#sorry this probably doesn't even make sense but

[mandalhoerian]

okay, so, this is a very layered scenario right here. like yes unrequited love, what tragedy, boo sylus for waiting and for his interactions with mc, but the more i read this, the more this situation is making sense to me -- at least from sylus's side.

1- the reader is katniss everdeen levels of unreliable narrator, and is so caught up in her own perspective that even sylus's offer to take her to her room that was OBVIOUSLY him making a subtle move didn't register. it was like him testing the waters with her in my opinion. not too on the nose, but still there, take it or leave it.

2- which brings me to his subtlety. this is STILL a boss-employee relationship. sylus has so much power over the reader, who, isn't the most stable of people and obviously owes sylus for getting her out of a slump. and she's not a normal employee either. she's a femme fatale type who uses her body to get people and is very much sexualized. this element puts such a delicate layer into the situation. sylus would NOT want to come across as wanting her for sex, he's already benefiting from honey trapping with her for assassination purposes and just saying it out loud could leave a stale taste in the mouths of many. not only would he not want to cross boundaries, he'd also give the choice/power to her in whatever happens between them, or if it happens at all. sylus is a gentleman and he has class, so i believe most of what he does is observing her for a SLIVER of a signal. he's also aware of the power imbalance, so i believe he's acting very accordingly here not to force her into anything. what's "he had four years to make me his" to the reader is much more complicated for sylus. or. i'm just reading too much into this 😭

3- in accordance with not forcing her into anything, just observing her and looking out for her, sylus shows king behavior and lets her do whatever she wants. i'm sure it's not easy for him to watch her go be with someone else, he also doesn't have the right to do anything about it. but he makes sure she's safe, you know?

4- what the reader has been doing to sylus is avoiding him. we're in her head too much to clock it on the spot, but she's very distant. we're at like what, chapter three? and she's had like a handful of interactions with him. we've seen her with mc more than we saw her with sylus. she's being distand with him. i'm not sure if he's aware of her pushing the mc onto him and acting weird in general while she thinks she's being slick, but i could see his natural reaction to be observing to see if he's right or to figure out what's up with the reader since he probably thinks he won't be able to get a straight answer out of her.

5- do we know this brown hair brown eye individual? i'm CURIOUS

anyway sorry for yapping, i really just have to continue reading lmfao

carpe noctem [ rising action ] | sylus

— summary: you’ve convinced yourself that this is normal. routine. that you’re used to this, sitting like a fly on the wall while their relationship blossoms like a flower turned towards the sun before you. so why does it still hurt? — cw: reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, unrequited feelings, mentions of blood & injuries, jealousy, profanity, sexual content, fade-to-black, self-destructive behavior, somewhat of a slow burn, mdni — notes: thank you so much for reading! [ part 1 | part 2 | part 4 ] — now playing: bmf - sza

Breakfast is uncharacteristically quiet. 

At least, for the three of you, it is. The silence makes way for the lazy swish of cars on the road, the clatter of cutlery against plates, and the idle chatter of the cafe’s other patrons. 

It’s balmy outside. The type of weather that pastes your blouse to your skin and creates a fine film of sweat on the back of your neck. The kind that welcomes mosquitos and makes showering beforehand pointless. And it’s so obnoxiously bright out, nary a cloud in the sky. But you figure you're being unreasonably antsy because you’re hungover and still a little tired. 

Despite the climate, your ragtag team is seated beneath a cafe’s awning, scarfing down food to battle the effects of your collective hangovers before jetting back to Linkon.

Typically, Ms. Hunter would be on about something, filling the space with her animated talk, with you and Sylus occasionally chiming in to tease her or exchange covert words concerning upcoming missions. But she’s still a little worse for wear, with dark lenses perched on her nose and a wrinkle between her brows as she pushes food around her plate.

You snort around a mouthful of eggs at her plight, tucking your amusement behind your hand. Decide to incite a little mischief to distract yourself from the weather and the creeping feeling of unease brewing in your gut. 

“Someone had a rough night,” you tease, reaching for your orange juice.

She glowers at you. Sticks out her tongue, flipping you the bird. You snort into your drink, nearly sending pulp flying every which way.

“Not my fault you have the tolerance of a three-year-old.”

Your eyes crease at the corners whilst you watch her work up to a retort, mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. But before she can get a word out—

“Ladies,” Sylus interjects like a distant clap of thunder pushing across a dark horizon. He’s seated between you at the round, iron-wrought table, arms crossed over a broad chest. Sunglasses shroud scarlet intentions, but you don’t miss the twitch of a silver brow nor the humor meddling with his voice. “Play nice.” 

There’s finality there. He speaks to you like a referee. Like a father who’s caught his children roughhousing, and you both shrink beneath his mock disappointment. 

“Besides,” Sylus continues, casting his amused gaze on you. “You weren’t in the best of shape yourself last night. Are you really in any position to talk?” 

A hot rush of mortification wades over you. You're unsure of its source, whether at your memories of last night or how quickly he came to her defense. 

And so what if you stumbled a bit down the hall, searching for your room? 

You didn’t think he noticed after your exchange. Figured he retreated into his room, or worse—slipped across the hall to keep his hunter friend company into the wee hours of the morning while you tossed and turned, driven to hell by thoughts of them doing everything besides sleeping. 

The recollection makes you bristle, and you turn a scowl down to your food. Grumbling, you plop a slice of toast onto the hunter’s plate. She glances at you, confusion pulling her lips down. 

“Eat,” you order. “Feed a hangover, starve a cold.”

“I don’t think that’s how that goes,” she counters, a pout evident in her voice. But she doesn’t protest, sitting up in her seat to nibble on your peace offering.

You resist an impulse to pat her head, your ire sloughing off, traded for something like fondness. You want to ruffle locks of silken ebony because she’s effortlessly adorable, pulling at those little heartstrings you’d worked so hard to conceal. 

Sylus beats you to the punch, leaning forward to mold long fingers around the round of her head. The world slows, casting a special spotlight on the pair of them. 

You ignore how your chest tightens at the scene. At the affectionate little tug of his lips as Ms. Hunter cants her face towards him, cheeks full and expression doe-like. You try to pretend like it doesn’t make you sick with resentment. Once upon a time, he used to look at you like that. 

Fuck. 

What are you thinking? He is your boss, and she is your charge—your friend. There’s no reason to feel like this, especially considering you practically shoved Sylus into her arms, reasoning you never stood a chance in hell with him. 

You snap back to the present, and suddenly, breakfast isn’t so appetizing. You push around your cold eggs as Sylus and Ms. Hunter slide into easy conversation. You feel like a husk of yourself amid them. Like you’re impeding on something intimate, and your stomach lurches when they draw you into their chat every so often as if pitying you.

You’ve convinced yourself that this is normal. Routine. That you’re used to this, sitting like a fly on the wall while their relationship blossoms like a flower turned towards the sun. And yet, you’ve never been more eager to return to the N109 Zone. To leave these green-eyed thoughts on this island and get back to your distracting life, luring terrible people to their demise and wiping the scourge of man off the face of the planet. 

You suddenly straighten, clearing the phlegm from your throat. Your silverware clatters against your plate as you shove it away, eyes regretfully shifting between them.

“So, what time do we leave?” There’s a whisper of exasperation in your tone, but you quickly conceal it with that playful arrogance you’re known for. 

Sylus and the hunter trade looks of confusion and humor, blind to the turmoil of your mind slowly creeping through the folds and staining your pride like ink spilled into water.

“Eager to get back to work, aren’t you?”

You scoff, taking up your fork, clueless to scarlet eyes studying the crown of your head, narrowing at the apprehensive slope of your voice. “You have no idea.”

—

It’s a pleasure to dance. Of course, it always is. It’s one of the few times you feel desired. Wanted. Useful when your hands aren’t speckled with blood and your knuckles aren’t purpling from bashing someone’s face in for taunting The Devil. 

Dancing is a versatile skill you’ve acquired with time and practice. It's one of the few pleasures you’ve drawn from this fickle life. One of the few things you kept from a past veiled in darkness, the rest tucked away in the hulls of your psyche.  

All eyes are on you. Gazes burning with assorted degrees of desire, envy, and awe beneath the tawny glow of the stage lights. The attention makes you warm and tingly, and your lips salaciously curve as you move your body in time with the music, casting an inadvertent spell on all who dare to watch. 

You’re the center of attention without trying to be and without the influence of your Evol. Of course, you usually are. He’s even told you so. Customers often flock to Sylus’ nightclubs to see you dance, hoping to one day have your affections. 

Or to fuck you. 

You rarely entertain these people. Not unless you have to. Not unless Sylus sicks you on them to further his goals or take down his competition. You’re ever the faithful lapdog, tuned to your boss’ every command, and it makes you sick with how loyal you are to him sometimes. A part of you feels you owe him for this life you lead. He’d snatched you from an impenetrable darkness. Renewed your sense of purpose and redirected your desire for revenge. 

For now, you have this. The recognition of others despite how misplaced it is. They want you for your body, for the promise of what your facade offers. Deep down, you crave something more, something real. But you tamp down those feelings as you bite your lip, putting on a good show, hands smoothing over the surge of your hips. And you’re spurred by the whoops and whistles and shouts of your name as the lights dim, signaling the conclusion of your performance.

Your chest heaves with the effort of breathing, and your cheeks ache with a smile as you pose. The crowd's cheers dampen the violent thrum of your heartbeat—chase away the cacophony of your mind, adrenaline spuming through you like an erupting geyser. 

You look over your shoulder towards the ceiling, catching scarlet-spun eyes from the upper floor’s rail, and your grin twitches the slightest bit. It’s a rush, having the attention of strangers. Having their desire, their yearning. But his attention is much more addicting like Nicotine furling between your teeth. For a moment, you feel seen. Like you’re the center of his universe, and not the pretty, bright-eyed damsel with enough room in her heart to house the galaxy.

Something flashes in his eyes, and the world fades. You mistake it for tenderness. Just wishful thinking. He would never choose you. He’s had four years to make you his. 

Why would he suddenly choose to acknowledge you now?

—

Once the adrenaline ebbs and clubbers flood the dance floor, you’re nestled behind the crowd, leaning against the sticky countertop of the bar, clutching a glass of something acrid and glacial between your fingers—something to take the edge off. To mute the insistent pulse of your nerves.

The music thumps beneath your feet, accompanied by the sparkling chatter of the club’s other clients. Yet you still hear him amid the chaos—the familiar curl of a voice around the vowels of your name. You fix him with an amused, sultry look beneath Lux’s customary red hue. 

“When are you gonna let me take you out on a date?” he asks, worn knuckles easing down the slope of your arm. You track his audacity with your eyes, jerking away from his unwarranted attention, ignoring the goosebumps igniting across your skin.

This, too, is routine—one of Lux’s regulars throwing himself at your feet, begging for an opportunity to court you.  He’s been on like this for months, entertaining your game of cat and mouse. Maybe you’ve given him a false sense of hope because he’s yet to let up. In fact, he’s grown bolder with his advances lately, often popping up when you least expect him, vying for your heart.

It’s endearing, really, having someone who genuinely wants you. Or maybe he doesn’t, but you convince yourself otherwise. Play a sick little game with yourself, fooling yourself into thinking that maybe there’s more to you than your reputation builds you up to be.

You turn towards him, crossing your legs, the leather barstool sticky beneath your thighs. You lean into your knuckles, studying dark brows, whiskey-infused eyes, and full lips. You end your excursion at the thick of his throat, excitement prickling like static in your chest. He’s easy on the eyes, tone velvet smooth. Had you not been a femme fatale, you might’ve given him the time of day.

But for now—

“You couldn’t handle me,” you counter, reveling in how the smugness melts from his face.

He chuckles at your cheekiness, sweeping the tails of his blazer back and stuffing his hands into his pockets. Squares his shoulders, standing akimbo like he’s preparing for a fight, though he might as well be, stepping to you like this.

“Still holding out for that old man, I see.”

It is your turn to wear a wavering smile. Your turn to look silly, the proverbial knife driven into your stomach and twisted. 

You scoff with a sneer, dumping the last vestiges of your drink down your throat. You tear yourself from your seat, reaching past the gentleman to snatch your coat from the counter, pinning him with a haughty look. 

“I’m not holding out for anyone, fucker. And even if I were, it wouldn't be your slow ass.”

With a huff, you brush past him, wending through the crowd gathered on the dance floor to retreat into your dressing room. 

You try vainly to contain a scowl, knowing you’ve been read like the deckled pages of a book deep down. 

Maybe you refuse to move on because you feel like you’d betray Sylus if you did. How, exactly, you’re unsure. He’s had no problem betraying you, quietly shoving you out of the picture in favor of someone who’s hardly seen him bleed. 

—

“Do you like anybody?” Ms. Hunter asks above the steady purr of the SUV’s engine.

Her question nearly floors you. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly, and you almost choke on your spittle. 

You’re stuck in traffic together. 

Knowing the holidays loomed around the bend, someone decided it would be an ideal day to go to the mall. Of course, you weren’t the only people out on the road. 

So naturally, she’s bored, unused to the silence stretching between you. The low croon of the music spilling from the speakers does nothing to ease the tension.

You glance at her, and she’s wearing a Cheshire Cat-like grin, studying you from the passenger seat. You swallow thickly, adjusting your shades on your face, staring at the cars sluggishly easing up beyond the windshield. “I don’t like very many people.”

An exasperated sigh later.

“C’mon! There’s gotta be someone you like. Ya’ know.” She pitches herself closer, her mischievous grin curling in your periphery, and she pokes your side with a pointed finger to get a rise out of you. 

“Someone that gets your heart racing. Someone who makes your face all hot. Makes butterflies swarm in your tummy.” 

You know exactly where this is going. Had you not valued your friendship—or whatever you call this complicated mashup between you—you would reveal the inner workings of your mind. But how insane would you sound, telling the hunter the person who gets your blood racing is the very same man she has tucked in her back pocket?

So, you deflect. With a sardonic smirk, you jest, “You get my heart racing when you fuck up our meetings.”

You squint and flinch away with a laugh in your throat as she swats you, whining at your cruelty. 

“You suck,” pouts Ms. Hunter, falling back into her seat with crossed arms. “Bet it’s that guy who always stalks you at Lux.”

You side-eye her in the rearview, placatingly patting her head. “I like you, stupid. Isn’t that good enough?”

Maybe one day. 

One day, you’ll have the intestinal fortitude to tell her the truth—to tell them both the truth. How you’re falling apart at the stitching, the world you know falling away from beneath your feet.

—

You’re not as strong as you let on. You’re human beneath that flirtatious exterior—still a woman with wants and needs, not immune to the temptations of the flesh. Which is why you find yourself at his doorstep, a glacial, errant breeze ruffling the tails of your coat as the silvery moon haloes your silhouette.

He leans against the doorframe, brown eyes simmering with intrigue as he takes you in. Dark hair sweeps over raised brows. “What made you change your mind?”

You shrug, hands stuffed in your pockets, a quirk to your lips. ���Maybe I just need a friend.”

He chuckles low, arms crossed. “A friend, huh?” 

“Yeah.”

There’s no mistaking the pitch of your voice. The air charges with something amorous as he ushers you into his apartment. You brush past him, tamping down your dignity as you disappear into the warm sanctity of his home, his hand reassuring at the small of your back.

Had you taken the time to survey your surroundings, you would’ve noticed a set of beady, crimson eyes peering through the inky night, watching you from their perch atop a powerline.

And had you further investigated, you would’ve heard the familiar whirr of machinery as the iridescent outline of sleek feathers recorded your every move.

conflict | masterlist | climax

[lucysarah-c]

So, we all have an idea of how Levi would act if he met a stranger and if he ended up falling for her and wanting to be with her… But what if they are friends? Like she is on the scouts for example, and after years of mutual respect and a good friendship he finds himself falling. But she is always sweet to him (and everyone, honestly) so he doesn't know if it's mutual, and all his advances as seen as ''oh Captain is such a good friend!''. You think he would try to flirt even harder (in his own way) or he would go against his nature and try to confess? (I love friends to lovers' pining, I'm so sorry)

Hi love! Sorry for the late reply—I'm finally catching up on my inbox. 😅

Oh, I love a quote I have used in my fics before that I think captures Levi's flirting perfectly “You’ve been flirting with me?” “Yes, for the past year, thank you for finally noticing!” I can totally see that for Levi.

Levi can be both passive and active at the same time. Does that make sense? Levi’s the type who might not know how to flirt in a traditional sense. Like, have you seen those TikToks of "when your crush posts they like eggs" and someone posting something about eggs? That’s totally Levi. He’s not about grand gestures or cheesy lines. If anything, he’d probably make it as awkward as possible but in a Levi way.

For example, imagine he has to drive across the city at 3 a.m. just to help her, and he’s grumbling the entire way: “Ugh, you’re such a pain in the ass… but fine, get in.” He’s doing it for her, sure, but in the most ‘Levi’ way—no sugarcoating. It’s kind of his flirtation style, I guess? He won’t go out of his way to be overly sweet or obvious, but his actions speak for him.

But yeah, when Levi reaches his limit—when all the subtlety fails and he’s done—he’s just going to come out with it, deadpan as ever: “I like you. Not like friends. Want to go out?” No build-up, no fluff—just straight to the point. That’s Levi in a nutshell. He doesn’t do the whole in-between stage. It’s either he’s into you, or he’s not, and if he is, you’ll know it… even if it’s in the most awkward, direct way possible.

That’s how I imagine it too, but I think you probably can come up with better ideas than mine!

Thanks for the fun ask, and I hope you have a lovely day too!

[urautismdiagnosis]

Pokes u

Do you have Barnacles Headcanons to share with his wife (aka me)

YES also sorry for the late response lol uhhh this is mostly just stuff from my au lol and its got different world building than the show does

Ok first off some context, in my au the reasons for PEOPLE species to have different traits is more based on environmental factors and conflicts between other groups of people. 👌

There are definitely some wild species that aren't even intelligent enough to have nearly any sapience (in simple terms its self awareness) that would probably end up being food or wtv, but like going based off of irl stuff polar bears mostly need high fat diets and unless there are a TON extra of high fat food fish thatd make the arctic pretty hard to survive

Unless ofc 👀 well they are PEOPLE people so u can convince me they'd have somehow domesticated either musk or (hoofed arctic animal) or bred some other kind of milk producing animal as a source of food

All I'm saying is that he could and would and has eaten an entire wheel of cheese before

And he absolutely has a secret stash of high fat snacks because I think he might be a liiiiittttle bit self conscious about it

Because he realized that arctic animals and non arctic animals have HUGE differences in social norms and apparently most animals don't have at least 3 inches of fat minimum on their entire body???

And its not cuz hes embarrassed of the fat, its normal and healthy, he just doesn't want to go from Trustworthy and Reliable Captain of thr Octonauts to "oh my god i need like an entire cheesecake rn to feel normal" in front of everyone cuz like 😭 he is a bit of a comfort eater. Like ah yes our strong and level headed captain is eating an entire box of oreos at 2 am because he misses his sister again 😭

Ofc the others do find out but there isn't any judgement if anything kwazii would probably join him, bro has a history of having weird food habits (hm wonder why... surely nothing related to being shipwrecked on an island and having to survive) and its nice

He does like, have THE best snacks tho and he might be hoarding them just a tiny bit-

he also can feel a bit worried about coming off as too large or intimidating so thats why he's always got his hands on his hips- and his head lowered down a bit

its not that he seems like physically scary but a larger presence can be intimidating for a lot of people

Teeth and claws aren't usually seen as intimidating in most scenarios in this world because its so common and is just like a feature of the species the same way hearing or smell can be btw

so yeah someone threatening to scratch ya can be scary but so can someone being able to find you because they can hear ur heartbeat 💀🙏

Back to the main point, like all the other octonauts aren't even like medium sized animals (like wolves and whatever), there ALL very small species. So hes like way in the upper range, the highest and tallest possible species while everyone else are all smaller ones specifically

So if barnacles is Actually Mad (💀 the scenario to make him genuinely mad has to be BAD) then he will go to his FULL HEIGHT

Cuz irl polar bears got very tall strong necks and etc so I think him standing at Full Serious Height would be very startling

Also about polar bears sense of smell!

Circling back to the adaptations being related to survival pressures and social ones

Polar bears in this world, use their sense of smell for something very important in the arctic: navigation, above and below water

It prevents things like getting lost in the wintery white world, which is so so easy for others. It can help find others than might be lost, and it can tell u if they r injured or not and I think thats precious

there is one problem tho, while their sense of smell is VERY strong, stronger than bloodhounds and etc, its made for being able to detect things very far away in freezing temperatures... so they're extremely sensitive

Which wouldn't be that much of an issue if barnacles wasn't in all sorts of more tropical environments...

In thr artic all u can smell is other people, animals, and which was is home

But if he's not in the octopod or under the water,but somewhere where there's THOUSANDS of insects,hundreds of pollinating plants, and tons and tons of different creatures all at once-

I think thats be overwhelming and he's probably be allergic to sooooooo many plants poor guy 🥺

Also even tho he like trims and thins out his thick coat, and even has a little cooling pack vest sort of thing under his uniform he can still overheat pretty easily

Cuz yk, the several inches of brown fat or blubber? Someone might say "hey just adjust ur diet and whatever to lose it" but that would be VERY UNHEALTHY for him... mess with the balance of his bodys systems yk? so its really not an option;^;

So yeah he still tends to overheat and thats why having his room canoncially set to actual arctic temperatures every night helps him sleep better and feel better

Usually alot of octonauts missions happen under water or in gups or maybe they'll spend some time on an island and it'll be hot

But with extended time spent in warmer climates he has to take alot more breaks and it can be alot harder for him

Also I think that he had a period in his early 20s college years where he was like kinda lowkey depressed because he was learning more about global warming and capitalism

, it didn't last too long fortunately because yk he met professor inkling who was already developing his idea for the octonauts

and they actuslly became really good friends and it really came together as a realistic thing when tweak got wind of em

On a more depressing note global warming for polar bears in a world where they're actual people with a unique culture and heritage means some totally different stuff

Like its not even the fact they can't even engage in their own cultural traditions (cough traveling in that one arctic global warming special where they were all exhausted cuz all the melted sea ice cough)

Its also the loss of genuine homes (in my au they're kinda like ice hobbit houses 🥰since polar bears irl will dig out shallow resting spots or mama bears will have dens with a toasty 30 degrees farenheit), architectural collapses, traditional jobs that can only be done in the arctic being lost, and being forced into more southern grounds because more and more just can't rely living there anymore

And I think that'd be super depressing to see in real time, its a cultural death

Heck even irl there's so many grizzlies going north and polar going south that they've actually started to mix and start having hybrids (grolar bears). And the thing is they're so genetically compatible that their species can actually develope into their own separate identity that might totally replace most if not all polar bears sense they're just more adapt to the changing climate and have more range,with benefits from both species

And while that sounds great on paper and makes sense and is obviously fine for them to have easier lives, I think in thr context of this world it would leave barnacles with some conflicted feelings

Because the thing is there used to be concerns about polar bears having to leave their homes to live is societies and communities that just... that their jobs wouldn't fit to. That would be physically harder for them to be healthy in. That they'd have to give up so many thousands of years of traditions thatd be impossible to carry over in.

Idk its late and I've got one braincell and idk if this makes sense and im sorry if it got depressing 😭

But yeah, so there's more and more of these younger people grolar bears, that just... will never have that full connection to their heritage. And idk I think its sad and maybe I'm projecting

Also I think that if barnacles was ever sad he'd just cope by playing the accordian lol,like the one meme of the girl playing "its a mental breakdown ✨" on a kazoo 😭

Let's end this on a happier note tho, circling back to barnacles being several feet taller than his entire crew, like-

We all already know this guy emotionally adopts every living being in sight

And well, his ENTIRE CREW literally, and I mean very literally and physically, looks up to him-

Like they all gotta turn their heads up and loon at him with big hopeful eyes ready for whatever he has to say

And im gonna be honest his composure is alot stronger than mine cux I would CRY because of how adorable that is

Like he knows its probably so unprofessional and might be seen as condescending BUT DAMN IT HE CANT HELP THR CUTENESS AGRESSION!!! HE WANTS TO SQUISH THEIR TINY FACES!!!

so sometimes hell have a very Serious and Leadership-like Captain Conversation, and then thr SECOND hes out of their sight (and hopefully hearing) HE JUST HAS TO STOP HIMSELF FROM JUST CRYING-

Cuz the second hes out of sight he will LOSE ALL COMPOSURE and need a minute because he loves them so much AND THEYRE SO FCKING SMALL-

Its kinda funny tho cuz ur captain barnacles is a pretty tiny guy, wonder howd that work for u XD

Anyways gn or whatever time it is for u 🐻‍❄️✨✨✨

Also he and Bianca call at least every week for an hour and frequently send eachother updates about what they're up to

He could talk to her about anything and she's good at talking sense into him

He makes sure that natquick gets plenty of social interaction too, that man is like his father figure

(Kinda sad but I headcanon barnacles dad died when he was really young cuz of an accident where ice collapsed, probably did not help how he felt when he got stuck in an icy hole as a kid 💀🙏)

ALSO

Barnacles looking up at u vvv

Barnaclea being his lil theater kid self^

Wait~ they don't love you ✨like I love you ✨🥰

Barnacles half awake at a late night mission when everything is done and they're just driving the gup a back home

Barnacles and Bianca on a video call

[weepingalaxy]

i would like to hear your mossman essay... always looking to appreciate more women (especially the half life women. god bless alyx but i think she's the only one not relegated to an expansion or trapped by Misogynistic Writing)

TAKES A DEEP BREATH. anon youve opened the flood gates with this one i have so so so many thoughts about her. these may not make sense because english is my second language and i have probably some form of dyslexia But. i hope. itll make enough sense to offer something interesting to the table

so. judith mossman. aka the perfect example of learned helplessness and how it makes you look to the past

..i have no idea how to start this in a way that isnt kinda forced so youll have to bare with me okay.

i think the core of judith as a character can be summarized by those guys who look at something in history and say "if i was there i wouldn't have done that, rip to you but im different". there's been a misunderstanding about judith in that she "glorifies" the black mesa incident, when thats never what she does or what i understood alyx's comment about her as? see, judith doesn't say it to gordon in person, only talking about the science of teleportation with him (which i'll get into), it's alyx saying how judith has gone on and on about how it should've been her in the chamber that day.

that's not a "i wish i couldve been the one to cause the incident" or glorifying what the incident did or anything, that's a "if i was there it wouldn't have happened" as frivilous and ridiculous that is to imagine for us, the players, as people who saw what happened. but she didn't see it, all she knows is something happened in the test she applied for, and gordon's at the center of it

i believe judith resents gordon. not only because he took the position she wanted/applied to, but because she blames him for the incident happening in the first place. why else would she believe things would've been different if she was there? the way she talks to him is with this surprise and focus on what eli is going to feel about gordon's arrival, then talking about her own knowledge on the teleportation technology, it feels almost like... what would i call it. showing off? but not by saying "i" or "me", but by saying we. yes it's kleiner's technology, but imagine what they'd do if they knew what we've been doing with entanglement. she's the only one who talks to him about the technology like that, and it's like she's trying to prove she's as capable as him? i guess? especially when she still props up gordon's intelligence and says she's happy they get to work together. she wants to prove even more she could've been the one at the chamber but never saying it outright to his face.

and of course, this resentment is why it's easier for her to work with wallace breen to bring gordon to him. if you had a way to ensure the safety of the people you care about, and it'd require the capture of a man you believe was the catalyst for the end of the world, wouldn't you at least like... consider it?? not to mention the way she acts with breen is very... submissive, like maybe she's been with the combine for a specific reason that he can dangle over her head that makes her unable to go against him. the safety of eli, a way to live somewhat comfortably if her wearing a pristine off-white turtleneck is anything to go by, god knows what else.

augh. sorry my brain's losing steam but like. i need to at least mention: her going after the borealis after she breaks free from combine (and, most of all, breen) control is something i took as not just her trying to find something useful for the resistance, but also like... a way to apologize/make up for what she did? but without asking for forgiveness? she went to the fucking arctic to find one of the most valuable pieces of... tech? ... most valuable artifact? Important Ship, specifically so she can fix everything. and how will it fix things?

the borealis has weird temporal elements that lets you go back in time.

of course the woman who's focused so much on the past and the "what-if"s would go looking for something that would let her fix things in the past

[depressnt]

If I ever wrote a Wicked dnd au (tw massive rant!)

There'd be 8 grimmeries that encompass the 8 schools of magic, written by the wise ones and enchanted with sentience, they all choose one powerful magic user who encompasses their school to be able to read it, but people only know of the Transmutative Grimmerie- the bronze one- because there's a spell that keeps it in the emerald palace and the wizard tries to brute force it to work for him, and none of the others have come out of hiding and are instead waiting for a magic user to discover them

I say magic users because they won't always necessarily pick a wizard just because Wizards are those most likely to use spellbooks. The grimmeries choose someone who will use their spells to the betterment of Oz, and sometimes they won't even pick someone who specializes in the school of magic they represent

Also, Galinda is a wizard. People pretend she's a bard, but she is 100% a wizard. I'm sorry but I don't see her being selfless or dedicated enough to be able to practice as a support class, and while that one wicked dnd au where she's a cleric is wonderful, I'm a wizard Galinda truther. She WANTS to study magic, she's BEEN studying magic her wholeeee life, she wishes it were innate but it isn't so she's gonna grab magic BY THE BALLS and bend it to her will. Whether she specializes in enchantments (charms) or illusion is something I'm still debating, probably enchantment, but I hc Conjuration comes easily to her because she knows how to make something out of nothing (through lying), and doesn't want to lie but she kind of has to do it all the time and it sucks, she wants her lies to not be fake anymore, she's an honest gall! Just sometimes honesty gets you killed real damn dead. I think the Evocation grimmerie might like her, she's selfish enough to call on the aggressive nature of its spells for her own gain, and it just so happens that "her own gain" is "making Oz the kind of place Elphaba can live safely again" (I read a two chapter 34k word gelphie hurt/comfort reunion fic, and her characterization just KILLED me, I'm never gonna stop thinking of her, I love her)

(Found the link!)

Elphaba wants to be a wizard soooo bad, but she's a wild magic sorceress <33 Unsleeping City homebrew style, where her wild magic surges build up over time like Pete's, she can't STAND it and she nearly hurt so many people whenever she surged, the transmutation grimmerie picks her both as a way to get out of the palace, and because she wants to enact Good and Solid change in Oz, and it likes that

Fiyero is a swashbuckler rogue who switches his sword out for a gun in act 2, and maybe switches subclasses to mastermind to try and help Elphaba as best he can (reference to mastermind's ability to use Help action from 30 feet away, alsp it was HIS idea to fake her death) (a revived or phantom rogue would also make perfect plot sense, but I don't see it for his character)

Nessa is a commoner until she gets the ruby slippers, which is when she realizes she needs to step up her game if she's to stay with the Charmed Circle, so she becomes a ranger, maybe a monster slayer- seeking out Elphaba to kill her with a gun (hc her father taught her to shoot when guns became a thing, because it was novel and interesting and she liked the power it gave her despite the chair) before having a change of heart

Boq is either a Barbarian or a fighter in my mind, maybe a champion fighter tbh? He'd have been Nessa's (unwilling) right hand during the dictatorship, and I'd believe she'd force him to essentially head whatever military she might have amassed, I think she'd gladly try and seceed from Oz. And also the Tin Woodman was wild with an axe in the books! (Allegedly) (still gotta read those), I think he'd find some release in physical prowess, maybe holding out hope he'd be able to fight his way out, since he was clearly too smitten to smart his way out of... pretty much any situation in his life

[skimmingmilk]

reread Archie issue 4 where Sonic and Tails fight about Tails dad in prison and Sonic hooking up w Fiona and was wondering if you'd ever have them fight like that in your work? Admittedly your Unleashed fic is one of my favorites because they're arguing, even if a large part was due to Sonic being more influenced by negative emotion. I love all your work, that one just stands out to me most because of the tension!

Hi anon, I'm assuming you're talking about the House of Cards story arc?

First, thank you! I'm glad moments like that in my writing stand out to you <3 I enjoy writing tension as much as I do comfort, lol.

Now, I haven't read much Archie myself. I've heard there are some good stories in there, but I just had a hard time getting past the art style in the earlier issues, even as a kid, so didn't ever get into them. I do know of Sonic and Tails's fight though, and I have to admit, I'm not the biggest fan. For me, it feels like a missed opportunity to have them fight about something that actually makes sense for them to be at odds over.

Sonic and Tails don't fight or argue that often, so when they do I feel like it should be more meaningful. I really can't see either of them making the decision that they did which led to that fight. It's just not believable to me, and maybe it's because I didn't read all of the build-up in the issues beforehand, but to me there are more satisfying ways to put them on opposite sides of an issue that fits their characters better. But that's just my perception of them. Others may feel differently!

That being said, it's probably safe to say I won't have them fight like that in my fics xD I don't really like when they fight fight, and they don't like it either! I like to give them opposing conflicts or disagreements, but they both love and respect each other too much to let it get much beyond that.

They can get frustrated with each other, they can want or need some space, they can snap at each other in the heat of the moment, but it’s all so brief. Tails is more likely to hold grudge, sure, but Sonic won’t. It’s not worth it to him. Sonic might be said to have a "quick temper" but he doesn't really tend to dwell on things. If Tails makes him mad, it’s a matter of minutes before he’s brushed it off and moved on. Water under the bridge. And while Sonic’s not great at apologizing, he’s very good at making it hard to stay mad at him. It helps that whatever he did was likely unintentional, he rarely wants to hurt someone’s feelings (unless it’s Eggman lol). All it really takes for Tails to “get over” the occasional spat is for Sonic to just see him. Meet him where he’s at.

Even in the Unleashed fic, they're snappy with one another because they're both sleep-deprived and Tails is reacting to stress with more stress, while Sonic's reacting to the stress by flat out ignoring it's existence. As soon as Sonic realizes Tails is actually upset though? He's backing down, he's not pushing any more buttons. He doesn't want to be on the other side of an issue from Tails, he wants to be right there beside him. So they can get through it together.

There'll definitely be more moments like that between them, because I do love the tension, too, but in terms of putting them in a position where they'd physically fight each other or that actually threatens their bond? That's probably not going to happen. At least not when either of them are in their right frame of mind. Tails knows there's no way he'd win a physical fight with Sonic, and Sonic also knows this. Or, well, Tails might win, but only because Sonic would refuse to hit him xD I'm sorry, for me, there's no universe where Sonic thinks beating up his little brother is an a-okay way to solve any conflict with him. Archie might not have the bullying backstory for Tails (I don't think it does?), but since my fics do, Sonic would never intentionally lay a hand on him, even in self-defense. If Tails is mad enough to hit him, then Sonic figures he's probably got a good reason for it.

Thanks for the ask!

[yichens]

i find it so ironic how after becoming blind or, simply, disabled, day also turns invisible. suddenly, he's just not there, like it's not he who cannot see but he who cannot be seen.

ppl don't really talk to him, don't address him, barely give him any choices of his own. they talk over him and past him and around him, about him, surely, but not to him. it's like he's not there. he's this huge responsibility, but he's no longer a person. he's left to places like a dog or an object to wait for others to do all the things for him, and then he's just expected to agree with their plans. the same plans that still affect him and his life and future.

no wonder he's so angry and fed up with everybody. he wants to speak for himself. he wants to be heard and seen again. he used to enjoy having eyes on him – as a national athlete, there obviously were many (admiring, evaluating, assessing) eyes on him, and he liked the spotlight. he's obviously very proud of his own accomplishments and it must be frustrating to be suddenly reduced into nothing. like what he did never mattered. like who he is never mattered.

he is just this now. his blindness. someone who can be overlooked bc he cannot see it anyway. he's not far from being dead, as he puts it himself.

-

meanwhile, mork experiences the brutality of being abandoned over and over again. that's his wound. when his sister leaves, the pain gets the loudest, but even outside of that, he's hearing the same thing over and over again.

from what we got to know, no one ever really learned why exactly rung decided to kill herself. i assume it was the guilt over feeling like she failed mork, like she brought him more peril than was worth living for (debt?). she obviously wanted mork to have a good future, but i guess none of her actions ever translated to mork in that way.

to him, rung left after deciding that mork just wasn't worth it. she took "the easy way out" after realizing that fighting beside mork and tolerating his behavior just weren't worth the effort. mork really wasn't making the best choices, but i don't think he was ever "beyond saving". mork just thinks this is how it all went.

and then he keeps hearing the same thing from others:

after being in jail, his friends abandon him even if he took part in that fight for them. he wasn't enough for them to stick around (not that they were actually that good company, but he knew them, spent time with them, relied on them on some level)

porjai broke up with him bc mork was prioritizing his friends over his girlfriend. which porjai points out humorously, as is part of their friendship as exes, but which lands as a stab anyway. "you weren't enough as you are," it says. "you should've done better to not have me leave you."

no one wants mork to work for them bc all they can see is his past mistakes and not him trying to presently correct them. his skills aren't enough to overshadow what he did. him trying to be better cannot erase those mistakes he already made. "you should've been better to begin with," it says. "there's nothing you can do to change that now."

-

ppl keep turning their backs on mork, leaving him behind, labeling him unworthy or simply not good enough. even day's family does this, looking at him once and going, "you obviously do not belong here."

day disagrees. on some level at least, he disagrees. bc mork actually sees him. after all this time, someone actually sees him again.

meanwhile, well. we had that whole montage at the end of the episode to tell us how badly mork wishes to believe that someone is finally giving him a chance to prove he isn't a lost cause, that he is worth something.

-

my expectations for the second ep are that these two are going to learn just how bad it actually feels when someone is able to see you and how hard you will have to work to prove yourself to those who barely wish to listen.

[neodiekido]

kaitos diabolical machiavellianist scheme to stop his classmates from hating themselves

[rabarbarzcukrem]

Ok so it's like.

The motorcycle scene: Touga is obviously imitating Akio and failing miserably. Represents an attempt at achieving maturity and adulthood through adopting empty symbols of power. Gives the impression of movement and progress, but in reality is going in circles. It gets faster and faster, there's a sense of danger and agitation. Touga is driving and Saionji sits in the sidecar, they're not on the same level and Saionji disapproves. Seems like they're heading towards some destination, but they're going nowhere.

The bike scene: A reference to their shared memories. Represents clinging to the past and trying to return to the time of childhood. The wheels may be turning, but the bike stands in place. It get slower and slower as Touga gets more tired until he finally stops completely. There's a sense of nostalgia and emotional fatigue. Touga is the only one pedaling, but Saionji doesn't comment on it (meaning that perhaps Touga being in control wasn't the problem in the first place. Maybe it was always about wanting to restore their lost connection and equal footing). They're facing opposite directions, but at the same time leaning on each other.

[jade-of-mourning]

sorry sometimes i think about mako and my heart hurts so much. this kid raised himself and his brother on the streets in homelessness and utter poverty from eight through fifteen, promptly after seeing the violent death of his mother and father. he turned to the triple threats because they couldn't survive as a pair of wretched kids without any adult support, and the environment forced him to turn into the exact character that killed his parents in a terrible twist of irony. and after sheer-fucking-luck hits and they aren't homeless anymore, their livelihood wavers on the outcome of what's a literally game to everyone but them; and after things are finally starting to look up and their team is going places and things just might be okay, his gradually stabilizing world unceremoniously expands and everything goes to shit.

and the city that chewed him up and spat him back out, ruined him as a child and took away his ability to stay afloat in a true sense of normalcy as an adult — when it's on the verge of destruction and falling to pieces before his eyes, he gives himself to save it with the full expectation to die. he went from the kid who didn't and couldn't care about anything outside of himself and his brother, to finding redemption for his younger self in his police work despite its injustice against him, to willingly sacrificing himself to a world that had never loved him.

he's a desperate people pleaser, socially and emotionally stunted for the adult he had to be as a kid, unable to navigate interpersonal relationships easily yet still trying his damned hardest. he's intensely and entirely devoted to the things that matter to him and for so long it was only him, bolin, and ensuring their survival — yet by the end, that devotion has expanded to protecting the rest of the world. he starts out entirely self-reliant and ends in trusting the people he cares about to know their own needs, to be able to take care of themselves, to be okay without him despite having spent so much of his life defined by his role in others' well-being.

just. what the fuck i'm such a big fan of this fictional guy and i'm unashamed about it at this point. also let him cry please (if you won't i'll do it i'll let him cry)

[merlins-strawberriesandroses]

TO be honest. I don’t understand what it means when people say Merlin was Arthur’s bane. Mayhaps I misunderstand but. Arthur was a bit of an assassination magnet (not to mention all those magical creatures and bandits... so many bandits), and Merlin actively prevented Arthur's death for years, which would have occured without him anway in the very first episode. I can see why one might argue that Merlin was just delaying the inevitable, or that he didn't succeed in keeping Arthur safe until Arthur could enact the golden age, but certainly I don’t see how he could have been Arthur’s bane.

Also, it’s implied in the last episode that the golden age does occur, but under Guinevere. Which makes sense as she knew Merlin was the sorcerer and that she was pleased about it (and I recall it was confirmed in interviews), so I also don’t follow the twin train of thought that Merlin was his own bane or even Camelot’s. Camelot was already bane-d(?) under Uther. But partly because of Merlin's steady friendship, Arthur matured into a king who was kinder than his father. He also actively sought magic's aid on multiple occasions, so he knew magic had potential for good (like healing his queen) without Merlin needing to tell him about his magic.

I don't think it's fair to say Camelot's laws on magic remaining relatively static was because no one close to Arthur came out as having magic. There was still much risk in that, and for Merlin a lot at stake, not just his life. A law change was still possible (and almost seemed to be set up that way) without Arthur needing someone he was personally close to having to do the work to humanize it for him (in the sense that the episodes with the druids, the druid boy with Elyan, and the dolma seemed like they were pointing to a law change because Arthur sees the diversity of magic and those who have it).

At worst Merlin’s efforts didn’t change the status quo, but we do have things indicating that they did. And Merlin was not single-mindedly serving Arthur at the expense of everyone else. He saved Camelot as a whole multiple times. He was also very willing to stick out his neck for many others even during the height of his anxiety and agitation in season 5. (Also only being slightly silly when I say this, but he was also THE wingman for Arthur when he was getting with Gwen, so in a way Merlin’s help led to their courting being a success and thus contributed to her being in a great position to change the laws. so personally I give points to Merlin for that). Most of the decisions centering Arthur's safety seemed to stem from the fear that Albion would crumble before it began if Arthur were to die, so he tried his best to prevent that from happening in any way he knew. (Like, when Arthur is dying, Merlin asks "So I failed?" regarding the whole golden age thing, which I think is telling that the prophesy and his role in it was still VERY much at the forefront of Merlin's mind).

And this is a digression but I know people think Merlin should have done more for Camelot, or for folks with magic (like, as a revolutionary or something akin), which I understand but no one reached out to network with him really? It'd require resources, people (always confused why there weren't a whole bunch more folks offering Merlin material/intellectual/emotional support if they thought he should be the one to bring about the golden age. all he was told was that the forseen way it actually happens succesfully is through Arthur), time (I doubt it’d have been much of a ‘quicker’ way necessarily), and incredible planning + foresight if it's meant to be something that works out effectively + long-term. Okay I think I've digressed enough now. This is a whole seperate thought that I don't think I'm gonna do any justice here lol, and I'm already rambling, so I'll stop now :,)

But anyway, in terms of being his own or Arthur’s bane, we know Arthur will return, and we don’t know how Merlin spent his years. His magic can play with time and maybe he learns how to control that, or he could have entered a stasis like in various legends, etc etc etc. And I mean it is tragic on many levels, and it’s sad we didn’t see Arthur’s arc completed, and that Merlin sacrificed so much for a goal that didn't get much acknowledgment by the show at the end, but still. I don’t think Merlin was Arthur’s bane, or Camelot’s, or his own.

[tobisiksi]

I'm writing something (wow) and while investigating I just noticed that basically kurumi and kuniharu were parents just one year posterior their first meeting

like, they met in November 22 of 1994

the wiki refers to the actual year in the series as 2014 so if we do 2014 minus 19 (kusuke's age) we get 1995, JUST ONE YEAR AFTER MEETING??

plus they met in November and kusuke's bday is on June, it's not even a year-

also kurumi had 17 in 1994 and kuniharu had 19, they were parents at 18 and 20? when was their wedding?? that's why kumagoro is so fuckinf pissed?? maybe this was an obvious fact for everyone but I never thought about it until now srry

[transmascutena]

Good evening (or morning, depending on your timezone).

Absolutely no hate, but I want to ask how you reconcile your enjoyment of the show with the reality of what Ikuhara has (most likely) done?/gen

I understand Death of the Author, but what drew me to Utena in the first place was its theme of critiquing the patriarchy and calling out abuse, which feels somewhat hypocritical now. I resonate with this show, and many of Ikuhara's other shows, on a personal level, which is why I am especially disappointed with the accusations since I now have to wonder how that reflects onto me as a person...?

Obviously I don't know you personally, but you seem to spend a lot of time and care on your analyses (which are great btw) so have you also struggled with this?

Again, there is like zero judgement when I say this and I'm absolutely not trying to come off as hostile (in case that is how this reads). And, there is no pressure on you to answer this and I'll completely understand if you want to ignore the ask.

Thanks.

hi, i've been thinking about this as well since yesterday, and it is kind of tough to figure out how to feel about. i think it's important to remember that ikuhara did not make revolutionary girl utena alone, for one. he had a whole team of writers and animators and producers and so on, that it would not exist without. obviously ikuhara played a big part in the show's creation, but far from the only one (if it was, i have no doubt it would be very very different), and . idk what my point really is here but i don't think his actions reflect on the show as a whole. it still is what it is, it still says the same important things about our society's systems of abuse that we've always talked about, even if the director didn't understand it or didn't want to understand it or however you want to put it. and by extension i don't think it reflects on to all the people who have enjoyed the show, who have seen their experiences in it, who have learned from it more about how this kind of abuse works and so on. and i think we need to be aware of what has (allegedly, but again, i believe it) happened, but i don't necessarily think we need to write off the show just because he had a hand in making it. because it is just as important as we've always known it to be, you know? though i think there are (as there has always been and there always is in anything) elements of the show to be critical of, and maybe some new things as well in light of this. i'll have to think about it more.

[silusvesuius]

n*loth not being able to bag anyone over the (human term) age of 25-30 at most is the only logical and real conclusion to me because it can be just explained away as him wanting to prove and control everything and anyone (Cus he's a man!) but being stuck in that demographic because his unbearable and vile personality is a force that nobody can look past once they've outgrown the possible fear and idolization period of anyone but also n*loth in particular.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Special angst. Featuring touch-starved Special, homemade quintessence fuckery and lore, basically Special can't touch anyone or they die, Omega and Delta try to help.

CW : Angst, like pretty heavy angst I think, Hurt/comfort, talk of death

Ghouls are social creatures. Not all to the same extend, not all in the same way, but the fact remains : ghouls thrive in eachother's company, in the knowledge that someone, somewhere, is waiting for them, ready to welcome them.

And, ghouls are physically affectionate, as a result of this need to be close and feel surrounded by loved ones. Of course, it's a generic rule, and it doesn't applie the same way to each individuals, but, most of the time, ghouls live off of casual touch, hand holding, hugs, cuddles, clasps on the shoulders, arms slung around waists, tails intertwining.

It's Satan's best joke, really, that Special can't even have that.

That he's so fucked up that not only no one bears to be in his presence, but he could also kill the poor ghoul who'd pity him enough to try and give him a hug.

Because Special's elements are all pulling him in different direction, trying to evade the too tight confine of his body, weak fire sorrowfuly begging to be smothered out, destructive quintessence furiously grasping at every bits of vital energy it can find, literaly sucking the life out of anyone stupid enough to have any kind of skin-to-skin contact with Special.

At least it's vaguely less awfull now that he managed to contain the devastating effect of his quintessence to his body - the screams of agony of the people who tried to approach him after his summoning, Omega's pained grunts as he backed away, the soft blanket he had held out for Special falling at his feet, the sheer terror on the ancient ghoul's face as he watched the humans unfortunate enough to be in Special's quintessence's range dropping like fly, oh, Special remembers it all so well.

Six Siblings died that way, simply because they were standing too close to him. Omega was, too, and is only alive because of his highly resistant nature, allowing him to stumble back in time.

It took weeks of sitting across from Omega, safe distance between them, training relentlessly to try and tame his quintessence, before Special could evolve around people without draining them. But it worked.

Provided he stays dressed head to toe, not a silver of skin showing, of course.

Special could, theoretically, be on the recieving end of ghoul's typical affection, the soft nudges, pats and caresses rythming their lives, long as no one makes contact with his skin, long as all those displays take place through a layer of clothing.

But then again, Special can't blame them for being wary, and prefering to stay away altogether. They're right, after all. You never know what might happen, if Special won't suddenly lose control and kill everyone in a three meters radius just by existing.

Special hasn't see anyone in days. Omega said he'd come by, but he hasn't yet. Special vaguely remembers something about Delta the...water ghoul, right ? Well, one of them anyway. There's a lot of those around, Special keeps forgetting who's who, doesn't see them enough to properly remember. He sticks to the dark corners, only goes out in the dead of the night, only watches the other ghouls from afar, except maybe for Omega.

But Omega's not here, hasn't been here for too long, busy taking care of Delta, whatever that means. Special wonders if he'll come back. Special wonders why he needs Omega to come to his room, why he can't bring himself to get up and go find the quint by himself. It's not like it's forbidden or anything. He just can't do it, the thought of opening his bedroom door in the middle of the day strictly unfathomable.

No, Special, at least during the day, needs someone to open it, someone to drag him outside if he really is needed, like for interviews, because apparently he's the only fucker who agreed to do them when neither Papa nor Omega are free.

A third choice, that would probably be even further down the list of candidates if it wasn't for his uncanny ability to entertain humans, with jokes and crudes, snarky remarks masking the cracks of his shattered soul.

So Special waits, sitting motionless in the middle of his bed. He hasn't seen anyone in days. He hasn't been touched since forever. No, that's not true. Omega cupped the back of his head the last time he was here, protected by the mask and balaclava Special always has to wears, and pressed a kiss to the metal covering his forehead.

It had nearly unraveld him.

Special doesn't know why Omega still bothers with him, what sick sense of responsability pushes the quint to visit Special as often as he can bear, why he insist on being so patient, so gentle, smiling with sadness in his eyes.

Special doesn't want pity. But he could never tell Omega not to come back.

His hair is getting too long. It's itchy in the back of his neck, keeps getting stuck in folds of fabric. Special shifts uncomfortably, thinking about stealing a pair of scissors and chopping it off himself. It's always a delicate task, cutting his hair : he's not good at it himself, but whenever Omega's doing it, he has to be extra cautious, avoiding any contact with Special's scalp, not even able to properly run his fingers through it. Special's hair is never perfect, always a bit messy, as a result, but now it's even worse.

He really needs Omega to come back.

It hits Special like a freight train.

He needs Omega to come back. He needs to hear his voice, to see the lines and creases on his face, the tired slope of his broad shoulders, the softness of his eyes. Special needs his tentative, fleeting touches, needs to talk to him, needs to be carefully held, even if it's all tainted with Omega's guilt, obligation and pity.

He needs to know Omega hasn't moved on, hasn't chalked him up as a lost cause, that Special hasn't lost the only comfort life ever granted him.

A knock startles him out of his thoughts, his whole being shaking with relief at the familiar pattern.

"Spesh ? Can I come in ?"

Special nearly sobs. His voice scratches in his throat.

"Yes."

Omega slips in the room. He's maskless, and Special drinks him in like a ghoul starved. He looks tired, like he hasn't slept in days, but. He's smiling. Omega is smiling, wide an bright, eyes gleaming. It makes Special's own lips pull in an unfamiliar direction, up up up, until concealed under the mask, his mouth weakly mimics Omega's.

"I have good news for you, Spesh. Really good news. Would you let me bring someone else in here ?"

Special visibly flinches, though still half frozen, cossed-legged on the bed. Omega's face softens in that way Special yearns for.

"It's okay, it'll be fine. I promise. Do you trust me ?"

Special doesn't need to think about the answer, nodding with more conviction than he ever displayed before. It gets a soft chuff out of Omega.

"Attaboy."

The quint moves with a grace Special envies, reaching for the door and opening it like it's the easiest thing in the world. Maybe, to him, it is.

The ghoul that steps in looks just as tired as Omega, if not more, but is also sporting a smile, hair an absolute mess, looking like it got chopped with absolutely no regard for the aesthetical result, as uneven as it is unruly.

"Spesh, this is Delta, remember ? Delta, this is Special."

Special blinks, unmoving as a statue, as he often is. Sometimes, he thinks that if he keeps perfectly still, the universe will forget that he is supposed to be, and simply let him stop existing.

Delta. Yes Special remembers. He doesn't smell like most water ghouls, though, it's quite disarming.

"Hello, Special," Delta breathes, barely above a whisper, "it's nice to officially meet you."

Unsure of what to do with that soft tone, with how genuine Delta apparently is, Special looks toward Omega, silently begging for guidance. The quint goes to sit next to him, one hand brushing his back ever so slightly. Special has to bite his tongue to contain a relieved whimper.

"He's here because we discovered something, and I have a theory," Omega explains.

Delta is standing straight, hands folded behind his back, withstanding Special's wary scrunity with an easy smile. Something about him is...off, Special notes. It's not necessarily bad, but it intrigues him.

Delta looks like a water ghoul. Blueish tint to his grey skin, gills, needle sharp fangs, webbed fingers, a few fish-like scales visible on his forearms. And yet...

Special doesn't realize he's leaning forward until Delta tilts his head in amusement. He leans back immediately, clasping his gloved hands tighter on his lap.

"I think," Omega goes on, "that he might be able to touch you without consequences."

It's instinctive, the way Special stiffens, shaking his head desperately at Omega, clearing his throat to find his voice again.

"No, no, no, Megs, it'll end up badly-"

"Listen- listen to me, Spesh, listen," Omega interrupts his panicked babbling, craddling his masked face between two big hands, "i'm not pulling this out of my ass, okay ? Delta here, well, we needed a new quintessence ghoul, at least for a little while, until we could summon a new one, and...Delta volunteer for an...elemental transition of some kind."

Special blinks, shaking in Omega's grip. Well, that explains the funny feeling, the strange scent.

"But...Delta's still water," Special rasps. Omega hums, nodding.

"Yes, but not exclusively. He's not...quintessence either. It's more like...he became a vessel quintessence can pass through. He can channel it from the outside, dig it from the source rather than something within him like us quintessence ghoul do, quite literaly pull it from thin air, let it flow through him, and release it."

Special frowns, trying to wrap his mind around all this.

"But...raw quintessence, the one that is everywhere, is impossible to access to unless you are a quint, because your quintessence connects you to it, opens you a door. Right ?"

It's more words than he's spoken in weeks outside of interviews, but excitement suddenly buzzes in his body, brain finally feeded something to think about, to analyse, to study. Special is a cerebral creature, no matter what people might thing, and such an incredible discovery makes him feel almost alive.

Omega laughs, a breathless, amazed little thing.

"I know. But, apparently, we managed to crack that door open for Delta. He doesn't have much control over the quintessence he releases, but it's enough for the Clergy, for now."

Special glances toward Delta from the corner of his eyes.

"That's...you wrote it down, right ? Records of this could be incredibly useful-"

The smile he gets makes Special's heart miss a beat. Omega looks so fond, so full of love, it's almost painful.

"I did. I'll hand you my notes. But, back to you. What your quintessence does, is devouring energy out of living things-"

Special hangs his head down, shame creeping up his spine, wrapping around his throat.

"Hey, none of that, Spesh," Omega soothes, pulling his head up by the metal point of the mask's chin, "let me finish. What if someone was full of an energy they can fully dispose of ? If someone could let your quintessence take without it harming them, that means they could touch you. Delta could touch you."

Special blinks.

"But...you can't touch me."

"Because your quintessence takes the one at my core - drains me dry of a source of power so entangled in my being that losing it would mean losing me. But Delta's quintessence doesn't come from him."

Slowly, Delta comes closer, kneeling by the bed, offering his bare hand to Special, smiling, and Special- can't understand why. Why anyone would willingly take such risks - first the attempted elemental transition, now this.

Omega brushes Special's shoulder.

"Please, try it. I know...how hard isolation is for you. Please, sparkle, try. If anything goes wrong i'll pull Delta away before any real damages can be done, I promise."

The coppery taste of blood hits Special's tongue, and it's the only reason he's aware he's biting his lip. Then Delta talks.

"I volunteered, Special. I know this is going to work. I trust Omega's theory, and. I think I can trust you, too."

This time Special does sob.

"If I hurt you..."

"You won't. Give me your hand, Special, it'll be okay."

And Special is terrified. Terrified that it won't work, that he'll hurt Delta, who seems the nicest ghoul you could ever wish for. Terrified that it'll work, that the one time he manages to touch someone without killing them will kill him, that all it would take would be a brush of skin against his own to destroy him.

Despite all that, Special slowly, oh so slowly takes one glove off, revealing too-pale skin and twitchy fingers. Delta' smile widens, then the air shifts a bit, starts blurring around him. One of his eyes turns purple, his skin shimering slightly.

"It's a bit like holding my breath," the water (?) ghoul explains, "i can't keep it for too long, maybe a couple of minutes, after, i have to release it. Open the valves, kind of. But, if I just keep them open, just let quintessence flow in and out freely, like this-"

Another shift in the air. The shimer on Delta's skin dims, his features relaxing.

"Then I can keep it that way as long as i like, effortlessly for the most part. That's how we can touch. I'm ready when you are."

He's going to do this. Special is going to do this. His hand is shaky when he wraps it loosely around Delta's - ready to pull away at any moment - but the second their skin makes contact, he gasps and can't help tightening it.

Delta doesn't flinch. His skin glints a bit more, but that's it. Special's quintessence is hungrily drinking in the one flowing though Delta, but he doesn't need it. He can let Special take it.

Salt. Salt on his tongue, now. Special is crying. Holding onto Delta's hand for dear life, shoulders shaking, Special is crying, the water ghoul shushing him softly, thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand.

Omega helps unclasping the mask, watching with tears of his own as Special takes it off, throws it somewhere, who cares, where the balaclava and second glove quickly follow.

Delta opens his arm, still not letting go. Special sobs so hard he's sure it's going to turn him inside out, slidding off the bed and into Delta's firm, tender embrace, burrying his face in the water ghoul's neck, finally able to touch, to feel, truly feel.

He can't see it, but Omega's crying in earnest now, Delta fighting tears as well.

Special isn't okay. Special might never be okay, Delta might be the only person he'll ever get to touch, it might stop working at some point, there might be a catch, but oh, Special doesn't care.

He'd trade his infernal eterinity for this moment in time, folded in arms that hold him like something precious.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

"Violet would do it for us" "Yeah, she would.

"Louis would do it for us" "...I guess"

WHAT WAS THE REASON. WHY.

I think I know why.

So, yes—when we're trying to get James to help us, Clementine has to walk through the barn with his mask on. AJ's understandably anxious about this, and here's how these optional conversations can go:

Clementine: You know Violet would do it for us. AJ: Yeah... She would.

Clementine: Louis would do it for us. AJ: Yeah. I guess.

So... why? Why this small difference in the way AJ reacts? Or, even in the way Clementine phrases it?

I think it's easier for us who like Louis/clouis to look at this negatively, like "Well, what the hell? That seems unfair."

But, we gotta remember which route this appears in. AJ doesn't say this in Louis' route, he says it in Violet's route where Louis is captured.

In that route, we obviously spend less time with Louis. More importantly, he doesn't get to grow as much as a character. That's the nature of this game; you know less about the one you don't choose.

The player probably didn't go hunting with him, didn't appeal to him, didn't follow him, and definitely didn't save him... meaning the perception of him might not be the greatest depending on the player. Especially if that player is still pissed about his vote... and I think AJ might be echoing some of that doubt.

Violet in Louis' route, at the very least, earns some favor by voting to keep Clementine and AJ. Hence why Clementine is pretty confident that Violet would do this for them and why AJ agrees... even though through meta-knowledge we know that Violet despises Clementine for letting her get captured. So, we could argue that she wouldn't do it for them in that moment. It's all part of the irony that ep3 likes to play into... y'know, "Imagine how Violet will feel when she finds out you came to rescue her. You'll have given her hope again."

Oh, will she have hope again, Lee? Is that what she's going to feel when she sees Clementine again? Are you sure?

But, in Violet's route, Louis is shown to be apologetic but not to have stepped up. He doesn't get the chance to. Hence why Clementine states he'd do it for them without the "you know" and why AJ seems more doubtful.

And the thing is, anyone who knows anything about Louis knows that he would do it no matter the route... but he'd also complain about it, y'know?

Fine, he'll climb up and distract the walkers, but he's gonna make a half-hearted threat about eating first Clem and Violet if he dies. Fine, he'll rub walker guts all over himself, but he's gonna be grumpy about it. Fine, he'll carry the bomb when they infiltrate the boat, but he's gonna be anxious about it the entire time.

Like... sometimes, that's just how Louis is?

If it were him James handed that mask to and asked to walk among walkers, Louis would be like, "Fine, but only because Clem, AJ, and my friends are my reason for existing and without them, I'll die anyway... and because I'll look good in these walker skins."

On the other hand, Violet's more of a "just shut up and do it," kind of gal. You hand her the mask and she'll be like, "Ugh, fine. Let's get this over with."

So yeah, there's a purpose for the slight against Louis there. You don't know him unless you choose him, and if you don't, the game adjusts accordingly.

I also see this sentiment of "Why would AJ say that??" at the end of Louis' route where AJ has the option to question why Clementine's trusting him with an important task.

But, like... you don't have to pick that option. Y'know? I understand being annoyed that it's even there; I was annoyed, too... but, if you like Louis and you understand his arc, you're not going to have AJ say that. Because you know better. You didn't just hear the jokes and the piano. You're making sure AJ didn't stop listening, either.

In my opinion, that choice is there to test you.

So yeah, anon, I hope this reasoning helps.