#so she's avoiding humans purely out of awkwardness

[housemdork]

just some hilson thoughts in these trying times

all of these things i think about constantly & fondly and exist in my mind as true canon:

house has been interested/obsessed with wilson since the second he saw him; the divorce papers ordeal combined with wilson looking like he did in 1991 sent the bisexual alarm ablaze.

only someone as repressed and clueless as wilson could take "you were the only person who didn't bore me" as a purely platonic statement.

relatedly, i think he was very convinced throughout their time together at the new orleans medical conference that wilson liked men, and only during some horribly awkward flirting attempts house witnessed from afar did house realize that either A) wilson is unfortunately straight or B) he's repressed beyond belief. being so good at reading people, i bet house accurately picks up on the latter.

house playing instruments for wilson is one of their most significant forms of intimacy.

paradoxically, since wilson is very gentle and hands on with just about everyone else in his life (patients included), he never crosses any physical barriers with house as a sign of respect for his boundaries. this goes pretty unnoticed by house until someone points it out - "aren't you guys really close? he's never even given you a pat on the back?"

they don't smoke together very often but they used to and wilson gets incredibly giggly every time, which house loves to see. wilson gets paranoid about drug testing, which sparks an argument about vicodin and double standards. wilson loses the argument every time.

wilson kissed house when they were high exactly one (1) time several years before canon. wilson was so blasted he's convinced himself it was a dream, and house always kept it in his back pocket as a desperate "gotcha" moment for the future. but the memory is too sacred and tender to ruin it by being petulant, so he never brings it up.

HOUSE IS A YEARNER. AT HIS VERY CORE, HE IS A YEARNER. WHEN ALL OF HIS BULLSHIT IS STRIPPED AWAY, HE YEARNS! wilson is better at shoving everything deeper and deeper than house.

through some grand scheming alongside cuddy, it was actually wilson's idea that they have adjoining offices, but he and cuddy worked together to make house think it was his idea and that, by getting the adjoining office, he'd won over the 2 of them.

cuddy is the only person who ever broaches the topic of house's feelings for wilson while she and house are dating. knowing them both as well as she does, she can see some sincerity there. she asks house about it and eventually gets a clipped but genuine answer: "i mean...yeah. sure. but that minefield is so sensitive that even looking at it too closely will start a chain reaction. so no thanks."

thirteen instantly picks up on house and wilson's "deal." like she can't believe it's not outright and obvious to everyone else.

SEASON 8/POST-CANON SPOILERS

i don't think house and wilson die simultaneously. whether out of reverence, grief, or masochism, i think house would try to live without wilson even for just a few hours. then he would be fully in touch with the human experiences he's always avoided/felt alienated from. it would be the final challenge for his atheism to conquer.

while holding fast to the fact that they've never slept together and never will, they get increasingly intimate with one another in those last 5 months. they share a bed, keeping mostly to their respective sides of the mattress, but really ramp up the whole "no social contract" thing. sometimes hands wander and they wake up with gentle touches on their sides, shoulders, etc. house is preparing to lose the only person who even understands his kind of intimacy, while wilson, being someone who seeks it out, struggles with this new arrangement, and all they have is each other atp!

they change how they describe their relationship to strangers while they're on the road. one day they're business partners, another day they're married, then on a first date, then professorial colleagues, then third cousins (wilson hates that one), etc., etc.

even more so than house, wilson likes that he can finally shed off layers of his old identity and feels more authentic than he ever has while road-tripping with house in the end.

i'll probably come back to this list and keep adding but there ya go, those are some of my thoughts :)

[yokumirumerafan]

Sorry just saw that (bad excuse ik ik!), and I love ya'll too I didn't expect people to enjoy my work that much :_) <33

Demon Slayer Characters Reacting to a Shy Reader Confessing Their Love

Hashira:

Rengoku Kyojuro

Bursts into his usual enthusiastic grin, eyes gleaming with warmth.

“Ahaha! Such a wonderful declaration of love! I am honored!”

Gently reassures you if you're blushing or stumbling over words, giving you a comforting hand on the shoulder.

If he reciprocates, he’ll confidently declare, “Then let us walk this path together, side by side!”

Tomioka Giyuu

Blinks a few times, processing your words in silence.

“…You love me?” His tone is neutral, but his ears are definitely red.

Takes a deep breath, then softly says, “I… I feel the same. I just never thought you would.”

Avoids eye contact at first, but subtly takes your hand, holding it with a gentle squeeze.

Shinazugawa Sanemi

Freezes mid-movement, eyes widening in shock.

“What the hell did you just say?” He definitely heard you but is just too flustered to process it.

Scratches the back of his neck, looking away with a deep blush. “Tch… damn it. You’re too cute for your own good.”

If he reciprocates, he’ll gruffly mumble, “Fine. I… I like you too, idiot.”

Tokito Muichiro

Tilts his head, his usual dreamy expression turning more focused.

“You love me?” He repeats it softly, processing.

If he likes you back, his lips twitch into a rare small smile. “That’s nice… because I love you too.”

Will be straightforward but calm, probably holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing.

Kocho Shinobu

Giggles softly, covering her mouth with a fan. “Oh my, how adorable~”

Watches you fidget with amusement but eventually places a gentle hand on yours.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for you to say that. I love you too.”

Her teasing is playful, but she means every word.

Iguro Obanai

Stares at you, stunned, his grip tightening on Kaburamaru.

His voice comes out quiet, almost hesitant. “You… really mean that?”

If he feels the same, he’ll look away, muttering, “I never thought someone like you would…”

Expect awkward but genuine affection—like him awkwardly wrapping his scarf around you.

Himejima Gyomei

Tears up immediately. “This is… a beautiful moment…”

You’ll find yourself in a very warm, firm hug.

“Your love is deeply cherished. I shall treasure you always.”

His reaction is overwhelmingly heartfelt and sincere.

Upper Moons + Muzan:

Muzan Kibutsuji

Stares at you with unreadable eyes. “You love me?”

Smirks slightly. “Fascinating… a human confessing to the Demon King.”

If he’s interested, he’ll caress your cheek. “You amuse me. Stay by my side, and you shall never know fear.”

His affection is possessive, but you have undeniably captured his intrigue.

Kokushibo

His six eyes widen slightly, his calm demeanor breaking for a moment.

“Love… you say?” His voice is deep and contemplative.

After a pause, he nods. “If that is your true feeling, then I shall protect you.”

His affection is quiet but deeply devoted.

Doma

Gasps dramatically, clasping his hands together. “Oh my, how cute! My little love is so shy~”

Will definitely tease you relentlessly, patting your head.

If he likes you back, he’ll hum. “Well, I suppose I could fall for someone as adorable as you.”

His love is playful, but the glint in his eyes suggests he’s serious about keeping you close.

Akaza

Blinks in disbelief. “You… love me?”

His expression softens from shock to warmth. “I never thought I’d hear those words again…”

If he reciprocates, he’ll place a strong hand over yours. “I will protect you. Always.”

His love is pure and devoted, showing in his fierce protectiveness.

Main Trio + Genya:

Tanjiro Kamado

His face immediately turns bright red. “Y-You love me?!”

Flustered but so, so happy. “I… I love you too! I just… never thought you’d feel the same!”

Expect a warm hug, his hands trembling slightly from nervous excitement.

Zenitsu Agatsuma

Faints. Just straight-up collapses from overwhelming joy.

Wakes up screaming, “I KNEW IT! I KNEW WE WERE MEANT TO BE!”

Clings to you dramatically. “I’ll cherish you forever!!”

He’s over-the-top, but his love is genuine and deeply affectionate.

Inosuke Hashibira

“Huh? Love? Like… you wanna fight me forever?!”

Blinks as he slowly realizes what you meant. “Oh… OH!”

Turns bright red and crosses his arms. “W-Well obviously you love me! Who wouldn’t?!”

If he likes you back, he’ll awkwardly bump his forehead against yours. “You’re mine now, got it?!”

Genya Shinazugawa

Chokes on air. “Y-You what?!”

Looks away, rubbing the back of his neck aggressively. “Damn it… now you got me all flustered.”

If he likes you back, he’ll take a deep breath and say, “I love you too. Just… don’t go running off, okay?”

He’s awkward but sincere, his love being quiet but incredibly loyal.

There you go! Hope you love this as much as I loved writing it! Let me know if you want more! 💖

[barleyo]

Better Things.

Older Bro! Megumi X Little Sis! Reader (smut)

A/N: please read the tags and avoid this if anything mentioned in them discomforts you ^_^ i'm not responsible for your media consumption, so do not read this is if you do not like the sound of it. thanks!! :3

Tags: incest (brother-sister), some misogyny, 25-ish years old megumi, fingering, oral (f receiving), no penetration/dry humping

Wordcount: 2.8k

Megumi did not know whether or not to be angry with you or himself. Maybe a mixture of both— no. No, you. Your fault. 

Very rarely did he have time off from missions. Often, it was back to back assignments in far away places. It had been two or three years since he had seen you last. He went back to your apartment as soon as he came back from an especially lengthy mission, only to find it empty. No furniture, no clutter. No little sister in sight. 

He found your landlord. Some old sleaze, Megumi remembered him well from when he helped you with moving in. He was so angry that day, extra eyerolls and teeth gritting. He never wanted you to be anywhere that wasn't attached to his hip. You weren't meant to be on your own, you needed him to protect you, but you insisted on a little independence. 

"She hasn't lived here for a while, son" the landlord answered, leaning on the frame of his front door, arms crossed. "Said she was moving into college dorms."

College? What did you need college for? To get some degree? A worthless slip of paper to show the four years that you wasted? 

Megumi stomped away from the apartment complex with a look of pure betrayal. 

He'd been sending you money and clothes— anything he could use to keep you entertained while he was gone— over the years. Was that not enough? If you were that damn bored, you could have told him. Megumi would have done something, anything, to keep you stuck safely at home, but no. You weren't at home. 

Were you even alive, he wondered? He had heard stories of those college bastards eating freshman girls alive. Sororities hazing sweet things like you to no end, fuck boys slipping mystery pills into drinks of girls stupid enough not to watch them, and God knew you were just that stupid. What if you got knocked up by some awful frat guy while Megumi was gone? What if you were slutting around campus? Or worse:

What if you had gotten a boyfriend?

Classes here were much harder than you had anticipated. You knew college was a big deal. You hadn't done especially well in high school, either, but the social aspect of college spoke to you so loudly. The movies had hyped it up well. You wanted it all— a spot in a fancy sorority, maybe Chi Omega or Kappa Alpha Theta. You wanted a clique of close girlfriends to gossip with. You wanted to sit in the front row of every class and answer every professor's questions with precision and accuracy. You wanted to be a cheerleader, a book worm, a prodigy, and a notorious knock-out all rolled into one.

Well, year one of college and you were severely disappointed.

You went bidless with every sorority you tried to rush. Friends were hard to keep and come by— your roommate never even spared you a side glance. She was too busy bringing boys home to catch your name, you assumed. You sat in the flooded middle rows in your lecture halls, and the only question you had ever answered correctly was when your physics professor aimlessly asked what day of the week it was.

Your essays were consistently given static, mediocre grades. Your exam scores were less than stellar. The cafeteria's food was tasteless and bland. Your feet constantly hurt from walking around campus all day. Your schedule was awkward and poorly spaced out.

You didn't know why you even left home. Not your old apartment, but home. Home with 'Gumi. Sure, you didn't see him a lot, but if your brother was your only shot at a decent human connection, you'd take seeing him once or twice a month.

You were petty to move out in the first place. You wished you could smack your old self right across her stupid, stupid face! You wish you could shake her by the shoulders and say 'stay home! you aren't cut out for this!'

Who were you joking, thinking you could make it on your own? You weren't very smart, and as much as 'Gumi loved you, he made that very clear.

"You're a girl," he often told you when you were both small children. Some neighborhood boys picked on you, calling you creative names like 'stupid' and 'idiot,' articulated as children do. "Girls aren't supposed to be strong or smart. That's why they have brothers to protect them," he would reason, his logic going unchecked by anyone around him.

"You're a girl," he'd say when you both got a little older. Some boy had played with your hearts, stringing you on. "Guys like hurting girl's feelings. That's why you don't need one." He wanted badly to add, 'you just need me,' to that sentence.

"You don't need to work, you know," he told you after you finally finished high school. "Just stay with me. You don't need to do anything else."

God, you wish you had listened to him. Instead, you had your nose stuck up so high in the air that you would drown if it rained. You left home because you wanted more for yourself, but was this the universe's way of showing you that you had all you needed? You left because you thought you were big and bad, because you thought you were a woman. Well, life was certainly humbling you, because just like Megumi had always told you, you were just a girl. 

A girl sitting in a tiny, cramped dorm room with a dirty nightstand, awful grades, no friends, no place to belong, and no romance. The high hopes you had in the beginning of the semester had plummeted. All you wanted was your older brother. 

After high school, Megumi's overprotectiveness and thinly veiled old fashioned way of thinking was suffocating. You brushed off his words with pouts and huffs. He was right, though. He was always right. You did need him to protect you, to provide for you. 

You needed Megumi to save you from your own stupid choice, and quick.

Finding you was surprisingly easy. There were only a few local colleges. Megumi was certain you weren't anywhere across the country, or God forbid, international. After a little digging, who found that you were attending a community college only ten or so miles away from his house. High acceptance rates, low reputation, and zero tuition. Made sense. 

He scoffed at the idea. How could you go somewhere so lowbrow? He didn't want you enrolled back in school, point-blank, but if you had to go, he would've paid to get you into somewhere much better. He wanted the best for you. This place was not it. 

Hands crossed over his chest, shoulders slouched, Megumi stared at the brick walls of your dorm building. It was old and dilapidated. He was sure the admin board would refer to it as 'rustic' or 'charming,' but really, it was a dump. No place for his baby. Baby sister, he meant, not... not that way, right?

Megumi shook his head, trying to dispel the thought before it could settle. Of course, not that way. He was just protective. You were his sister, and this place was beneath you. It wasn’t about control, it was about making sure you were safe and comfortable. That’s what older brothers did—looked out for their family. He had every right to check on you.

He didn't want to control you. He just wanted you to do what he told you to and to follow his guidance.

Still, standing there in front of your dorm, something gnawed at him. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t doing this purely out of brotherly concern. He brushed it aside, pushing his hands into his pockets as he glanced up at the windows. One of those was yours, no doubt. He hadn't been able to find the exact dorm number, but the building wasn't very big. A perk, in this case, of the budget college you'd stuck yourself in. 

Megumi sighed, his frustration growing as he scanned the windows. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be in this kind of place. You had him, and took care of everything for you. Sure, maybe he wasn't physically around often. Maybe he couldn't give you his time, but he gave you everything else. Every card in his name was free for your use. Every cent in his account had your name written all over it, had you have wanted it.

Women are ungrateful, he reminded himself, shaking his head in frustration. It's just how they are.

He turned the corner, making his way toward the entrance, rehearsing what he might say. He wasn’t here to pick a fight. This was just a pick-up. A chance to remind you that you didn’t have to settle for something so mediocre. A chance to bring you back home, where you belonged. His chest tightened as he stepped inside the building. 

The hallway was humid and dimly lit, the faint hum of old fluorescent lights filling the silence. As he approached the stairwell, his footfalls echoed—louder than he appreciated in the still quietness. He didn’t know which room was yours, but he had a feeling he’d know it when he saw it.

Reaching the second floor, he paused in front of a row of doors. His hand hovered for a moment before he forced himself to knock on the one closest to him. He had no plan for what he’d say if this was the wrong room or worse, if you didn’t want to see him ever again. The uncertainty didn’t matter. He’d bring you with him no matter what. 

He wasn’t leaving until you understood that this—this place, this whole plan—wasn’t what was best for you. He’d make you see that you still needed him, even if it meant dragging you out by your wrist like a child. Shoving aside whatever was stirring in the pit of his stomach, an unsettling mix of guilt and something else, he watched the door creak open slightly.

Your puffy, flushed face peeked through the door. Damn it, crying already?

"You don't get to be mad at me," you sobbed angrily. 

This is why Megumi still saw you as a something to be protected. A weak, emotional woman. 

"You left me first! You left and I never knew when you would come back, 'Gumi—" you shook your head, burying your face back into the pillow under you as you corrected yourself, "—Megumi."

Perched behind you, pressing his clothed erection against your ass, Megumi huffed. His chest planted against your back to trap you against your thin, uncomfortable mattress. 

"That's different. I have to work."

You sniffled and felt more tears slip from your eyes. Small stains were starting to cover your pillow. Wet splotches giving away your cries of anger, sadness, and pleasure. 

Megumi’s sigh was heavy, his breath brushing against the back of your neck as he leaned in closer. “You know it’s not the same,” he said, his voice calm, almost patronizing. His arms caged you in, keeping you pinned beneath him, as if he could physically restrain your defiance. "I don’t have a choice. You do. You chose this." His words were measured, but there was a subtle edge to them, the weight of his snark pressing down as much as his body was.

You squirmed beneath him, trying to shift your weight, to pull away from the suffocating feeling of his presence. But he didn’t budge. He never did. "You say it like it’s so easy," you said, your voice cracking with every word. "But you don’t understand. You don't know what it's like to feel so lonely. 'S like you don't love me anymore, 'Gumi, like I'm not important."

Megumi's grip tightened slightly, his chest rising and falling against your back. His voice softened, but the meaning in it remained. "I’m making sure you’re taken care of. That you don’t end up in places likethis." He tipped his head back, gesturing to the disorganized dorm room, even though you couldn't see what he was doing. "Do you know what could happen to you out here? Here where anyone could take you? Hurt you?"

You felt his hands snatch you up by your hips. A more freeing position, sure, but more exposing too. Your ass perched in the air and your face was pushed further into your pillow. 

"I’m the one who's always been there for you, you know that. I always take care of you." 

Cool air whooshed over your bottom. Megumi's palms ran over your cheeks. You could've sworn you heard him groan at the sight before him. Your cunt sticky and spread, nearly as wet as your tears. 

"Don't ever say," he spoke between placing firm licks over your clit from behind, "that I don't love you."

He spat on the little nub, slicking you up. From broad strokes to pointed swirls against the tip of your clit, Megumi felt himself growing lost in you. He'd wanted this for so long, he just didn't know it. He didn't know why he wanted to so close to you, why he felt the primal need to protect you, but it all made sense now.

One protects their property, don't they? They get a guard dog to chain up at the edge of it. They keep watch, armed on their porch, ready to shoot anything that moves.

A foreign feeling entered you. A snaking tongue slurped at your hole, wriggling deep inside and toying with your tight walls. 

"'Gumi, no," you couldn't fight it. Embarrassed as you were, you wanted— needed, to cum.

Fingers replaced the intruding tongue. The angle was all too good. Too perfect. You felt drool prick the corner of your mouth and heat rise through your lower body. It was like a wire wrapped around your womb and cinched, tighter, tighter, tighter—

"Awh! No, no more," you cried out. "Can't take anymore!"

"No?" Megumi looked almost amused. "Still sensitive, huh? Guess no guys have broken you in yet."

You shook your head slowly.

"Good. We'll fix that, then. At home."

[applejusue]

violet kiramman ─── marine encounters #004

You head down to the beach for your shift, only to find a very familiar looking naked woman on wobbly legs that's certainly attracting attention from beachgoers

◟`# cw: orca!vi, killer whale, size difference, comfort, fluff, awkward scenarios, nudity, drabble.

── requested by anon

taglst '# @marvelwomenarehot0, @cherry-coffees, @sider3us, @sevikas-whore, @kittymrtnezz69, @mxya-dreams

marine encounters | arcane masterlist . . .

Your shift started around noon, hyperactive kids covered in ice cream tumbling past, nearly planting forward into the sand. It was hot out, the sticky kind that got irritating after a few minutes. Sweat had already began to pool around your lower back purely from the walk down alone, your tanned legs and arms prepped to high heaven with sunscreen.

It was relatively mild for the first hour or two, you kept an eye on your section while a coworker manned further down the beach. You'd had to plaster a few scrapes and stop a kid from burying his little brother under the sand, the usual stuff. You surveyed the area from beneath your visor, chin resting against your palm as you sat on the tall picket chair. The whistle blew from the other section, and you cocked your head curiously.

Your soul near split from your body. Stumbling around like a sardine on concrete was Vi, pushing her way across the hot sand. Everybody was staring, hell you were staring dumbfounded at your love who was currently very human, and very naked. You scattered down the lifeguard chair so fast you nearly tripped over the last step, jogging across the sloaping grain with your whistle between your lips, trying to clear a path through.

Mothers scoffed in disgust, shielding their kids eyes with a pudgy palm while others ogled, unable to even pretend like they weren't looking. It was impossible not to look, especially considering she was over six foot of wet muscle, ink stains dripping down her legs and a frown of confusion on her lips. You all but crashed toward her, and immediately a crooked grin was growing on those pointed teeth.

"Hey.. ..baby.."

Vi's voice was slow, bashful, like she still wasn't entirely sure what words she was saying. She'd been begging Jinx to teach her some human phrases so that she could impress you, and if she still had a tail it would be thumping like a damn puppy at the way your eyes widened in mild affection. You were quick to snap out of it, ushering her away from floral wearing tourists, palms pressed against the expanse of her wet lower back as you tried to get her to the lifeguard tent.

When you eventually managed to sit her down on the small beach bed, Vi didn't seem to have a clue in the world what was going on, simply happy to be near you on land. You rinsed down the sand that covered her with a small water bottle, rummaging through old lifeguard lockers and managing to get her an XL pair of red shorts that just about managed to get over her hips. You then tossed her an old white tank from your gym bag, though it looked more like a crop top on her broad torso. She sat curiously, watching you brisk and blabber about how this happened.

Vi's eyes followed your pacing, like a cat waiting for the right time to pounce onto a bird. Once you passed close enough, she grabbed you by the arm, pulling you tight to her body. Your head only landed just below her breasts, but she cooed all the same as she leaned down to muss your hair with her face. Damn orca.

"Vi.. this is serious, you can't just show up like this and not expect-.."

Your grumbling fell on deaf ears, Vi simply cuddling you close like you were a small pillow. You knew you should be figuring this out to avoid her nakedly stumbling around a beach full of people again in the near future, but she was warmer on land and it would probably wear off eventually. What was the harm in enjoying it?

[blueteller]

I found this on reddit it's not my opinion but it's kind of funny and disconcerting.

What do you think?

( https://www.reddit.com/r/CharacterRant/s/uwKw63Cgoc )

"A rant on Trash of the Count’s Family

Alright before I begin I would like to preface by saying that I am a long time reader of the novel and love this novel to death. It kept me company during my darkest and lowest points of my life and I am forever grateful for it !

The rant also in no way affects the brilliance of the story. With that out of the way here it goes:

This is an amazing fantasy novel filled with great visuals, writing, story and top-notch characters. However it has TWO big problems that broke the story smooth sailing for me and I need to rant about it because where I am from I am pretty sure no one reads TCF in a 6000 mile radius.

One big problem was the romance. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NONE OF IT. This is not a problem if the main character doesn’t want romance (he doesn’t nope) but NONE of the main/side characters that has been introduced so far also want nothing to do with romance. It was a little awkward to read the story based in medieval setting where characters are as pure as angels as they come.

Now, you can of course raise the point that romance was never the main focus of this novel (it’s not even a background focus or some D plot) but let’s analyse this novel here for a second okay? This novel is very gore and never ever shy away from very dark themes or stories.

- The main protagonist of the story (sorry forgot his name it’s been a long time) has his entire village with whom he has spent 20 years murdered and burned to ashes, all the men women and children are totally dead.

- The Prince story is also pretty dark and deals with some adult themes about race and identity.

- The dragon raon (is that the name?) backstory is…holy shit some hardcore torture and let’s not forget the revenge torture that happened later with raon eating steak.

- The butler and his butcher son

- The absolute crazy HUMAN EXPERIMENT arc that was happening in the Empire. I mean holy shit they really went into crazy detail about body mutilation and the scientists are absolute psychopaths in how they love their job.

And I am just scratching the surface about how dark this novel is and there’s plenty of it. The point is that it is very adult oriented novel with these stories but on the flip side their romance department is so negligible that even Tom and Jerry had more romance than this.

It actively avoids it like a plague. Why is this an issue? Let me explain.

Simple answer it feels a little jarring or disorienting when you read the novel like going back and forth between watching the looney tunes movie and switching immediately back to a Black Mirror episode.

But I have to give where credit is due. I didn’t notice the romance problem until after some 500+ chapters later (that’s how good the novel story is ) and how did I notice it?

After some battle trying to reclaim the south (north?) tower and this is the part where the Empire’s royalty is on the brink of collapse the redhead girl (I also forgot her name but she is part of the main gang) is extremely tired after a long battle and Cale tries to help her by giving her some healing potions (remember at this point she is the only female character that understands Cale the most and their relationship is the most developed of all) but she says she is so tired she can’t even lift her arms, so Cale (as logic would have it) offers to feed her the potion himself (see completely logical under the circumstances) but Raon the dragon out of nowhere says, “You are too weak Cale! Let me do it”. And I am like…say what? We know the main gang always comments that Cale is weak and all but come on guys we know he isn’t and in fact he’s been through crazy shit. During that battle he never had to fight and was in top condition so that remark from raon made even more less sense.

And then the redhead laughed it off and said “it’s okay I will do it myself” and she does…after a bit of struggle to lift the said bottle.

It’s a small thing but it did break my immersion (it was already broken before, I will explain later). It forced me as a reader to actually “think” about the author intentions something that should never happen when reading a fantasy novel. And it made me go “hmm wait a minute” and then I reflected back on all the 500+ chapters I have read and I came to a realisation that…forget main character romance there is hardly any romance of any proportions from any and every character in this whole novel! It was so impossibly impossible that it teared through the immersion completely.

The second reason for this rant and this is connected to when my immersion showed a small crack. And this reason is purely a preference thing so feel free to ignore this as you want.

I personally believe that when you make a “reborn in a fantasy world” story you absolutely must never collide “our” world with the fantasy world.

Don’t do that.

From page 1 you are setting up this fantasy life, fantasy way of living and thinking, fantasy people, fantasy stories and most importantly a fantasy you. Don’t break this immersion by literally making the world he (Cale) came from an integral part of the story.

When the main protagonist found out who Cale really is and confronted him about it by listing some Korean food items I was a little disappointed because it felt like a parent telling a child that role playing as a prince and over now put the castle made of pillows back in place and do your homework for school tomorrow.

Maybe it’s just a me thing but after that confrontation, every time Cale interacted with anyone be it the redhead, his dragon, butler or anyone it all felt so plastic and fake, like I was overly conscious of the fact that this is a fantasy land filled with fantasy people and well…it made me feel a little lonely."

Wow, this is quite interesting! Thanks for sending me this. Not because I agree – anyone who knows anything about my opinions on TCF would know that the very 2 points that the author of this post has "problems with" are the things that I embrace with great enthusiasm.

So, prepare for a long ride!

First of all, let me make this absolutely clear, the same way this person did at the beginning of their own post; they are allowed to have their own opinion on what they like or dislike. The same way I am allowed to like or dislike certain elements of stories. I don't claim that TCF is a flawless work either – it's just that all the flaws it does have, at least to me, are so minor I don't care about them in the slightest.

I might actually be "brave enough" in the future to actually make my own post about the "flaws" of the story for me, no matter how few. But not today. Today, let's focus on the reddit post.

Now, imagine a person (the author of this post) is given an apple pie in a restaurant.

This person very much enjoys apple pies. They continue to visit the same restaurant and keep ordering this apple pie. But after a while, they discover "two big problems" with the apple pie.

First of all, it does not contain cinnamon. So this person is like – why not! That is, they did not notice before, but it is SO jarring to them now that they know! Because they believe all apple pies should contain cinnamon. Secondly, this apple pie is made out of a species of apples they do not like. In fact, they are convinced this apple species is not fit for apple pies! So, they quit ordering apple pies at this restaurant.

Meanwhile, there's a second regular customer (me) who orders the apple pie at this restaurant. This customer, in fact, is kind of sick of cinnamon. They were so happy they discovered a restaurant that doesn't use it! This person also notices this apple pie has a very interesting texture to it, one they very much enjoy, because of the specific apple species this restaurant uses. It quickly became their all-time favorite dessert.

Obviously, neither customer here is wrong. "The customer is always right in matters of taste" is a saying for a reason (although people usually say only the first half of it, forgetting the second part), and just because I love the "apple pie" in question, I am not going to shame the other person for their own taste.

With all that said, please allow me to address to the post properly, step by step.

First, when addressing the lack of romance as a problem, this is this person's argument: they list major dark moments in the story, like Choi Han's village getting massacred, dark race racism, Raon's torture et cetera. Then they say, "The point is that it is very adult oriented novel with these stories but on the flip side their romance department is so negligible that even Tom and Jerry had more romance than this".

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't believe… Tom and Jerry had any romance either. That cartoon did not even have dialogue. So like, huh??? What kind of argument is that? Should I say that Tom and Jerry has a critical flaw that is has no talking despite being all about comedy? That it would have been better if it was dubbed or something? Well, there was that one movie I remember from childhood but – never mind, we're getting off track here. This argument kind of, completely falls flat for me.

I get the implication. "TCF is has so many dark themes, it should be mature enough to contain romance as well". Which is, completely off the mark for me, personally. Maturity and romance have NOTHING to do with each other.

There's also the statement that "It actively avoids [romance] like a plague." And I agree, kind of. This story avoids romance on purpose. But It never felt unnatural for me. I was kind of expecting it to pop up eventually, back when I first started reading. I thought for SURE Rosalyn would be somebody's love interest – because she had to be, right?? But it gradually dawned on me that there are so many cool, pretty, strong, independent female characters… And none of them are representing a specific fetish or exist solely to be somebody's wifu. The women are PEOPLE, they are fleshed-out, complex characters who have goals and ambitions and just like for the men, there is no thought about romance here because there is so much going on – most of it world-ending, in fact – that focusing in romance would actually DECREASE the maturity of the story instead of enhancing it.

The author of the post said, "It was so impossibly impossible that it teared through the immersion completely". What, do you need characters getting laid to be truly realistic mature adults or something? I think you have the wrong idea about adulthood… Let me say it again, those people are too busy in this story to focus on dating. Even if Cale himself wasn't so obviously ace, his life has been so crazy since he transmigrated, I have no idea HOW on earth he could have found the time (or anyone else for that matter: just look at poor Alberu, swimming in paperwork 24/7!). He can't even sleep for more than 4 hours per day during the war arc. What I personally would find jarring is exactly this: characters trying to freaking date or play off romantic subplots while the world was LITERALLY GETTING DESTROYED. That would have been so petty and ridiculous.

So, the expectation that there HAS to be romance, just because… I think it is a faulty expectation to have in the first place. And it is NOT unnatural that the characters don't do romance (especially with how many species there are among the cast and the age gaps between them, it would have been awkward to say the least; unless you're the type to like Twilight style of romance). The story put a lot of focus to forge familial bonds between the characters. It doesn't lack in the relationship department, just non-platonic one. And if this is a problem for someone and they find it jarring, well… Again, no cinnamon in apple pie, I guess.

Next, we have the argument that "when you read the novel like going back and forth between watching the looney tunes movie and switching immediately back to a Black Mirror episode". I don't know Black Mirror, but I get it. The author of the post claims that the comedic character interactions – the ones that had been very well established in the first 200 chapters of the story, covering full 2 years in the timeline – are… what, unrealistic? Inaccurate? Cartoonish? I’m not 100% sure what the exact issue is here.

They quote a scene where I assume Rosalyn is too tired to lift her arms and Cale offers to help and Raon says he's too weak and let him do it instead. The author of the post then acts confused, as if it was completely unreasonable, because Cale is not weak. Um…. I don't know if they were not paying attention, but that's just false. Cale is PHYSICALLY weak, despite all his Ancient Powers. That is exactly the whole reason why he keeps coughing blood and fainting and stuff. So it was funny, and in-character, and fitting with the rest of the story – at least in my opinion. If that broke this person's immersion, then fine I guess, but I really don't see the reason. I guess they don't enjoy the "texture" of this "apple pie".

Speaking of texture, the last point pf the post I want to address: the belief that you should not mix "real world" and fantasy. They say, "I personally believe that when you make a "reborn in a fantasy world" story you absolutely must never collide "our" world with the fantasy world. Don't do that". Excuse me, but uh… why? That is not the case at all, for many stories? I mean, you could approach it that way, nothing wrong with keeping it separate. But most classic isekai examples usually stray from that idea, actually. Are you familiar with Chronicles of Narnia, by any chance? Did you know that the magical lamppost that Lucy found in the woods actually came from England? It was a very fun bit of backstory from the Magician's Nephew.

"Don't break this immersion by literally making the world he (Cale) came from an integral part of the story." Why not, man??? It was so brilliantly done! In fact, it was so freaking cool, the way TCF did it! What, is "our world" so boring and terrible you must keep it separate from the fantasy at any cost? It was plot relevant, it gave Cale legit ties to the new world, it fleshed out his character, it was incredible! 10/10! If TCF lost that element, it would have been a great loss.

And even if you don't like the mixing of "fantasy and reality" as something "immersion breaking"… there is one problem with this kind of argument, in TCF at least.

Kim Rok Soo is NOT FROM OUR REALITY.

Let me repeat: the man is not from regular, modern Korea! HE IS FROM A FANTASY MONSTER APOCALYPSE DIMENSION!

The whole reveal of what kind of place KRS comes from is what make this story so good to me. It was an incredible twist. The "regular, normal man from modern world" was a red herring meant to hide the fact that he was an ability user from what is basically a superhero world full of monsters! It is not! Regular! Modern! World!!!

"When the main protagonist found out who Cale really is and confronted him about it by listing some Korean food items I was a little disappointed because it felt like a parent telling a child that role playing as a prince and over now put the castle made of pillows back in place and do your homework for school tomorrow." That… you really, REALLY missed the point here, man. That was not the vibe of the scene at all! Choi Han and Cale are both essentially war veterans, mentioning foods from their childhood! This the "Frodo and Sam talking about the flavor of strawberries from Shire at the foot of Mount Doom" from Lord of the Rings type of moment! Only, well, a bit more comedic. Still, it was so touching!! But, well… again, you don't like the taste of the pie, there is nothing I can do about it.

And lastly, there was this paragraph at the end of the post:

"Maybe it's just a me thing but after that confrontation, every time Cale interacted with anyone be it the redhead, his dragon, butler or anyone it all felt so plastic and fake, like I was overly conscious of the fact that this is a fantasy land filled with fantasy people and well… it made me feel a little lonely."

I never noticed such a thing. I do not know if more people felt that way. But I always thought that the characters were well-established and their behavior natural. I am sorry that the immersion break made the author of the post lonely. I hope they can spend time with their friends and feel a little better. Fantasy shouldn't just be a tool to "fill an empty void in your life and escape terrible reality". For me, stories are meant to create something beautiful, to inspire, and to make one consider the possibilities of reality. I mean, if Cale can stop world-ending threats by being brave and making good strategies, why can't I handle the minor problems that reality has to offer? It's all a matter of perspective.

So, that is it. That's my whole response. I hope it satisfies you! Have a great day!

[hbheavensent]

Asmodeus/Fizz

Teehee my blue boy and my second favorite clown :33 My thoughts/reasons for changes below the cut!

I'll start with Ozzie first because I don't even really mind his original design, I just dislike his head looking bug-like and sorta awkward. I DID love his drag fashion style so I wanted to keep most of that. I also wanted to limit his colors a bit to give his look a touch more focus.

In regards to his outfit I wanted to play into a bondage sort of aesthetic with the ribbons. I imagine they shoot out to grab people while also constraining him, adding in some body horror to the whole thing. I was also thinking that he is affectively blind which is apart of his punishment after falling from grace for trying to consort with Raphael repeatedly. He is the fifth to fall just after Mammon does. Something I also want to change is how Succubi come about, rather than being made by Ozzie like how Satan made the Imps, Succubi are a product of his ring and humans becoming more and more lustful. They spawn in at first as opposed to being made and are unable to carry children but can breed with others as long as they carry the child. No "Pure Succubi" has blood related parents. Succubi I also think have a slightly longer lifespan of an average 150 years vs an Imp's 80 years, though they show no signs of aging until they die. Other than that, Lust is really similar to the show.

Ozzie in my version has the best intentions most of the time, his sin is the weakest because it impacts his and others day to day lives the least arguably. Ozzie at his worst is committing adultery and cheating but if he has a partner who is FINE with him being like that? It's no big deal. Not to mention a lot of people in Hell are sex positive, rarely is anyone clutching their pearls about these things. This sort of laxness is what gives Ozzie a skewed perception on the other Sins, sure he understands compulsions because he has them just as strongly but it's not actively ruining his quality of life like it would for Mammon or Belphegor. In this way it's caused a lot of friction between him and the other sins with the exception of Beelzebub, who they only hang out once in a blue moon since she's always busy. Ozzie is also one of the sins who very heavily interacts with the "lower class" of demons, seen as approachable but not in the same way Bee is. He for sure floats above things a bit but he's known to have relationships with just about anyone, often coming back home to just one person. This is where we get into his relationship to Fizz. They're not toxic by any means, Ozzie and him communicate well all things considered. Naturally they did meet through Mammon requesting the sex bots, because frankly Mammon does NOT want to handle any of that and knows Ozzie would.

Through multiple meetings and measurements Fizz/Ozzie started having flings which turned into a more stable relationship. Fizz doesn't mind that Ozzie messes with other people and the power dynamic between them rarely comes into play in their personal lives. Rather, the reason Fizz and Ozzie avoid public stuff is due to Fizz being uncomfortable with other people's observations about them. To Ozzie this is something he's experienced thousands of times. That's the thing though isn't it? Ozzie has had this kind of relationship with a mortal creature over and over again. He's a wonderful partner, supportive and kind- but in 60-80 years when Fizz gets old and dies? How long will it take for Ozzie to forget him? To forget the moments they had?

He's forgotten others, so.. what makes Fizz different?

He's not.

That's where their main conflict comes from, Fizz already feels insignificant unless he's performing and getting that external validation. So much of Fizz is wanting a legacy, wanting people to know him and look up to him. Fizz, at his core, is insecure unless he's in the limelight and peacocking or acting. To know that he is a blip in eons of time to Ozzie and someday that he won't matter to the person he loves most? That sucks. I want his arc to focus on that though admittedly I have some more writing to do there. For Fizz's new outfit I really just wanted to have him.. perform in his bosses colors. Because why would be represent Ozzie on Mammon's stage??? EVER??? Not that he can't have his cannon look/outfits since I borderline changed nothing and I like his design a lot :P

Anyway, here's the lineup as per usual! I'll be adding my four Angel OCs before moving to the Hazbin Hotel side of things :)

[the-roo-too]

hong eunchae x reader; idol au

warnings: meeting ‘the unnies’; reader is a part of newjeans

you slid your phone back into the pocket of your pants with a heavy sigh. eunchae was friends with all of your members, so for her meeting them ‘officially’ was more of a friendly hangout. you, on the other hand, somehow never managed to get close to the elder members of le sserafim, despite your groups being actually close. you’d done each other’s challenges a couple times and hanni has filmed countless tiktok’s with yunjin, yet you never really talked with any of them outside of idol stuff.

eunchae you met by pure accident when she walked into your group’s dressing room instead of le sserafim’s, called you very pretty in all of her awkwardness and the rest was history.

“where’re you going?” danielle stopped you just as you were exiting your dorm. she placed her hand on your shoulder, looking at you curiously.

“le sserafim dorm.” was what your mumbled softly as a response, kind of avoiding her gaze. she quirked a brow at your words before chuckling.

“the ‘scary le sserafim unnies’ dorm?”

“hey!” dani was the so called ‘sweetheart’ but her teasing was relentless at times.

“sorry, joke. in all seriousness, you’re going to visit eunchae?”

“and the scary le sserafim unnies…” with a small chuckle, she patted your back and gave you a small smile.

“you’ll be fine.”

“that’s what eunchae said too…”

“you should trust your girl!”

“i guess…”

there was a brief moment of awkward silence after you knocked on the le sserafim’s dorm doors, before you head frantic shuffling on the other side. eunchae suddenly opened the doors in your face, already all giddy. she looked so cute when she was excited to see you like that. on another note, your girlfriend was just always cute.

“y/nnie! you came!” she threw her arms around you in a bear hug, squeezing the life out of you before you could try to step inside the dorm. the door behind her suddenly shut and she leaned in to whisper into your ear. “please don’t panic when you go there. i told them you’d be coming and not to be too overwhelming but i can’t promise anything.”

you felt a drop of sweat slowly slide down the side of your face. “fabulous. you really calmed me down with this one.”

“great!” clearly not picking up your obvious sarcasm, eunchae grasped your hand before pulling you into her dorm.

the moment you two entered, you could feel eyes boring into you. trying to avoid meeting the girl’s gazes, you turned to look at your girlfriend hopefully. then all of a sudden, a flash of realisation went through her eyes and she almost jumped. “i totally forgot!”

before you could ask what was it that she forgot, eunchae bolted away from you and deeper into her dorm, presumably to retrieve ‘whatever she forgot’. realising you now had no way out, you slowly turned back and came face to face with the four unnies of le sserafim. you gulped softly in all of your nervousness and you’d probably have laughed at it, had you not been scared for your life in that exact moment.

“uhm… you guys have pretty doors?”maybe not the best first-impression compliment, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

“what is your intention with our eunchae?” a shiver went down your spine as chaewon spoke up. she wasn’t the oldest but there was something about leaders, something you were afraid to anger.

“m-my intentions are 100% pure! eunchae and i want to hold hands and cuddle like normal couples!” you’d rather not mention kissing your girlfriend in front of the eunchae protection squad. maybe after you’re both 21?

chaewon scanned you with her gaze before shaking her head to herself and turning to sakura. “i don’t believe it.”

“neither do i.” the oldest nodded in agreement before stepping close to you. “are you sure you don’t wanna use her to get more famous?”

you tilted your head to the side cluelessly. both of your groups were probably similarly recognisable, but you’d never dream of doing something like that to another human being. “no! of course not-!”

a wide grin broke out on yunjin’s face and you suddenly felt someone hugging you from the side. “it was a prank!”

kazuha—the one hugging you—shook her head before correcting the older girl. “i think a test is a better word.”

“okay then. a test. and you passed!” yunjin stuck out her fist for you, as if wanting a fist bump. very much confused by the whole situation, you were about to fist bump said girl before eunchae came running to you with a pout on her face.

“unnies! i told you not to scare her!”

“but we didn’t!” chaewon held up her hands in mock defence. “right, y/n?”

the playful glint in her eye made you nod your head so fast you thought it’d break. with a resigned sigh, eunchae came to you and hugged you again. only then you noticed the sudden change of her clothing.

she was wearing a bunnies hoodie, one of your group’s merch clothes. you looked down at the hoodie, up at her, before looking down again and grinning brightly. “it’s a newjeans hoodie…”

“yeah! that was the thing i forgot earlier.” she chuckled lightly before hugging you a little tighter. “i wanted to show support for my girl…”

you were about to kiss her cheek, all giddy from the small interaction, before chaewon cleared her throat. you suddenly remembered all four of them were there to witness you and eunchae being lovely-dovely.

“e-eunchae, baby, where’s your room?”

“baby?!”

“i’m coming with!”

eunchae shook her head with a small smile before tugging on your sleeve. “i’ll show you.”

“i said i’m coming with! yah!”

[crimeronan]

I feel like Luz “Separation Anxiety” Noceda would be a bit dismayed upon learning that Vee and her friends are going to graduate and go to college at the end of the school year (presuming that Freshman Sophomore Junior Senior are Human Realm Exclusive Terms)

Like “oh my entire social life actually revolves around you and your friends because I’m too awkward and different to know how to approach people and am too nice and accommodating to any and everyone because of The Horrors to tell anybody to back off if they get too nosy so truly I cannot fathom how I’m going to function in a school setting without you but it’s Fine :) I’m really happy for you and not at all going to cry about this :)))”

Maybe she’ll join the school band to try and become socially independent and then just get really sad cause she misses Raine :(((

baby girl :(

i think she'd have a kind of tough time in a school environment to begin with, honestly. i made a post to that effect earlier but decided it was too depressing and deleted it.... but! since i ended up thinking a LOT about how her school experience would be handled. the gist was:

she'd have a really good 504 plan in place -- 504 plans are written plans that help students with disabilities stay in a normal classroom. it would have accommodations like her getting pre-written notes about what they'd discuss in class, a slightly separate desk to avoid being unexpectedly touched by other students, blanket permission to step out into the hallway if she gets nervous, extra time on tests, etc.

she'd purposefully be matched with the friendliest teachers and the easiest graders, people who are Very willing to talk with her about her needs. and also to say "i'm not upset with you." probably the really relaxed english teacher from TTT is one of them. this occasionally does remind her of raine and make her feel incredibly guilty/sad :(

and i think she'd have a one-on-one aide assigned to sit with her and show her what she's supposed to do in a classroom and help her navigate between classes. most likely this person is with her all day except for during lunch periods, when she takes her break....

this definitely marks luz Other by the student body (as having a paraprofessional does for every kid in a mainstream classroom) but she actually does not mind it! it feels like being guarded & she's grateful to have someone telling her what to do.

(in my head the aide's name is miss delilah and she's an OC who exists purely to be really kind and understanding. because please god give luz this.)

even with all of this, though....

classrooms are not Easy for luz. in the canon, she has CRIPPLINGLY hyperactive ADHD and can't focus on anything going on. she's weird and offputting and exuberant and causes ten million problems.

here, she has a LOT of baggage from belos. not just the physical trauma, but also everything she's internalized about How To Behave. she's learned a lot about how not to annoy him. and school is a public-facing event, which means she's in full Gracious Princess Mode. trying to make herself as small and unobtrusive as possible

so all of her concentration goes into Sitting Still and Being Quiet. she can't anxiously stim without disrupting the classroom, she can't chatter without annoying people, she can't chew through pencils or rip up paper without attracting Concern.

this is. incredibly stressful!! for her!!

stressful enough that she can't really retain anything the teacher says in classes. her homework is always done and her notes are always neat, but her quiz and test scores are Abysmal. because she either can't process the questions or can't remember the answers. because being in the classroom is Hard

which just adds another layer of stress. luz is like. PLEASE don't tell my mom. please please please please please don't tell my mom :(

vee doesn't really understand this -- she Loves the classroom. loves to sit at a desk and participate in discussion. loves to do worksheets. loves to get good grades and be a pleasure to have in class. Behaving Normally is a lot less stressful for vee than it is for luz.

which makes luz even clingier, when she can have lunch with vee or see her between classes. she's microdosing on being in the company of someone who feels Normal And Fine. and who has friends who clearly feel Normal And Fine. and who don't mind if luz is weird around them

luz being like oh!! you're going away. i see :) um. congratulations!! i'll be right back. i need to lock myself in the shower and cry so hard i throw up.

[skylarstark4826]

Spider sat in one corner of the Sully marui weaving a basket, his smaller hands making quick work of tying sturdy knots out of material new to him.

In the other sat Neytiri, skinning fish after fish and placing them on hooks, quick and efficient with her blade.

The hut stayed utterly silent aside from sounds of their labour, yet it barely felt awkward. After all, both inhabitants were focusing for a reason. The chores were a distraction.

A distraction from the horrid disaster they’ve been through. 

Strangely enough, since loosing the oldest Sully and arranging a funeral, both of them avoided talking about him; even in passing. It caused too much pain, like rubbing salt into a bleeding gash, but while Neytiri knew such agony well, to Spider it was all new. He escaped any thoughts about Neteyam because he was afraid he’d break down again, like he did the night of the funeral, when the emotional whiplash fully caught up to him and he broke, emitting barely-human noises as Kiri wept, holding him. He’d never been this vulnerable, never cried to the point where there were no tears left, and hoped to Eywa that he wouldn’t have to repeat the process, although witnessing Ms.Sully break down twice this week didn’t give him much hope. But could he blame her?

No. Not in a million years. The utter shock of witnessing a loved one’s eyes loose light is a horror Spider wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

His work slowed. 

Is this how Neytiri felt when she lost her father? Her sister? Half of her clan? His pain from loosing ‘Teyam felt gut-wrenching, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine how badly it burned Ms.Sully’s soul to have so much taken from her. Truth be told, he felt horrible for resenting her back in the forest. He only ever saw his own part of the story.

As he wandered deeper into his thoughts, so did the matriarch; except she had a bad habit of quickening her pace whenever she could not find focus on the present. She couldn’t let her children or husband know, but she was holding on by a thread. No amount of crying and screaming and throwing objects into the sand could quench her agony, despite Norm saying that it’d be healthy for her to let it out. No matter how much she let it out, there was too much still left, and it grew like a mold as soon as she’d stop screaming. Maybe she was well past the point of "letting it out" years ago, though she certainly tried many times.

She looked at Spider. 

Yes, she tried hard to let it out indeed…and this boy became her accidental target. He came under the line of fire because through his veins coursed the blood of a demon, and she recalled herself justifying that behaviour more than once by telling her beloved that said boy walked on a slippery slope, bound to repeat the mistakes of his ancestors. 

And yet, there he sat. After enduring months of captivity and torture, as he’d told them when Tonowari organised a council to hear our whatever information he had gathered, he was still loyal. 

He witnessed villages burn, had to beg the demon, *cry* for him to spare the people, and it eluded Neytiri how or why the monster listened. She didn’t want to put the puzzle together just yet, trying to erase the incident on the ship out of her memory. Eywa knows, Kiri hasn’t looked at her the same since.

“Ack!” She hissed when the knife inevitably drove into her finger, causing a bleeding. She then sees Spider react on pure instinct, fetching a bandage-like cloth and sitting next to the woman as he treated her injury. He was good at it, that much she was aware of, as she saw him treat a deep wound once. A human ally pilot bled once, but Socorro never lost his cool and swiftly bandaged it. 

She wondered how often he had to treat himself, to get this precise with his movements.  She also wondered why she let him touch her, but the last seven days have been a complete mess, and neither of the two had strength to be passive-aggressively avoidant of each other. There were bigger sorrows to mope over.

***

The crowd of Metkayina, as well as Tau’nui, roared in frustration at the council. They wanted action, and they wanted it now. The death of many of their loved ones, including the tulkun, has angered them beyond belief, but the leaders had to quieten the crowd so Spider could share what he had gathered about their enemy. He knew he was looked at side-ways, because contrary to how he felt on the inside, blue stripes didn’t make him taller, no matter how much paint he applied to his skin. 

Neytiri grew frustrated as well. The crowd’s fury had been understandable, but their restlessness only stalled them. She looked at the teenager to see if he’d be brave enough to do something about it, since not even Tonowari and Ronal could calm their storm. And he did.

Grabbing the tube filled with a yellow liquid from the mat in the centre, Spider stood in front of the big fire and raised it to the sky. The crowd went quiet, their attention now consumed by the strange device.

“Listen to me, reef people!” He exclaimed, mustering all the confidence he had. “This! This is why they’re killing your spirit siblings!” His voice shook when he remembered the death of a mother and her child.

“What is it!?” He heard the crowd demanding.

“It’s a liquid stored in the minds of every tulkun! They hunt for it because-” He couldn’t believe he was about to say it. “Because it grants sky people immortality!”

Reef Na’vi gasped in utter shock, and even Jake couldn’t keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

“What…what are you saying, child?” Ronal dared to ask, her eyes filled with horror.

“This…this fluid stops humans from ageing! It makes them live forever!” He locked eyes with her.

“But…that is impossible, all energy—”

“They found a way to break that rule. And they break it by killing the tulkun and pulling this out of their heads.” Socorro pointed to where his brain is, his own eyes watering.

The Metkayina and Tau’nui were silent now, processing this new information.

Neytiri felt even more furious than before, but by no means surprised. Sky people cruelty was new to the sea Na’vi, but not her. Not her clan.

Not new to Spider either, she thought, looking at him, and how bravely he held up in the face of a resentful mob.

Yes.

He was indeed quite brave.

***

Water, as beautifully as it sparkled, had never been Neytiri’s strong suit. She could swim just fine, could even fish to an extent, but riding an ilu was still quite difficult for her to grasp, even more when it came to the skimwing. Now that the war was upon them, she had no excuse to stall on learning, so Ronal took time out of her day to offer help. She guided the animal towards her, and ‘Tiri couldn’t help but feel warmth in her chest at its friendly clicks. About ten metres away, Spider sat on the woven pier and helped Jake carve wooden stakes for the nets. Socorro kept stealing glances, wondering how Ms.Sully would do.

Tsaheylu went smoothly but Neytiri shivered, as if cold water was dumped on her. She heard a familiar chuckle and whipped her head, seeing Spider quickly turn his down and pretending to work. She huffed, and listened to Tsahik’s instructions, slowly got on the creature’s back. However, the animal must’ve felt her lack of confidence, as it chirped and bolted away, dropping Neytiri into the water.

Spider tried, honest to the great mother, to hold it in, but the image of such a serious, graceful figure emerging from beneath the waves with the widest eyes was just too amusing. He let out a laugh, before biting his lip and hunching again. Jake looked at him like he just signed his death warrant, and Socorro couldn’t agree more. 

He didn’t see the smirk Neytiri failed to suppress, or her slowly wagging tail as she approached the ilu again, and whispered something into their ear.

He did however, definitely feel the harsh tug on his loincloth, which sent him tumbling into the water with a high-pitched screech. Once under the surface, he locked eyes with the clicking ilu and playfully shoved its face, swimming back up when the most incredible sound graces his ears. 

Neytiri laughed. It was short-lived, but she laughed, and laughed in his presence. Seeing a smile on her worn out face felt like a breath of fresh air and Socorro couldn’t help but chuckle in return, grinning. 

Oh how good it felt, to have the weight of the world pulled off their shoulders, if just for a single moment.

***

Neytiri was at it again; overworking herself because she steadily lost focus on the current task while the eclipse had long since passed. She was expected home hours ago, and the family, deeply scared for their mother’s wellbeing, went looking for her around the village.

Jake and Spider split to search on the shoreline, going opposite directions and soon enough, Socorro witnessed a familiar silhouette resting against the rocks. It was none other than ‘Tiri, with a half-weaved net in her arms. 

The blonde couldn’t help but appreciate that distinct, Omatikaya handiwork; he learned weaving from her after all, but his wonder turned to confusion when he caught the warrior twitching in her sleep. Looking up, Spider met her shut eyes and a forming scowl. It’d be better to wake Neytiri before she falls deeper into whatever nightmare she was seeing.

But as soon as Socorro’s hand touched hers, she pounced on him akin to a vengeful thanator. In a way, she was.

“Hey hey HEY!!” Spider yelled, as ‘Tiri felt for the blade strapped to her vest and unsheathed it. “Neytiri STOP!! IT’S ME!!”

In a fit of rage, Neytiri hissed at him, and on reflex, the blonde hissed right back. That seemed to do the trick, as it snapped the warrior out of her delusion, and she breathed heavily, looking him in the eyes.

After what felt like an eternally long moment, she leapt away, realising what she’d done. “What do you want!?”

“…It’s-it’s eclipse. Everyone has been looking for you…” Spider breathed.

Neytiri turned, eyeing the darkening sky, before giving the blonde a slow nod and collecting the net she’d weaved.

“Let us go.” She looked back at him, waiting for Spider to follow.

***

This night proceeded quietly, like so many others these past weeks, but Tshaka could not sleep. It has been roughly a month, but her scar bled still, as fresh as ever. Keeping her son out of her thoughts as to not breakdown completely has been an exhausting task. 

She needed some air, and slowly, as to not disturb her family, slipped out of the warm hut, shivering at the chill. It was then she caught a distant sound of sobbing.

In said distance, on a pier, sat a familiar tiny figure, with knees up to his chin, and shaking shoulders. ‘Tiri couldn’t help her gasp as she approached, akin to a predator trying not to spook its prey. Was Spider really crying? He hadn’t done that since the funeral. She guessed that he’d been putting on a front, but never considered how heavy the burden of grief would weight on someone who experienced it for the first time. 

Thinking of her child, she let out a tear.

It never got easier, but one’s very first loss always stings the most.

“Spider.” 

She spoke barely above a whisper, but Socorro still lurched, as if burned, before quickly lifting his mask and wiping away the salt on his cheeks. 

“W-what is it?” He croaked, his voice shaking.

It’s only then Neytiri realised that she didn’t actually think it through. Her deep-rooted maternal instinct pulled her towards a broken child, but knowing their history, she had no idea how to provide comfort to him specifically.

So instead, she sat next to him, looking at the glowing ocean.

“I cannot sleep.”

The Na’vi avoided making eye contact with Socorro as to not make him feel further embarrassed, but still noticed him nodding, while hiding most of his face.

“…Neither can I.”

‘Tiri nodded in acknowledgement, and they stayed silent for a little more. Listening to the waves swirl gently against pier’s columns, as well as watching peculiar creatures swim below.

“…How…how do-how do you do it?” The boy then asked, sheepishly turning to the woman next to him.

“Do what?”

“Keep going. After everything…” New tears gathered in his eyes. “I feel like a part of me has been ripped away. Is this how it felt when…?”

“…Yes. It feels like that all of the time.”

The blonde’s eyes widened, another tear escaping down his face. “Then how?”

Neytiri looked back at the ocean, trying to gather her thoughts and give him a hopeful response, but in truth, she had none. Every tragedy was a storm that destroyed her, and then, after a while, she just wouldn’t be crumbling as much.

“…I do not know. I guess…” She sighed. “All you can do is wait.”

“It’s torture.”

“Yes.”

“I want to see him again.”

Neytiri’s heart skipped a beat. “I know.”

“It feels like the world has ended, and everyone’s just pretending like nothing happened.”

That sentence brought new tears to Neytiri’s eyes. Socorro oddly hit the arrow on that one. It really did feel like a silent apocalypse at times; like everything after Neteyam’s death was an afterlife, a ghost remaining of the world that had once existed. 

But she felt that way before. The world had died before, one too many times, and yet here she still was, pushing on. It is thanks to her family that she once more found happiness and saw how her life could yet be full of love and purpose.

“…The sun, Socorro. Look to the sun.”

“What..?..”

Neytiri clenched the weaved floorboards of the pier. “The pain is agonising, and the tragedy may seem endless, but the sun will always rise. No matter what happens here on Eywa’eveng, it’ll greet us the very next morning.”

Spider looked up at Polemius; a giant orb with swirly patterns, gracing Pandorian sky.

“The sun will always rise.” Neytiri said, carefully, ever so carefully, moving her hand towards his, wanting to take the pain she is so aware of away from a boy so young. “Nor is the night starless.” She spoke, their fingers barely touching.

***

Curiously, Neytiri slept like a newborn after the conversation they had. Waking up with the morning rays, she saw that the marui had been emptied of all her family members, but she’d been tucked into a blanket. She’ll have to cook something big tonight, to reward her children and husband for working so hard to help Awa’atlu prepare for the future battle with sky people.

However, next to her lay a holo-pad. A human techno device used by Jake to contact their friends at high camp, and sometimes bythe Sully siblings to take photos. Tiredly, she picked up her head and stared at the screen. One of the icons was glowing, and she knew it meant that someone left a message. She pressed on it, expecting barely-comprehensible science gibberish written by Norm or Max.

Instead, it was a message written directly on this device. Neytiri read into the letters, her mind still foggy. 

Her heart sank into the ground.

Her face went pale. 

She leapt to a stance immediately, running as fast as she could through the village, a hundred emotions fighting to be felt, and a single question screaming to be answered.

Why?

The eclipse was not yet fully over when the warrior reached rocky cliffs on the edge of the island. Spider stood there, on the tallest edge, as still as a statue.

“WHY THE HELL DID YOU SAVE HIM!?” Neytiri screamed on top of her lungs, a human word escaping her in the state of panic.

Socorro turned to her, his face once more stained with tears, but his expression stone-serious. “I did it because….because he loves me, in his own horrible, fucked up way. He cared, and when push came to shove, he chose me over everything else!” He yelled to be heard over the crashing waves. “No one has ever done that for me before and, fuck!” He couldn’t keep up the front for long. “I love him too! I wish I didn’t! I swear I hate that I do! He’s a fucking monster and I regret my choices! But back there, I couldn’t stop myself!” He sobbed. “I was just…I didn’t want to be abandoned again.”

Neytiri glared at him, frantic, a small part of her wanting, truly wanting to understand, but getting overshadowed by anger and fear.

“Foolish boy! Do you understand what will happen?! He will come back for us! For your siblings!!”

Spider shook his head, breathing rapidly. “No, no, he doesn’t care for them. He only threatened you because he knew it would set off Jake. He wanted to bait him into a fight. It was his only goal all along.”

‘Tiri hissed, furious. “What is the meaning of all this? Why come here, to the outskirts, to say it!? Are you too much of a coward to face your sins head on!?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Off-handedly, the woman noticed that Socorro wasn’t armed.

“After yesterday, I made up my mind. I can’t make things right, nothing will make it right…but this nightmare can end with me.”

It took a moment for Neytiri to process what the boy had meant, but when it hit her, she couldn’t help taking a step back.

Spider didn’t run out here because he’s a coward.

He ran out here to help Neytiri get rid of the evidence.

“You…you want me to kill you.”

“Don’t you?”

Did she?

Neytiri was angry, and grieving, and afraid, and broken what felt like way beyond repair after the tragedies she’d faced. 

She hated Spider for whom he saved.

She hated what he represented so much.

She…

…

She didn’t want him to die, she realised, tearing up in frustration at herself. She recalled when he was a baby fitting into the palm of her hand, when he followed her like a little shadow and eager to prove himself, when he played with her children, when he gave Tuktirey one of her first necklaces, when he saved his siblings from the sky people who pursued them out of hell’s gate a year ago, when he went through torture at the hands of RDA, that cause him phantom pains, just to keep Omatikaya and their family safe. 

For so long, when meeting eyes with the child before her, she only saw Quaritch. A creature that would inevitablt morph into his exact copy.

But now, when it felt like she had gotten all the proof of it in the world, she looked at him…

And only saw Spider. 

Spider, the human Omatikaya from the forest, and no one else. Miles’s shadow was gone, no longer veiling the blonde away from her.

Neytiri wanted to pluck her eyes out in anger. Why, out of all moments, did she have to see him now? Why did the great mother tortue her so?

She sighed shakily. “I do not what a child’s blood in my hands. I am not him.”

Spider’s eyes widened, as he stared at her in shock, before eventually frowning and nodding. “Right. I’m sorry, of course you wouldn’t…fuck, I don’t know why I thought you would.”

Why did he?

Neytiri hated him, he knew that. They even had an argument once, a short but dramatic one, when the RDA had just returned to Pandora. He’d been so frustrated at the way she saw him, that he’d exploded on her in return that night, saying that Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk were all the family he had because of her war.

He regretted those words every day.

It was another reason to get rid of him. Truthfully, Neytiri had every justification to go through with his murder. Spider wasn’t even a creature of Eywa, so could it really that big of a deal?

But, of course it was.

Neytiri is not a monster out to get him, though it seems like Socorro had come to believe it at some point because of her sheer resentment. 

And then Neteyam died, and everything made sense. Honestly, Socorro had been surprised she didn’t actually attempt anything herself. Truly, Tsahaka was a warrior stronger than any other he’d ever met. An ideal Na’vi.

He only wished he could have understood her sooner.

But now he did. 

“I get it. I…”

And he still needed to make up for his sins.

“It’s time I act like one of the people for once.”

And with those words, Spider’s exopack flew down the cliff, disappearing into the foam below.

Neytiri’s heart stilled as she watched the blonde choke in slow-motion, before her instincts took over and she leapt into action. 

Spider’s limp form in her arms, she ran back to Awa’atlu, counting down the seconds with her every stride.

Sky people only had four minutes to live after loosing air. 

Awa’atlu resided way further. 

She wouldn’t make it.

But Socorro was not any other human, was he? 

Neytiri held onto that thought like a life-line as she pushed Metkayina out of her way. Had Spider always been so small? So fragile? 

She almost missed the entrance when reaching her home, slipping on the weavings, but regained her footing quickly and dropped Spider off on her pallet, rummaging through technical equipment Spellman had brought two weeks ago for the blonde specifically. 

Somewhere here, it had to be here!

There.

She pulled out a brand new mask, setting a charged battery into the slot before picking up her child and fixing the visor over his face, pressing a button that would start filtrating air. 

For a gruelling moment, there had been nothing but silence, and Neytiri’s heart kept sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

It’s been six minutes.

But then, there was a deep, loud inhale, punctuated by frantic coughing and shaking. Neytiri held the blonde as he gulped for air like a fish out of water. 

A moment or two, Spider had been completely disoriented, frantically looking around him, when his eyes paused, staring into Neytiri’s bright yellow ones, almost glowing in the light of the sun.

Socorro looked heartbroken, on the verge of tears the longer the warrior held him. “Why…why did you do it!?”

In response to his panic, Neytiri snapped out of her initial stupor. “I saved your life you ungrateful boy!” She snapped back, yet holding him only tighter. 

“Wha-no! You were supposed-I should have-” He stumbled over his words, distressed. “I should have died!” He sobbed, trying wearily to push Neytiri away, but his strength was no match for hers. “Let GO!” He cried. “…please.”

“True warriors do not go out like this.” She hissed.

“I’m not a warrior. Never passed the iknimaya remember!?” He blabbered, still pushing against Neytiri’s shoulders. “Ending it all was the most honorable thing I could do!”

“No!” She grabbed him by the bicep, forcing him to look up at her. “The honourable thing would be to own up to one’s mistake!”

“It was not a mistake! Don’t you get it?! I CHOSE him in that ocean. I s…” He whimpered, loosing his will to fight back. “He saw me. And I saw him. You can’t own up to that kind of shit.”

Neytiri’s hold on Spider’s bicep tightened, as she searched for something to say; something that would discourage him from trying that kind of blasphemy again, when a crucial memory surfaced in her mind.

“My mother. The Tsahik…” She began. “She saved a spy once. A spy of the sky people. A spy that helped your father destroy our hometree. That man chose to help our enemy…but he owned up to his choices, and eventually redeemed himself.”

“…but I can’t become rider of the last shadow.”

“No, you cannot, but it isn’t why I chose him. He made a commitment of loyalty, and showed us all that he was ready to fight, whether forgiven or not. You’ve made a commitment of loyalty a long time ago. I should have seen it sooner…should have seen you.” She spoke, and it felt like a puzzle piece missing from her damaged soul had finally been put into place. 

Spider gasped, his heart skipping a beat.

“Maybe if I did…the demon wouldn’t be alive.”

“What!? No! That-it wasn’t your responsibility!”

“It had to be someone’s, and I was the closest thing you ever gotten to a mother. That fact alone should have…cleared my mind.”

Socorro wanted to protest, wanted to take the guilt off Neytiri’s shoulders…but had no idea what to say to make it better. Perhaps a small, dark part of him didn’t want to, revelling in the newfound validation he’d never felt before.

“I apologise if I made you feel like death was your best chance at redemption.”

It was Spider’s turn to ho into Neytiri’s shoulder. “No! No it wasn’t you! I just-I brought so much pain already, I thought it’d be best if I stop being a burden.” Spider croaked. 

“You’re no burden. Never were.” ‘Tiri responded without missing a beat.

Socorro met eyes with Neytiri once more.

She looked back, not a shred of malice behind her gaze. Hate still raged in her heart.…but the love for this strange child, whom she knew practically since he was born, who put his life on the line for the people, was stronger. 

He fit perfectly into her embrace. 

“…Never?”

“Never.”

And the world, as these two knew it, shattered. This time however, it felt perfectly fine.

[aquitainequeen]

Heaven In Her Eye -

1

Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, In every gesture dignity and love. Paradise Lost, Book VIII, Lines 488-89

'When Lizzie turned off the main road and onto a dirt track with a meadow on their left, Gertrude could run out into the open space until Taggie felt a tug at the link between them in her breastbone, not painful but a reminder, and then her dæmon rolled about in the warm sweet grass so that Taggie started giggling with the glee she felt from her. She caught herself before she said it to Lizzie: they’d stepped from the Priory into very nearly paradise.' On their second day in Rutshire, Taggie and her dæmon ran down the slope of the sunlit meadow, taking care to avoid the hollows in the grass, desperate to warn Penscombe Court about the fire.

*****

Read on, or visit at ao3!

*****

Erastos was swaying so much as Lizzie walked along, slipping further forward with her every step and his tiny paws barely holding on to her neckline and sleeve, that Taggie was really starting to worry he’d actually fall off his human’s shoulder and Lizzie would accidentally step on him. They were both so nice; would it make things horribly awkward if she pointed out how tipsy they were and that they might need to take care? But then Lizzie solved the problem by reaching up, gently taking her dæmon from her shoulder and popping him into her empty basket. She even seemed to understand what Taggie now didn’t dare suggest, properly smiling and not annoyed at all. ‘Oh, thank you for walking us back. We’re really quite pissed.’

So, Taggie was happy to walk on in this pleasant pause, waiting until Lizzie decided she was ready to chat again, basking in Gertrude’s pure joy at being out and about. She did wish that she’d tried harder to give Lizzie lunch. Maybe with some omelette in her stomach as well as all the champagne and whiskey, she and Erastos wouldn’t be feeling so boozy; but they didn’t seem unhappy. The little vole dæmon was even clinging to the side of the basket now, poking his tiny face over the edge to look, contented, at the road ahead and at Gertrude exploring the hedgerow.

When Lizzie turned off the main road and onto a dirt track with a meadow on their left, Gertrude could run out into the open space until Taggie felt a tug at the link between them in her breastbone, not painful but a reminder, and then her dæmon rolled about in the warm sweet grass so that Taggie started giggling with the glee she felt from her. She caught herself before she said it to Lizzie: they’d stepped from the Priory into very nearly paradise. The thing to make it truly heaven would be if Ralphie and Antigone were here too, not instead of Lizzie and Erastos but as well as them. Once Lizzie was safe back home and they were returning to the Priory they could have taken their time, lain down in the grass to look up at the sky, hiding from any possible prying eye in all that green and gold!

Further down the hill, beyond two grazing horses and in a gap between the trees there was a wide gate, hedges, and beyond them was the building that had Caitlin watching with the spyglasses at all hours and Aengus still fixed at the window even when his human was dragged back into the great unpacking; Penscombe Court. Taggie could see curtains billowing at an open window, so that if someone passed by that opening, would they easily spot both her and Lizzie walking on the path, and perhaps Gertrude in the grass? Lizzie was likely joking about Rupert Campbell-Black punishing them for trespassing, but Gertrude stopped her playing and came back to Taggie at once. She trotted out ahead of them on the path and Taggie felt wariness rather than fear from her, so the meadow wasn’t spoiled, but it wasn’t Paradise any longer; just a rich person’s land.

Lizzie stopped to look at the house as well. ‘Looks like Rupert’s back home. Caitlin will be scaling the wall.’ And then she seemed to have to decide, before saying, ‘Though I wouldn’t recommend trying to get into Penscombe without an invitation. Rupert’s a surprisingly private individual, when he’s on his home turf; and he might have company.’

Lizzie had seemed to be amused by Caitlin angling after Campbell-Black when they were all in the safety of their new home, and also her little sister was always so charming and won over everyone she spoke to. But perhaps when they were out of the Priory and Caitlin wasn’t here to be charming and winning, Lizzie might think it - inappropriate, for her to be carrying on so. ‘I’ll keep an eye on Caitlin until she’s off to school next week; but, honest, she’s all talk. She’s sworn off marriage until she’s at least thirty-five; got too much to do, she says. She wants to go to university, like Patrick. I think she’d be a grand scholar, if she really works at it.’

‘And what about you, when you’re no longer your sister’s keeper? With parents like yours, you must have big plans.’

Taggie really couldn’t say that Ralphie was her plan – getting to see him and kiss him and go to bed with him again and again – since Lizzie might be the sort of disappointed that Mummy and Caitlin would be if she told them she wanted a boy and to do nothing else with her days. Which wasn’t even true because, as she did say to Lizzie, ‘We’d like to be a cook, but following recipes, writing things down…we spent two years in a kitchen back in London, but we had to be quiet about it.’ Lizzie and Erastos, Taggie thought and felt Gertrude agree, really would understand. That it would look bad for parents like hers if word got out that Declan and Maud O’Hara’s older daughter, even if it was the scruffy awkward idiot one, was working in a kitchen; in one of the best restaurants in Brytain, but still a kitchen, and owned by one of Declan’s close friends as well. ‘We’ll have to see what we can do here,’ she went on, thinking that Lizzie and Erastos understood that, too.

‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty.’

‘Your whole life ahead of you.’ Lizzie sounded as if she wanted to cheer Taggie on, and nothing like Mummy.

Walking up hill along a shaded lane brought them at last to a big house with flowers trailing over the great front porch, a boy and girl chasing each other on the lawn while their dæmons wrestled in play and a nanny watched closely, her little fluffy black dog dæmon poised at the ready for any bumps or scrapes.

Lizzie breathed in hard. ‘Back into battle.’

‘How many children do you have?’

‘Two. Three, if you count my husband.’ Again, Lizzie seemed to have to decide. ‘He works for Corinium, too.’

‘Oh, you didn’t say!’ Lizzie was safe, Taggie was sure she was, but had Caitlin or Mummy had said anything rude about Daddy’s new job, or the people he’d be working with? And the burst of shock and worry flowed over into Gertrude, enough to make her whine. 

‘I talk about my husband as little as possible; he does enough of that himself.’ Lizzie had to draw herself up and breathe deep again before she smiled and began walking up to the house, her children running to greet her while their dæmons flew as birds to land in the basket with Erastos, and Taggie couldn’t think of any way to say goodbye or anything that might make it better.

All the way back down the lane she waited for Gertrude to speak, but it wasn’t until they were out into the proper sunshine and back on the dirt path that her dæmon started: ‘I could smell Lizzie and Erastos getting more unhappy, the closer they got to home.’

‘We shouldn’t talk about them like this.’

‘They’ll be gabbing all about us, and Caitlin and Mum and Daddy too.’

‘True.’ Taggie still couldn’t talk about Lizzie’s unhappiness, or whatever had made her so sad long before now; not when she had realised they’d been worried and was so kind, helping them understand that none of their family had done anything wrong and she wouldn’t be telling on them. ‘We’ll bring them something, once we’ve been to Cotchester and got supplies. Isn’t it lucky, to know someone so nice and have them so near?’

‘It’ll be grand, once Cait and Aengus are gone and themselves are forever in a huff.’

They really shouldn’t complain about Mummy and Bres either, not when they’d have to take any unkind thoughts back to the Priory, back to all of them stepping around each other with the unpacking, trying not to nip or peck, and then all the days after that. ‘It’ll be good for Mum too. She likes Lizzie’s books; they’ll have lots to chat about.’

‘Til she starts her moaning about Daddy dragging her out here. Bet she’d ask if the husband doesn’t let Lizzie write anymore, and then go on and on about how she had to sacrifice her whole career and sit in Dad’s shadow. Wouldn’t be fair to Lizzie.’

‘I suppose. I hope that she is still writing.’ Some hairs were coming out of the pins Taggie had put in first thing, and never had the chance to redo when Lizzie came over; she stopped to tidy the back of her neck up, thinking of something good that might come from making Lizzie and Erastos have to put up with Mummy and Bres. ‘But, maybe she can introduce Mum to other women in the area. She’ll have her own little court again, no time at all!’

‘And of course Daddy will love that.’

‘Sorry, so do you want them sulking around the house all the time?’

‘Course not.’

‘Well, then.’ Taggie set off again at a run, trying to outpace her dæmon.

Gertrude caught up at once and licked Taggie’s fingers, willing to set aside Mummy and Bres for the time being, so she slowed to a walk. Trotting a way ahead, her dæmon turned to face her head on. ‘If the cat’s away, what are we going to do?’

‘The first thing, after everything’s unpacked; we’re going to find a way to see Ralphie again.’

‘Patrick said to cut our losses.’

‘Patrick doesn’t know the first thing about it. He’s never had to wait for anything he wants; why should we have to give up without even trying?’

‘All right then.’ Gertrude sat herself down in Taggie’s way. ‘How are we going to see him when he’s in France, he’ll be going right back to Trinity after the holiday, and he’s written us exactly once since May?’

‘Once he’s back in Trinity and not moving around, we’ll write to him. We hope he had a lovely time during the summer, and we’re all settled in at the Priory, and what did he do to in France?’

‘And start waiting for him all over again?’

‘He’s taking the summer off. When he’s back to university, he’ll be able to write.’

Gertrude stood and set off down the track, leaving Taggie to catch up this time. She wondered if she’d need to set Ralphie aside for now as well, but then Gertrude stopped again to look back. ‘I was wondering; would the thing be able to tell us what Ralphie’s doing? Whether Patrick’s been leaving anything out.’

First Taggie didn’t know what she meant, and then remembered: how sick they’d been on the ferry crossing back from Dublin, Gertrude’s head resting on Taggie’s lap and Taggie curled about her, both of them hiding and keeping safe the thing wrapped in black velvet in Taggie’s bag, the thing that looked like a clock or a compass but was clearly something else, because of the pictures around the face of it instead of numbers or directions, the thing now stuffed away under their bed in a suitcase of clothes that wouldn’t yet interest Mum.

‘If it could tell us, I’m not sure I’d want to know. It would be like spying on him.’

‘Would it be any worse than always asking Patrick about him? And we wouldn’t have to forever be waiting for him to write, or Pat to call.’

That would be something; no more waiting and waiting. As she’d said to Daddy, exciting things could happen to them, at last. ‘I don’t know. What if it’s wrong, sinful? The priests say only the Authority can be all-knowing.’

‘Lady Gosling wouldn’t have given it to us, if it was evil-’

‘But she told us to hide it, and never show it to anyone.’

‘She was trusting us to keep it safe! And we don’t want to know everything, just about Ralphie, that’s all.’

‘We don’t even know how it works.’

They kept pace together, Taggie walking steadily, Gertrude never distracted by the meadow that was now on their right. Taggie was the one to give in and keep going: ‘If Lady Gosling wanted us to use it, she would have told us how.’

‘Maybe there wasn’t time enough before she gave it over. Or maybe she didn’t know how, either.’

‘Then why give it to us? We’ll never be any sort of scholar. She should have chosen Patrick, or Caitlin. They’d know what to do.’

‘At least it’s pictures, they might be easier to understand?’

‘But we don’t know what any of them mean!’

‘We could learn.’

‘Yeah, we could start by learning to actually say its name.’

The path back to the Priory stretched before them and this walk, already part way over, was likely the last time there’d be no other humans or dæmons to overheard them for many days. All by themselves, they practised the name of the thing as best they could remember from when Lady Gosling had said it in such a rush, tasting the different parts and rolling out the sounds, putting them together and repeating until Gertrude thought it sounded right.

‘Alethiometer.’ Their word for the day, their secret word that they couldn’t use in a sentence or in front of anyone else. ‘Alethiometer.’ To the sky and the sun and the meadow and, yes, Penscombe Court, which they could now see again in the distance, Taggie called ‘Alethiometer!’

Then she saw a huge mushroom of brown smoke rising into the sky and realised that two of the fields on the far side of the house were on fire. ‘Ah. Aaah. Ah, god, fire!’

‘Phone box, back up on the road!’ Gertrude leapt off and Taggie had to jump into running after her before their link could grab her heart and squeeze. By the time they reached the box she was terrified she wouldn’t be able even to read the numbers on the dial, but thank goodness they had the switchboard number on full display and she got it right first time. The lady who answered didn’t have a number for Penscombe Court, Lord Campbell-Black had a private number, but she said they’d call the fire brigade for her. ‘Don’t worry, my love, we’ll get them over as soon as possible.’

Gertrude was whining by the time Taggie got out of the box. ‘They might not be able to see the flames from the house.’

‘And who knows how long the engines will take. We can get there much sooner and warn them, just in case. It would be so awful if any of the horses got trapped in their stables.’

They couldn’t race down the slope because of all the hollows in the grass that might break Taggie’s ankle. Gertrude was itching when she reached the level ground of the field; there was no time or way to brace herself when her dæmon started to truly run, so the world flipped and it was pure luck she didn’t smash her nose, lips or teeth when she hit the ground. The pain from their straining link dragged up through her chest, it tangled and tore into her throat, her nose. Gertrude howled in misery. Taggie tried to breathe again through the beginning of tears, of Gertrude doing this to her without meaning to, and she saw her dæmon had turned around to run back. She wanted to hold out her arms for her darling, nestle her in her lap, kiss her, press her against her breast to mend their hearts, but the smoke, the fire!

‘Keep going, I can keep up, go on!’ But Gertrude still waited until Taggie got back to her feet before she started to run towards the house again. Grand rescuers they were, Gertrude having to forever stop and start because her human ran out of breath, while the link between them yanked Taggie forward or Gertrude backward. If only Caitlin and Aengus had come with them, when they walked Lizzie and Ferdinand back home! Those two would likely have reached Penscombe by now, Aengus clinging to Caitlin’s shoulders or held in her arms, both of them dead keen to sound the alarm, save the house and be thanked by their beloved Rupert Campbell-Black.

Thank heaven the gate to the grounds was unlocked, so they wouldn’t have to climb a wall or hedge! Taggie managed an extra sprint up the path, the steps, the path again so Gertrude could reach the patio with those open French windows, then one more burst got herself up to the patio and her dæmon to the windows, racing inside to bark ‘Fire!’ while Taggie was so puffed she could barely even shout it herself.

Getrude came back out again as Taggie made it to the windows. ‘There’s no one in the house.’

‘What?’ The sides of her throat were sticking together and her shins felt as if they were about to snap. ‘You were barely in there!’

‘I couldn’t hear or smell anyone, I don’t think anyone’s been in there for a long time.’

‘But he’s home. Lizzie said. Should be loads of. Of people. Servants!’

Getrude looked back at the pale-yellow drawing room beyond the windows, considering. ‘Maybe they don’t use this side of the house? I do smell dogs; it might have been turned over to them?’

‘We should go in. Find someone.’

‘God, but what if we got lost? With the fire coming?’

The house was big, not huge, surely even they couldn’t lose their way in there. ‘We’ll stay on this floor. Keep going straight ahead, until we find the front hall. We’d know the way back out, if we need to run. We’ll be all right.’

There was a door in the corner of the drawing room that looked as if it led somewhere important and the way to it was clear; then a small passageway and beyond that they found the front hall already. Taggie had enough of her breath back now to shout, yelling not just about the fire but for anyone to please come quickly. Gertrude barked, getting louder when no human or dæmon came running or fluttering, not from any of the other rooms or from upstairs, to see what all the racket was.

When they were certain that no one would come Taggie leaned against the banister for a moment, so tired and foolish after their mad rush and all the fuss they’d made in trying to warn what, it seemed, had turned out to be an empty house. Gertrude’s claws scrabbled on the bottom of the stairs and her dæmon’s fur brushed Taggie’s face as she ran up towards the first floor; just as Taggie was about to shout for her to come back Gertrude stopped before she had reached the landing and ran back down, rushing to bury her nose in Taggie’s hand, in her thigh, to say ‘Something isn’t right here.’

‘Yeah.’ Taggie looked all the way up the stairwell to that odd window in the roof. With all their noise quite done, the air was so still that she could see specks of dust barely moving in the sunlight. When they’d been calling out their warning, she’d been so desperate for a person to lean into view or a dæmon to poke their head between the posts; what would she do now, if something not a person or a dæmon should loom over the railing to look down at them? What if there was the sound of heavy steps coming fast down the stairs, coming to find them? ‘We should go back.’

She did fear that they’d already forgotten how to get out again, but it was easy to return the way they’d come in very nearly a straight line, through the passageway, the drawing room and the French windows, back into the true hot sunlight. Taggie jogged right to the edge of the patio before she squatted down for Gertrude to run to her; she brought her dæmon’s head to rest on her heart, kissed her muzzle and between her eyes, welcomed the licks on her own mouth and cheeks. Silly of them to have been so nervous in there, and to have wasted so much time! The fire hadn’t stopped or gone away just because there was no one in the house.

Calmer now, Getrude looked at the steps to the lawn. ‘Even if the house is empty, there might be a gardener?’

‘Right. And if there isn’t, then - then we just go to the stables and let any horses out. The firemen will come and deal with it all.’

Then more running, around the house and down into the hedges, where Gertrude had to wait again for Taggie as she struggled with her aching legs and the sunlight now as hot as the fire itself. There was no one, again no one. Why wasn’t a place like this packed with gardeners, or with servants?

‘Voices,’ Gertrude said, ‘two of them, this way,’ dashing off and dragging Taggie after her. Up ahead was a thick beech hedge; as they ran along the length of it looking for some way in, just above the sound of her own gasps she could barely hear those voices on the other side. Gertrude raced straight past the sudden gap in the hedge on their right without seeming to spot it. Taggie grabbed at the branches in the side of this opening to stop herself and cried ‘Here!’ to bring her dæmon back, then ran through to find whoever was speaking and finally warn somebody.

‘Fire,’ she croaked. Then she saw that the man and woman whom she’d heard talking were not standing together but were instead some distance apart, and actually the man was standing while the woman was down on one knee and looking up to speak to him, and both of them were utterly naked.

The sunlight spiking Taggie in the eyes right after was a blessing; it might burn out this horrible moment before it fixed in her mind. When she could see again, the man and the woman would somehow have covered themselves up or started to run and hide, and while they’d be bloody furious and she’d pay dearly for barging in on, on whatever they were doing, at least Taggie might not recall the sight of them: the woman golden like distilled sunflowers, the man shining like the sun that was blinding her.

She peeked around the back of her hand and her spread fingers to check if it was safe to look.

The woman was gone, likely run off silently and very fast to the hedges on the far side of this huge lawn. The man had not only stayed right where he was but turned to face Taggie full on. If she looked any lower it would be even worse than seeing, if only from the side, the length of his bent leg and, god, everything above that. The worst thing would be to meet his eye, she would see just how very angry he was.

Taggie thought of how to behave in the oratory and of the nuns who’d once lived in the Priory, and dropped her eyes to the ground between them, hoping she would look very humble and sorry. The man’s feet were far apart so he must be standing as if he were on parade, with nowhere or way for anything to hide behind him, so Taggie saw last of all and far too late, he had no dæmon.

[sillyromance]

Hello ma'am,

I have some questions about Vincent and Marcella. I was wondering how Marcella reacted as she finds herself alive after her first meeting with Vincent and how the both of them fell in love. I also wanted to ask how Marcella felt as Vincent came home for the first time with a prey alive/dead, I think she must have different feelings for both situations. I have to say the both of them are my favorites for now, I really love their relationship with each other. But for now I'll look further over your blog.

I really thank you if you answer it for me and a wonderful day for you ma'am.

Hello, dear anonymous!

Thank you very much for your ask! I will gladly explain all these moments to you!

Let’s start with the first question. As you remember, Marcella was quite stressed after her fiancé’s deception. But her motivation to be eaten by Vincent had deeper layers. Marcella's parents are people who kind of love, but don’t value her much. She could never hope for anything more than to be wed to a man of their choice and turn into an obedient wife for him. Her wishes never mattered. Plus, Marcella's parents had their own conflicts, mostly based on her father’s unfaithfulness which madam Lark had to condone. All that was driving the girl crazy; she dreamed about fleeing away from her family, and marriage was the only option for that. That’s why, when she was shown her groom for the first time, Marcella convinced herself that she liked him. The worse was her disappointment once everything fell apart. She wasn’t just betrayed as a person and a woman, but also – hopelessly stuck in the same damn nightmare she had been trying to escape for so long.

Therefore, when she meets Vincent, Marcella sees him as: 1) the only person who actually needs her; 2) a way out of her trap. Consequently, when she wakes up unharmed inside of him, it doesn’t excite her – the girl only feels disappointed with herself since even him, a predator, has denied her, and she has to submit to her fate as a silent part of her groom's house decoration. It doesn't really matter if it is the same cheater or someone else - if that boy rejects her publicly, Marcella's parents will soon find a replacement. Nor meets a lot of complications trying to talk his prey out of being his food. In fact, only when he suggests her to marry him Marcella considers a possibility of her further existence because, being his wife, she will stay away from her parents and her honor will be saved (if it was ruined, she wouldn’t have any reason to live at all because then, keeping historical realities in mind, her life would turn into the worst hell she had ever known).

Now, I will explain the third question first because of the plot specifics. Vincent, asking Marcella to be his wife, uses this option as an emergency solution because everything else has failed. So, once he lets the girl out, he has a lot of things to think over. But most importantly, he makes sure Marcella understands what she signs for. When Marcella and Vincent tie their destinies together, the girl doesn’t have any illusions about her husband’s habits and needs. She isn’t surprised when he comes home with a prey in his stomach for the first time. Yet, Marcella is definitely scared and hurt. She knows - that person within isn’t quite different from her, and still, their fate is pure horror for some twisted reason she can't apprehend. If the prey is actively struggling, the impression they give is quite strong; Marcella, sickened and terrified, definitely avoids her husband for a couple of days after such scene until bad memories fade a little. If a prey is dead (which is more likely to happen), she takes it easier (no avoidance, only pained looks and very awkward conversations), yet still stiffens once she notices a specific bulge on Nor's waist which was once a human. She could be there instead...

Some time passes before she discovers the truth about why her husband does what he does and how much he suffers from it. Much worse than his usual prey, frankly...

As for the second question… these two didn't hurry while developing their feelings. Although Vincent has an awful job, he is a very sympathetic and thoughtful person. He did everything to make Marcella feel cared for, especially after he learnt how badly she had been treated before marriage. She returned the favor, witnessing his kindness towards the staff (the servants were more than eager to tell her stories about what a nice and compassionate gentleman their master was), discovering his interests and little weaknesses... And, slowly, coming to a conclusion that, no matter his nature, he was still just a human - a human who was worthy of love. While trying to live under one roof, Vincent and Marcella found their ideals and priorities to lie at the same bay. They also gave each other a lot for Nor helped his wife overcome her shyness and learn how to stand up for herself even against his species, while she brought warmth, joy and new meaning into his brutal solitude, easing his never-ending pain. Before he only lived to serve and destroy, but now he can finally built something. It took around a year for Vincent and Marcella to melt the ice dividing them and become head-over-heells lovebirds you’ve already seen them to be.

I hope my answer was helpful! Have a great day and God bless you🌸!

[jinko-hellhound]

a pinch — bungou stray dogs — atsushi & dazai (platonic!)

atsushi is having an awful night, and his mentor comes to bother him. a short, definitely non-comprehensive exploration of atsushi and dazai’s dynamic, platonic touch, and emotional vulnerability. originally written for @dazaibirthdayweek2024 (and being archived here on my new fic blog)!

words: 2,170

first published: 6/16/24

relationships: dazai osamu & nakajima atsushi

tags: fluff and angst, platonic relationships, implied/referenced child abuse, dazai osamu is a mess, nakajima atsushi needs a hug, post-traumatic stress disorder, childhood trauma, no romance, beast beneath the moonlight, no longer human

crossposted on ao3

The Agency dorm’s walls are paper-thin, so when Dazai comes lumbering up the steps, Atsushi hears it. Hears Yosano, too, yelling out her window for Dazai to Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to sleep!, and Dazai’s cheerfully slurring response. Somewhere further down, Kunikida’s door slams open. Dazai’s voice erupts into pure glee.

Atsushi groans into his couch cushion. This is not the night for this. It’s — not been a good day. Nothing bad happened. It’s just that he woke up wrong. He woke up scared, with the Headmaster’s breath chilling the back of his neck. He was… off, at work. No cases today, but there was always busywork to slog through, piles of it. And even on a good day paperwork was awful, but today he’d felt there was an irremovable film over his eyes, hazing his vision. It took him far too long to process anything said to him, enough that Kunikida had started speaking slowly and carefully in a way that made Atsushi want to crawl into a hole.

And then Atsushi had trudged home. Kyouka went off to spend the night with Naomi, which was — nice. Good. Atsushi wanted Kyouka to make more friends, to hang out like a normal teenage girl… but now Atsushi was alone in this cold dorm. The dorm was always quiet, but never this silent, absent of the soft patter of Kyouka’s feet, or the way she hums just to make her presence known and avoid scaring Atsushi out of his skin. And any other day, that would have been fine. Atsushi is eighteen. He can spend a night in his own home alone. But tonight… Tonight, he curls around a throw pillow on his couch, face shoved into the cushion, and shakes.

Why is he crying? He isn’t sure. It could be any number of things. It could be phantom static electricity ghosting up his spine; it could that awkward spot on his foot, which he always avoids as though it still has a nail hammered through it; it could be the phantom pains of his own limbs that had been lost-regrown-lost-regrown again in the last year; or maybe any number of deaths, be they cold corpses he’d stumbled across or bullets he’d watched land. And those last two are the worst, maybe, because those things are his job. And if he couldn’t even handle doing his own job—

Dazai’s giggling floats towards his door. Atsushi tenses. Not tonight, please God. He can’t deal with the drunken antics tonight.

The giggling floats on past and Atsushi relaxes. But he should have known better. It’s only a few seconds before Dazai backtracks — so quick, it sounds like, that he trips and catches Atsushi’s doorknob to stay up.

Rattling the doorknob, Dazai calls, “Atsushiiii!”

“I’m asleep!” Atsushi calls back, not even bothering to pretend. Chances were Dazai had done something insane, like perfectly memorizing Atsushi’s sleep habits or catching how one particular particle of light fell under the door, and figured out that Atsushi was wide awake. “Go away, Dazai!”

“Noooooo,” Dazai whines. There is the distinctive clicking sound of a lock being picked. Dazai doesn’t even need to pick it — he’s the only other member of the Agency who has his own key to Atsushi’s dorm. Dazai hums a jaunty tune while he works. Atsushi considers hiding, but Dazai is quick, and by the time Atsushi’s foggy brain thinks of a hiding spot, the door is already creaking open. Atsushi decides to just keep his red, snotty face firm in the cushions and ignore Dazai until he gets bored.

“Hellooooooo,” Dazai croons, flicking Atsushi’s lights on. Without looking at him, Atsushi can imagine the way he twirls around the dorm, all those dramatic movements he likes to distract with. Dazai must be stumbling, though. There’s a thud somewhere near the kitchen counter, and a pained grunt. “Why’re you sleeping on the couch?”

“It’s my couch.” The sharp clinking of glass, something pouring. Atsushi groans again. “I can sleep on my couch.”

Dazai’s footsteps, clumsy in a way Atsushi can’t place (is it an act? accidental? something Dazai simply isn’t trying to hide?), round the couch. He taps at Atsushi’s leg and Atsushi, begrudging and reluctant as he is, has a child in his soul. So he pulls his legs up, knees nearing his chest. The couch protests the way Dazai falls into it. “Don’t break my couch,” Atsushi grumbles, with no heat. Dazai hums.

Even with his knees drawn up, Atsushi’s feet push against Dazai’s thigh, and suddenly Atsushi feels too big. Like he’s become twice as heavy as he is. The couch creaks underneath him, the floor creaks under the couch. He imagines his body expanding, ripping through his clothes. He imagines his veins bulging, his arms taking on that awful, sinuous look they always do in between human and not, a phase which is usually too short for anyone to see but him. But instead of transforming into Byakko, his imaginary limbs stay stuck there in that in-between – unnatural, painful. Awkward and lumbering.

This, of course, doesn’t happen. He is 5’7, 59 kilograms. His knees are knobbly and his wrist bones pop out too much, although he’s gotten a bit stockier than he used to be. He’s not abnormally heavy, hardly monstrous. And he’s firmly Atsushi, now. (Firmly Atsushi, except for that bit of Byakko that’s always in the back of his head, her worries and wants. Right now, she’s thinking: Dazai. She’s never very specific with her thoughts – it could be a cheer. It could be a warning.) And anyway, Byakko couldn’t come out, because Dazai’s cold hand is resting on Atsushi’s ankle.

…Dazai’s cold hand is resting on Atsushi’s ankle, Atsushi processes belatedly. Which is – fine. Dazai is touchy. Maybe not so much with Atsushi, because – well. Atsushi doesn’t always like it. Sometimes it scares him. But Atsushi is used to Dazai ruffling his hair, throwing an arm around his shoulder, knocking his knuckles against his forehead. Fleeting touches, that is. Contact that leaves as soon as it arrives. And Atsushi is fine with it. He doesn’t feel any particular sort of way about it.

(Liar. Cut back to the very first month Atsushi knew Dazai. The way Dazai, at some point a couple weeks in, jokingly reached over to ruffle Atsushi’s hair, coo-ed about him like he was a child. Atsushi, much more nervous back then, had blustered and stammered and flushed and – critically – pushed his head up into Dazai’s hand like the idiot he was. Dazai, for once sparing Atsushi’s feelings, said nothing aloud. But the repeats of that particular gesture came often. And Atsushi found himself, stupidly, awaiting them. Craving them.)

The point is that this is uncommon. Dazai’s touch never lasts, not unless he’s joking with someone – draping himself over Kunikida to annoy him, pushing into Ranpo’s space to banter. This isn’t a joke. This is Dazai, sat quietly on Atsushi’s couch, listening to nothing but breathing, his hand settled on Atsushi’s ankle.

They are silent for so long that Atsushi almost thinks he is hallucinating again. What other reason would there be for Dazai to be here, sitting in gentle silence? It’s unusual for him not to talk. Babbling or nagging or deadly serious, but always something. Dazai talked so much, so incessantly, that he’d practically become Atsushi’s inner monologue. Yes, Dazai was acting so out of character now that Atsushi really did, for a moment, think he was hallucinating. It would be a nice change of pace, for his imagination to give him something like this.

But his hallucinations would never be so kind as to linger. To comfort so softly. To let him sit here with that calming touch and peaceful silence and nothing else. This is real. And it’s this understanding that has Atsushi lulling into – not sleep. Some kind of reverie. The sobbing-induced migraine fades from behind his eyes and nose, ever so slightly. He drifts, between Byakko’s corner of his mind (Dazai, she is rumbling, echoing about his brain) and that ice-cold touch on his ankle. Back and forth, temple to ankle, like a hammock on a warm day. Dazai’s touch always grounds Atsushi. It doesn’t make Byakko go away – no, that would be terrifying, even more terrifying than losing control of her, running a rampage. But Dazai…quiets her, in a way. Soothes her.

Dazai’s glass clinking against the table snaps Atsushi back into reality. He suddenly becomes aware again of the slightly dusty smell of the cushion he’s crammed his face against, and the way his arms are shoved awkwardly up, half-underneath himself.

“Atsushi,” Dazai says in a sharp, breathy way. His freezing fingers pinch at Atsushi’s ankle, pulling the skin in a way that makes Atsushi yelp, his foot jackrabbiting into Dazai’s thigh. “Why so sad, Atsushi?” He pinches again, but this time Atsushi is expecting it and does nothing.

“I’m just trying to sleep, Dazai.” Atsushi says it as blandly as possible. “What do you want?”

Dazai’s knuckles rap against Atsushi’s ankle, but not with any force. “So mean to your mentor.” Atsushi can imagine the pout. He rolls his eyes. Then he stays quiet, and lets the question sit, because if he says anything else Dazai will just find a rabbit hole to take them down so Atsushi forgets he ever asked anything.

“I got you a drink, too,” Dazai says. “It’s up here.”

Atsushi shakes his head into the couch cushion. Absolutely not. His face is probably all red and puffy and tear-streaked, snot running from his nose, and he doesn’t need Dazai to see that lest he wither up in shame.

Dazai humphs. “Well,” he says, like he’s going to say more. Atsushi’s (Byakko’s) ears perk. Then he says nothing for a long while. In the renewed silence, Atsushi can imagine his face, the face he makes when he’s thinking hard about something, or trying to figure out how to hide something — blank, a little slack-jawed, glassy eyes trained on the wall, or a cobweb, or the sky. Then: “Well, maybe I just wanted to say goodnight. Is that so bad, Atsushi?”

It should be a teasing question. From Dazai, it should be completely rhetorical, accompanied with a lilting tone and a silly, sly smile. Instead, he says it softly, genuinely. As genuine as Dazai can be anyway. His hand is still on Atsushi’s ankle. It should be warm, by now, with this prolonged contact. Inexplicably, it’s still an ice cube against skin.

Atsushi wants to say: No, and please will you stay here? No, and thank you for this home and this company and for not putting a nail through my foot. No, and I know my standards are horrifically low, but you’re really the best guidance I’ve ever had. No, and please can we just stay right here on this couch forever? It’s okay if it’s only my ankle that ever gets physical touch again — just never let go, please?

Instead, he says: “Dazai, you’re drunk.”

“Hmph,” Dazai says, and then it’s like a static shock, the way the serenity of the night seems to blink out of the air. A startled laugh chokes out of Atsushi as Dazai ragdolls down, dropping his whole upper weight onto Atsushi’s, the top of his head knocking into Atsushi’s jaw. “Such a mean student!” Dazai reiterates, the hand that was on Atsushi’s ankle poking into Atsushi’s side repeatedly. The weight of him has Atsushi working a little harder to pull in breaths, but he finds he doesn’t mind.

Dazai is too heavy for Atsushi to get his arm out from under both of them and swat him away, but Atsushi certainly tries. “Stop it!” Atsushi shouts, but there’s still laughter bubbling up his throat. Byakko is as quiet as she can be, with Dazai so in contact, but he gets the sense she is not on board with Atsushi saying: “Get off me!” Rather, Byakko urges Atsushi to turn and tuck his head into Dazai’s shoulder. This would be mortifying, so Atsushi absolutely does not do that.

“Fine,” Dazai sighs overdramatically, then rolls, ragdolling once more onto the floor. Despite being unable to see him, Atsushi imagines the way he instantly pops back up and brushes off the front of his vest. “Well, Atsushi, I guess I’ll leave you to it! I’m taking my drink, though.”

Dazai hums as he gathers up his glass, a bottle, his shoes. Atsushi blinks into the couch cushion, considers the pleasant flush of joy that’s already receding, the coldness that’s spreading up from his ankles, down from his temples. Byakko is loud again.

“Good night,” Atsushi says. The door clicks. Sudden entrance, sudden exit. Typical Dazai, he grumbles internally.

The dorm is quiet again, except for Dazai’s voice back outside, slurring once more (part act, then). He’s singing a lullaby, loud and offkey. And then there’s Kunikida and Yosano, yelling. Very slowly, Atsushi peels himself off the couch, and goes to brush his teeth.

[ozwuv]

How did you learn to draw hands?

HANDS I'm a freak who loves drawing hands... This is going to sound odd, but it's another thing that ties into being autistic for me kfdsjkfsd I have poor facial recognition skills and generally avoid eye contact, so I tend to identify people by their hands. I couldn't reliably visualize my own mother's face if my life depended on it, but I sure do know exactly what the back of her hands look like. As a result, I have hands burnt into my memory lol. But more importantly, I love to draw character interaction, and hands are sooo integral to that. If I force myself to enjoy something or at least hold a lot of interest in it, it'll be easier to learn long term and I think that's something a lot of people can relate to.

More under the cut bc I'm longwinded

The other thing is something nobody wants to hear, but tbh just studying them lol. Short gesture drawings are best for this (think 60 seconds max), but tbh Mochijun's way of drawing hands really inspired me when PH was still running in the last quarter of the manga. I wouldn't suggest studying purely from one person's illustrations, but it helps to pick out a few artist who draws hands in a way you love. Nowadays Hoshino's (DGM's mangaka) way of drawing hands inspires the heeeell out of me.

Like are you seeing this shit? The way she draws hands fucking rules lol

I wouldn't stick to 100% studying irl hands or 100% studying drawn hands -- a mix of both is great, bc you can have all the knowledge in the world of how to realistically emulate hands, but studying how others stylize hands can be helpful for actually drawing them. This goes for anything in general because not having an idea of how to incorporate something you're studying into your art can be really frustrating. For example, the thing I enjoy most about how Hoshino draws hands is how the fingers are not just straight lines -- they have dips and jut out to indicate knuckles/joints and such. I find the way she draws hands to be so expressive, unique, and beautiful.

Another thing to keep in mind: don't focus on the details. Just get the general silhouette down for a bunch of different poses -- details can come later. This is why gesture drawing is so useful, it forces you to get the key points down so you don't over-detail something you don't fully understand yet and wind up making things look awkward/stiff.

Also, never forget you (most likely) have two hands right in front of you that you can reference any time! Take pics of your own hands from various angles if you must. Really useful!

Btw: Quickposes a really useful resource for gesture and figure drawing. It has options specifically for hands (!), humans, animals, landscapes, etc, with time intervals as short as 30 seconds, and an option for custom intervals. Line of Action is also great, but it's limited to just human options.

I haven't used either of the above in a while since I'm too lazy to draw anything but anime lol but if they're still as good as I remember, I would highly recommend them.

OH ALSO SONIC FANART you have to git gud at drawing hands if you want to draw sonic characters they got bigass hands. Sonic also taught me how to draw shoes kfjDOIWGJI

ALSO PT 2 just trace shit. Literally. People act like tracing is evil but it's a great way to learn. You can even trace other artist's work, just don't post it and claim it as yours lol

[bingodotorg]

Waffle House Parking Lot

Ship: Alive!Ruby/Leon

Description: It’s a hot summer night. Leon comes to pick-up his girlfriend after her shift, hoping that it’s his last time doing so. Instead, he’s forced to break up a fight in the parking lot and it just keeps going downhill from there. 

Tags: RE2!Leon to RE4!Leon development. Canon/OC. Cop/Criminal. Doomed relationship. Planning a break-up. Manic Pixie Nightmare. Angst. Hurt with no Comfort. Savior Complex meets Self-Destructive Behavior (guess who wins). Possible OOC Leon because I never wrote this man before.

TW: Drug Addiction Mentioned. Suicidal thoughts but not in a traditional sense. Manhandling. Leon driving. 

My friend once told me that I “don’t know Leon” so I’m writing him purely out of spite. My first time posting "proper" writing on tumblr so sorry in advance.

WC: 1300

Leon expected to just pick her up, like normal, but instead was met with a different image.

He didn’t even walk into the building yet, as he heard angry screams and an obvious sound of a tussle right in the parking lot. It’s closing time, so the place is completely empty with only a couple cars present, probably the ones that belong to workers.

It was really easy to notice two silhouettes beating the absolute shit out of each other. He decided to interfere just to see the exact person he was trying to pick up, turning someone else’s face into red mush. 

- Ruby…

Once Leon noticed that the guy underneath her didn't respond anymore, he rushed in, grabbing Ruby and pulling her away. Ruby fights back for a couple of minutes, until she loses so much energy that her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. He gently sat her on the ground and went to check on the man who was still unconscious. 

God, it was hard to look at his face. Both of his eyes are drowning in dark blue skin, covered in stretch marks as if she was trying to pull his face right off, there’s a bite mark on his cheek and not a pretty one. 

Leon comes closer and checks his pulse, hoping that the guy doesn’t wake up suddenly.

He’s alive…thank god. 

After making sure that he was alright, or, at least, as alright as he can be, Leon came back to Ruby. He grabs her face, trying to look into the whites of her eyes but she pushes him away with nearly a grawl. From what he was able to see in a split second, it seems like she’s sober.

- Ruby, what the fuck?!

The second she got enough strength, she was up again, already beelining for the man on the ground, to finish the job. Leon grabbed her arm right away, stopping her so suddenly she nearly fell over.

- Where do you think you’re going?

She tried to get out of his grasp, turning her own arm red from the force, but he pulled her in closer, holding on harder, to let her know that he’s NOT letting go.

- Stop!

Ruby stays in place for once but she’s not too happy about it. Leon didn’t want to hold her like this, but he felt like there were no more options. Her actions, the thoughts inside her head, felt as if they were outside of human morals. Words just go over her head…as if she’s doing it on purpose to annoy him or just avoid responsibilities. 

He can’t judge, he really can’t. He will never understand what she went through. He had seen his own share of monstrosities but they will never be the same, because he’s not her.

He shouldn’t judge but god does he want to.

- Car. Now.

He slightly pushed her in the right direction as he let go. Leon’s eyes fall onto the man’s body again, as he takes out his phone to call for an ambulance.  ***

Ruby herself wasn’t completely unscathed. He did put up quite a fight before passing out, leaving her with a black-eye, messed up nose and blood dripping from her forehead. The drive to the hospital was…awkward. Ruby didn’t even try to break the silence, explain what happened and Leon had no idea how to start. The plan was to pick her up and tell her how he feels once they’re at the spot but now they’re not even driving to her house.

- Do you want…to talk about it?

He finally asks. She stays silent, rubs her nose, staining her fingers red.

- What did he do?

- I made an order wrong…he yelled at me.

She sniffles but no tears come out. 

- Said I don’t deserve you, that you’re probably out there, fucking someone else.

- I’m not.

- I know. You probably would’ve been happier, if you did.

Her eyes were completely empty as she said that, as if it was something she thought about so often she grew to accept that fact. Leon’s eyes darted to look at her.

- Maybe.

He answered in nearly a whisper. 

Leon seemingly only looked at her for a second but as she suddenly glanced at the road and screamed,  he realized that the car had moved to the opposite lane of the highway. He reacts fast, swerves to the side and the car stops at the border. 

As Leon catches his breath, he turns on the emergency lights with a shaky hand and pushes his back into the seat with a sigh. He closes his eyes, for a moment, as he hears Ruby begin to laugh. The thought of them dying makes her so ecstatic, she nearly chokes…but he doesn’t laugh with her. ***

Ruby holds his arm like she’s trying to pick a slice of steak. When she’s high she can do this for hours, outline muscles under his skin, call each by name. It was like a lullaby…like counting sheep. The fact that she can see under his skin always gave him a strange feeling of paranoia. She knows where each muscle is, how they’re deformed, it was a strange type of intimacy between them. He never realized how personal the things underneath your skin can be. It’s not something he felt like he had to “open up” about but now that someone has such a deep understanding of what is going on inside his body, it made him feel vulnerable.

As she started to outline pieces of muscle, Leon pulled her hand away and started holding it in his own, gently drawing circles on her palm with his finger. She didn’t fight it, just sighed and placed her head on his shoulder. When she fell asleep like this, it felt like taming a wild animal.

Once this is over, he will miss moments like these, despite everything.

- Miss Bates?

Leon raised his arm for her, as the nurse called out the name.  ***

Once she was looked at and deemed to be fine, It didn’t take a while for her to fall asleep in the passenger seat. Ruby looked awful, she needed a shower. He couldn’t bring her back to her own “house”...she didn’t even have running water in that dump. 

It was funny. Even though they stopped living together, it still felt the same. She would spend most of her nights at his place just because leaving her in that apartment felt…wrong. Technically, Ruby’s homeless, but she doesn’t consider it as such. An abandoned apartment that doesn’t even have functioning doors, is considered a home, in her eyes. 

Blond, strawy hair, ruined by the dye job. She never went to a hairdresser, it’s not like she has money for one. No, she colors her own hair, which is pretty obvious. The uneven patches of pink and light blue show her attempts at making it look like cotton candy, but it’s more like someone dumped watercolor paint on her.

He undressed her but somehow, didn’t feel a thing. He couldn’t even register it as a body of someone who’s alive. Everytime Leon sees her it’s like she’s getting closer to death…he probably won’t even notice when she crosses that line.He checks her pulse again, just to make sure. Her blood still responds to the pressure of his fingers, surprisingly. 

He waited for the right temperature to start pouring, checking it with his fingers. Leon wasn’t planning on washing her thoroughly, just letting the water flow clean whatever it can.

Complete silence, only the sound of water and his sobs, echoed through the bathroom. Seemingly, that was enough to wake her up, as he hears the water in the tub shifting. Cold, wet hands touch his face.

- You’re so pretty…

She whispers, watching the pain in his eyes.

[crimsondragonleader]

Affection(ate) Headcanons

On the topic of Physical Affection for the Seven:

Over the millennia there will be certain times that despite their more monstrous nature, the Seven Heroes will actually be affectionate either to another Hero or to someone they hold dear for a time.

Kzinssie - Easiest to pin down. Most people shy away from his kind of affection for obvious reasons. If he does do things like give a hug, expect it to be the clammy, slightly sweaty, and generally awkward and uncomfortable kind. Not uncommon for chills to go down people's spines upon contact anyhow. Annoying Kid Brother.

Rocbouquet - Unless you're Wagnas or Noel, probably not happening. She might tease a bit every so often, but know that's only so she can get her way. If she does, it'll be little winks and nudges, the occasional caress or coddle - but her true affection is only for those two. Noel's baby sister and knows it.

Noel - Still a knight by training and osmosis, he isn't shy about encouragement, and has had more than one kid look to him as a big brother figure or even a father figure. He functioned as both for Rocbouquet since he was young, and he gets the Dad Itch every now and again. Especially so when thinking of what could have been with Orieve when she's brought up. Major Girl Dad/Wine Dad Vibes.

Dantarg - Usually avoided by most people because he just comes off so strong, pun intended. Uses even his affection to show off his strength and dominance, resulting in more than one injury whenever he's tried camaraderie or just a pat on the back. On the rare occasion someone has initiated genuine affection toward him however, his Dad-targ side comes out, and the recipient is absolutely showered in Dantarg's pent-up brand of affection, usually in choice meats from high-profile kills, Spartan roughhousing, and possible suffocation from wrestling or being hugged. Major Boy Dad/Beer Dad Vibes.

Subier - As a human, his antics were rewarded with more than a few slaps to the face, but among friendlier groups he was quite social and open. Perhaps due to his relationships souring and those wounds festering, he now seeks solitude in his monstrous form. Wagnas, being so forgiving, is one of the few people to actually earn his trust, thus his willingness to go to any length for him. Doesn't give out anymore due to past hurts, but will happily receive and reciprocate in most cases. Major Dad Friend/Beer Friend Vibes.

Wagnas - kinda on the lines of @psychobind's hc, while he has a bit of a shell around him because of priestly decorum, if he's into you, h e _ i s _ i n t o _ y o u . It's a very intense sort of affection, somehow platonic but bordering on romance and obsession, as if in love with the act of loving. Major Mom Friend/Wine Friend Vibes.

Bokhohn - Very much not the touchy-feely type. Most affection in that regard that he gives is purely unintentional, but the few he does intend is usually in the form of gifts, like little puppets, gadgets, and handicrafts he does to while away his seemingly-endless time. Also teas and coffees, if he knows you're into it. Wine Uncle Vibes.

[magicalgirlagency]

While rewatching the old Sailor Moon anime, I find the in-universe rumors about Ami and Makoto really interesting. Ami was seen as a snob because of her shyness and Makoto a delinquent because she punches bullies. Both were friendless before Usagi befriended them despite those rumors. Then I thought: "hey, this (the rumor - friendless part) could work very well as concept for a standalone magical story"

So I've read Severance, a dark Tokyo Mew Mew fanfic focusing on a team of ocs. The main idea for this fic is that putting a bunch of random different girls together and then ask them to save the world would in no way mean that they're going to be good friends with each other. While I prefer lighthearted Maho Shojo series, both this fic idea and the rumor-friendless stuff above can make some good Angst in a Magical Girl team. Like, the good character-development kind of Angst, not those shitty shock values and "humans are naturally bad" craps.

My idea is that a mascot searches for 4 different girls with pure hearts and gives them power to become magical warriors to defeat the bad guys, protect Earth and all that jazz like in a normal Maho Shojo show. All of the girls happen to live close to each other - and may or may not be studying in the same school. Pretty standard so far, right? Well, at their school/neighborhood/Im-not-sure-what, there are rumors about each of them already running around. They aren't too horrible (this is a lighthearted story), but still bad rumors nonetheless. The girls believe in these rumors about each other, and there isn't anyone that's brave enough to try and understand their teammates despite those rumors (lack of a genki protagonist). So they're kinda in this awkward situation where they, because of trusting the mean rumors, just assume the other teammates are not nice people. And none of them is really trying to learn about each other outside what they think they know. There might also be fights among certain members of the group, most of them remain rather chill but some are hot-headed. They don't try to hurt each other badly though, and still try to work well as a team to beat up the BBEGs. Their team overall atmosphere is slightly tense, awkward and weird, but not downright hostile and still leave plenty of space for improvement.

Since this idea comes from rewatching Sailor Moon, I think the Smart-but-Snob and the violent-delinquent rumor should be used here as well.

So one of the girls is extremely smart, and maybe infamous for her intelligence, but she doesn't speak much and often doesn't answer when people talk to her. The rumor about her is rather similar to that of Ami, people think she's bitchy due to how she interacts with other students. But in reality, she's not only just shy, but also it's very hard for her to actually talk to strangers (maybe she has Selective mutism) and she's rarely able to actually hold a long conversation. She’s much more into art and poetry instead of science because she found a lots of comfort in expressing herself using words and colors.

The second girl is the “violent delinquent” one. She’s not actively seeking out random fights, but has a clear set of rules on who deserved to be punched and have their chin stick to their nose. She actually chooses to actively avoid people who try to pick a fight with her due to her “delinquent” reputation. She breaks school rules many times to help some students who are mistreated. She also doesn’t care much about herself (often forgetting to feed herself), like if she got in a dangerous situation, she’d literally be the personification of that “ this is fine '' dog meme while shits happen to her. She’d go out of her way to defend her weaker teammates before they even consider each other friends.

The other two members could include:

- a rich girl who doesn’t know how to talk very well, having been friendless for a long time. So when she speaks to someone she could accidentally say some weird shits that offends people without knowing it. But they are scared of pointing put her “rudeness” since her family is incredibly rich and people are scared of getting on her bad side (which is non existence because she is more of a pushover than a bully) So her peers spread a rumor about how she’s this rude rich girl who’ll murder you if you do something wrong. Meanwhile she’s so confused about what is happening, she’s somewhat aware she’s probably doing something wrong, but can’t pinpoint exactly what it is since no one really told her. She and the Smart girl actually were the first two to learn more about each other than what their rumors said about them

*btw, halfway through typing this my brain start to ship the Rich girl and Smart girl together and they are so gay the fluff is giving me a sugar overload. Whoever would write a story with a similar concept in the far future please keep this ship it’s so fluffy

-a girl who hides her face and is really close to one of her teachers. The rumors include one about how she is hiding an ugly, scarred face beneath her face mask and the other one is that she’s bribing that teacher to give her good grades. The scarred parts aren’t as bad as the rumor describes, but she does have some face scars. The mentioned teacher is her aunt, which is why they’re close.

The story follows how the girls grow closer through their fights with the evil forces and eventually learn that the rumors they heard about one another aren’t truthful at all. Later in the story they’re much like a traditional MG team, but the BBEGs have seen them in their early days, so they use the misunderstanding and doubts from those days to try and separate the team.

It obviously didn’t work. However, it did end up creating some angst between the girls because of how they used to treat/think of the others. They help each other out of this guilty mindset and their bond only came out stronger than before - much to the BBEG dismay.

Ah, a story about how we shouldn't judge a book by just looking at its cover. Simple, but effective!