“Our parents started Dandelion's you know.” he then thoughtfully said. “It was right after they got married.”

“I know that.” Elrena grumbled.

“You do, but Ven doesn't.”

Elrena let out an undignified huff. Lauriam offered a small chuckle in response before properly turning his attention to Ventus.

“They used flowers from their own garden. Mother handled the arrangements, and Father actually went to do minor landscaping work around town. Hence the dual 'Floristry and Gardening' bit on the full business name. It's not just because we sell gardening supplies year round.”

Ven gave a small, rather uninterested nod. By now he'd gathered that Lauriam wasn't really related this story to him, he was reminding Elrena. There was a reason why Strelitzia loved working here.

“Strelitzia was the one who brought up the idea of placing the shop here in the outlets. She was about 16 then, and the four of us decided to go out shopping for Mother's birthday. The moment she saw the store front, she knew the store had to be here.” Lauriam let out a soft snort before going on to say, “She had pretty good tastes, honestly, with it being a corner lot and all. Makes it easier to get big deliveries in and out.”

“Hmmph.” Elrena grumbled. “She only wanted it here because Ephemer's sylph worked at the antique store three shops down.”

“I thought she met Strelitzia when Ephemer started working here.” Ven cut in, now a bit confused.

“Anora and Strelitzia dated for a year and a half.” Lauriam gently agreed. “But Anora started working at the antique store when she was 17. Strelitzia was 18 then.” Lauriam offered Ven a kind smile. “You might be thinking of Anora and Brain. They met when Ephemer started working here, and hit it off pretty well from what I understand.”

At this, Elrena laughed in a rather obnoxious pitch. “More like hit on each other!” she cackled. “Those three were threewaying so often, that brat of theirs would have needed a paternity test if he didn't end up with Ephemer's hair!”

Lauriam frowned. “Elrena, you don't know that.”

“I bet they still go at it every now and again.” she went on, absolutely reveling at the thought. “Betcha in the next five years (maybe even sooner if you catch my drift), she's gonna pop another and it'll have hair as black as sin!”

“Elrena!” Lauriam finally demanded. “That's enough!”

Elrena immediately reined herself back in. Even Ven shrunk a bit at Lauriam's tone. Seeing Lauriam angry was possibly one of the most scariest things about him. Assuming he even let that anger show, of course.

“Back to the original topic at hand,” the oldest between the three of them said before slowly returning to a more relaxed demeanor. “It's because of Strelitzia that we were able to understand what Dandelion's meant to the community. Our parents had to raise the money to rent out this property at first. Once the whole town caught wind of it, we were able to meet the goal in a month.”

“That's pretty impressive.” Ven noted. His voice didn't sound as enthused though. Lauriam smiled at the acknowledgment, regardless.

“It was quite the shock.” he agreed. “Our parents were old souls- gentle, and fair too humble for their own good. Moving Dandelion's to the outdoor mall became a rather big affair. At the head of it was Strelitzia. Before Skuld was brought on to be our bona fide manager, it was Strelitzia.”

“Strelitzia's the one in charge of hiring new people too, right?” Ven asked. The thought had came to him suddenly. He could faintly remember his initial interview two or so years ago. Tired of being cooped up at home while Terra and Aqua worked at their respective jobs, Ven had been wandering around the outdoor mall for something to do. He walked by Dandelion's Floristry and Gardening, noticed the 'Now Hiring!' sign taped to the window, and immediately made a choice. Ephemer was the first person he got to know that worked here. Strelitzia became the second.

“She is.” Lauriam agreed with a smile and happy nod. “She has a natural intuition toward other people. We don't hire anyone without her say so.”

Elrena grunted. For a moment, Ven had to wonder why. Had Elrena tried to work here before?

“Point is,” Lauriam went on, “You can't separate this store from Strelitzia, or vice versa. Our parents might have started it, but she is Dandelion's Floristry and Gardening.”

Elrena was silent. The words settled around them as she thought long and hard over the idea. She knew he had a point, and she hated it.

“She's going to kill herself here.” she finally decided, looking up at Lauriam with a steely gaze. “How can she be happy when all she does is hurt herself?”

“Maybe you could ask her yourself.” Lauriam suggested with a sly grin. He then gave a rather bemused chuckle before taking the flowers to the backroom.

Elrena waited for when he was out of earshot just to mimic in a whining voice, “Maybe you could ask her yourself.” She huffed, folding her arms once again, then proceeded to act rather indignant. Ven didn't know why she was still in the store at this point.

He raised an eyebrow at her before questioning, “If you like Strelitzia so much, why don't you just tell her?”

“If you like that tramp Brain calls a sister so much, why don't you just tell her?” Elrena shot back, her voice still obnoxiously high. She let out a frustrated sigh before snapping at him, “It's not that simple, Roxas.”

Ven looked at her. Any thoughts about studying now were thrown out the window. If she wanted to go for the throat, then he was more than willing to fight back too.

“First of all,” he said, “My name is Ventus; Ven if you bothered to be nice for all of five seconds. Second, Strelitzia actually listens if you asked her to. And third, at least I'm trying.”

Elrena stood up a bit straighter at his assertion. A look of bewilderment crossed her face before being replaced with a snide smirk.

“Look at you, growing a spine.” Elrena marveled. Her voice was still chilly, though. “Keep that attitude up and you might just lose your virginity before graduation.”

It took Ven a solid three seconds for what she said to click. His face then started to flush a rather deep shade of red as he tried to return to his schoolwork. Elrena just snorted at him.

“Pathetic.” she mumbled under her breath. Then, without any warning, she shouted at the top of her lungs, “Well, if you're done talking to me, Lauriam, then I guess I'm out of here.”

Lauriam came out of the backroom just to wave her out.

“Have a safe trip home.” he told her. Elrena gave him a half hearted wave as she went on out. Ven, for one, was glad she was gone now. His joy at her departure did not go unnoticed. Lauriam looked over at him in thought for a moment.

“You're a lot braver than her, Ven.” Lauriam noted. “Just… next time? Be easier on her. She's not out of the closet yet.”

Admittedly, it took Ven a moment to realize what Lauriam said. When he turned around to give his coworker a funny glance, he was already gone.

[lizacstuff]

Hi! What did you think of ep23?I love your in depth thoughts on the episodes. I really enjoyed it, especially the EdSer moments (was smiling like an idiot during the skating scene - when Eda complained about it being hot (girl same), and also that she understood what he said in French omg). I hope the grandmother doesn't turn out to be as evil as everyone is assuming. I guess the one big con was Ayfer. She's gotten more annoying right? That's not just me? But I love me some Aydan!

Hello! Thank you for the kind words. Let's see, I did like the episode, but as I said in another ask I was a bit on edge while watching for a couple of reasons, but they're all Edser related so I'll talk about that when I talk about them at the end. As far as Ayfer is concerned, I FEEL YOU. 

Good grief, woman. Why does she have to be such a harpy? It feels like she complains about absolutely everything. Plus, she's forcing a situation where her beloved niece can't trust or confide in her, and all the girls have to hide Eda's work schedule from her. Look, if Ayfer doesn't want to spend time with Aydan, fine, but her anger towards and disapproval of Eda's job and her relationship with Serkan are completely selfish. She may tell herself she's disapproving for Eda's own good, but come on.

Because, seriously, what does Ayfer think she's protecting Eda from? Serkan is handsome, rich, successful and head over heels in love with Eda. Let's be honest, Eda could do worse. He might be a tad arrogant and controlling, but he's a very good man with a very good heart. Also he tries with Ayfer. I get the connection with Alptekin is upsetting, but Serkan and Aydan have cut him completely out of their lives and neither had anything to do with what happened. I also get that Ayfer was put off by the whole contract thing, but it took two to tango there, and Eda's entire world opened up because of that arrangement.

Maybe that's the problem? 

(more under the cut)

Maybe Ayfer can feel Eda expanding and growing and her world getting much bigger than Ayfer's and it scares her? She thinks she'll lose her, or won't recognize her? Privately, Serkan and Eda have talked about running away together, maybe Ayfer senses that's a possibility? (PRO TIP: Then don't be a negative force they have to get away from!) 

Also what's happening with this Chef Alexander thing? Is he actually going to make an appearance? Is there going to be a romance? I think that would be good, maybe that will salvage Ayfer's character and she'll get distracted and maybe even happy. I did laugh, though, at her her calling Aydan and Seyfi out on their lie about having him on board with their charity scheme. They should know better than to try that. Amateur move, kids!  But I will always applaud their matchmaking efforts when it comes to Eda and Serkan. 

I enjoyed the girls this episode. I like that they don't share Ayfer's concerns about Serkan and are ready to go to the mat for whatever Eda wants. Poor Melo is the worst detective, but she gets points for trying. Also points for picking up what Eda was putting down and skillfully sweeping Balca and her broken heel out of the way. I'd want Fifi for protection as well, girl is badass. I can't tell what this Fifi/Erdem thing is supposed to be.  Does she have a soft spot for him, she must because I don't know why she would give him the time of day otherwise. She's not one we have to worry about not being able to say no. If she wanted to rid herself of his presence, she'd do it. Ceren and Ferit are just kind of... there. I don't dislike it, but I also don't really care. They need something to spice that up.

Which is what we finally got with Engin and Piril! Holy moly, who is her dad!?! Mafia boss? Politician? Wealthy recluse? @alicekepley suggested on another post that maybe it's Aydan's first love. Now that would be interesting. Maybe he turned to a life of crime after being disappointed by Aydan? I am now looking forward to see how this plays out and how it affects them. However, there's one thing that gets me almost every episode. I love Engin and Anil, but he looks at least a decade older than Serkan, Piril, and Selin. So much so that I don't buy they could have gone to school together. This is where I'll have to call on my well honed suspension of disbelief I guess... I'll tell myself he spent a lot of time in the sun and is graying a bit prematurely. 

I did like Engin and Serkan sitting around commiserating about their relationships and hoping things were about to turn around. That's the more equal buddy talk I want to know happens. 

Speaking of Serkan, duuuuuuuuude. You're being hunted, wise up!  I'm really stuck on what he said to Sirius after Eda left his house at the top of the episode. "Don't look at me like that, everything is under control, I know perfectly well what I'm doing, this is my tactic." We know from last episode he thought Eda would show, and this episode while talking to Eda he told her that he was expecting her and the candles were for her.  So... did he purposely allow Balca in to provoke Eda's jealousy? If so, I'm not sure this is his best course of action. It's certainly not with regards to fanning Balca's dangerous pretensions, but I'm not sure he's getting his best result with Eda either. It's true that it gave him an excuse to flirt, make the bet, tease her, bask in her obvious jealousy even if she won't admit it, and get a Parisian date out of it. I suppose that's not a bad day's work. On the other hand, if he'd sent Balca on her way, he would have had a happy Eda, in his house, sitting on the couch next to him, watching a movie with him, which also could have led to a very good place for him.  

It's also a mystery to me if Serkan is really clueless about Balca's intentions, or if he's playing dumb to suit his own purposes with Eda. I'm thinking it's the middle. He probably sees it but thinks it's a whole lot more harmless than it is. Like maybe he gets Balca has a crush on him, but he has no suspicion that he's in dangerous fatal attraction territory. Which is where we are. I don't want to fling words like 'crazy' around, but... bitch be crazy! If she is capable of trying to large-scale sabotage his company in her pursuit of him, that's some seriously scary stuff. WAKE UP, SERKAN. 

I said I was uneasy while watching this episode and part of it was concern over what would happen with the tender, and worrying if Balca's sabotage was going to work, leaving Eda to blame. If that had gone the other way, the fallout would have been painful. Also storylines where a fav is falsely accused always make me antsy. I was able to handle the Serkan roof collapse one because it was at the end of the episode, and they were able to figure out that he wasn't responsible right off the top of the next. But this one had me on edge all ep.  I was especially nervous after Eda made the independent report on her recommended firm part of a trust test. Sweetie, I love you, but NOOOOO. That was not the move of a professional. Serkan, as the company principle, wanting to vet a partner or vendor is completely normal and has nothing to do with how much he trusts her. Put aside the fact that she's only been in the workforce for a few months, you always want a second set of eyes on something that important. Always. She showed some of her immaturity there, which is fine, she's young and inexperienced, but it's a sign of how desperate Serkan is for her to forgive him that he humored her. That man will do anything for her, even if it doesn't make sense or is potentially damaging. I get why the writer's did it, for the suspense of Eda being out on that limb all on her own, but it was also actually a bit of a missed opportunity for him to mentor her there. (And I love when she learns from him.)

The other reason I was uneasy watching this ep was due to some frustration with Eda. See above on the trust test, but it was also a little hard to watch her just completely succumb to Serkan's charm and be in the moment with him one moment, and then the next second shake it off and be adamant that she was going to be leaving the job and him shortly.  It felt like constant whiplash. Also if she won the bet she wanted him to leave her alone? Sure, Jan. She could have asked for something really good! We all know she doesn’t really want him to leave her alone, so that pretense has gotten harder and harder to take. However, the times she rebuffed him didn't bother me as much as when she told Melo she was leaving the job. I can chalk up the ones to Serkan as part of her act, trying to protect herself and poke holes in his pretensions, but when she said it to Melo it felt more real. Like that was really what she was still planning to do, and it's really hard to reconcile that with all the moments where she puts down her guard and it's obvious she's madly in love with him.  

On a positive note, scenes where it’s clear they’re madly in love with each other were plentiful this episode. The romantic robot used every opportunity he could find to make her melt. My GAWD she has a will of iron that she was able to back away from him after he recited all the ways he could tell if a woman (her) was in love with him. He is one smooth bastard. And boy does he know her, he knows exactly what he does to her. That scene was FIRE. Not to be crass, but how did they not do it right then and there? After the last few eps, they have to be at a 100 on a scale of 1-10 when it comes to pent up sexual energy. Hey Eda, maybe you wouldn't be so jealous if you knew he had an outlet for that. I'm just sayin'.

The lunch was pretty funny and I definitely enjoyed the kicking and the under the table conversation. After refusing to admit she was jealous, Eda totally deserved that Serkan said that whatever Balca's feelings for him were, they were between him and Balca. Eeesh. I see what he's doing, he's trying to bring her feelings out into the open, and she deserves it, but I don't think he realizes how vulnerable she is over everything. He's walking a tightrope here. However, I do appreciate that he finally just admitted that he's jealous. If he'd just done that in 18, he would have saved himself some angst. Are we to infer from Serkan asking Eda not to use emojis with Efe, that Edser likes to use emojis when they text? Or was that just a generic, "don't be cute with him?"  I think I'll take that Serkan and Eda use emojis, just because it tickles me to think of Serkan Bolat doing that. All of shipper twitter thinks that's the writers poking at the actors because of how much they use them with one another on social. Who knows, maybe that explains it, since it sort of came out of the blue. You gotta love, though, that every manipulative thing Balca did either failed or backfired spectacularly. Showing up at his place, sure she succeeded in upsetting Eda and derailing their night, but it also put Eda on her guard and brought about the flirty wager between Eda and Serkan. She left the earring, but Eda found it before she could use it as an excuse to return. She broke her heel, but that just gave her a ruined pair of shoes and Melo an excuse to get her out of there so Serkan and Eda could be alone. She and her devious friend succeeded in throwing Melo and Eda off the scent, however all that meant was that Serkan won the bet and gave him the pretense needed to get her to agree to the most romantic date on the planet. She sabotaged the report, but Eda still found out about the company's background and Eda was the hero when ArtLife won the tender. Balca: 0 percent success rate so far. 

THE ICE SKATING SCENES WERE PURE MAGIC!  It was fun to see the whole cast out there having a blast, but obviously it was the Edser scene at night that lit up the whole show. Damn was that pretty. (it's currently my ipad lock screen and home screen) The chemistry between the actors was on display all episode, but here it just exploded. When Eda said she was hot, no kidding! How could you not be? And I agree that Serkan speaking French to her was OMG. Love, love, love the date that Serkan planned for them in Paris. I'm bereft that we'll likely never see it. Damn you pandemic, look what you've taken from us! The characters, and the audience, deserve an entire episode of Paris romantic fluff. We've all earned this! 

The date sounded perfect and I found it very interesting that he had purposely never been to Montmartre. So at some point he promised himself he'd only go there with a woman he was truly in love with, makes me wonder if it was a much younger Serkan who made that promise. The Serkan we met in the pilot didn't believe in love, he was hard-hearted, he actually talked with Engin about how a contract, a bloodless business transaction, was the way to go for relationships. Robot Bolat. So I don't think he made that idealistic promise any time recently. If so, that means he's had that in the back of his mind for years, but Eda's the only woman he's ever considered taking. My heart. I love how the show keeps showing us and telling us that this is the first time Serkan has ever been in love. You could see in that scene that Eda was right there with him. She was so happy and in the moment and swept away by the romance. She was as excited for Paris as he was. I know we all wanted a kiss/declaration here, it would have been a very good moment for it. A very good one. But the show has other plans for them, so we wait.

So, yeah, I really liked the Edser we got, but Eda’s hot and cold act was hard to reconcile at times. However, perhaps it all came together in the end, when she's talking to Melo and Ceren about Paris. She was feeling troubled over it, probably what agreeing to go with him meant, but they both told her to listen to her heart in Paris and it seems like she was going to do it: "From now on I'll stop worrying. I'm opening a new page in life." So I think in that moment she was ready for next steps and was planning to be open with him in Paris, let's hope it carries over to the next episode even without Paris. 

Actually, that whole conversation was a bit of a window into her psyche and was more illuminating than almost anything in the episode in that regard. When Eda says she’s worried, Melo teases her that she's nervous to be alone with Serkan Bolat, and then jokes that all young women would like to have that problem, including herself.  Eda does NOT like that joke and actually verbalizes it, "Melo, at least you don't do that."  That was a huge spotlight into Eda's insecurities, like she is really discombobulated by witnessing women showing interest in him while they're in such a nebulous place. Since she is coming off of what happened with Selin, and was already feeling jealous when the first candidate set her off with (her creepy) talk of chemistry last episode, then finding Balca at Serkan's house in the opening scene, I suppose it's no surprise that all of that has had some residual effects. But that it's to the point where she can't take a joke from Melo is telling. Poor thing.  

My hope is that this is just something she's working through while she's feeling off-kilter about everything. It would be one thing if they were together, but she's in this headspace where half the time she says she's leaving and it's over between them and half the time she acting like his wife, so I think she's just discombobulated. Maybe she just wants time to figure things out, but feels like she doesn’t have it, because someone is going to swoop in and take her place and that’s feeding her jealousy? The fact that Serkan can’t see it (Selin and Balca) until it’s out of control doesn’t help. 

It's natural for her to be upset that this woman has entered the scene and is clearly trying to maneuver herself into Eda's place in Serkan's life. However, there is an easy fix to this. Just go be with him. Come on, Eda, we know you can do it! You're ready. You’re primed. Bring on the New Year's Ep!

[hoe-imaginess]

replies

I lost a bunch of replies from a few weeks ago, sorry!! I think when my inbox gets too full, Tumblr likes to delete my stuff

@hikaru-mikazuki​

thank you!!!! Fatherhood is a tricky thing for Hawks, but it works out after a little angst <3

@mariamatuni​ 

hello!!! yeah Tumblr messes up sometimes :/

I’m doing alright. Still dealing with finding the right meds/dosage for my sleeping issues, and I’m social distancing still because of other health reasons. So being indoors this long is really taking its toll, understandably, lmao. I’m just trying to find ways to stay active and productive! Whether it’s reading, writing, cooking, doing crafts, etc. Thank you for asking! <3

THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY THANK YOUUU! I’m really on my Dabi shit these days and I really hope the Dabi content is good. (the roommate fic was updated in case you haven’t seen!!!! it was one of my favorite fics to write tbh)

srsly though thank you so much!!

Thank you so much!!!! Honestly, he seems like he would appreciate a casual approach, rather than his crush coming up to him and being romantic/flirty from the get-go. Even if he has feelings for them, a direct approach like that will really throw him for a loop

He thinks it’s SO improper of her tbh. Very ‘un-ladylike’

Yes I definitely think Madara’s insecurities can show up in a relationship, especially when he really cares about his s/o. 

Hello! I can’t remember if I’ve answered this already so sorry if I have—I don’t think Madara or any Uchiha would force the termination, but I think they would make life hard for mother and the baby, and the mother knows this, so she would (based on the way I wrote the MC in the fic) do it herself. And the uchiha would probably expect her to

I actually don’t have a tik tok but I’ve heard of the thirst community on there lmao ESPECIALLY for those two

Omg thanks so much AHHHH!! I love writing Dabi so much, I hope to have more for him out soon

THIS MAKES ME HAPPY AH! I’m glad you liked them!!!

I change my mind so much about what Hawks would be into because I can see him being really open, but at the same time, really firm about what he wants. I definitely think he’s open about sexual relationships, but personal, intimate relationships with a romantic partner definitely need to be treated more carefully

Thanks so much!!!! Hope you’re doing well too!

I honestly have a small draft in my docs about a reverse situation where reader is the one suffering from the aphro. quick and Dabi has to help her out buttttt idk if that’s technically a sequel?? Who knows. Would be pretty interesting though... lots of people have mentioned it, so I’m definitely thinking about it

I think he can be sadistic but I don’t think he’s a fuckboy at all. At least not in the sense that he’s a womainizer? Like, at least the way I write him (or try to) is that sex is far from the first thing on his mind, but he’ll indulge it when he sees the opportunity. I think there’s a bit more room for him to be *sexually active* in AUs? Like, an ABO fic, for example

And as for why that interpretation exists... idk! Can’t stop horny fans from being horny ya feel lol

I haven’t written anything for mm in a longgggg time! I only played the basic routes before they added more to it a few years ago

THANK YOU!!!

<3 this message gave me serotonin 

I.... tbh it’s not my cup of tea!!!! Something about it just makes me feel weird sksksksk. A friend bought me a subscription so I could check out the patreon page, but it wasn’t really for me. Maybe I’ll try to get into it again at some point!

!!! Thank you!!!

I definitely feel like that’s a big madara thing!!( Dabi.... it depends lol)

GOOD!!!! We love our Hot Topic King

I guarantee you people have poked fun at him before because of that and he tries to laugh through it like hahaha :D yeah super funny guys :D but on the inside he’s -.-

I’m so glad!!!! This makes me very happy, I hope I can continue to put out good stuff for you <3 tysm

Thank you!!!

I can tell you rn Tobirama would walk in then walk right back out sksksk

I 100% agree with this. I’m not sure if he’s a virgin, but for the sake of writing the smut people ask for, I feel he’d be... someone who enjoys sex as an outlet for stress (and sometimes anger). But it’s literally one of the last things on his mind. When he’s in the moment, sure, he’s focused on it. But he’s not constantly thinking about sex, or seeking sex, or anything similair to that

Thank you for this <3

I think if it’s really intense he purposely detaches some of the feathers he knows will get in the way—otherwise yeah his wings totally twitch and stretch and shake when the sex is BOMB

I can definitely see that!

I’m really into Dabi rn to an unfathomable degree... I can’t escape. I’m definitely into BNHA right now but I’m still working on Naruto projects, and a few other fandoms

why of course (;

Thank you so much!!!!!!

I honestly wonder about this like... when I write Dabi smut... do I include the Pube Issue??? Let’s just pretend it doesn’t exist

Thank you so much <3

I think he would appreciate it at first, but after a while he would start feeling sort of... inadequate? Basically, like he’s not stepping up like he should. But at the same time, he still has his hero work, so it’s difficult for him to take initiative and be like “Nah, you know what? I’m ready for fatherhood” 

I do have one I need to put out soon! It’s just sitting in my drafts. I really need to work on it

I’m really into the idea that Hawks still has bird-like instincts so him/his family having the SHINY THING?? fixation is.... so funny to me. But that would definitely make sense!

LMAOOOOO hell nope. couldn’t be me. sorry pre-design Hawks

He would definitely see where she’s coming from, and honestly, might be a little relieved to hear it, AT FIRST. But then the guilt would come to him, and like what happened in the fic, he’d probably come around and convince her to make it work

GOOD!

IT REALLY IS! I always think about this tbh

Yeah y/n really out here having fun isn’t she!!!

For the canon AU fics I write, yes definitely! I really don’t think I could exclude hero work and keep the fic loyal to the culture of hero society. It gives a lot to their character, but honestly, it creates more room for angst. Which I love <3

Not really! I mean, we see so little of them that most of the way I see/write them is really just me digging deeper to see what fits. Sometimes I’ll rewatch a scene from the show and think of something new, but otherwise, most of the characterization really just stems from the little bits we see of them. I take it and run with it lol

HONESTLY you’re absolutely not wrong

[ifthesescarscouldspeak]

My Little Secret

(TW - Mental health, self harm, suicide, therapy)

How many of these titles will be Citizen Soldier titles? Most of them, as a tribute to one of the best (for me) bands who can sum up when having depression feels like.

If you don't know who they are, get on Spotify, immediately.

I find them so cathartic when I'm in a bad place. Much the same I assume as people feel when they listen to a particularly relevant heartbreak song, I identify with so many of Citizen Soldier's songs, it is actually crazy.

And is kind of wonderful to have something as powerful as music to relate to, in more than just an 'I'm sad' kind of way.

Maybe it's just me. If you have other bands you think sum up having depression better, HMU in the notes.

Anyways, it's an apt title, because no one knows I'm writing this blog.

I prefer it that way, tbh. That way, I can actually write without censoring myself. Because I often do.

The moment a friend or family member comes across one of these outlets, I have to put more effort into what I write. It's no longer a stream of consciousness, so much as I need to check myself, make sure no one is going to get upset, consider it from every angle, who it might get back to etc etc. Which defeats its point entirely.

It's supposed to relieve weight, not add to it.

And it's not their fault, they just get upset when they realise the absolute depths that my depression goes to.

I think that's a common misconception actually. People seem to think if you have depression, you are either 'a bit sad and fed up' or you are suicidal. That's it, no middle ground.

I think it's possible to go further than suicidal. Like, you've shot passed the point where you have considered ending things, and now, even that feels like too much work.

Admittedly, often as I think about suicide, it's normally in a glorified fantasy way of "what if". The same as when I would occasionally wonder "What if I had met a millionaire..." You know?

I've kinda been there, done that on the suicide thing. I think nowadays, I know in my heart of hearts that I can't do it. I can't do it to everyone else. So nowadays, the real red flag of my 'dark place' tends to be self harm.

That's another one I think people have a misconception on. Self harm. You can say it and people go, "Oh, okay, so you're a cutter."

Oh, sweet summer child. There is so much more to self harm than that.

For me, self harm can look like a lot of things.

It can be the deep and desperate desire to consume alcohol in large quantities (despite being teetotal due to meds and past alcoholism), with rose tinted notions of how being drunk is better, because it puts you in a fog where nothing can touch you.

It can be the intense need for junk food; pizza, cake, chocolate, McDonalds, KFC, takeaways, desserts... despite being on a diet for the last year on which I have lost nearly 4 stone.

It can be the innate driving need to hurt myself badly enough that I end up in hospital. A broken arm, wrist or leg perhaps. I can't tell you the number of times I have thought about smashing my wrist with a hammer. It looks like it would be so easy.

It can be the physical punishment of myself. Full on punching, slapping, savagery with my nails on my own face. Raking score marks through my skin, trying to raise bruises... for no reason other than a need to suffer. To hurt.

I'll admit I don't feel any of the 'physical hurt is easier to control' thing. I just want me to hurt. Whether its because I'm angry at myself for something specific, or I just need to let my anger out in some manner... I don't know.

Wow, this ramble is long. Sorry about that. I got sidetracked. Has got me thinking I should probably think about therapy again. Maybe.

I 'think' about therapy a lot. It doesn't do much. Had a couple of terrible experiences with therapy and it makes me reluctant to try again.

Hey, if you are in a bad place too, lemme say this.

You are way stronger than you think you are. And more than that, regardless of anything else that you might think or feel right now, you are enough. Just the way you are.

xx

[osomagine-san]

Matsu bro’s dealing with the death of their S/O? How would they cope?

Well, we already know that Osomatsu has some mild problems with dissociation. 

They probably skyrocket after his S/O dies-- they made him feel like he was a real person, not the “default” sextuplet. They helped him realize so many things about himself and grow, and he couldn’t picture himself without them. He jumps back and forth between going back to how he was before you-- nosing in on his brothers’ lives and trying to insert himself as much as possible-- and shutting himself alone in a room for days on end without contacting anyone.

It’s primarily Choromatsu and Todomatsu that help him snap out of it the most. Todomatsu has a no-nonsense and cutthroat approach, which forces Osomatsu to be honest while he talks about how alone he feels even in a room with his brothers, and how he hates that he’s gone back to who he was before without you, but he just doesn’t know how to act anymore, and he’s so tired. Choromatsu provides a surprising amount of emotional support, and lets his oldest brother cry a bit on his shoulder. He suggests that Osomatsu maybe see a therapist about this, and Todomatsu has the connections to set that up. 

He’d hurt a lot at first, but he’d eventually be okay. He probably wouldn’t seek out another proper S/O for at least a long time, but he has needs. He knows that you wouldn’t want it to hold him back forever, so he does his best not to let that happen.

Karamatsu is rather lost, but he’s quick to realize that he’s better for having known his S/O. He’s a bit more self-confident in a real way, embracing his dorkier side and using English half as a joke and half because he just likes it.

It’s hard at first, because he keeps reaching out for their hand only to find that they’re not there. He checks his voicemails, hoping that they’ll have called to explain why they aren’t around, but there’s nothing there. His brothers tread a little too lightly around him, and that upsets him, too. He just wants things to go back to normal, but “normal” is different. The change is hard, too.

He ends up mumbling to you under his breath every so often. When his brothers are rude to him, a small, “[S/O’s name], are you hearing this?” before he sticks up for himself. It’s really hard at first, but he can look back on the time they spent together and tell people (mainly Chibita, while drunk and rambling) how great his S/O was before they were taken from him.

It’s not very noticeable, at first, how Choromatsu grieves, but it soon becomes apparent that he’s a lot more particular. He keeps the house immaculate, cleaning over and over and over and never letting his mind rest for even a second. He somehow, finally, manages to land a job-- he isn’t coming off as over-eager because he’s trying not to let his mind wander.

It isn’t any particular moment that triggers the sudden breakdown in front of his brothers. They were just talking, and Choromatsu didn’t have enough to do with his hands while they did, but his face was suddenly wrinkled up with tears liberally pouring. He tries to apologize to his brothers, because of course he would only break down when all of them were present. Of course something like this couldn’t happen when he was alone, again, in bed, waiting to fall asleep.

“I feel like it’s my fault,” he cries. For not being there with them. For not knowing sooner. For making it to the hospital too late. Not saying goodbye; not being good enough, yet, for God to decide that he deserved someone like them, and taking them away to punish him. He can’t articulate this, because he knows it doesn’t make any logical sense-- but feelings don’t very often, do they?

A lot of the brothers breathe a sigh of relief when he starts to cry-- they were worried about him. They could all tell that he was bottling up his feelings, but they’re glad that he’s letting them out, now. They’re there for him. They’ll make fun of him a little bit, but when they do, he smiles a bit. That’s just how his brothers are.

It takes a while for Ichimatsu to be found after his S/O dies. He ran away from home, and lived on the streets with the alley cats for almost a month. He was bone-thin when he came home, with the darkest bags anyone had seen on him.

It was actually, surprisingly, Iyami that convinced him to go back home. There were a lot of motivations behind it, such as, as soon as Ichimatsu started living on the streets, a lot of the garbage food became much more scarce; and Ichimatsu was always so depressing-looking, it really brought down the already-sad vibe of underneath the bridge. Either way, the surprising wisdom that Iyami held came in the form of laughter.

“It’s my fault...” Ichimatsu had been saying, to finish up his story. “I should have been there... they were my S/O, and I couldn’t even...”

It was then that Iyami burst out laughing.

“Why are you laughing?!” Ichimatsu drew more into himself. He needed some sympathy, but he should have known better than to confide his truest feelings in someone like him...

“How could you possibly think that?!” Iyami responded. Tears poured from his eyes-- this was so funny to him. “How could you think that [S/O’s name]’s death was because you didn’t do something?!” He calmed himself down, wiping tears from his eyes, but couldn’t stop the occasional snicker. “How would you have known that would even have stopped it from happening? Karamatsu, you’re stupider than I thought.”

“I’m Ichimatsu.”

What a horrible way to phrase something like that, he thought. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Somehow, it was exactly what he needed to hear to face his family, again.

The next morning, the few things he’d had with him were packed away and gone.

It wasn’t the first time Jyushimatsu had lost a S/O, but by god, was it the worst. The sunshine boy had little sun left in him-- it had turned into a raging fire. His high school self would be envious.

Despite the newfound and juvenile anger he now held, he found that he no longer had an outlet for it. Everything reminded him of his S/O, and unfortunately, that included baseball. He spent his pent-up energy breaking things. It started small with glasses, plates, vases; Matsuyo chastised him for this, which only made him feel worse and angrier. He knocked them over onto the ground, like a cat, but sometimes when he just needed to feel something, he would use a little more force. Nothing particularly scary-- it became an annoyance after a while.

Of course, he would never hurt anybody. It came close, though, when he came into a confrontation with Choromatsu (who was sick and tired of checking the floor for glass shards before walking anywhere). Todomatsu stuck up for Choromatsu, saying that they wouldn’t take being bullied anymore. They all got it, he was upset, but the way he’d been handling it was totally unhealthy. He needed to get help or get out. A vase flew right past Todomatsu’s head, not because it had been thrown at him, but because it had been thrown at all. Todomatsu’s front came crumbling down, and he started crying.

“Get your shit together.” Choromatsu glowered, and the glare shot through Jyushimatsu.

That was when Jyushimatsu also started crying. He almost hurt someone-- he’d almost hurt his little brother! How could he do that? It was absolutely the first time he had ever come close to hurting someone, and he never, ever, ever, wanted it to happen again.

Totty muttered something snide about how crying wouldn’t get him out of this situation, but Matsuyo came running. She watched her baby boy, her happy Jyushimatsu, turn angry and act out. Hearing him cry triggered all of her motherly instincts and she held him tightly. She wouldn’t take his breaking things sitting down, but she knew why he was upset and didn’t know how to help him get better.

As a family, the eight of them sat down and talked about how they could better support Jyushimatsu during this difficult time. And slowly, Jyushimatsu got back to smiling and swinging his bat in the park again-- starting and ending with a few small words to honour you before getting to it.

[TW: Mentions of suicidal thoughts. Also I’m so sorry that this one is so much longer than the others-- my Todomatsu Boy is showing ;;]

Two-faced Todomatsu, on the outside, seemed like he refused to accept your death. When his brothers, or anyone, asked about his S/O, he pretended like he had no idea who they were talking about. Sometimes he’d let small things slip like, “They sound really cute... Maybe you’d set me up?”, but otherwise, radio silence from him about it. Even his sleep didn’t seem to be too disturbed.

The first hint to getting through to him about the incident was the fact that Choromatsu noticed that he was no longer being woken up at night to help Todomatsu to the bathroom. When Choromatsu brought it up, the other four said that they hadn’t been asked, either.

The second was that suddenly, Todomatsu was always on his phone, and never let his brothers peer over his shoulder. Him and Osomatsu used to often watch videos online, and that was a habit that Todomatsu not only cut out, but pretended as though it never happened in the first place.

The third was that he started leaving the house less and less. He stopped going to mixers with Atsushi (to the point he even came over to their house to see if he was alright), and gradually started doing less and less until he pretty much never left the house.

It went on for months like this. Soon, most dropped the idea that there was something wrong with Todomatsu. Other than those behaviours, he was acting totally normal, if not a little bit stir-crazy.

Osomatsu caught him one night, though. Todomatsu had tossed and turned a while in their futon, and eventually gave up sleeping and got up and went to the bathroom. Osomatsu hadn’t gotten any sleep at all, and suddenly remembered that Todomatsu used to always ask for help with that. He kind of assumed that he’d started holding it overnight, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

Osomatsu followed Todomatsu quietly, and leaned his ear up against the closed bathroom door.

“...[S/O’s name]?” A sniffle. “I hope your day was good. I didn’t leave the house, again. I... I know I should, I know you want me to, but I can’t, yet. I don’t know when I’ll be able to. I’m sorry.” His voice broke as he continued. “I miss you so much. I hope I get to see you again, soon. I’ve been thinking about it again... I don’t think I’ll do it, but who can tell the future?” A sob. “I miss you so much. I wish you were here. I wish we were together.” He cried for a while, to himself. Even Osomatsu felt like he was intruding. With a sniffle, Todomatsu finished. “...Okay, well... I won’t keep you any longer, tonight. Have a good sleep, wherever you are, okay? Goodnight. I love you.” Aishiteru.

Osomatsu should have left. He felt intensely like he should never have heard that, and he was aware that if even he knew that, then maybe all the more so. Todomatsu remained in the bathroom for a few more minutes-- Osomatsu heard the sink running a bit-- before he stepped out.

The eldest sextuplet had been frozen in place, so he was right up close to the door. The pair stared at each other for a long time.

“O-Osomatsu-niisan...” Todomatsu said quietly. His tone was indecipherable.

“Todomatsu.”

The pair of them didn’t speak, but moved silently together. Neither of them really knew what the other wanted, but they found themselves sitting on the roof, together.

Osomatsu didn’t quite know what to say. He wasn’t any good at this kind of thing... Literally any of their other brothers would be better off in this position, or would be able to say something helpful right then.

“Did you... How much did you hear?” Todomatsu finally asked. His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“All of it,” Osomatsu replied. Totty flinched back at that. “Or, um, none of it. I just had to take a dump.” 

Another silence passed between them. It was like the pair of them were sharing a mind, because they both were thinking, That was a stupid-ass thing to say.

The silence went on for so long, that eventually Todomatsu stood.

“We should get back inside before they notice,” he said. He grinned at his oldest brother the way he always does.

“Is that why we don’t watch together, anymore?” Osomatsu asked. This was probably his only shot at seeing Todomatsu so real, right now.

Todomatsu’s face fell, and he sat back down.

“You don’t... want me to see... the voicemails?” His voice comes and goes as he tries to puzzle it out.

“No, I just... I mean, yes, that’s part of it.” The wind blows through their hair. The night is completely quiet, as if it, too, was waiting for Todomatsu’s heart to pour. “I don’t want... to be seen. I don’t want you to see what I’m doing, or what I’m watching, or who I’m following or who’s following me. I just want something all to myself. I want me all to myself. Not that you could ever understand that.”

They talked for a while. Though his voice wavered, Todomatsu didn’t cry. The topic of conversation started at that night and ranged through the skies and the heavens before making its way back down to Earth. Todomatsu didn’t really say how he was feeling, but Osomatsu offered his ear if he ever needed to talk.

“And I mean it,” he said, “say the word and I’m there. I’ll lose one hundred thousand dollars at pachinko if you need me.”

“No, don’t do that!” Todomatsu shoved him playfully. “If you’ve got that much money in pachinko, I can wait!”

“Nope, if you need me, I can be drowning in the middle of the ocean, but if you need me, I’ll cut that shit right out and I will be there.”

“You’re so mushy tonight, Osomatsu-niisan!” Todomatsu laughed, something real that he hadn’t heard in a while.

“So are you!”

They laughed a bit, together.

“But seriously. If you need me, I’m there. This is not a request. Got it?”

Todomatsu laughed a bit. “Got it.”

[dudeandduchess]

Hurt Giyuu Week, Day 1: Breakup | Tomioka Giyuu x F!S/O

Warnings: Angst, Breakup, More Angst Words: 1,848

Note: Hey hey, bbys! We’re finally here! HURT. GIYUU. WEEK. I hope all of you have as much fun as I’m having rn. Please don’t forget to drink some water after you dry your tears (because it’s surely not just me doing this). Lmao. Hope you guys like it! 💖

Happy Holidays, everyone! 🥰

***

She didn’t know how many more times she could keep telling herself to let things go; to keep overlooking things, just so she could still get to keep him. (Y/n) didn’t know just how strong she could keep forcing herself to be, even when her heart always broke whenever he walked away from her without even a single word.

Giyuu would be gone for weeks at a time, with nothing but radio silence filling the distance between them. She always worried over him; fretted if he was eating right, or if he was even still alive… yet her letters were never returned; nor was she comforted with immediate and heartfelt homecomings when his missions were over.

From the very beginning of their relationship, she was sure that she had been receiving nothing more than the simple, paltry scraps of Giyuu’s attention— yet she still stayed. Because she loved him.

Loved him enough to absolutely lose herself in him.

Every touch, as well as every kiss, was enough to take away the pain she felt— but only for a while. Whenever their physical acts of love were over, she was always taken back to her reality: that she was madly in love with someone who didn’t really want— or need— her.

Maybe it was wrong of her to keep telling herself that he might turn around and return her feelings one day, but she knew that it was nothing more than a blatant lie that she tried to console her bleeding heart with.

While women her age dreamt of grand weddings and tacky receptions, she was stuck wishing that the man she loved would— at the very least— actually look at her and see her for once. She wanted Giyuu to see her as more than a warm body that he could keep coming back to.

But those days were past her. Her hurt had been too much to bear; and with the coming of a new season came an unexpected realization: that she should stop clinging to whatever comfort that having a lover provided, and find her own self before giving more of her heart away.

Because if she kept going at that point, without getting anything in return, then she would inevitably burn her own self out. She would be leaving nothing for herself, and that would be the ultimate reason for her demise.

Whether she liked it or not, she had to learn how to live her life without him beside her.

So, with a heavy heart, she sat and waited for Giyuu’s return; counting down the days before he would come back and visit her again.

She even had everything planned out. Her whole speech had been written down and memorized; and she had made sure to always keep her emotions in check— because there was no way in hell, or high water, that she would let him see her shed a tear. She vowed to not be weak around him; because she deserved to, at least, have that much of a victory.

However, the day came sooner than she expected.

The same quiet sound of the shoji to her room opening alerted her to his presence, as the gently swaying of the breeze outside made the wind chimes tinkle. Giyuu stepped in from the engawa, and wordlessly closed the door behind him.

(Y/n) for all her bravado, was sat stock still on her futon. Her blanket had pooled around her waist, while her hands wrung the aged material between her fingers.

Her heart felt like it was going to jump out of her chest, what with how hard it was pounding. Hell, she could even feel her heart beat thrumming through her ears. Every heavy beat had her gripping her blanket tighter, until her knuckles had turned white with the force she exerted upon the thick cloth.

“Is there something wrong, (Y/n)?” Giyuu asked flatly, as he began to close the distance between himself and his clearly distraught lover.

“Please don’t come any closer,” The young woman managed to squeeze out past her lips, before attempting to blink back the tears that sprung up into her eyes. She knew that if he managed to get closer to her, everything that she’d worked so hard to convince herself of would vanish into thin air.

She would inevitably fall for him all over again; if he just reached out and managed to touch her. Because, no matter how much she tried to tell herself otherwise, she was still irrevocably in love with him.

No matter how much it hurt her, she still cared about him; and maybe she always would.

“(Y/n)?” The Hashira asked once more, that time with more worry in his tone than she had ever heard him use before.

And, inevitably, that roused that small part inside her that still wanted to believe that he cared about her more than he let on. That small part fought to be heard above her brain’s sound logic; and it told her to stay— to stay with him and see where things led.

Because there was still a chance that someday, maybe, he might make her feel that she meant more to him than he let on.

But, immediately, her resilient mind quashed the tiny flares of hope that were beginning to brew inside her— before they could get bigger and keep her hanging on to a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere.

If people could even consider their handfuls of rendezvous every month as a relationship.

Giyuu took another step forward, which had (Y/n)’s hands gripping the blanket tighter— while her gaze never left him; as it hadn’t ever since he’d entered her room.

“Don’t! Stay where you are… please, Giyuu,” She cried out, as the tears she’d been trying so hard to suppress rolled down her cheeks in hot rivulets. “Please don’t make this any harder than it already is. Just… please… listen.”

Silence answered her plea, which was both a relief and another dagger to her already-bleeding heart. As his silence either meant that he was respecting her wishes, or that he simply didn’t care enough to protest; she could never really tell with him.

And that was when another realization hit: She didn’t know much about him— or anything of importance, really. She knew the basics: his name, where he was from, and what he did for a living… but she didn’t know him outside of those things.

Yes, she knew of his long silences, and his blatant dislike for speaking… but, other than those two things, she didn’t know him at all.

Hell, she didn’t even know what his favorite food was. Because he never took the time to tell her about it; nor did he make the effort to show her all of the places that he liked to visit.

She had been nothing more than a physical outlet for him, and that had the last bits of her heart crumbling into nothingness.

At that, all of the spiels she had taken the time to practice came barreling out the proverbial window; as they were of no use, since they spoke of love and other feelings that their relationship never really had. She had merely assumed that feelings that weren’t there, were there… because she had been desperate for someone to love her, and she clung on to the first man who showed her some scrap of attention.

“I… I can’t do this anymore. Whatever this is between us… I can’t keep doing it.” (Y/n) gritted her teeth to hold back a sob, only to inhale sharply and sniffle with the effort she exerted to tamp her own emotions down. “I’m so tired of always waiting for you to return my feelings, Giyuu… even when a part of me knows that it will never happen.”

The pair stared at each other for a while, until (Y/n) lost her courage and broke away from their intense stare-off. Because she would gladly lose the battle, if it meant that she would win the war.

“Please don’t come back here ever again. If there is even a tiny shred of you that cares about my wellbeing, please let me forget about you.” Tears kept falling from her eyes, which felt like a backhanded slap to Giyuu’s face.

He had initially entered the relationship with (Y/n) with no intention of pursuing it further than physical release, and he had thought that that was the case… until that moment.

Because he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest with every word that passed from her lips. He had been so confident with the idea that he would not develop any feelings for her, but he was completely and utterly mistaken.

And it was only at that moment that he realized just how deeply his feelings ran for her.

When before he couldn’t care less about not seeing her smile at him, he couldn’t even imagine a life without seeing her in it— after she had expressed her wish for him to let her go.

“Don’t leave me, (Y/n)… please.” But it seemed that it was too late, as (Y/n) had already made up her mind; and no desperate plea could change her mind.

He didn’t even realize that he had begun to cry, until he felt a warm tear drip off his chin.

“Please, don’t do this. I… I love you.”

Giyuu had meant his words with all the sincerity he had in his person, but it didn’t come across the way he’d intended to. Instead, it made (Y/n)’s soft gaze harden into a glare, as her hands noticeably tightened even more around her blanket.

She had never felt so insulted in her life; because for Giyuu to throw those words at her at such a time was a definite low blow. It was as if he thought that she would be swayed so easily by his desperate attempt to win her back.

“Leave. Now,” She hissed— clearly livid at Giyuu for thinking that he could sway her so easily.

“But (Y/n)…”

“Leave! You bastard! Leave me alone!” The young woman screeched with all the anger she could muster, before reaching behind her and hurling her pillow at him with all her might. It completely missed her intended target and bounced off of the shoji behind Giyuu, before landing right at his feet.

“LEAVE!” That made Giyuu jump in surprise, as he had never heard such hatred aimed at him. So, even if his heart was completely set against it, he conceded to her wishes and left.

However, just as he was about to close the shoji, he said one last time… “I really do… love you, (Y/n). I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

And when the thin partition had snapped shut, (Y/n) let go of the tight reign she had on her emotions and let everything go. Loud, ugly sobs poured from her lips, as she doubled over and hugged herself as tightly as she could; because she had no one but herself from then on… as it always had been.

[fermataheart]

dead art | silas & metzli

TIMING: Current. LOCATION: Metzli’s gallery. PARTIES: @fermataheart​ & @deathisanartmetzli​ SUMMARY: A little misunderstanding leads to a surprisingly positive outcome. CONTENT WARNINGS: Sibling death (mentions). 

It took hours to get the smell of death off of them last night. Three showers later and some perfume, and Metzli felt like they finally got it off. All they had wanted to do last night was unwind, but a stranger just had to bump into them. He just had to pull out the threatening growls from a spot reserved for their need to feel a little pain and distract themselves from their thoughts. Why they couldn’t find a better outlet, Metzli never bothered to try to find out. They were willing to just walk past, to ignore that deeply ingrained need to attack. But the stranger would not allow for that.

The two walked away after being evenly matched, or rather, because Metzli used their evasive tactics to just wear him out. Needless to say, they were a little sore as they made their rounds around the gallery. Things were finally back to normal, and patrons had long forgotten the recent show Eilidh and them gave everyone. The gallery’s success was of great importance to Metzli, and it made them feel good to see people enjoying their time surrounded by art they hand picked.

With a delighted sigh, Metzli walked towards the front as a familiar smell began to permeate through the door. Their smile turned into a frown immediately. A distasteful, and nauseating smell of death. An over-decayed smell of death. Similar to Macleod’s but much stronger. “What are you doing here?” They asked, gritting their teeth and marching towards Silas.

---

Memory issues, that was it. That had to be it. Maybe he wasn’t eating enough, going too long between meals, relying on squirrels and raccoons to sustain him… maybe it fucked with his memory. There was no other reason he should be losing time, but he was. Hours of his days and nights, just… gone. It was either memory issues, or the worst dissociation he’d ever experienced. And it had happened again last night—one minute he was laying in bed, waiting to fall asleep, and the next? Stumbling back into his apartment, confused. His clothes seemed damaged, like he’d gotten into a fight, but of course there wasn’t a mark on his body to prove it.

Ignoring it, Silas tried to squeak in a few hours of rest before the next evening rolled around and it was time for him to try out this painting thing. His stomach protested its emptiness, forcing him to go out and forage for some roadkill to sate his appetite, if only for a few hours. Gods, there had to be a better way to go about this.

Getting cleaned up as best he could in a nearby stream and making sure none of his dark clothing was stained with the carcass’ fluids, Silas hoofed it back into town and over to the gallery.

The less-than-welcome reception surprised him, and his thick brows furrowed in response. “Excuse me?” he grumbled, taken aback. “You’re Metzli, right? Came for the painting class you promised… for the writer’s block.” Confusion was evident on his face as he gave them a once-over, dark eyes narrowing. “Sorry do I—do I know you from somewhere?”

---

Metzli’s eye twitched at Silas’ apparent confusion. He was definitely the guy who incited the fight they had. For now though, they were going to give him the benefit of the doubt. “You started a fight with me. Last night. On Amity.” A layer of annoyance and disdain laced their tone and they stepped closer. “Do you not remember any of that? It was definitely you. I would remember those eyebrows anywhere.” A small dig, but a dig nonetheless.

Silence fell between the two and a hand gripped onto Silas’ hand to drag him into their office. Metzli wanted privacy, especially if there was something supernatural going on. Silas could have general memory loss, or be possessed, or maybe he was feral, or maybe he had a twin. Though, there was no way the scents would match exactly. Regardless, they wanted to get to the bottom of this.

“Okay,” Metzli began, sitting on their desk and crossing their arms, “Let’s go through this. It was you, but you don’t remember. That much is obvious given your genuine confusion. I think you’d remember hitting me with your own fucking arm and laughing hysterically.” Red eyes met with Silas’ and then they quickly faded back to black. Even with their composure intact, they were ready to pounce at any given moment.

---

“A fight?” Silas parroted them, eyes widening. “I don’t—what are you talking about?” The gentle tease drew a scoff from him, but anger was hardly his reaction. He was too damn confused to be angry, in all truthfulness.

Aforementioned brows rose at the intrusion of his personal space, but he didn’t put up much of a fight as they dragged him out of the entryway. “What the fuck,” he breathed to himself, crossing his arms over his chest once they were alone and Metzli had relinquished their grip on him, mirroring their defensive stance.

“My—my arm?” the zombie bleated in disbelief, immediately looking down at his limbs as if they would have suddenly sprouted little legs and taken off on their own. They were still both present, of course, and functioning as well as they ever had. He glanced back up just in time to catch the red glint in their eyes, and felt his stomach drop. Fuck.

“Look, uh… I don’t know, I think you got the wrong guy,” he backpedaled, rubbing his hands up and down his own arms. It was weird hearing someone tell you you’d done something you couldn’t remember—even worse when they told you you’d been dismembered doing it. “All arms are present n’ accounted for, so… sorry somebody jumped you, but I don’t see how it coulda been me…”

---

Eyes narrowed, annoyed and displeased. “Obviously you’re a zombie. I’m not an idiot. Your limbs heal fast.” Sucking their teeth, Metzli stood erect and paced around their desk to reach a drawer with a few bottles of wine. Today felt like a generous one. As they took two glasses out and poured, they raised their brows and spoke. “Listen, I believe you when you say you don’t know what I’m talking about. This place is fucking weird, and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone hijacked your body or if you were sleep walking. But it was you. I can smell you.” A glass was pushed forward to Silas, a gesture of good will.

The wine was dry, and a special blend that they had purchased from a special bar, but given Silas’ condition, they didn’t think it’d be an issue. Dulled taste was something that the two of them shared, but the blood would add something to it. “Hope you don’t mind some blood in it. It just actually tastes like something if there’s a little in it.” The first sip settled most of the nerves from seeing someone Metzli suspected to be an enemy, and the next few did well to quell the rest. “Do you run into this issue often at all? Or is this a first?”

---

Obviously you’re a zombie. Silas’ spine stiffened, his posture becoming rigid as he suddenly felt overly-exposed. It wasn’t a fact he went around telling just everyone, and frankly, it was something he himself was still coming to terms with. The idea that this perfect stranger could—no, he supposed they weren’t a perfect stranger, not anymore. Not since he’d apparently attacked them in the middle of the night.

The thought of it made the knot in his stomach grow tighter, and he stared blankly at the glass as it was pushed toward him. “You can… smell me?” Fucking hell, did he stink? He hadn’t noticed, and no one else he’d been in close proximity with that day had made any indication… what the—

“Never mind, don't answer that. I’m… eugh,” Silas groaned, reaching for the glass with a thankful nod. Looking down at it, his ears pricked at the mention of blood. “Who’s blood?” he asked, though the question wasn’t delivered in a way that seemed accusatory, just curious.

“Often? No, I don’t think so.” There was a beat of silence. “Well, maybe. M’not sure. Lately, I guess… lately I’ve been losin’ time. Didn’t think much of it.” Lifting the glass to his lips, the zombie took a long sip, relishing the way it actually managed to tickle his taste buds. “Figured… it was a diet thing.” Giving a half-hearted shrug, he let his gaze flick back to meet Metzli’s. “Sorry about—I, ah… didn’t know I had it in me.”

---

Metzli smiled and then laughed heartily, “I have a very keen sense of smell. Comes with the bite.” A single brow quirked upwards and their smile didn’t waver. “Don’t know whose blood it is, but the barkeep let me know that it was all donated willingly. That was enough for me.” Their shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, a little dismissive of the question. Knowing that much about how the blood was sourced was good enough for them. It had to be. Being ethical about where their source of sustenance came from was becoming a real burden. But they supposed if they were going to be good, it was worth a shot.

“Losing time? Sounds like a run of the mill possession. Piss off any ghosts lately, Sylvain?” Metzli inquired, more out of curiosity than concern. Silas was a stranger, but Metzli knew Sylvain from last night. “Someone could be taking your body for a joyride and you don’t even know it. If you can figure that out, you can generally ward the ghost off and be done with it.”

---

Possession? Syl— “What?” The reaction was unguarded, unfiltered, and absolutely wracked with shock. Silas couldn’t even immediately respond, gawking at Metzli, dumbfounded, as they went on to explain what could be done about it.

“Did you just… call me Sylvain?” His voice was barely above a whisper, the wine glass clutched tightly in his hands, pale knuckles somehow turning an even brighter shade of white. His eyes darted to the side, staring at something that was just behind his host. Breaths came quick and shallow while a ringing started up in his ears—he’d never felt this kind of fear when seeing the ghost of his sibling before, but now… The spectre was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and Silas was unsure if he’d only imagined it.

“Fuck.” While trying to steady his panic, the zombie downed a large portion of the wine Metzli had so kindly offered, glancing around the room like he was expecting a boogeyman to jump out at any second. “My brother. My twin, I—we, uh… it’s a long story.” Another gulp of wine. “He’s been dead for a long time. Since we were kids.” Why would he…?

---

Brows furrowed in confusion, not understanding why the name would throw him off so much. “Yeah, Sylvain. That’s the name you gave me last night.” Metzli answered, still not quite catching on until he began to explain. It was their turn to be shocked, mouth agape and unable to say anything for a few moments while they let their thoughts settle. “Looks like your brother has been having a little fun at your expense. I’d probably start sleeping with a salt ring around ya.” Voice was clearly joking, not registering the sensitivity the topic held.

“What’s your actual name then?” Metzli asked as they poured more wine into Silas’ glass and theirs too. Legs crossed and they adjusted their suit as inner turmoil painted itself on their companion. “He probably just wants to live a little.”

---

“He can’t do that, he can’t just…” Heaving a sigh, Silas pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m Silas. And whatever happened last night was definitely not…” His hand fell from his face, eyelids fluttering open as he stared off into the middle distance. His voice was low and soft, laced with disbelief. “Not like Sylvain.”

A few more beats, and he glanced down at the glass in his hand, recently refilled. His gaze was hard and purposeful, as if he’d find all his answers in the deep red liquid. “He’s been around since it happened. I could always feel him. Didn’t actually see him til’ I got turned, ah’course. N’ he ain’t like any other ghost I’ve ever interacted with, he’s… quiet. Real quiet. Just stares at me, watches me, all hours of the day and night. Catch ‘im sometimes in the reflections of windows n’ puddles in the road, lookin’ at me… don’t know what he wants.”

You do now, his thoughts interjected. “Might be mad about what happened…” Of course he’s mad. It was your fault.

Forcing himself to look at Metzli again, Silas let out a soft, embarrassed chuckle. “Shit, sorry. This is a… lot. Mm, yeah—a lot. Thanks, uh, for the drink.” Lifting the glass in their direction, the zombie couldn’t hide the distant look of worry in his eyes, though he appeared to be trying to force his way past it. “Anyway, um… how badly did you kick my ass last night? M’curious.”

---

Metzli was familiar with that distant look, seeing it many times on themselves and others. The severity of the situation finally reached them, and made them suck their teeth in discomfort. “Uh, sorry about that...man.” Words were slow and awkward, unsure of how to go about it. Though they didn’t particularly feel bad, they knew how to logically see the circumstances for what they were: fucking depressing.

“You don’t have to go into any details. That’s your business,” Metzli said quickly, hoping he wouldn’t continue. That would just make everything feel even more cumbersome. “Didn’t do much ass kicking if I’m being honest.” A smile curled onto their lips and a chuckle tickled their throat. “I pretty much just tried to wear you out enough to just walk away. I was pretty drunk too.”

There was a knock at the door, followed by Janet, their employee, opening it and telling them that the final patron left. With a nod, they thanked her and waved her away. “Well Silas, the painting class should start soon. Think the class could help get your mind off things? Maybe even get you out of that writer’s block.”

---

Grateful that they didn’t press for more information, Silas allowed a small, amused smile to play at his lips. “Explains why I was so fucking exhausted when I.. came to back at home.” Fuck all of that. There had to be a way to get Sylvain to just leave him alone, once and for all. The presence of his twin had lost all its comfort years ago.

Looking between the two, Silas took another large gulp of the wine, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, yeah,” he said once he was able, “worth a shot, anyway.” Hell, it sounded like he might have plenty to write about after all… like the experience of being fucking possessed, for one. If only he could remember it.

---

“Follow me. You can bring your glass too.” Metzli beckoned him with a wave and walked out of their office. The painting room was only a few paces away and already seemed to have a few of the frequent customers Metzli saw on a weekly basis. Their scents were registered in their mind and they smiled. “Hopefully the class does you some good. And sorry you didn’t get a chance to view the rest of the gallery. That was my bad.” Words were spoken away from Silas, arms crossed behind them. Upon reaching the room, a finger pointed towards a rack of smocks. “Grab a smock from there and put it over your clothes. Class will start soon.”

Friendly faces smiled and waved as the two creatures walked in, greeted in return with a smile full of charm. “Hey Tim, hey Lorraine.” They waved and gestured toward Silas. “This is Silas. He’s trying it out today. Make sure to give him a few pointers.” A playful wink floated its way to Silas when they turned and they chuckled. Demeanor completely changed to cater towards the teaching position they were now in.

Removing their suit jacket, they went to the front of the room and put on a red smock to cover the rest of their suit. Canvases were all up, including theirs and the clock ticked its hand on the 7, indicating class should begin. “All right painters, let’s get started. Today is a novice class, so we will be painting something relatively simple, but fun.” The painting to their right was of a landscape during the night, full of trees and stars, even a few shooting in the sky.

---

“Oh, no, don’t worry ‘bout it—just means I can come back again soon to give it a proper look.” Wandering after Metzli, Silas was impressed by the shift in their demeanor. They sure were professional, if nothing else. Sipping awkwardly at the wine still in his hand, he used the other to throw a small wave back at the strangers, recognizing one of them from a coffee shop they’d both been in a few weeks back. When the introduction was made and attention shifted fully to him, he bit his lower lip and forced a smile, glancing down at his boots. He wasn’t normally this shy, but something was seriously throwing him off tonight. “Oh yeah, I’m real garbage at it—y’all are gonna have to carry me,” he warned playfully, managing to steal a glance at the strangers before letting his attention fall back on the gallery owner.

Something told Silas that he wouldn’t mind coming back here at all. Metzli seemed like a good sort.

Setting down his glass by a blank, unclaimed canvas, the zombie went to fetch a smock and loop it over his neck, watching how the others prepared for the evening’s activity and mimicking them. And, very much as expected, his skill was lacking. His peers would occasionally lean over to give him a pointer when they heard him mutter under his breath about how the paint wasn’t cooperating, still encouraging him despite the preschooler level of talent that was displayed on the canvas in front of him, but… he was enjoying it. If nothing else, it had removed the thought of his brother from his mind entirely, and the escape from anxiety was welcome. At some point, he pulled his long hair back into a messy bun, succeeding in ensuring he’d need a shower when he got home as the blue paint on his fingers tinted his dark hair.

As Metzli made their rounds, Silas gave them a sheepish grin as they approached to see his progress. “Painting only a mother could love,” he joked at his own expense, giving them a shrug. “Still, though… I think it’s doin’ the trick. Thanks again, for the suggestion, and—” He looked down at the now-emptied glass of wine, brows raised, “you’re gonna have to tell me where you got that, so I can get some of my own.”

---

With every brush stroke, the rest of the painters followed and listened to instruction carefully. Teaching wasn’t something that Metzli saw themselves doing, but there was a feeling of accomplishment when there was at least one student that did well. Tonight was not one of those nights though, and all the students were very amateur or…Silas. But given the evening he was having, they thought it best to be gentle. “Nonsense, Silas. We all start…” Metzli gestured to the painting, “…somewhere.”

A chuckle rang out and Metzli patted Silas on the shoulder. “I’ll give you the other bottle I have in my office. A little gift on me and an incentive to come back. I like you, so maybe we can be friends.”

Making one last round around the room, they walked to the front once more and finished the class with the final brush strokes on the canvas. Everyone presented their paintings, and complimented one another before packing up and shuffling out of the room, leaving the undead alone. “So what did you think? You gonna come every week?”

---

Releasing a breathy chuckle, Silas supposed that was a fair enough deal—a new friend in exchange for a bottle of wine. Graciously accepting the encouraging words of his peers before they all emptied out of the gallery, the zombie gave Metzli a sidelong glance before breaking out into his own laugh. “Well shit, I think I have to, now. I get the feeling Lorraine would hunt me down and give me an earful for giving up after the first night.” His eyes squinted in a grin as his chin tilted down toward the floor, hands bracing against his hips in a thoughtful pose.

“But yeah, I don’t see why I shouldn’t—it was fun, even though I’m shit at it.” He was compelled to thank them again, but it would have been too many times in one evening, so he bit his tongue instead. “Plus… you’re not so bad,” he teased, nose wrinkling. “Oh! But, uh… if you ever wanna see me doin’ somethin’ a little more in my wheelhouse, I play at Del’s most Friday nights ‘round ten. Sometimes we got the whole band, sometimes it’s just me, but.. yeah. Dunno how ya feel ‘bout gothic folk, but if you’ve never given it a listen, y’should stop in some time after class.”

---

“Gothic folk? Sounds like fun. I’ll visit some time and check it out. I gather there’ll be fiddle and everything?” Metzli loved fiddle as much as they loved classical violin. Stringed instruments held a special place. “Maybe we could even play a tune or two together. I actually play guitar. Mostly Mexican acoustic. I like to stay close to my heritage.” They smiled and patted Silas’ shoulder to lead him out of the room and back towards their office.

Grabbing the bottle, they turned and spoke with a more serious tone, “On a less lighter note, I would seriously consider sleeping with a salt circle around your room or even just your bed. At least until you figure out what the hell to do.” Metzli shrugged and handed the bottle over to Silas. “At least you made a fantastic friend and even got a free painting class though. Next one though, you’re totally paying. Paint ain’t cheap.” The tone shifted, just as they had planned. Things had been serious too often lately for them, and it would be nice to not have to deal with much more of it.

“Did we cure your writer’s block at all?”

---

Brightening like a kid who’d just been asked what his favorite kind of dinosaur was, Silas nodded energetically. “Hell yeah there’ll be fiddle, that’s my specialty.” Hearing that Metzli was a fellow acoustic enthusiast, his delight only grew. “Really? That’d be dope! M’always keen for a jam session. Get that though—stickin’ to your roots. My whole family is from down in the Louisiana bayous. Spent many a summer there with ‘em… definitely a significant influence on the kind of sound I make. Dixieland, that’s what I grew up hearin’.”

Following after them as the pair re-entered the office, Silas held out a hand to accept the bottle, his own boyish grin fading as the topic shifted. “Yeah…” the young man sighed, “yeah… you’re probably right. I’ll pick up some Morton’s on the way home.” The grin returned in a flash, softer and lopsided, but still a far cry from the fear he’d felt previously. A laugh was quick to follow, thumbs brushing over the label of the wine bottle as he offered Metzli a shrug. “You know what? I think we did.” Giving them a resolute nod, he pressed his lips into a thin line. “Body-snatching ghost twin… that’s got some fuckin’ songs buried in it, at the least. Sheesh.” A comfortable silence passed between them for a beat before Silas puffed out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“Well… shouldn’t keep you any longer. Thanks, uh… yeah.” Too much. Grinning apologetically, the zombie held out a hand to shake. “Gotta get home and take a three hour shower, since apparently I stink,” came an afterthought of a quip, married with a chuckle. “Good meeting you, Metzli. See you around, yeah?”

---

Metzli was really enjoying the energy that Silas emanated. “Looking forward to hearing your sound and maybe even playing something together.” They smiled, matching the same spark of their counterpart. Even with the overwhelming news of his long dead brother possessing him, Silas was undeterred. At least, that’s what he presented externally. Metzli knew all too well what it was like to sew together the pieces of a torn facade. A performance, a dance they understood after decades of being on that stage.

“Glad to be of assistance. Hasta luego, carnal.” Metzli gave a friendly wave, watching their zombie friend walk away with a renewed spirit. Today, they made a choice to make a new friend. Every day it seemed like they added someone new, further rooting themselves to White Crest. Rooting themselves to the first place they could ever call home.

[blueboltkatana]

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

GUrll ur so sexy... Like you're Hot. I don't care if you were bullied in school, you're sexy, they lied.

Also bitch I KNEW i related to you too much our ascendants are both in leo we're so hot.

Ok ok no now I'll stop complimenting and start with the roasting here we go:

So the sun is your sense of "self" it represents you on the more base level i guess you could say, like what most people think you're like is represented by your sun. With Sagittarius being your sun it means you're very energetic Especially for those things you are passionate about, you might have gone through a LOT of hobbies, only a few of them stuck around but you like to try things. You're curious about the way people's minds works, you wanna figure them out. If the conversations you have don't involve some form of psychoanalysis or philosophy you might loose interest. You are a Talker, maybe you talk very fast or you are often told to lower your voice but you don't do it on purpose you're just very very animated. You are kina volatile, in the sense that you value freedom in everything, love, work, hobbies. You have a huge rebellious streak and you kinda like testing your luck. Think adrenaline junkie. It's cliché but with this much Sagittarius in your chart you prob love traveling, like i said you will chase freedom because you associate it with happiness. If you find people that make you feel free then you feel happy. Rules don't go well with you. You don't really like being involved with fights per se but you LOVE debating, if you can beat a motherfucker with nothing but facts and logic you will and you will enjoy it.

Your way of flirting or making friends is "lowkey bullying" or my favourite "verbally throwing hands". If they shoot back you get heart eyes (my mars in sag agrees). You can be tactless as fuck tho. Like you will say some outrageous shit that MIGHT be funny if the timing is right or MIGHT make everyone in a 5 mile radius mad.

I NEED to talk about your moon in sag bc Babe, babe the moon tells us about our emotions and how we deal with them, how we express them and how they shape us. But BABE. Sagittarius moons are so bad at comforting people it's embarrassing, trying to make them think of smth else or do smth else to distract from the situation is NOT a good way to deal with your emotions... Avoiding your emotions like the plague is not gonna invent a vaccine... Saying "everything is fine :)" DOESN'T MAKE ANYTHING FINE PLEASE GO TO THERAPY. ok to give you some credit, you don't let shit bring you down, no matter what you always get up and that is a *strength* that i admire, but love you're burning the candle at both ends, especially if you get yourself in More problems by trying to distract yourself from One problem.

Also you've had a horsegirl phase or a dog obsession phase or both huh. AND your love language is sarcasm but the type that you will make someone laugh when you're insulting them. You're also hilarious irl you're prob the "funny friend" but with that scorpio mars and venus baby inside ur sad and dark as fuck ripp.

I also wanted to talk about your mercury in sag... Babe... Do you know what a brain to mouth filter IS?! do you recognize that word?!?! Cuz you have never used yours i think. Like you are hilarious but that's because you have dolphins in the head cavity baby. Not trying to say you're stupid, you're actually very smart and opinionated, probably have been told that you'd be a great lawyer or smth. But miss gurl please think before you speak for the love of god ur gonna make someone cry. Also ur mouth is foul. Have you ever spoken a sentence without a "fuck" or a "cunt" somewhere in there?! God bless.

Now for your scorpio Venus I'm just gonna say, more confirmation that ur Sexy as Fuck, scorpio venuses are just sexy, amazing partners, VERY passionate, whoever dates you will never forget you, for better or for worse you'll forever be on the back of their mind. You had a harsh emo phase huh, maybe loved some obscure shit like witchcraft or just love dressing all black like someone's mother died, i bet you wear silver jewelry a lot, maybe necklaces or rings or chockers. If this isn't how you dress now it was prob a major phase in your life. Or maybe you just love horror movies idk

Being as passionate as you are you don't take well to being mistreated or lied to, you might like to plot revenge and things like those, you wouldn't do anything... You actually prefer letting things go but you WILL make an elaborate scenario in your head at 3am or even as you stare right in the persons face.

With mars in scorpio you might be kinda passive aggressive, maybe you act like things don't really bother you but you throw a comment or two once in a while just to stir the pot bc you can't move on lmfao.

You are attracted to people that are introverts or generally just mysterious, like i said above the nature of the Sagittarius is to Learn and to Study. People that you can't immediately figure out intrigue you. All your crushes are either on geminis or water signs lmfao.

The best careers for you are the ones that allow you some freedom of either movement or expression and something that can keep your mind from flying away, something that keeps you intrigued, like research or writing. You're a very "all or nothing" person and it can sometimes scare people away, i advise you to work on compromising, being less stubborn and more open with your emotions and desires.

(part one bc I'm taking too long and I don't wanna keep you waiting so much) I'll reblog this with part 2

Alright here we go part 2 of Roasting hella until she finds out I'm hiding in her walls.

I will skip over some planets that are Very slow moving and usually don't talk about you as an individual but refer to your generation as a whole.

I wanna focus on lilith for a sec bc worstie lilith talks about our fears, our more "darker" side that we hide from ourselves as well as the people that we love. Lilith in aries in the eleventh house tells me you might be afraid to take charge, you gravitate towards positions of leadership but you let go on the last second, almost afraid to have too much control, very often self sabotaging your own success. Your anger and you own ambition might scare you, you might be afraid of appearing too aggressive bc under your skin you have a deep rooted anger and rebellion that you wish to relieve but you can't find a good enough outlet, some things soothe it but you always feel like it never leaves. It might be related to some form of resentment that you never truly dealt with and now it sits uncomfortably with you and you just can't get over it and it bothers you. You might have been shy in groups as a child, maybe you talked a lot but it was always from a fear of the silence not always because you had something to say. The eleventh house is that of groups and friends and social awareness, technology and your hopes and wishes for the future, having lilith in this house talks about someone who had a hard time feeling comfortable around people OR someone who wasn't very accepted. You might have desperately wished for friends but have found it hard to find any. Or if you did, you deep down felt very alone. I would advise to learn to accept your anger and deal with it in healthy ways instead of brushing it off and repressing it.

The north node talks about what you need to focus more in your life for example in your case with Gemini in your North node you need to focus more on your communication letting go of anxiety and your relation with other people you need to become more interested in intellectual pursuit and growth. You need to let go off the need to always be right and look more at details instead of focusing on on the bigger picture all of the time. When your North node is is in Gemini then your South node is in Sagittarius which tells me that what you should focus less on is your pursuit of freedom and your rebellion. Be more aware of your words and use them with maturity.

Now let's have some fun with the ascendent in leo which we share and now i see why ur so relatable. The first house or the ascendant is that very superficial layer of our personality, it includes the way we carry ourselves, our style, the little habits or quirks we have. One thing about leo ascendants is that we have an obsession with our hair. Hair is important to us, some have huge hair that might remind you of a lions mane, others just have very unique style or color but we ALL are lowkey or highkey obsessed with it, either constantly touching it, pulling it, chewing on it, cutting it or dying it in unique ways you name it. You might have a rather large nose or cat like eyes.

This ascendent is full of life and light, very funny, light hearted and luxurious, you want to live that good life and i don't blame you. A negative aspect is that we come of as intimidating to others. ALL of my friends AND my ex have at some point told me I was intimidating to them. It makes us prone to overcompensating for it later in life so maybe now you're super outgoing and extroverted and you approach people first and try to be super friendly. Also you're an attention whore (affectionate) with a flare for the dramatics, very flamboyant, you basically fill the room with personality, it attracts attention and you love it. You're what people would call a "sunny" person.

You're hella competitive (get it lol) and you LOVE fighting your way to the top and crushing the competition. You're probably a weirdo that low key likes school. Not the way it's run or the teachers or whatever, but the "idea" of school. If you could just learn all your life you absolutely would.

Second house in virgo. The 2nd house is the house of money, work, income, daily routines, values, material possessions, habits, work ethic ect being in virgo it means you can have an extremely good work ethic, you put a lot of thought in planning and mapping your work, you might get overly critical on your work though and often undermine your own success and efforts because they didn't fit your impossible standards. You can be very organized in your work, you want things to be a certain way and if they don't follow your plan you will Make them. Its a good position for virgo but yoh need to be aware of not overworking by trying to do Everything on your own. Let others help you, and let people in your work do their own things don't try to help if not asked to because you will overwork yourself.

The third house is that of the mind, thinking, communication, siblings, interests and early education, in your case it is in Libra which means that you're early education might not have been very stable or it was a period of time that you look back with a lot of fondness but not much substance. You are a good talker but you get lost when it comes to details, you are indecisive when it comes to settling on an opinion on something if you don't have All the facts first, you always want to be right. You are pretty open minded and easy to talk to but you might have the bad habit of rambling off topic. You change interests constantly and you prob like to talk about others, you wanna know the tea if it kills you. You prob had a crush on a childhood best friend or on a hot neighbor. Your relationship with your siblings might be pretty good, friendly, no particular resentment or anything like that, you might be the one that everyone treats a little better, people let you get away with things more often, you might be the one that takes 2 hours in the bathroom lol.

Oof fourth house in scorpio babe how are the mommy issues? 😬 How is your relationship with your femininity? Having trouble with keeping secrets? So the fourth house is the one responsible for your home roots, your family, self-care, emotions, your mother, women and your femininity and having Scorpio here tells me that you might have very strong ties to your family, but they weren't healthy or emotionally supportive. You have grown with people that might have undermined your emotions, people that didn't teach you to set healthy boundaries and maybe even manipulators and gaslighters. You might have been the type to put your foot down a lot a home, assuming a very dominant role as well as the defender. You're very private about your family life and don't want to let people too close.

Ah i just noticed u have like 3 planets in this house including ur Sun and Moon, babe this house is what you need to focus on when you go to therapy. This almost secretive, guarded approach to understanding your own emotions is very prominent in how you see yourself, how you feel and with Pluto there, how you change. I could say the biggest changes in your life have happened in these areas and they have left the biggest impacts on you. Yes you are passionate and protective but don't let bad feelings marinate forever, address them and then move on from them because they're just weighting you down.

Fifth house in sag, also the house of your mercury. This house represents Love, romance, creativity, self expression, joy and childlike spirit. It tells me the way you express your creativity is through words which makes sense since you're a great writer, but not only, the way you express Love is also through your words, expression and free thoughts are your way you tell your loved ones how much you mean to them, think poetry, long rants, music recommendations bc of specific song lyrics, you have been writing form childhood and it's one of the ways you express your view on beauty as well, to you love is freedom and freedom is expression.

Capricorn in the sixth house paired with both uranus and neptune being in it tells me there is something about your knees, joints, bones or teeth in particular that stands out when it comes to your health, maybe you tend to break your teeth, maybe you like chewing on crunchy foods, maybe your joints crack a lot, idk but I'd drink my milk if i was you, take care of your joints and bones. Also for you, being emotionally unwell often translates to being Physically unwell as well, so be mindful of your emotions because they do affect you physically. You need to keep hydrated also and your health plan needs structure for it to work bc that neptune makes everything very chaotic and uranus constantly makes you bored and wanting to spice things up. Take care of your emotional needs just as much as you would with your physical ones. And for the love of jesus be CAREFUL with alcohol or smoking because that neptune in ur health house could mean serious trouble if you let it become an addiction, don't push it.

Aquarius in the seventh house of relationships, marriage, contracts, business partners ect means you are untraditionally traditional. That makes sense in my head let me explain. Aquarius is a sign that seeks individualism desperately, it likes to feel like a special person, impossible to understand. Yet always feels comfortable in the structure of traditional and safe paths. So for example you might marry someone in a way that is not traditional but at the end of the day you wish for your marriage to have a stability you would feel safe falling into. Also it says ur gay. Air signs in the relationship house says ur gay i Make the rules.

Pisces is in the eighth house of sex, intimacy, shared finances, inheritance, taxes, loans, property, mystery, partner's resources. This tells me you fuck with feeling lmfao. Or you simply make your love life something "special", a connection that only you and ur person can share, it's what makes you an amazing lover and an unforgettable one as well. But as amazing as you are at creating a otherworldly atmosphere, ur just as shit at setting boundaries and saying something when you don't like something. You don't like to see things that you love ending and a failed relationship makes you blame yourself too much, you have the tendency to stay in situations where you are being mistreated but you tell yourself It's on you.

A recurring theme I'm seeing is some weakness when it comes to liars or manipulators in your life. So either you irrationally fear people are lying to you because you "lie" to them about yourself or a lot of people in your childhood might have used lying or gaslighting as a way to keep you under control. I would advise to try not to overthink and become paranoid, people love you and they believe in you and they aren't deceiving you, they don't secretly mean something different from what they have said. Listen to your intuition about people sure, but don't confuse it with anxiety.

With lilith and aries in the 9th house of travel and higher education and religion I'm gonna assume you might have religious trauma. Religion might have been a way that people used to try and control you, if not religion then some form of system or government law. Being queer i completely understand the sentiment but in your case it's take a step further because you Value the ideals of this house so much, with lilith here, it's like at som point in your life you were finally awakened to how much injustice there was in the world ant that has made you very inclined to take action, you cannot stand unjust government or non tolerating religions. You might have felt crushed under an unjust system and it took you a lot of will and conviction to find your individuality and build yourself how you wanted once you were free.

Your midheaven in taurus tells me you are one that will achieve any goals you set your mind to. It might take you time, you might procrastinate around it, but at the end of the day, you will do it and you will do it well and it will be rewarding. If your father isn't a Taurus then he was a stable figure in your life, very much a rock for better or for worse. In your career life people will see you as very competent, very down to earth and helpful but you know you just procrastinated till the last second possible and stayed up all night do finish your work... You will seek careers that you believe will guarantee you stable income and a comfortable life. You might indulge in luxury from time to time because you think in order to get the position you want at work you need to look the part. Ultimately it's your sheer stubbornness and spite that gets you all the way up to the top of the food chain.

The eleventh house of groups, friendships, humanitarianism, and social awareness is in your case in gemini. It tells me you value friendship extremely and you surround yourself with a diverse cast of friends, you couldn't mix your different friend groups if you tried and you have tried. You have the habit of being too friendly to everyone which makes you end up with more friends than you know what to do with. You are approachable but people can get the impression that you are putting up a show or a facade and your emotions arent genuine, it's not always the case but you need to be more truthful and assertive, put some boundaries and don't let people get away with shit you don't like. Your public persona is very well liked, seen as fun and bright and smart and overall a joy to be around.

Now that last placement... 12th house cancer, i have the same placement and babe I'm sorry for all the shit you have been through. You deserve the freedom to be unhappy and to express that unhappiness in healthy ways. You deserve to be given unconditional love and support no matter how many mistakes you say you have made no matter how overly pessimistic you are about yourself it doesn't matter you're amazing and i love you and you deserve the world.

With jupiter the planet of expansion in the 12th house of endings, spirituality, solitude and karma?! Gurl i did say u were a cult leader but i didn't think it was astrologically backed up rippp. But it also says you might have a hard time getting the motivation to finish things, you might take a long time to finish a project. This house placements also tells me you're amazing at writing emotional ass fantasy stories which by now we have confirmed, but if you have like, an original idea for a book don't hesitate to get it started babe bc u have a very promising placement for that. Don't get too dragged into a sad whirlpool of emotions and daydreams but bring your creative ideas to life and you'll be fine.

This is all I'm doing today and i think it's enough lol. I'm posting this I'm sorry to my followers for the long ass post I'll tag it so you can filter it. This was a whole psycho-astrological analysis of our favourite writer Hellspawn1975. I have wanted to study her like a new lizard species for a while and i finally got the chance thank you hella for the opportunity.

Final words to @hella1975 i hate you and I'll fuck ur mom tomorrow, gn babe <3

[firelxdykatara]

Why do you think Zuko was out of character when he hired Sparky Sparky Boom Man ? And by the way am I the only who doesn't' have a problem with Zuko's characterization in the first half of book 3 ? I see a lot of people saying that they turned him into a bad boy or he was ooc but wasn't that the point ? Zuko was trying to be someone he wasn't. I don't know maybe i am not seeing something.

Mmmmm ok there are two different things here, and I’ll start by addressing the second: Zuko’s behavior in the first half of book 3.

To that, I will say that I actually don’t have a problem--overall--with his characterization there, because it made sense. As you said, Zuko was trying to force himself to fit into a space he no longer belonged. He was trying to be the Crown Prince his father wanted, he was the prodigal son returneth home triumphant after his defeat of the dastardly Avatar. He had everything he wanted--his honor, his father’s approval (but not, as he would come to realize, his father’s love), even a nice noble girlfriend of whom his father and the nobility at large would approve.

And it was only after he had everything he’d been searching for since his banishment, that he realized he actually had none of it. His honor wasn’t something he could get back from someone else, his father’s approval was conditional on the lie Azula had told him, his girlfriend didn’t understand him (largely because of the changes he’d undergone while banished and later exiled) and probably never would and their relationship was based on nothing but superficial attraction and his sister’s machinations. Nevermind his father’s love, which he never should have had to earn in the first place.

So of course Zuko was angry and emotionally volatile, prone to explosions of anger and frustration because he had no outlet for his pain, no means of conceptualizing why he was so desperately unhappy despite the fact that he finally had everything he’d ever wanted (or so he thought). It wasn’t until he finally had his own self-realization--and came to accept that his father, and his nation, was wrong, to maim a thirteen-year-old boy and to wage a war that brought nothing but pain and destruction to the people of the world--that he was able to look his father in the face and say ‘you were cruel, you harmed me and I did not deserve it, I’m leaving to help the Avatar and you can’t stop me, you have no power over me’, and leave.

(Notably, while he’s still somewhat emotionally volatile with the gaang, he’s considerably happier and healthier with them, because he’s no longer trying to force himself to fit back into a society he had outgrown. Once he becomes the Fire Lord it is within his power to change that society, but while he’s with the gaang he settles for learning the true meaning of fire and helping his new friends save the world.)

However, let me circle back around to one particular point: Combustion Man, and why I think hiring him was very OOC for Zuko, even as he was in the first half of book 3.

Because here’s the thing: the core of Zuko’s character has always been compassion and empathy. That is what got him scarred for life by his own father--it was compassion for his people and empathy for their lives that lead him to speak out during that fateful war meeting, staring down men more than twice his age and demanding they treat their own people better.

Ozai tried to burn away Zuko’s compassion, but, and here’s the critical bit, it didn’t. fucking. work. Because you see Zuko making the compassionate choice, again and again, even in book 1. He cares more about his uncle’s safety than the mission he’s been on for three years, and that is shown in episode seven of book one--so, almost from the beginning, we see that there is something more important to him than capturing the Avatar, and that’s his Uncle. But we also see that Zuko is never fighting to kill, or even maim. Suki’s village burning is an unfortunate side effect of a firebending, well, bending fire around a bunch of flammable buildings, but Zuko is not given to wanton cruelty or destruction for destruction’s sake--he doesn’t stick around to hurt the people who were harboring the avatar any of the times he catches up to the gaang and finds them surrounded by people willing to protect them.

Which, yes, you can absolutely quote katara and talk about the not as big of a jerk as you could have been award, but it’s still important to Zuko’s overall arc and the fact that Zuko is not the primary villain, even in book 1. Because Zhao is right there, being a primo bastard, to the point where Zuko even saves Aang from his clutches--and, sure, you could say that was just because he didn’t what Zhao to be the one who takes the Avatar back, but at the end of it all he didn’t give chase when Aang ran, letting him go and instead returning to his ship.

Then, of course, at the end of book 1, what do we see? Zuko, attempting to save Zhao’s life. This was a man he hated, a man who’d tried to kill him multiple times, a man who was competing with him to try and take the Avatar (and was far more cruel and excessive about his methods), but Zuko still reached out a hand to save him when La snatched him up. He tried to save the life of a man he hated and had no reason to want alive, because he’s a compassionate person and he didn’t want to see even a man he hated die like that. Zhao rejected his hand and ultimately sealed his own fate, but Zuko still tried. And then, of course, he spent book 2 on something of a roller coaster, emotionally and mentally, but he was still compassionate at his core, despite attempts to obfuscate it. He stole Song’s ostrich horse, but he helped Lee and his family, and didn’t lash out when his identity was discovered and he was ultimately rejected. He had such a crisis of conscience when he saved appa that he got sick, something that has been memed to death (especially lately), but it wasn’t because he did one (1) nice thing--because we’ve seen him make compassionate choices already--it was because he did a good thing that also jeopardized his one last chance and getting what he wanted (ie capturing the Avatar and returning home).

Now, obviously, he made the wrong choice at the end of Book 2, despite that experience--because when he freed Appa, getting what he wanted was still a somewhat distant prospect, but Azula was right there holding it out to him on a silver platter. Of course he couldn’t reject it! Even when that meant turning on his Uncle, even when that meant ultimately throwing Katara’s compassion in her face, he had the chance right then and there to just go home, and he needed to take it. (Not only because of his need for closure, but because narratively, he story would’ve felt rushed and incomplete if he didn’t get that chance to go home, have everything he wanted... and realize he didn’t actually want it at all anymore, let alone need it. Having said that, I love a good ‘Zuko joined the gaang at the end of book 2′ fic as much as the next Zuko fan. I just don’t think it would have worked as well in canon [although I still think he should’ve joined the gaang sooner, but that’s a whole other rant].)

What does all of this have to do with Zuko hiring Sparky Sparky Boom Man? It’s simple: I do not believe for one second that Zuko did not feel an immense surge of relief at the thought that Aang might have survived.

Now, obviously, this would have been followed by a surge of terror--because if Aang was alive, and his father found out, then what the fuck would happen to him???--which is why I think it would’ve made much more sense for Zuko to hire a tracker. Or, at least, someone he thought was a tracker. Azula slipping him a name of someone she knows to actually be an assassin, perhaps? Just to pile that guilt on Zuko’s shoulders should he be successful, or simply hedging her bets??? Who knows. But something other than Zuko knowingly hiring an assassin to track down and murder a child. (And all of his friends lmfao since Zuko would know they wouldn’t just let the dude kill him.) Especially when Zuko had never tried to kill anyone, even when he had the chance, in the entire show to that point.

Anyway, yeah, that’s why I think that Zuko’s behavior in the first half of book 3 made sense, and that him hiring an assassin was super ooc and I don’t vibe with it.