#the whole mystery is an attempt to make her interesting again

[yolowritter]

In Offense to Lila Rossi

O...kay! Am I the only one who sometimes takes offense to Lila's entire existence? Even if she just stands there, looking at her on screen makes me want to grab the nearest pitchfork! So please, allow me to explain why I despise Lila Rossi in Miraculous Canon, and what my delusions say should happen for Season 6 regarding her character! Call it a stich, I'm still doing it because I can!

To kick things off, it's worth establishing what kind of antagonist Lila is supposed to be in the show. She's introduced in the finale of Season 1, Volpina (yes I know some lists have Origins last, but Collector picks up directly after so it's the finale), and from the moment anybody even mentions her, we get the hint that something is fishy. I'm quite sure it's Alya who first approaches Marinette and tells her about this "new girl" who's showed up at school. Apparently, "she" knows famous musicians, is very talented, etcetera. Marinette raises an eyebrow at this, but there's no real reason to question it yet since the audience has already seen that some of those things are true for her as well (see Jagged Stone). All in all, good little bit of foreshadowing and getting people intersted without going overboard.

Then we actually meet Lila in the library with Adrien. She seems pleasant enough, if a little infatuated, but this is Adrien. He has more fangirls that there are ticks on a goat, so he takes it in stride. All in all, Lila is cheery and excitable, happy to spend time with him. Not the most likable character in history, but also not malicious in any way. This is the expected behavior for some random teenager learning she's classmates with a supermodel. And since we get this whole thing from Marinette's point of view, the audience is encouraged to share her suspicions about Lila. We all know how the rest of the episode goes, and I'll get back to this in a sec.

Point is, when Lila first shows up, she seems interesting. Her lies aren't immediately obvious (or at least like 20% plausible given past events), and she appears to be infatuated with Adrien, just like Marinette. Sure, it looks a bit superficial, but who can blame her? We don't know anything about her yet, and it isn't completely outrageous to think that she might be giving out small lies to make herself more popular since she's the "new kid" and all that.

But after Volpina...we don't see her again until Season 3! Excepting Heroes Day Part 2, where she gets re-akumatized into Volpina for the whole illusion thing, I mean. Lila remains a mystery, and so far has been a nuanced character who we have questions about and know to be a cunning liar. Especially since in Volpina, Lila actually is being smart with her lies to Adrien! She plays up her persona of infatuated fangirl and extracts general information about the book he has, and plays off it by giving minimal details and still attracting his interest. It's only once Adrien has shown her the page about the fox heroine that Lila makes up a story about having the Miraculous in her family, and then she immediately goes off to cover her back by buying a fake Fox Miraculous from a "Gabriel" store.

Side note: This is the one and only time we see this happen, and I still have questions as to why Gabriel Agreste is selling jewerly that only someone with the Guardian's Grimoire would know how to design. Dead giveaway, but that's a general plothole in the show, and irrelevant to Lila.

The thing is, I love Lila in Volpina! She actually does manipulate Adrien pretty well, makes sure to subtly get all the information she needs, and then plays her part perfectly, to the point where he's on her side when Ladybug swings by to berate her for lying about having a Miraculous. Granted, Marinette's intense reaction doesn't do her any favors, but nonetheless Lila is actually good at lying in this episode! Now prepare to throw this out the window with Chameleon! Oh, Chameleon! What is even left to say about this episode that the fandom didn't tear to shreds back when it first aired? Welp, doesn't matter! I'm grabbing Hawkmoth's cane and beating the dead horse one last time, just because Lila pissed me off this badly when I re-watched it recently!

I have genuinely researched the lies that Lila spouts out in this episode, and I'm honestly baffled as to why the writing team even put them there? I'd think it takes more effort to think of something this ridiculous rather than a semi-believable lie? Let's break the two most ridiculous ones down real quick. Getting tinitus from being behind a plane engine while it was taking off. Now, I'm assuming Lila also lost a few braincells in this episode, because while while yes, if that were to happen one would have severe hearing damage...we're talking about going completely deaf. Not to mention that you'd have to ignore countless airport security measures to even get there, and that in some countries, it's very much illegal to be on the runway when a plane is taking off. So Lila would have gone completely deaf, forever, not to mention sustained actual injury from being right behind a plane as it's taking off. Do you see why this is so ridiculously unbelievable? And okay, for the sake of argument let's say that people do believe her. Miss Bustier has zero reaction to this information, which would have presumably caused a responsible adult to panic at the idea of a child sustaining such an injury. Clearly, this episode is designed to devour braincells from everyone present.

Then we move onto the moment that still infuriates me, the Napkin Incident™. I'm not going to go into too much detail because we all know the gist. Lila catches a napkin thrown by Marinette with her supposedly "sprained" wrist, and explains the reason she "hurt herself" was to protect Max's eyes from being gouged out! By a napkin, while he's wearing glasses! In addition, Lila blatantly lies about being best friends with Ladybug and having sustained other minor injuries, and all of this makes me honestly upset because I see what they were going for! I can see the vision here!

Lila lying about being best friends with Ladybug to gain Alya's interest! Lila making herself the victim and exploiting Marinette's eagerness to expose her to gather support from her classmates and take away her friends! She even says that's what she plans to do at the end of the episode! But...this never goes anywhere. Lila is almost entirely absent from the remainder of the season, and just...doesn't follow up on this? Instead all we get is Lila getting outrageous lies that require every other character in the room to lose the entirety of their IQ to even be plausible in the slightest. And the plot wants to pretend as if she's a master manipulator when all she does is tell extremely obvious lies that can be very easily disproven!

Even when she pretends Marinette pushed her down the stairs, nobody reacts in the way they should! Bustier and Damocles should have called in the school nurse, or a doctor to check her over, especially since Lila claimed to be in severe pain. It's completely unreasonable for adults to behave they way these two do whenever Lila is involved in anything. My point is that for Lila to be what the show says she is, she needs plot armor. People believe her just because they have to. It's demanded by the script. And it's infuriating!

It would be another thing entirely if Lila slowly approached each and every classmate and systematically inserted herself in situations as the "friend", or used small lies to slowly degrade Marinette's connections with others. She could ensnare Alya with little lies about Ladybug, and then act concerned and worried when Marinette denied everything without any proof (like we already see her do multiple times). And yes, obviously they can't devote another dozen episodes to focus solely on this, but the fact that we never see Lila even try to do it very much undermines her character. The narrative presents her as a master manipulator who pulls the strings from the shadows, and addmittedly she has some good moments like when she frames Marinette for stealing her necklace...but that can easily be disproven by checking security cameras, or by Adrien speaking up. Remember, he was there in Volpina when the necklace was proved a fake, and Lila is using the same lie here.

Not to mention that in each and every case where Lila lies, even in Season 5, the believability of that lie is solely dependant on the sheer incompetence of every (allegedly) responsible adult around her, and the fact that Marinette's classmates are contractually obligated by the script to believe her without a second thought. The problem here is that Lila isn't good at lying. What she says is either outrageous enough to warrant genuine concern if believed (ex: Marinette pushing her down the stairs. No adult would have made this girl walk back up that staircase without first asking if she was hurt and calling in a medical professional) or so plain stupid that it has everyone wondering where their lost braincells may have slipped off to. To give credit where it's due, Lila's manipulation of Chloe in Season 5 is actually pretty great and consistent with what we've been told she's supposed to be.

But...considering that by this point, (regarding Marinette's friends now) Alya knows her best friend is Ladybug, hates Lila, and was clearly right about the girl being a walking red flag...why does it take a DIY bathroom and a literal 300 IQ scheme to prove that Lila has been lying about things? Like, Alya, Adrien and presumably Nino (if anybody bothered to clue him in) should know that she's full of crap, and suspect her. Don't get me wrong, I love Marinette's whole fake bathroom plan. Genuinely made me marvel at how smart she is. But it also shows that the script still treats Lila as an Avengers-level threat...even if at this point in the story, her lies are just bad. We know from Chameleon she can't even keep her own stories straight (see Lila forgetting which ear her tinnitus was on), and this could have been an amazing detail the gang utilized to start convincing the others that she is lying.

The general problem with Lila's canon character is that she's underutilized, barely appears outside of when she absolutely needs to, and fundementally fails to be what she's been writen as, requiring her Villain Plot Armor™ to kick in and steal everyone's braincells away. I absolutely love the whole "Lila is a fox" characterization, because Volpina was literal genius! The metaphors and symbolism of Lila being cunning and always scheming? Amazing! But...what we actually get to see of her in action? Really, really bad. Also, I am not touching her three mothers with a ten foot pole, not until we get a canon explanation. Personally I ascribe to the Scarlet Lady AU version, but we'll see. Even the more obviously ridiculous things, like Lila having a whole secret lair in the Parisian Catacombs...I'd buy it. If there's IRL raves happening down there, then she could totally have a secret villain lair tucked away behind a few crypts or something.

What I wish we had gotten from Lila is honestly not a lot. Instead of just walking up to people and lying her ass off, I'd prefer to see her be more subtle about it. For Nooroo's sake, just get this girl to actually be cunning like all the fox metaphors want you to think! It isn't that hard to write a scene where she plays the "concerned friend" as Cerise to plant seeds of discord. Buggachat did it very well in "Open my Eyes", and it made me absolutely hate Cerise! And that's a good thing! Lila/Cerise/Iris/Whatever-other-identity-she-has-in-her-closet is meant to be hated by the audience! She literally is a "love to hate" character! And in Open My Eyes, Cerise actually did act as the concerned friend, she was subtle, she didn't always lie but sometimes twisted the truth just a little bit, enough to get the doubts to creep inside someone's head. I got so frustrated because I wanted Adrien to figure her out, but couldn't find a logical way for him to do so in the first place! Do you guys get what I'm talking about yet?

Subtle but convincing. Small and unnoticable until it's too late. That's how Lila should be, because it utilizes the most plot threads made by her lies. I can go on and on with specific examples, but I want to actually post this someday so I shall refrain. In conclusion, there are only two types of Lila. "I'm going to burn your house down and smile while doing it, then find a puppy and kick it into a sewer before emotionally scarring someone to the point of needing life-long therapy" Lila.

And the "cunning, sneaky and subtly manipulative fox who drives people insane slowly but surely as she makes them have an existential crisis" Lila.

I vehemently refuse to accept her canon version, and fear for Season 6 if she doesn't change into one of the above, or at the very least stops being so incredibly in-your-face about it. It's infuriating (in a good way) when the characters don't know, but if the lie is as obvious as "How was my weekend? Oh, nothing much! I just went skydiving on Venus, that's all really!" ...do I even need to elaborate? Because that's what Lila sounds like 96% of the time!

Alas, I digress. Feel free to give your opinion about our resident lying wretch, I need to go take a break before her incompetence drives me insane. I'll see you all soon...but until then, Stay Miraculous everyone!

[astralphobia]

anyone else think of how terrifying sock opera must have been for mabel

like

when bipper’s looking down at her with that shit-eating grin, holding the rope?? Yk, that iconic scene??

Yeah, I can’t imagine how Mabel must have felt or how many nightmares sprung from that.

just. Imagine with me, okay? You’re twelve. You have a twin brother who’s been there for you your whole life, and always has your best interest at heart. He’s given up so much for you, and you’ve tried your best to help him in return, helping him solve mysteries and engaging in the things he enjoys with him. You don’t have to do that, but you do, because you want him to be happy.

And one day, something odd happens. He hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep lately, so maybe it’s just sleep deprivation! Maybe he’s just. ..Acting so oddly,, because he’s tired!

yeah. That’s it. At least he wants to help you with your crush for once, even if he wanted to focus on that laptop earlier. You feel kinda bad about ignoring it, but c’monnnn!! This guy is. So hot. You can’t help yourself! .. probably.

When you’re almost halfway through your attempt to impress this guy, this.. puppet you made starts floating, talking to you in the voice of your brother, telling you that he did something stupid (made a deal), and his body is currently being possessed by this triangle jerk you encountered earlier in the summer.

… kinda a lot to take in, but hey!! At least you know what was off now. .. wow, you’re kind of a bad sister for not noticing, huh?

anyways, he needs your help! But it could totally ruin your chances with this guy…. But that doesn’t matter, he needs your help. This only happened because you didn’t help him earlier, so you gotta help him now, right??

you rush to find the only thing that could possibly help you in this scenario. The journal.

And when you do find it, well..

even though you know that is not your brother, that’s a demon, possessing your brother’s body.. it still looks like him. And never have you felt such utter horror, such primal fear at the sight of a simple grin, ear. to. ear.

seeing him above you, standing on the catwalk makes you feel small, useless, insignificant.

and the expression on his face is one you hope you never see his facial features contort into again.

And he’s holding onto the rope that could mean the difference between life or death for you, the rope that is holding you and the wooden cake in the air. You’re lucky he caught it in the first place.

He could drop it any time he wants. Let go any time he wants. And he does, briefly, toying with you.

When your eyes widen and fear squeezes at your heart, he laughs at your pathetic, meaningless actions.

and even though you know it isn’t your brother. You know it’s not him, it’s not him, it’s not, it’s not…

And yet. It sounds like him. His laugh. The little one he makes whenever you make a silly joke, or fall over dramatically, possibly at the expense of your dignity. The one you have heard so many times, usually just as innocent and sweet as the last. And now you hear it again, and even if it’s something else laughing through him,, you can’t help but hear it. Tainted with ill intent.

The day does get saved, however. Your brother gets back into his own body not too much later. And everything is back to normal!

….. but.

You can’t help but remember that moment whenever he smiles a bit too wide, or laughs a bit too hard.

You can’t help but stay awake at night, replaying that moment. Telling yourself that it wasn’t him.

And you still have nightmares about it, too. Where you don’t notice until it’s too late and that thing that looks and sounds like him but isn’t him is back and this time you’ve lost, you’ve lost, you’ve lost!

..you wish you were a better sister.

[cirtusmistress]

JJK Bridgerton Inspired HC’s - Gojo, Geto, Nanami

authors note: so your girl is on a Bridgerton binge and a JJK rewatch binge so like.. I’m boutta cater to such a niche audience lmao

genre: historical romance

tw: a lil horny sometimes but ultimately SFW

AO3 Crosspost

💙 Crown Prince Satoru Gojo and The Debutant 💙

• A prince by birth and next in line for the throne.

• Well bred, read, and wanted most dead. Has lived through multiple assasination attempts.

• Was never really interested in the prospect of marriage, was more invested in rehauling the royal system as a whole.

• Likes to spend his time with the young royals and nobles like his ward Megumi.

• W H O R E. Chronic flirt. Smart enough not to accidently sire an heir but knows how to have his fun.

• Met you during your debut year. You were the first woman to actually catch his eye.

• First he thought it was just more sexual attraction, but after a dance and a conversation he knew it was much more. Your wit was unmatched and you had snark enough to keep up with him.

• Played it cool though because he knew if he gave you too much attention you’d have a target on your back, and he wanted to make sure you were his.

• Goes out of his way to see you as much as he can. Lots of ‘accidental’ run-ins.

• The moment that sealed the deal for him was when you near bested him in a fencing match. It had been so long since someone had surprised him.

• Though being under the eyes of the crown prince doesn’t go unnoticed. Soon enough other men began attempting to court you. Even worse, certain parties started conspiring to use you against him.

• This all came to a head when you were cornered at a ball. You were meant to be taken hostage and used to lure and kill the prince. But there was no corner of the world they could hide you where he would not look. His day started and ended with you and if they harmed you the world would burn in your name.

• You were found and rescued by him, and your kidnappers were dealt with in a swift and brutal fashion.

• He proposed on the spot. No hesitation he was on that shit. You were to be his and that was that. And you would never be alone again.

• The wedding was huge. No expense was spared and he catered to your every whim and desire. You were his gorgeous only ever.

• Honeymoon was.. Oh baby. Literally. You weren’t coming back without being knocked up.

💜 Duke Suguru Geto and The Viscountess 💜

• Of common birth and rose to the rank of Duke after the former Duke passed away. He was the only living male relative, hence receiving the title.

• A former friend of the crown prince. The pair had a falling out when Geto grew power hungry in his new role. He is still a respected member of the ton, though under constant watch of the crown.

• As a Duke he is in charge of a small township. He’s known for his high taxes and using his citizens to collect rare birds from the surrounding area. He keeps them in an aviary with clipped wings, and sells them to other nobility for profit.

• He once was in charge of two townships, but one mysteriously burnt to the ground. An investigation brought no results, but it did reveal two survivors. Geto took them in as his wards.

• He met you during one of his bird sales to the Queen. You were a member of her entourage.

• You were a young widowed Viscountess with two young daughters of your own. Your husband had died of medical complications, leaving you alone with no sons. Luckily you had favor with the queen, but with no husband and no heirs you were in desperate need of saving.

• He found your unwavering commitment to your children admirable and you two began a long friendship.

• Your girls all got along well, and you loved his daughters with all your heart. Something about you doing their hair and tending to them so gently made his heart flutter.

• The friendship did eventually turn into more.. Especially after you admitted you urned for more children.

• Enter baby fever Suguru.

• He proposed in his aviary, promising to love your children as his own, and to give you as many more children as you desire.

• Townsfolk said Geto became far kinder after your marriage.

💛 Viscount Kento Nanami and The Housekeeper 💛

• Kento was born into his role as Viscount. And he takes it extremely seriously. Balancing finances and planning events, maintaining a reputation for his family.

• Unlike other men in the ton he rarely goes out to gentlemans clubs. He goes on the occasional hunt though he sees it as pointless and barbaric.

• His goal was to find a practical match, not a love match. He wanted someone who would bare him an heir, so that one day he could rest knowing he had done all he could for his family.

• His housekeeper eventually was forced to retire after injuring her hip. She had served his family for over fifty years and raised him, so he ensured she lived the rest of her life comfortably.

• But.. That meant he had to find a replacement. Easier said than done. No one could live up to the former housekeeper. Plenty of maids were recommended but.. None of them felt right. So he put out a request.

• And then you showed up. Younger, so he was skeptical. But you came on high recommendation from her majesty herself. Apparently you were quite capable and able to handle the heavy loads associated with the job.

• And lord were you. No one could have taken this job more seriously. Not a hair out of place, not a meal late. Sheets pressed. Animals tended.

• And Nanami found it.. Oh so attractive. Your dedication. Your concentration.

• Nothing impressed him more than your skills in the kitchen. You were an amazing cook. Although it wasn’t a listed priority in your job, you still took time out of your day to prepare one of his meals. Usually his afternoon tea.

• After a few months, he was starting to grow fond of you. It was improper to feel such emotions for a servant. But he couldn’t help notice all the little things. The crease of your brow as you kneaded dough. The satisfied smile after a days work completed. The pensive worry in your eyes as you dotted on him in his study.

• Eventually he had enough. Forgetting formality for once in his life, he gave you his heart. And you returned it.

• It was a scandal, but he took it. Because having you made it all worth it.

[dreamy-pill]

In My Brother’s Shadow AU

Anyone had this idea yet?

Stanley Pines is so used to hiding, he ends up personifying and replacing his twin brother’s shadow. Now, he’s either gone-gone or cursed. Stanford doesn’t realize his shadow is his brother until he tries sending out that postcard.

This is heavily inspired from Peter Pan. Can you guess who’s Wendy? For reference, Bill plays the role of Captain Hook.

- Unspecified origins, Stanley is transported halfway across the globe and ends up in Gravity Falls with his brother.

- Obviously, Stanford is so busy with getting his house being built he doesn’t realize his shadow is sentient until he’s apparently confronted with it. It’s the surprise of his life!

- At first he thinks his shadow is an anomaly. Stanford doesn’t begrudge the shadow for occupying in his impression. In fact, he becomes fascinated with it and its’ ambiguous nature. He ends up trying to ask his shadow a bunch of questions.

- Unfortunately, Stanley has to defer from Stanford’s inquiries because he cannot speak. The lack of back and forth communication makes Stanford somewhat falter. So, Stanley resorts to charades or shadow puppetry to answer Ford’s questions. He’s really good at shadow puppets.

- Stanley doesn’t tell Stanford he’s really Stanley.

- For awhile, it was just the two of them. They’d go out in the woods to document research on strange happenings. Stanford would refer to his shadow just by looking where the light hits the trees or the ground. For some reason, his shadow finds great joy in climbing trees.

- Even under the dim light of the kitchen, Ford is never really eating alone when he can see his shadow splayed out on the fridge or counters. It’s funny to think that Stanley will just be goofing off, all silent, while Ford is communicating for him.

- Maybe they make a game of it. Ford will fill the air with a narrative, Stanley will use his “shadow powers” to make interesting and detailed visuals of silhouettes to pop up on the walls.

- Maybe, in all the silence, Stanford yearned for some actual conversation. Stanley thinks his brother’s been alone by himself for too long, even with him as just his shadow. So, Stanford’s shadow (Stanley) is what inevitably convinces Ford to contact Fiddleford again.

Do you know that one scene from Nim’s Island? The scene where the author Alex Rider is about to back away from leaving the house but is pushed out by her imaginary character? I just thought of something similar happening to Ford when he’s somehow convinced by his shadow to call Fiddleford. You’ll have this whole tug-o-war scene between Stanford and his shadow, pulling on the phone chord, both being too stubborn to let it go.

- Fiddleford thinks Ford’s gone off the deep end when he sees him laughing along with his shadow.

- Mystery Trio (semi) established!

- Fiddleford attempts making an awkward one-sided conversations with Stanford’s shadow. Then over time, he becomes used to talking to the shadow, simply because of how exaggerated the shadow will change its shape to relay responses for him. It does get a good laugh out of Fiddleford each time. He considers the shadow a jokester, which is so unlike serious Stanford. That might offend him, but the trio do get a good laugh over it together.

- That little comparison could be the little hint that makes Ford slowly connect the dots, up until the postcard.

- Imagine seeing Stanley waving his arms frantically in the air on the cave walls momentarily before Ford sweeps his gaze to the painting on the wall of Bill, thus ignoring Stanley’s cry for his attention.

- Stanford still reads the inscription on the wall, leading to the winding road that causes Ford to focus more on Bill and drift further away from his shadow.

- Bill is delighted that Stanley is being pushed away.

- Bill gives Stanford the final hint about his shadow’s real identity.

- Stanford crushes the postcard in his hands. He whirls around and stares down at his shadow (maybe Ford gave his shadow a nickname?). The red light from the control room casts a sinister and eerie feeling in the atmosphere. Stanford confronts his shadow about his suspicions.

You know how Peter Pan’s shadow had to be sewn back to him from his feet? What if, instead of Stanford being pushed through the portal, Stanley is ripped away from Stanford. In the actual sense, like Ford loses his shadow and Stanley becomes lost after losing his one connection to who he used to be. Like, Stanley becomes lost in a dark void, endlessly shapeshifting in hopes of finding an impression similar to his original.

- Years later, Ford still has no shadow. He realizes too late that his brother is not who he used to be anymore. Stanley becomes a distressed mass of a conglomeration of forms of all the figures he tried fitting into over the years.

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Random Thought of the Day (VIII)

So, posh besties are finally canon, yay! Congratulations Annabel, you only had to die, get divorced, survive an assassination attempt and have about 4 or 5 mental breakdowns to make one (1) friend, that is progress! Hopefully the next one will take less effort.

That said, there are two things I want to dwell on here.

I should like to by your friend and Could we be friends?

This is not the first time we've seen Annabel ask or tell someone outright that she wants to be friends. It's the second.

Yes, Lenore is not only Annabel's wife, but -possibly- her first proper friend. And it's really interesting because these scenes show you two really different sides of her, even though it's a similar situation.

When she meets Lenore, Annabel comes across as a very confident person, full of confidence and absolutely charming. She is formal but approachable and straightforward about her intentions: "We can help each other".

On the other hand, at this point, Annabel is keeping the reasons she wants this friendship to herself, she seems nervous -even a little uncomfortable- and behaves much more awkwardly. She hesitates, chokes on words, doesn't quite know if what she's doing is appropriate.

If I had to think of reasons for this contrast, there are two.

First: Annabel when she has time to plan vs. when she has to improvise. She went looking for Lenore, probably had at least an entire night to think about what kind of person this mysterious woman locked in the attic might be and how to approach this conversation. On the other hand, this conversation with Prospero had to be pulled out of her sleeve after a lot of emotionally complicated moments, maybe it didn't occur to her that this conversation could actually happen, and she has no plan B if Prospero rejects the offer.

On top of that, Annabel knows better than anyone the risks of getting attached to someone in Nevermore.

Second, that the scene with Prospero functions in some way as a reflection of Annabel's feelings when she first meets Lenore: there's no reason to believe she was any better equipped to enter into a relationship with anyone at that point in her life than she is now. But in this scene, we -and Lenore- see what Annabel wants to show, the parts of herself that she may find most attractive or pleasing. Here, Prospero gets a glimpse of her awkward and uncomfortable side, and I'd bet that awkwardness was present in that first meeting with Lenore, it's just that she had a chance to think about it, rehearse it, and thus hide those sides of her character as well.

The thing that makes me think of it that way is this:

Annabel's first gesture to Lenore is to shake her hand, which she also mentions here:

She still doesn't remember doing it, but the idea behind it is more or less the same: Annabel associates this kind of formality with friendly or amicable gestures; a mixture of business dealings and affectionate promises.

Again, the same intention, but with a very different performance. One that makes me wonder what exactly her thoughs when she went to see Lenore.

The Introvert Who Adopts and the Extrovert Who Is Adopted

Another thing that got me thinking about this whole thing is that so far we've seen Annabel -a very introverted person- be the one to take the first step in getting into a relationship with someone: she's the one who asks the question.

The funny thing is that even though Lenore is an extrovert, it was the other way around, she never took the initiative to start a relationship with anyone: Annabel came to see her, Morella is her assigned roommate, Duke came to talk to her, Pluto was won in a Pokémon swap (and she didn't choose him, Ada threw him under the bus), and Eulalie and Bernice approached her first.

I can see why this would happen from Annabel's side; she's a person who moves in the shadows, someone who lives by appearances and isn't afraid to manipulate or deceive to get her way. Under this premise, explicitly telling the people she cares about that this is an honest relationship feels like something even necessary for the sake of the relationship and her own mental health.

But in thinking about why this is happening to Lenore, and going back and reading chapter 22 to do this little analysis, I remembered this scene:

And…I don't know about you, but I think I'm going to pin this one. For now.

[dissociation-station123]

Chapter Five-Good for the Soul

Warning-Mention of a panic attack

Sylus’s POV

Sylus did not like owing anyone anything. His guilt of ignoring her while he was away on business gnawed at his psyche. The way she uttered not to do it again so feebly made him feel disgusted with himself.

He was being selfish. The fact he was so easily able to open up to her. Her clever intuition and ability to read him. To hang on to what she hears and figure things out. Reminding him a bit of himself. And he didn’t know how to react.

He owed her an apology and to gain back her trust. So he invited her into his world, a safe part of it at least. He felt anxious waiting for her to agree to meeting him at his Gym. And a bit happy when she finally agreed.

I’m here

Sylus smirks as he receives a text from her. The guilt of attempting to run strangely affected him more than he thought it would, especially after hearing her faltering voice when she said to not do this again. So he wanted to make it up to her somehow. She was a bit unconventional so showering her with random gifts didn’t feel quite right.

He saunters to the main doors and laughs to himself when he sees her pacing by the entrance, her anxiety on full display, her eyes scanning around the area cautiously. She wore a hoodie that seemed to swallow her whole and off brand yoga pants that cling to her well though very worn. Her hands twisted the strap of her backpack tightly. He scolded himself when the words endearing popped into his mind.

He rushes to usher her inside, “Get in quickly before someone calls the cops thinking you're up to no good.” He enjoys the glare he receives every time he teases her.

“I didn’t expect your gym to be in the ritzy end of town!” She shouts in frustration, uncomfortable with the spot he put her in. He understood the feeling but he masked it at all times, envious she wore it so openly.

He leads her further in, past the high end work out equipment and down a hall. “It’s one of the best ways to extort the rich. They join to fulfill some type of shallow goal and then forget they are even being charged after giving up.”

Her eyes glow with a devious expression, one he has grown to enjoy as much as when her eyebrows draw together induced by anger. “Fair enough.” She simply responds and he chuckles as they make their way to a large glass room, a well maintained boxing ring in the center.

“Wow!” She yelps in surprise, her eyes widening. She walks around taking in everything. “Do you have pros here?” She asks, looking toward him with interest. Always so willing to listen and understand.

“On occasion. The true champs train at my other location.” He replies, trying to maintain his facade of mystery. She rolls her eyes then and he tries not to laugh.

“So in the N109 zone then.” Always testing him, picking at his barrier for information. Never in a way where he feels she has bad intentions. Just the lack of knowing when not to pry too deep. He simply shrugs and she groans, she amuses him. Only one other person has elicited such a response from him before.

“Fine! Whatever! Let’s just do this.” She clumsily makes her way to the equipment and attempts to pick up a glove that definitely would not have fit.

He clicks his teeth as he dashes over to stop her. “Slow down Kit-“ That glare again when he mutters the nickname she hates. “Tiger… This is not quite the right one for you. Also need to stretch a bit before going all in.” She lets out a breath and returns the gloves to their designated place. “When was the last time you had a good workout?”

Her face turns at the question to avoid his eye line, she fidgets in embarrassment. “A while…” she mutters and he barely hears her answer. “Maybe never…” She crosses her arms and he feels his lips draw up in a

bright smile.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m honoured to be your first physical trainer.” He knows his tone is too seductive and braces when her arm reaches up to softly punch his shoulder. “See so much untapped potential.” She scoffs but he hears her tone shift to a more light hearted one.

He explains the first stretch and demonstrates. A slight groan escapes his lips as he moves and his muscles are stretched. He feels her gaze taking him in, trailing his entire body. He knows he is not playing fair by wearing gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt that exposed all his figure. “You get that sweetie. Let’s see it.” He looks over and sees her brain snap back to reality within a few seconds and she fumbles to reply. She is so much fun to tease.

She tries to mimic his movements but it’s messy. He goes to stop her but just as she leans her face scrunches in pain. He hisses as he sees her discomfort. He quickly walks to her side chastising, “Don’t attempt it if you truly don’t understand. It can be harmful done incorrectly. May I?” He hesitates to guide her, knowing she doesn't like to be touched. She nods and he feels a sense of pride that she trusts him even a little.

He frowns when he guides her by the shoulder, she holds so much tension. “I need you to take a breath for me. Relax your arms.” She winces but nods, he feels her inhale slowly. He takes hold of her arms, crossing them in front of her, tugging her close, ignoring the feeling of her pressed against him the best he can, her curves were soft. “You ok?” He feels her shiver slightly but she gives him another nod. She smells nice…

He swallows heavily but focuses on the task at hand, pulling her upward and lets out a relieved breath when her back pops in place. A soft gasp leaves her lips and he immediately releases her, “Feel better?” He asks, surprised his voice sounded a bit huskier than normal.

He watches her lift her arm and massage her neck. She turns with a wide grin, “Yeah! Ready to try that stretch again.” He returns her smile and shows her again, this time she pays close attention, following a long pretty well. After a few more he compliments her and she looks excitedly over at the ring. “Do I get to hit you now?”

He answers with a hearty laugh and they move over to the supplies. “Take off that huge hoodie.” He orders and she tilts her head, confusion on her features. “It will stifle your movements and you will overheat.”

She looks at him as if she is suspicious of his order. Yet she nods and clumsily removes the oversized clothing. A small glimpse of her flesh peaks out as her top lifts, Sylus looks away. Why did he do that?

“Ok now what?” She asks and he turns back, maintaining a flat expression. He feels a grin form as she attempts to figure out which glove works for her. He leans over her, grabbing the ones currently in her hand, towering over her figure easily.

“Not these. Here.” He reaches his body brushes lightly against hers as he takes another pair. She does not flinch this time, at his slight touch, he feels something then but ignores it. He backs away and motions for her to give him her hands. With a sense of excitement she does, he puts them on and she giggles. He laughs when she takes an awful and untrained stance punching at the air. “Not violent yet you seem so eager to punch me.”

“It’s stupid but when I was younger I always wanted to try and box. Just as a form of exercise. But classes were too expensive so it never happened. My parents never took my interest seriously and told me to focus on academics.” She shrugged as she watched him walk towards the ring. “Aren’t you going to put on gloves?”

“No need.” Instead he picks up a large pad and tosses it in the ring. “Ready?” She bounces on her toes and then rushes in, even though he lifts the ropes she still manages to trip. Yet he notices no matter how many times that happens she always manages to catch herself before falling completely.

He instructs her as she attempts to punch the pad. Sylus frowns at the weak pressure, as if she truly is not trying. He stops her and she looks up at him, “You can do better. Use your thighs, move with the swing.”

She does as he says but the power is still lacking. “You really didn’t want to hit me did you?” He complains softly and her face scrunches in a scowl but quickly falls flat.

“Honestly?” She says with a small smile, he disliked the sadness in her eyes. “Not really. I kind of just get over things ya know. Don’t want to cause any problems or unnecessary malice. Easier to move on and stick to myself.” A rage forms and it takes him by surprise. She has let others get away with too much, even himself. “I can take care of myself just fine.” She laughs and he returns it with a grin, he respects that about her.

“I’m not going to disagree. But trust me keeping that inside does not help. Let’s refocus. Think of someone you would like to, hypothetically of course…” He raises his brow and she gives a genuine smirk in return, “punch in the face. For all the anger you couldn’t let show. All the fear and pain that you felt.”

Her eyes glaze over for a second he almost rushes towards her, worried about how her posture alters. Before he could she takes a stance and looks up at him. The fire that greets him, he lets out a breath at how breathtaking it was. She nods in his direction and he fills a wicked grin form on his face, holding up the bag at the ready.

The first crossover was as weak as the originals but then she finds her footing, determined. A barrage of fists are released and he plants his foot to maintain his stance. There was the power she was holding back. He almost erupts in a villainous chuckle but holds it in as each blow pushes harder and harder, unrelenting.

Yet his pride suddenly turns to concern as pools of tears begin to form in her eyes. Losing the strength she simply refuses to stop swinging, he sees her emotions overtaking her like a tidal wave. He drops the bag to the floor, she does not stop her fist now messily colliding with his chest and waist.

He grabs her towards him, safely pulling them both down on the mat and cradling her close. He removes the gloves from her hands delicately. Her entire body is now tense and shaking, she curls her fingers into his shirt. “It’s ok, let it out. Don’t worry.” Sobbing uncontrollably, she fights him but it makes him tighten his grasp. “Nope, I need you to breathe for me.”

She hiccups and buries her face against him, still not wanting him to see her like this. He clicks his teeth, rubbing her back soothingly. “You are brave, enduring this alone.” This makes her sob harder against him, he runs through a wave of his own emotions as he attempts to calm her.

He feels better when she lets out a heaving breath. “Yes deep breaths, good girl.” He coaches her through the attack. Silence follows as she stills, and her breathing returns to normal. He attempts to wipe her tears away but she refuses to look up still.

“I’m fine.” She mutters and she moves away quickly. Still unable to accept what just happened, she hurriedly wipes her tears away herself with the back of her hand. “Thanks.” She is not too stubborn to admit that he helped.

“Why are you thanking me? It was a good spar. You have some fight in you after all.” Sylus chooses to play ignorant and she looks at him appreciatively. “Might even have what it takes to take on my pros!” He pats her head as he walks by to pick up the fighting bag.

“Sylus, please stop.” She laughs and he is happy to hear the joy in it. “I respect those that choose this lifestyle. It takes a lot out of you.” She stretches a bit and he smiles her way.

“You are a fighter in your own way.” He says sternly as she nods, “But your punches were pretty pathetic.” He watches her roll her eyes and pout a bit.

“Yeah yeah…” She grumbles her elbow lightly bumping into his side, back to her usual self. She looks up, “Thanks for today. I think I needed this.” Her features brighten and he looks away from her a strange tightness in his chest takes form.

Her stomach growls loudly interrupting the moment. “Don’t tell me you came to work out on an empty stomach?” He glares at her and she sheepishly bounces on her toes. He couldn’t stay upset with her. “Good thing I had a plan for food after this.”

Her eyes widened with excitement then she frowns, “Please don’t say a steakhouse. I’m not dressed for anything fancy.” She grumbles a bit and he finds himself laughing.

“A burger spot.” Her grin returns in an instant. “Famous spot in the N109 zone.” She pauses at his words, she knows this is a rarity. That he is allowing her into his life step by step, so fucking clever.

“Now your talking Sylus.” She rushes to put away the gloves, clumsily throwing on her hoodie, and grabbing her bag. “Let’s go!” She announces and he gladly follows.

As he locks the doors she says, “I am surprised you picked a burger spot.” He would have never made such a decision in the past. In fact he had to ask Luke and Kieran for a recommendation. When he did they teased him relentlessly.

“Someone once told me food like that is good for the soul. Think our souls need to be rejuvenated. Don‘t you?” He turns toward her and she furiously nods in agreement, everything she does is so damn endearing…

Chapter Six

[cedarxwing]

Hello!!

What do you think made Will bluebeard's last wife? And how did Will understand that Hannibal was in love with him when he had the bluebeard discussion with Bedelia?

Hello! I see that someone already answered this question here, but I'll try to put my own spin on it.

Some context:

In the folktale, Bluebeard is a wealthy man whose wives keep mysteriously disappearing. He gives his seventh wife the key to all the locked doors in their house, but tells her not to open the door to the basement ("Secrets you're not to know, yet sworn to keep"). Of course, the wife goes snooping and discovers the corpses of all his former wives. It's a classic Pandora/Psyche myth with a horrific twist.

Key point: Bluebeard's seventh and final wife survives, inherits his fortune, and lives happily ever after.

The Bluebeard analogy is honestly perfect for Hannibal's character because it highlights the way he destroys everyone he loves. He brings a series of "wives" behind the veil (Miriam, Abigail, Gideon) and all of them end up maimed, mentally broken, or dead. This pattern echoes his childhood behavior, originating with the consumption of Mischa and developing with his mind games with Chiyoh. "Every family loves differently. Every love is unique." Hannibal expresses love through destruction and consumption.

Bedelia understands this. When she says she would've preferred to be Bluebeard's last wife, she means that she would've preferred to be the one who escaped Hannibal and lived happily ever after. She does not want to be on the receiving end of Hannibal's "love."

There's a deleted scene in the Antipasto script where she says the same line to Dimmond:

Basically, "Help me lock this monster up, because I'm not going to be one of his victims. I do want his money, though."

The same line, said accusingly to Will, takes on a different meaning. Hannibal is courting a new partner, and if Bedelia isn't his final wife anymore... well, she's going to end up in the basement with the rest. @genufa wrote an interesting analysis on this concept here.

Now, let's zoom out and view the whole conversation from Will's perspective:

Will can't let go of the fact that Bedelia emerged from Hannibal's influence completely unscathed, whereas Hannibal took--and continues to take--everything from Will. He's operating on his understanding of the Chesapeake Ripper: "Contrapasso. You play, you pay." So why does Hannibal make Will pay again and again and again, while Bedelia got away with mere psychological torment? According to Chesapeake Ripper logic, that would mean Bedelia is preferred, right?

Before this conversation, Will doesn't understand how Hannibal expresses love ( @suchawrathfullamb wrote a lovely post about this). He thinks that everything Hannibal did to him (encephalitis era, prison era, honeytrap codependency era, Mizumono, the Primavera human heart, the attempted brain-eating in Dolce) was out of pure sadism. If Hannibal found him more interesting than Randall, Margot, and his other violent patients, it was only because his empathy and involvement with the FBI made him a rare specimen.

[BOOK TANGENT TIME! Oh boy, my favorite!! :D]

Will's misdiagnosis of Hannibal's ability to love was inspired by this piece of hack psychoanalysis in chapter 51 of Hannibal:

^ This is clearly posed as an incorrect interpretation of Hannibal Lecter:

Yes, Hannibal is excited by distress, but he loves those who bear distress beautifully, with strength, courage, and discipline. This is how he comes to care for people like Abigail, Jack, and Bella. And, of course, Will suffers the most pornographically beautifully of all.

[END BOOK TANGENT]

"It's distress that excites him," Will thinks. So it catches his attention when Bedelia says of his forehead scar, "It excites [Hannibal] to see you marked in this particular way." Why? Why this particular way? Is it a mark of ownership (the metaphorical facial theory)? A symbol of the permanent effect Hannibal had on him? This is Bedelia's first hint that Will's distress means more to Hannibal than punishment or sadistic entertainment.

When Bedelia turns the Bluebeard analogy back on Will, it finally clicks for him that distress/destruction/consumption is the pattern of Hannibal's love, and the fact that Hannibal tortures Will more than anyone else means that Will holds a place of honor in his heart. With this context, Hannibal's attempt to eat his brain becomes an act of adoration. The mark on his forehead becomes a laurel wreath.

To answer your first question, I don't think "Bluebeard's last wife" is a great analogy for Will.

First of all, Bedelia never called him that. She implied that Will was becoming the next wife, emphasizing the threat associated with Hannibal's affection. Bluebeard's last wife would've ended up in the basement too if she hadn't been clever enough to escape, and Will doesn't seem particularly clever to Bedelia at this point. Even Will admits his surrender: "I don't know if I can save myself, and maybe that's just fine."

Second of all, Bluebeard's last wife betrays him to the authorities, and Will does the exact opposite in TWOTL. I guess you could interpret "I don't intend Hannibal to be caught a second time," as "I'm planning to kill him myself," but passionately embracing Hannibal before gently dragging him off a cliff in a failed murder-suicide doesn't read as "Bluebeard's last wife" behavior to me.

If Will is to be Bluebeard's last wife, it's because Hannibal's love for him breaks the pattern, meaning Hannibal is no longer Bluebeard. A true fairytale ending. <3

[stellar-haikyuu]

on the wings of love ☆ tanaka ryuunosuke & nishinoya yuu x reader

synopsis: reader is an absolute disaster of a lesbian. she’s been wondering how to tell her friends, but she quickly learns she has nothing to worry about despite a hilarious misunderstanding. details: coming out to your friends, comedy, ~1.3k words, f! reader. platonic friendship w/ tanaka and noya. original character for the reader's love interest. warnings: none! just a fun attempt to write gay panic and spread my haikyuuri agenda.

(from left to right: love interest, reader, love interest's twin brother)

“I swear, there’s something different about you,” Tanaka narrows his eyes, leaning into your personal space. You can count the crumbs clinging to his shirt from lunch.

You roll your eyes, planting a firm hand on his forehead to push him back.

“What are you talking about? We’re just eating lunch. Chill out.”

“Noya, tell me I’m not seeing things,” he pouts, swiveling dramatically toward his partner-in-crime.

Nishinoya tilts his head, staring at your face. His lips press into a thoughtful pout before he finally hums. “She seems happier—well, at least before you annoyed her.”

“Hey-” Tanaka protests.

“But maybe it’s because we started eating lunch together more.” He nudges your shoulder. “Right?”

You sigh, but your lips betray you with a small, reluctant smile. “Yeah, yeah.”

The boys light up at your response. But the peace doesn’t last long. Tanaka starts rambling about Karasuno’s third-year manager.

“Ooohh, did you see Kiyoko-san this morning? She was wearing a new…”

You start to tune him out automatically, nodding along out of habit. Well, you don’t blame your friends, really. Their manager was stunning, after all.

But unfortunately, someone else was taking up the space in your mind.

Futakami Rinka.

She stood with the easy grace of someone who knew how to command attention without asking for it.

Calm, cool, collected. 

Your crush barely floats through your mind before Tanaka’s face suddenly appears inches from your own, nearly making you drop your chopsticks.

“See. See. I told you,” Tanaka’s pointer finger in your line of sight snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What?” You snap, glaring at him.

“You’ve been smiling at nothing!” he accuses.

“Can’t a girl just be happy?”

“Of course! But who is making you happy?” Tanaka’s squint deepens.

Nishinoya gasps dramatically, smacking the table. “You have a crush, don’t you?”

And there it is. You groan inwardly. 

Here we go.

“Classmate?”

“Teammate?”

“Someone we know?”

“Stop it. It’s no one,” you insist.

“You’re lying!”

“Come on, at least tell us your type!”

“No!”

“We won’t stop until you tell us!”

“Yeah! Tell us, tell us!”

Their voices grow louder with each demand, drawing curious stares from nearby students. 

You slap your hands on the table, hissing through clenched teeth, “Shut up, you two! Fine. Gray hair.”

The room falls silent. For a moment.

“Suga-san?”

“What? No! Not your third-year setter!”

The boys exchange glances, wheels turning furiously in their heads.

“That’s too hard, come on!”

You exhale sharply. “Guys, there’s literally a few people in our grade who have-”

“Futakami-san?”

You freeze, involuntarily confirming their guess.

“I’m not surprised.”

What? Did they know this whole time?

“He is attractive...”

Oh. 

Oh no. Not-

“Uh,” you attempt to interject, but the floodgates have already opened.

“Oooh, so he’s your type?”

“Ah, she likes those really mysterious guys.”

“Remind me, is he on a sports team?”

“Guys-”

“I don’t know. Wait, he has good grades too, right?”

“Oh yeah, he seems a little nerdy too.”

“Ah. Like Tsukishima-kun. But not as annoying.”

“Pfft!”

“Tanaka, Noya-”

“That’s so weird. What class is Futakami-san in again?”

Just as you open your mouth to set the record straight, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos.

“Uh, excuse me?”

You turn around so fast that you nearly give yourself whiplash. 

Oh. Oh my gosh.

“Futakami-san!” You greet with a smile, attempting to mask your inner panic. 

However, her name comes out too sharp and loud. Your brain had failed to coordinate with your mouth.

The boys immediately look at the new visitor, though they’re visibly confused when they see someone else.

You sincerely hope she heard nothing from your conversation.

“Hi,” she says, her tone smooth and composed. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“O-of course!” Your answer burst out before she’d even finished the question. 

Calm down!

“I ran into Sato-sensei earlier,” she begins, pushing a gray strand behind her ear. “She forgot that Irina-san will still be in Tokyo until next week. For a leadership camp thing. You were assigned in a trio for the project, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Great. Sensei asked me if it’s alright for us to be paired together for the project instead.”

It’s so hard to take your eyes off her lips that you nearly forget to respond to what she just said.

Wait.

“Oh- uh, the both of us?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s uh, cool?” Your pitch spikes embarrassingly high, forcing you to clear your throat. “I’m, very much- um, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” she says, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “So, I was wondering if you’d like to come over to our house this Saturday to work on it.”

“Wh-me?” You barely manage to croak out, your throat suddenly dry.

“Yes.” She tilts her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. “Ah, unless you’re busy-”

“No! No. Not at all.” The words rush out. “But are you, uh, um…it won’t be a hassle for you?”

Her smile softens. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure my brother doesn’t bother us.”

The casual mention of her brother sends a jolt through you, and you are suddenly aware of the two sets of eyes burning into your back.

“Ha, well not that he would. He usually stays in his room when I have friends over. So, don’t worry about it!”

“Oh…okay. I- yeah.”

She hums for a moment, thinking about what to say next.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Huh?” You blink, her question catching you off guard.

“You’ve been stumbling over your words a little more than usual,” she notes, her tone light but observant.

“Oh- uh…” Heat rushes to your cheeks as you scramble for a coherent response. “I have, haven’t I? Yeah.” You laugh to fill the silence. “Uh-”

Then, before you can process what’s happening, she leans forward and her hand brushes your forehead.

Your brain short-circuits.

“Ah! What-”

“Sorry,” she apologizes in a low tone.  “Didn’t mean to scare you. I thought maybe you weren’t feeling well.”

“Uh, I’m not sick, don’t worry!” You want to melt.

“That’s good.” She smiles, standing up straight. “Maybe the science test got to you. Tough one, wasn’t it?”

You seize the excuse like a lifeline. 

“Yeah. That’s it. I’ve lost my vocabulary. Wasted it all on those compound names.”

What the hell is wrong with me?

Futakami chuckles softly. “Okay. Well, I’m sure you’ll get it back once we work on our project. See you later!”

“See you, Futakami-san.”

“Ah, just call me Rinka.”

Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Sure. Sure, Rinka. Uh, you can call me by my first name, too.”

She tests it out, her voice wrapping around your name like a melody. 

With one last farewell, she leaves the classroom. You slump back in your chair.

“So…you’re going over to his house, huh?” Tanaka says with a sly grin.

“You idiots. You got the wrong Futakami!” You hiss.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the female twin I like!” You bury your face in your hands.

Your table goes silent.

“Wait, really?”

“Is that why you went all weird?”

“Yes,” you say in a much softer voice. Their voices lack the teasing tone from earlier.

They wouldn’t be weirded out, right?

You all stare at each other for a few more seconds before Tanaka barks out a laugh.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” 

You glare at him. “I was trying to.” 

“Really?” Nishinoya blinks at you.

“You guys just kept on talking!”

“Oh gosh,” Tanaka was wiping tears from his eyes. “You’re actually a mess.”

“That’s bold coming from you,” you retort. “Pass your literature exam first.”

“Harsh,” Nishinoya clicks his tongue.

“Uhuh, that goes for you too.”

“Damn exam,” Tanaka mutters. “Forget that, we need to make sure you get the love of your life!” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re gonna be your wingmen.”

“My wingmen? I don’t know if I should be terrified.”

“Pssh, don’t be!” Nishinoya waves a hand.

“Let’s start planning after practice. Ask the team for opinions.”

“What-”

“Yeah, let’s do it! Ask Saeko nee-san too!”

You sigh, knowing the damage was done. But you wouldn’t trade your best friends for anything in the world.

masterlist

[spacedace]

Fuck whatever DC is doing with the al Ghul's characterizations and story lines, I've decided that from now on the al Ghul's are gonna be DC's version of the Addams Family instead.

Now I don't mean just give the various al Ghul's the exact personalities of the various Addams and call it a day. That's boring, that erases all the interesting parts of the al Ghuls, that's just using "find & replace" and not actually adding anything. I mean give them the vibes of the Addams Family.

Keep the al Ghul's as the al Ghul's with all their scheming and machinations and world domination attempts but give them all the unhinged energy, the casually insane view of the world, the deranged levels of love and devotion for family. Make them that group where objectively they are batshit insane but also you cannot argue with the fact that they are indisputably the most stable and functional family in the entire universe.

They're creepy, they're kooky, they're mysterious and spooky. Ra's many opulent homes and impenetrable fortresses are a museum and the al Ghul's really are a screa-um whenever people come to see-um (or when they lay waste upon their enemies in a surprise attack that has been planned for months and is just the first domino in a series that will ultimately lead to achieving a far greater goal).

They all love each other and want each other to be happy, they express this primarily with stabbing and murder attempts (its fine, death is a thing that happens to other people).

And forget the League of Assassins being a cult. Just make the whole vast globe spanning organization a collection of cousins/aunts/uncles/dear old friends ect. No one (not even the al Ghuls, if they cared to keep track of such things) is sure who is actually related to them and who just got absorbed into the ever expanding family tree based on their vibes being right.

(Is Sensei Ra's father you ask? Well he's certainly someone's father - probably.

Anyway have you heard about Cousin Cheshire? Despicable poisoner of a young woman, capable of the most horrific things imaginable - yes she is the sweetest dear. Like I was saying though, she just had a baby!

Everyone in the family is just so excited to throw a baby shower to celebrate! Ubu has really gone all out with the spike traps, he does so love getting to welcome a new addition to the family.

Talia of course has cultivated a brand new strain of the most toxic plants imaginable to make a brand new kind of necrotizing poison. You know, as a nice little romantic gift for Cousin Cheshire and that young man of hers. It really is so important to make sure you take time for you and your partner to go on dates and have a few pitched battles to the death on dark rooftops in the pounding rain when you have children.

Now there is some to-do about it all of course, you know how family get together can be. Everyone is arguing over who should get to give little Lian her first weapon and what it should be. Nyssa is pushing for grenades but Ra's is insisting on a sword - he's traditional like that you know - but Dusan has the vote so far on throwing knives. You know the kind that have the little divots along the edges of the blades them to make it easier to get the poison you dip them in to stick.)

I'm just saying that the al Ghuls should be a delightful cross between the Bond Villains they were originally conceived as and the lovingly unhinged Addams Family. It just feels correct in my heart.

(Again keep the interesting aspects of the characters and the nuances of who each of them are like their drive to save the world through destroying humanity and their strong environmentalist leanings and their constantly playing 5D chess and everything, but like, take away the racism and the cartoonishly evil for no reason bullshit and give them some fun feral energy to go along with it).

[thewistlingbadger]

I'm annoyed that the many issues with canon Timebomb due to the rushed way the show handled the pairing have started to seep into the fanfic sphere too - namely, Jinx's mental illness being downplayed, Ekko having no personality, relationships or individual motivations outside of his relationship with Jinx and the Firelights being non-existent.

It's got to the point I actively seek out fics published between S1 and S2 over newer ones. They are more likely to nail Jinx and Ekko's characterisation and their dynamic where even the show's writers couldn't.

As someone who doesn't ship timebomb I completely understand your take and it is VALID. Timebomb as a concept is very interesting because theoretically you have these two childhood friends that lost each other only to be reunited later in life as enemies on opposing sides. That is some really compelling groundwork for a romantic relationship! However, the show doesn't really do anything to actually frame them like this. We rarely get to see Jinx and Ekko interact in the whole show, let alone exchange any dialogue with each other.

The timebomb "content" in season two feels misplaced and undeserved because it IS. The only time we've seen these two actually together in a meaningful way in s1 is their fight one the bridge. That fight made it clear that these two have a history that the audience isn't privy to and this one scene is the entire foundation for arcane! timebomb. Ekko has an entire episode in season two that is NOT dedicated to expanding his character, NOT dedicating to elaborating on his relationship with Jinx, but an episode that is dedicated to exploring an alternative reality where Jinx grew up to be a different person. We spend all this time with Ekko and Powder and then the show acts like their dynamic is somehow transferable to Ekko and Jinx by showing us that somehow when Ekko went back to Jinx he was able to reconcile with her and save her life and get her to fight one last time.

To me this makes no sense because episode 7 really didn't show us anything illuminating about Ekko or his relationship with Jinx. It didn't explain what happened between them, or why Ekko would have romantic feelings for Jinx. We go the whole show without ever actually getting any context as to what happened between them, so the nature of their relationship is truly a mystery. Ekko doesn't go through any major development in that episode, he stays consistent throughout the whole time. Ekko in general is unfortunately a character that goes unexplored throughout the whole show. We don't know much about who he is as a character and his goals, motivations, or reasonings. This same issue occurs with The Firelights. We know they're a group of rebels, but what do they ACTUALLY want and what are their plans to achieve their goals?

Ultimately it was decided that none of this mattered because instead of using the groundwork laid out in season one, season two only had one thing in mind: their end goal. And that end goal consisted largely of fan service, which is why we got a timebomb kiss. Not because it added to Jinx and Ekko's story (the kiss wasn't even between Jinx and Ekko lol) but because the ship is popular and they knew a kiss would make fans happy. A large part of the fandom is very happy with the fan service they received in this season and now they are, predictably, running wild with it. Timebomb has become even more popular than it already was and most of the content is very sweet in nature. I'm glad that shippers are fed and enjoying themselves. However, I cannot look past how the adoration for the ship has made people turn a blind eye to what was established prior to season two. The Firelights are important to Ekko, and Jinx killed many of them over the span of several years. Jinx was born with mental illness and her illness impacted her everyday life. Ekko and Jinx seemingly have a complex history that needs to be unpacked before they can even ATTEMPT to be on good terms again. The last time we saw Ekko and Jinx in s1 they LITERALLY tried to kill each other! This is a relationship that deserves and NEEDS time to be understood.

As for Jinx's mental illness being downplayed? 100% true. In season one Jinx's mental health was vital to the story the writers were trying to tell. They didn't want Jinx to seem like a manic, Joker-type character. They wanted her to be someone the audience would simultaneously pity and fear. But in season two, the end goal was to have Jinx reconcile with Vi and be a hero. To the people behind season two, this wasn't possible without stripping Jinx of everything that made her a fan favorite. Season one was all about rejecting the past and embracing who you truly are and what you've become. Jinx's final action in season one is sitting in the Jinx chair, proclaiming she has changed, and then nuking topside. But in season two, Jinx answers to the name Powder and says "Jinx is dead." In season two, Jinx becomes completely pacified and is no longer a murderous criminal who struggles with daily hallucinations. The erasure of her mental illness and identity has led fans to come to the conclusion that she was never really "that messed up" to begin with, all her problems were because of Silco and now that Silco's gone, she's better. This view is incorrect because we see Jinx have meltdown before she even meets Silco AND arguably Jinx reverting back to Powder isn't inherently a good thing. Powder isn't inherently the "better" version of Jinx. The fact that she even reverts at all goes completely against the message of season one and Silco's dying words, "Don't cry. You're perfect."

[happyandticklish]

The Sweetest Revenge

Notes: A Christmas gift for @tickles-tea that has very little, and by that I mean nothing at all, to do with Christmas. A little bit non-con-y, just a heads up in advance. A touch of Shizaya toward the end, but other than that, this is primarily Izaya-focused. Meant to be x-reader-ish, if you want, though it can also be read otherwise. I hope you enjoy your holiday dose of torturing Izaya~

Summary: Izaya finds himself kidnapped by an unknown assailant who has a rather unorthodox method of dishing out revenge.

He opened his eyes to darkness, blinding and unending in its depths. He blinked again, unsure if he was merely disorientated, and it was then that he felt the cloth of the blindfold. Not an ideal situation to wake up in, but not the worst he’d encountered.

There was a crick in his back and he shifted to relieve it, only to come to the uncomfortable realization that he couldn’t move. At all. Izaya grunted, straining his muscles to pull his arms down, and once more they stuck firmly above his head. A quick test proved his legs to be the same.

“Well, isn’t this interesting,” he murmured, brows drawing down in vague irritation.

He leaned his head back and tried to search his memory for any indication of how he ended up here. The simplest option was to compile a list of all the people who might have a bone to pick with him, but Izaya had been collecting quite the collection throughout the years; narrowing it down would be impossible. Last night danced at the edges of his mind, and he tried to grasp onto any flying detail that might clue him in on what had happened.

He remembered a smile, along with a bar, and hands, perfectly elegant as each gesture promised the truth of their words. If only he could remember their owner.

Goosebumps prickled over his skin as a breeze wafted through the room, and his fingers twitched, longing to reach down to rub the area. The position was unfamiliarly vulnerable, a thought he tried to push to the back of his mind. He had been in scrapes like this before; the trick was to talk fast, too fast for them to think about what they were revealing.

There was a click in the distance and he froze, tilting his head up to try to hear better. A doorknob, probably. Which meant at the very least he was in a room. The click was followed by soft footfalls, and a voice, smooth and with a cadence that was frustratingly familiar.

“Sleep well?”

“What is this?” Izaya offered instead, a question for a question. He circled his wrists, gesturing to his splayed out form. “I assume you want something, so why don’t we cut straight to the chase?”

“You really don’t remember?”

“I really can’t be bothered to keep track of every person that comes in and out of my life, nor do I want to. I love your kind as a whole, but I’m afraid the individuals tend to be quite boring.” He grinned, a casual thing that held carefully cloaked danger behind it. “If you’re looking for an apology for something I’ve done, you’re wasting your time.”

“Not an apology.” The footfalls started up again, her volume increasing as she presumably closed in on him. He hated the way his ears strained to follow her; this lack of sight was really starting to become a nuisance. “I’m sure you don’t remember, but you broke a certain promise you made us a while ago. A promise that has cost us quite a bit of money.”

Noting the plural us, Izaya raised a brow, tilting his head towards the source of the mysterious voice. “Well, that sounds like a poor investment on your part, doesn’t it? A quick background check could have shown you that was a bad idea.”

He flinched as a finger trailed down the side of his arm, zagging in lazy circles like they were attempting to draw. It was annoying and his nerves prickled in discomfort, but he barely had time to focus on it before she continued talking.

“A promise is a promise, info broker, and we intend to make you face the consequences of breaking it. There’d be no point in taking the money back, as the pitiful funds you earn doing this kind of business is hardly enough to make up for our loss. So we turned to different options. Options that would teach you not to take us so lightly. We are no fools, Mr. Orihara.”

At some point in its journey, the finger had become a nail and Izaya squirmed almost imperceptibly as it made its unbearably slow descent down his arm. It was becoming far less itchy and far more something else. His stomach clenched in a chilling realization.

“But simple torture seemed too basic for the amazing Izaya Orihara. Your reputation called for something more impactful.”

The nail paused right above his armpit and Izaya realized that he had stopped breathing a while ago. He exhaled slowly, hating the way the breath stuttered a little. He longed for his sight, longed to be able to see his approaching torment. Maybe if he could have traced it, it wouldn’t have been so bad.

“I’m sure by now you’ve caught on.”

The finger remained still. So, horrendously still. “This is a child’s game.”

“That’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? That something so simple can be so devastating all at once.”

The finger twitched slightly and Izaya’s nerves raced with trembling anticipation. He could practically feel it already, and the urge to slam his arm down in protection was growing greater by the second. He managed to keep his face neutral, but it was impossible not to notice the way he inched back into the soft cushion of the chair.

“You might as well give it up now,” Izaya said brazenly with a confidence he didn’t feel. “Tickling is hardly what I’d consider a valued torture method. It’s entirely reliant on your victim even possessing that particular sensitivity that you’d need to pull off. I might be immune to it.”

“Are you?”

The damned finger swirled over the soft, vulnerable skin right before his armpit and Izaya made a solemn promise to himself to snap that finger off of the connecting bone as soon as he got out of this. He forced his earlier smirk into a frown for fear that it might turn into something else. “Only as much as any other human being. It’s not exactly something I’d consider debilitating.”

“Well then, I guess you won’t have a problem enduring this, will you?”

The finger was still circling and it was quickly turning into an annoying itch. Izaya longed to scratch it and that longing unnerved him.

In truth, Izaya couldn’t actually remember whether he was ticklish or not. It made sense that he would be, on a purely physiological level, but he had never considered the implications of it before. The last time he could remember anyone attempting was with Shinra back in middle school, and those times had all been brief and quickly ended before either of them could gain any substantial data on his sensitivity. Since then there had been moments, brief dalliances where kisses had grown too light and left him shivering uneasily. Nothing too intense, though. Nothing that would ever make him worried.

He entertained the idea for a moment, unwillingly. Being trapped like this. Being ticklish. Being tickled, at that, for seemingly hours or days on end as whoever his tormenters were didn’t seem to have an end goal in mind. He had survived torture before, but, if the unease flooding through him at the simple scratching was any indication, he did not want to be stuck like this for too long.

“And just how long do you intend to keep up this act?” He arched a brow, steeling his voice into something more even. “I may not have friends coming for me, but I have too many people relying on me to simply go missing. Of all the people to kidnap, I’m afraid you’ve chosen the wrong one. It would be better to give it up now and save yourself the suffering that will come your way if the yakuza come looking for me.”

“Relax,” the voice cooed, a soothing gesture that dug under his skin. “We’re not keeping you in here forever. Only a day. Maybe two, if the point isn’t sticking by then. No one’s going to lose sleep over a day of lost contact with their precious little info broker.”

“A day?” Izaya scoffed. “How much damage do you possibly expect to do in that time?”

“I think you’ll find, Mr. Orihara—” the finger descended at last, nail tracing lazily under his arm— “that there is quite a fucking lot that we can do to you within that time.”

Whatever witty quip Izaya might have shot back at that died on his tongue as the itch from before suddenly became very intolerable. He squirmed back on the seat in a subtle attempt to try to raise himself up and away from the source of his irritation, but to no luck. He hadn’t realized quite how tightly he was restrained until this moment. Straps curled snugly around his biceps and thighs, accentuating the ones at his wrists and ankles. A quick wriggle of his hips proved that there was another around his waist as well. He could hardly move half an inch without a great force of will.

His breathing quickened, just slightly.

“What is it exactly that you want?” he asked quickly, closing his eyes behind the blindfold in an attempt to block out the sensation. Maybe he could bargain his way out of this—he had done it before, after all. “An apology? Information? I guarantee you that there’s someone out there you hate more than me. I am not opposed to helping with that, if you simply—"

“Quiet, I’m trying to concentrate.”

Izaya snapped his mouth shut, bristling at the nonchalant command—like he was some ignorant child. He tried again, this time, with a bit more anger seeping into his words.

“If this is all you intend to do, you’re wasting your time. Let me go and maybe we can—mmph!”

What he assumed to be a hand was slapped over his mouth, muffling the rest of his protest. Embarrassment and annoyance coiled in his stomach like a viper and he twisted his head, trying to dislodge her grip. When that failed, he stuck out his tongue, dragging it along her fingers—childish, maybe, but perhaps enough to startle her.

She didn’t even dignify it with a response. He was just considering biting her palm when a second, then a third, then all five fingers were dragging under his arms and he suddenly had a much larger problem.

It tickled. He hadn’t been sure earlier that that’s what it was, but he could say for absolute certain now that this tickled. A lot. Intolerably so. Laughter ballooned in his throat and he choked it back down with a struggle. He couldn’t laugh. Not only because it would be undignified, but because he was angry and frustrated and a million other emotions that were nowhere close to amused, so laughter was out of the question.

It was stupid. He shouldn’t want to laugh right now. He shouldn’t feel light and bubbly and he certainly shouldn’t feel giddy.

“Having a bit of trouble there?” The teasing wasn’t helping either. Everything about this was so damn patronizing and he couldn’t do a thing about it. “Tickles, doesn’t it? I will admit, I wasn’t sure that you were ticklish when I first enacted this plan, but I am happy to be proven wrong. I know this spot is absolutely horrendous for most—do you agree?”

Izaya let out a muffled sound that might have been a curse or a wheeze. His arms trembled, desperately wanting to dart down in protection. As much as he was suffering, he couldn’t help but admire this particular form of torture. For as much time as he spent observing human beings, tickling had never been a phenomenon that he’d paid much mind to. He had never been able to wrap his head around it, that something that made you giggle like a child could be agonizing if enacted correctly.

Now, he was starting to understand. Izaya was good at enduring pain—he had to be, to keep the kind of company he did. This tickling was weirdly difficult to resist, however. Each rush of stimulation sent panic alarms going off on his brain, demanding that he free himself as quickly as possible. He gritted his teeth, forcing short, even breaths in an attempt to jumpstart his body into a state of calm.

“You know, I’m glad that you’re holding out.” The sudden intrusion of her voice almost broke his concentration—almost. “I can’t say that I wouldn’t be disappointed if you broke so soon. My associates argued I should cut right to the chase and overwhelm you with sensation, but I prefer this slow weakening of resistance. It’ll make it all the more satisfying when you finally beg for me to stop, even more so when I refuse.”

Cheap threats. No one is so devout in their goals that they can’t be swayed if you pull the right triggers. There had to be something she desired, more than him, and Izaya was determined to find it out. In the meantime, he just needed to hold out long enough to get her talking. Make her reveal herself all on her own.

Which meant, he would have to give up the tough act just enough to bear through this. Anyone with any kind of sense knew that exerting all your strength through resistance in the beginning only tired you out later on. He had to be ready to be in this for the long haul.

Slowly, he willed his muscles to untense just slightly, a stupid grin flickering over his face as the sensations increased. He allowed the laughter in his throat a brief escape, a few, huffed giggles slipping into her hand.

It’s okay, it just tickles—nothing to get so worked up over.

Then, he bit her hand. She cursed, instinctively pulling it away just long enough for Izaya to get a sentence out. “You said you’re after money, right? I can ma—hah—ake you some. I h-have connections.”

“Are your ribs ticklish, do you think?” Ignoring him—smart on her part, unfortunate on his. The question itself made him tense. He wished more than anything that he knew the answer to it. “It would really be a shame if they were. Can you imagine having to endure that when they’re so exposed? Stretched taut, no shirt, no wiggle room—practically unbearable if you think about it.”

Shut up. He almost hissed it at her, but he bit back the words at the last minute. Thus far, she hadn’t re-covered his mouth yet and he didn’t want to provoke her back into it. Her voice needled under his skin like a parasite.

Instead, he forced his grin into a smirk, trying to ignore her nails settling against his ribs, trying to ignore how his skin had jumped treacherously under her touch. “There must be something. Revenge may seem sweet now, but how sweet will it be when you’re on the other side of it? I may not be able to see your face, but your voice is all I need when I get out of this. Which I will, and when I do, you’ll wish that the only retribution you’ll receive will be a bit of tickling. So just—god, fuhuhuck!”

His negotiations were abruptly cut off as her nails set into action, skittering light and quick against his ribs which were, evidently, fairly fucking ticklish. He cursed, throwing his head back as the laughter started streaming out of him at last. Whatever device they had him strapped into arched his torso, leaving his ribs stretched out and vulnerable. His nerves sparked urgently, and he jerked on his arms once more to no avail.

“Having trouble? I thought you said this wasn’t a ‘valued torture method’.”

Izaya opened his mouth to protest, but she had located a devilish spot behind his ribs that quickly robbed him of speech in favor of a fit of giggles. Giggles. He made a mental note to be embarrassed about this later when he had time to focus on anything but how much this tickled and how much it wasn’t going away.

“Nothing to say?”

“Fuhuhuhuck y-yohou!”

“Oh, quite the mouth. What’s the matter? Finally got under your skin?” There was a soft hum, and the next words were spoken next to Izaya’s ear. He flinched at the warm breath, hating how it sent shivers running down his spine. “I wonder how long it’ll be before you break—before you’re offering up anything and everything for even an ounce of mercy. We’ve been watching you for a while now. Studying your movements. That stubborn streak of yours is quite impressive. I’m going to enjoy breaking it.”

Before he had time to think about the implications of those last few sentences, the tickling subsided all at once, leaving him cackling over nothing for a moment. The hands pulled away as footsteps echoed across the floor. “I will agree though, I haven’t truly made you suffer yet—there’s something missing. You have a nasty habit of running your little mouth off even when it would behoove you to keep it shut. Without it, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. So, I figured, why not take care of it for you?”

Izaya had just barely finished catching his breath, but his eyes narrowed at her words. He opened his mouth most likely to say something inadvisable in the moment only to have it filled with cloth as a gag was tied around his head. He muffled out a protest, jerking his head around to try to deter her, but it was no use.

“There we go. That’s much better, don’t you agree? Now I can finally have some peace and quiet while I explore the rest of your body. Let’s see… the upper torso appears to be quite sensitive. I wonder…”

Izaya jumped as fingernails began to dance treacherously around his neck, a gentle, slow torture that made him scrunch and let out muffled giggles into his gag. Shudder after shudder coursed down his spine as goosebumps spread down his chest. This was one of the few places that he knew he was ticklish due to unfortunate incidents with past lovers. Not the worst spot and certainly better than when her fingers were under his arms, but far more embarrassing due to the horrendous gasps and squeaks it was forcing out of him. There was something oddly intimate about the area, and he flushed red as she curled nails behind his ears to a flurry of high-pitched giggles.

“I almost wish I could remove the blindfold just to see the expression on your face. I’m sure you’re going positively mad right about now.” A hand stroked his cheek and Izaya jerked away. “Aw, poor baby. It’ll be over soon, don’t worry. Or, well—soon enough.”

The tickling at his neck continued for what felt like one minute too many. He was surprised he didn’t have whiplash from jerking his neck around in wild but ineffective protection. He kept expecting his body to grow used to the sensation as would make sense, but if anything, things seemed to be growing hypersensitive over time. By the time she pulled away, the lightest touch would have been enough to set him off.

He barely had time to feel any relief, however, before his legs were assaulted by a series of quick squeezes starting from his knees and climbing higher until they ended at the crease right before his hips. Izaya yelped indignantly, lurching forward in his bonds. He almost, almost, begged right then and there, and the plea sat ready on his lips as the squeezes began again. Not that it would have mattered much with the gag. But the lack of resistance disquieted him. He had been in much worse scrapes than this before, but the sheer helplessness of this situation was driving him into desperation faster than it would have otherwise.

“Oh, hoh! Now that works! Ticklish legs, informant?” The squeezes had transformed into light scribbles and that was worse, that was so much worse. “You really should have held out a little longer and I might have moved onto something else. But now? I think this would be a nice way to pass the next several hours.”

Izaya groaned, his face tensing in a grin as her touch traveled to his inner thighs. His mind raced with potential solutions, possible savors, even enemies who might be looking to steal him away for some other brand of torture that at the very least wouldn’t allow him to let out so many embarrassing noises. It was hard to think with featherlight touches at his thighs stealing away all his brain power.

Perhaps the worst part of all of this, worse than how helpless he felt or the knowledge that he might be stuck here for the long haul, was that a small, tiny, miniscule part of him was enjoying this. Sure, he would have preferred another person in her position, different context at least, but he had to admit that he couldn’t really remember the last time he had been touched in a non-murderous manner. And as much as this particular brand of touch was driving him crazy, it was soft and gentle and imbued with so much intentionality. She was not content to merely tickle him. She was examining him, taking in his reactions and studying them in order to bring him to the greatest level of torment. He had this woman’s attention, however briefly, entirely on him.

He hated how good that felt.

So, even as he giggled and shrieked and let out all manner of profanity and half-hearted negotiations behind his gag, in the safety of his own mind he made a silent, embarrassed plea for it to go on just a little longer.

Unbeknownst to both Izaya or the woman, however, stood another form—a man. He stood behind a column at the back of the warehouse, hidden in the darkness. Shizuo had been spending a perfectly pleasant evening with Tom getting hammered at some bar downtown when he had noticed Izaya disappearing off into the crowd with some stranger. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and so he had trailed the van once they knocked out Izaya and brought him to this place. He had already made quick work of the guards outside and had planned to do the same to whoever this mysterious assailant was. That was until he saw what they had planned for him.

His eyes lay transfixed on the sight of Izaya’s writhing, flushed form, the sound of his muffled laughter snagging Shizuo’s attention despite himself and making him hesitate. He didn’t owe Izaya anything. Whatever this mess was, Izaya had clearly gotten himself into it. Besides, it was only tickling. Sure, it would be bad if Izaya withstood this for as long as whoever the sadistic woman out there wanted to keep him for. But Shizuo didn’t have to let it go on that long. And there was something satisfying about watching the usually smug man fall to pieces over something so simple.

Another half hour, Shizuo reasoned as a shriek rang out across the room when the woman discovered the terribly sensitive spot on his upper hips. Another half hour, and then he would save him.

Izaya would be fine till then.

[ghcstao3]

apologies for inactivity here’s a vaguely ghostsoap oneshot w outsider pov from tommy. because ghost’s family is still alive because i said so. rest is below the cut. 1.2k words

-

Watching his younger brother fall in love was a strange thing.

Of course, watching him do just about anything these days was strange enough, but falling in love? For a long time, it had seemed above Simon.

Not once had Tommy ever seen him take time for himself, or let anyone new into his life so long as they’ve been on better terms. It never seemed like something remotely of interest to Simon, either.

Though God only knows how much he deserves to have someone to take care of him for once. From a shitty childhood only made worse by his shitty older brother, then for Simon to have to be the one to put Tommy back on track which led to him falling in love with Beth, and who knows what other horrors Simon would never speak about, it was finally time Simon found someone of his own.

That being said, Tommy hadn’t ever really, truly expected it.

It’s a slow process, but it gradually becomes obvious—to Beth, at least, who will point out signs Tommy hadn’t at all noticed that, when looking back, were quite clear.

Like the uncharacteristic softness in which Simon spoke the name Johnny. The shift in tone when talking about his sergeant though he attempts to maintain a front as to make a show that he knows better than to fraternize with a colleague.

(Though knowing a few stories of the things Simon’s captain has allowed within his task force, neither Beth nor Tommy think it’d be an issue for him.)

But all it had ever started with was a gruff, offhand mention of a new subordinate Simon was none too happy about, because the new sergeant was (and quote), “beyond irritating and without the concept of personal space,” and, “lucky he’s skilled enough for it to be overlooked on the field.” Both Tommy and Beth had tried to argue that surely it couldn’t be that bad, but Simon had only levelled them both a stare he had long since perfected to make even his own brother and sister-in-law look away.

The sergeant isn’t brought up for a while in calls or visits after that, and Tommy is progressively convinced Simon had meant what he said about his disliking. Then Beth asks about it, whether things have gotten better, and suddenly the sergeant becomes MacTavish and he and Simon are almost something of friends. Almost. And from their end of the phone, Beth gives Tommy this knowing look that takes him far too long to decipher, but eventually understands it as her noticing a fondness in Simon’s voice in his renewed opinion of Soap.

It’s odd, figuring these things out about his younger brother. It really, really is.

Then MacTavish becomes Soap becomes Johnny over the course of the next few months, and when Simon visits on one of his rare leaves, for once Tommy doesn’t need his wife’s help in detecting the unique sentiments reserved for this mysterious sergeant. There’s a palpable shift in Simon, a sort of emotion Tommy has never seen his brother express.

It’s unfamiliar, and sure there are things he would never know about Simon, but this? Nearly incomprehensible, at first. It’s new to Tommy as a witness, and new to Simon in general, and it’s all just some confusing mess that neither of them understand in their respective ways.

Though, thankfully, Tommy has Beth for that. Mostly. Whenever she doesn’t scold him for being such a stranger to his own brother.

The worst of the whole Simon-being-in-love ordeal is when Tommy is urged to broach the subject when it started to seem like Simon didn’t realize himself that he was… feeling. Tommy asks if Simon had ever considered that maybe he likes Johnny in a not-platonic way after his younger brother complains about the sergeant being on medical leave for six weeks while he was stuck with training rookies that are (again, and quote), “so green it’s a wonder any of them have made it this far in life,” however Simon only responds with a vehement denial and a quiet not like Johnny would feel the same if I did before he hangs up without a goodbye.

It’s at that point Tommy begins to understand Beth’s frustration with the obvious.

Since Tommy’s question, the ever-present Soap this, Johnny that disappears from conversation with Simon entirely until a month before bi-annual Christmas leave when a near-groundbreaking question is meekly asked—if it’d be alright for Simon to bring someone with him to family dinner. He never specifies who, but it’s easy enough to guess.

(And get it right.)

John MacTavish is somehow exactly and nothing as expected, and it catches both Tommy and Beth by surprise.

He’s talkative, is one thing. That isn’t to say it’s a bad thing, either—they’re both more than happy to finally have someone regale them with the stories that aren’t classified, and John seems just as happy to do so—but also having known Simon for just about all his life and knowing his aversion to chatty people like John, it seems odd he’d be so infatuated.

And infatuated is definitely the right word, when Tommy glances over to see the adoration in Simon’s face watching John speak with such liveliness, an adoration he knows himself guilty of when looking at Beth. It’s the exact same, or so Beth would later say.

Another thing is the touching. It’s subconscious, surely, whenever John reaches a hand out to connect in some way to Simon, but Simon just lets it happen. Leans into it, even. It’s part of what really solidifies the conclusion that Simon has finally found his person.

What really does it, though, is John’s use of Si like the nickname was nothing—and Simon reacting all the same. Even Tommy hadn’t ever been afforded that privilege, and while at first it stings for a very brief moment, once Tommy is over it he settles back into complete disbelief like he’s been told pigs had, truly, learned to fly.

That one had even startled Beth. Had even startled Joseph, who had been told on numerous occasions that his uncle didn’t like when people called him Si. Yet here John sat at the dinner table like Simon hadn’t let him do something previously reserved for absolutely no one.

Later that night, Tommy corners Simon and asks him again about his feelings toward John, because it’s just so painfully clear now. He half-expects another denial, but Simon sighs and shrinks in on himself in a way Tommy hadn’t seen in decades before admitting that he likes John in a very not-platonic way.

That he loves John. That he plans on asking John on a proper date when they get back to Simon’s flat the next day.

Hearing the words from Simon, the word from Simon, is initially bizarre, but Tommy is more occupied with a sense of pride for his younger brother—though expressed in the quieter Riley fashion with an additional wish of luck certainly not needed after seeing how John and Simon act together.

Watching his younger brother fall in love was a strange thing, most definitely. But it also feels rewarding, in some equally strange way, to finally see Simon have something he’s always deserved after so, so very long.

[tyran-the-tyranical]

That one line from Raphael's Second Diary will never cease to get me 🥺 LIKE MIGHT I ADD- these are his private thoughts, separate from his manipulation attempts and so he, with his full chest, admits so much in his second diary, like when he says "never have I been so attracted to mortals as I am to those infested by the tadpole." AHH, (my delusions are so real, trust)

BUT WHEN HE SAYS "They gestured to the melting hooks, suddenly glanced my way, and in their face I saw they had the best of me." look, I get the subtext behind all these quotes, but a girl can just ignore all that media literacy and take it for face value, OK? 💅 but also reading into it, he does admire Tav to a certain extent, and I have to wonder, why? Tav isn't an origin character and Tav's actions and character basically changes with every playthrough (Same with Durge, as they can change too) So I have to wonder if it's because Tav is controlled by the player, since, Raphael does end up breaking the fourth wall in his epilogue speech, so perhaps that's what he sees.

Another way to look at it is, either way, no matter what the playthrough, he sees something in Tav, something that makes them stand out much brighter than their companions (For some reason???)

To further that statement, what is the best of Raphael? I mean, if its an evil playthrough, that would be obvious, but if you're playing a good playthrough, what then? perhaps what he sees is someone he can finally use to get the crown, that's also very likely. Still though that's a very to the point (IMO) not as interesting of a reading since it's literally just his end goal for us, BUT STILL A VALID ONE, because, it is true, that's what he wants from us the most.

Also his third diary where he just straight up admits that he's being so honest with us so he can manipulate us, love that for him, "I am master here. A prince of bargains cloaked like scarlet satin. All that hidden under sublimely obvious truths that cannot be discounted." Which also makes me wonder, is Raphael actually an honest person? I mean, Korilla thinks he's at least decent, but honest? outside of helping us, if we look at Yurgir, he really fucked him over lol. Obviously, Raphael isn't what he seems, even if he's honest with us, to what extent? he says it himself, he's honest about "...sublimely obvious truths..." but what about when he says he's grown quite fond of us in his own way, HMMMM?

I wish this man got a proper story arc in the game, outside of the whole deal for the hammer and House of Hope, that's all plot related for the hammer, but a storyline about Raphael as a character? I mean yea, maybe that would whisk away some of his mystery, his intrigue, but I'm sorry- you cant just end it with him fucking himself (poorly) and trying to break Hope (making her a metaphorical symbol of hope anyway, I think....) AND LEAVE IT THERE?!?!? at the same time, I do like the ambiguity of his character, you could think of him as a cruel bastard after seeing what he's done in the House Of Hope to his debtors and Hope herself or perhaps just a Pathetic lil guy who's shit in bed lol, or maybe even soft, if you go off Korillas words and what he does for us in game he can come across as quite nice, especially after we've interacted with Mizora who's is the only other Cambion example we can go off of.

I also just think it's interesting that he sees anything in Tav/Durge at all. Ofc he says he sees the best of him (Always gotta relate back to himself lol) but that especially a mortal is what he could see himself, the best of himself, but then again he does see potential and ambition as admirable (?) or just something he appreciates, you can see that with Mol and Gortash to some extent anyway, But what ambitions does Tav have outside of just trying to survive? Like, the obvious answer is he wants us to give him the crown and we're the underdog in the story but then why does he refer to Tav so differently then? I fear this has turned into another rant again, lol.

Just a final thought here, but, if he did ever get a story arc, similar to the companions, would they give you multiple directions to take his character? i mean with Shadowheart for example, you could help her break from shar or have her fully convert into shars chosen, but even then, if you free her from shar theres the point of saving her family or freeing her from Shars (curse?) there's multiple ways for her story to end. Though, Raphael isnt a companion, so would he have something similar to idk a minor companion like Halsin or Minthara, who don't really have that much of a diversion (I think) in their endings, they don't really have the option, only really if the player decides to be evil or not, they kinda just follow them either way, it doesn't really impact their own stories. Obviously, I would prefer something with nuance but also, HE ISN'T A COMPANION 😭 and pressingly some of the companions need more work done than he does atm lol. Maybe that's me just projecting lol, once again, me wanting to have my cake and eat it too, anyway, that's me done... for now lol

[usagii-bun]

𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇 ( NAMOR X READER ) PT.6

in which you find a child floating in the water and you save them only for your acts of kindness to get misinterpreted by the father who is also the king of an underwater civilization.

WATTPAD OC VERSION ( NAMOR X ALORA)

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5

PART 6

TAGS :

@f1uveryys @xxmilli @ethereal-athalia @cyberficlya @complete-randomness-2 @bobateaae @lunamoonbby @kpopgirlbtssvt @lazyassfinals @ilovehobi101 @r3dc4ndy @puzzlemastersworld @namorlover @happycupcakeenthusiast @kakimakiloh @glaciuswduo @disaster-in-waiting @givemefiction2 @phoenixgurl030 @monbebefan247 @intense-sneezing @simp2537 @lokidbadguy @lovenewfandoms @spookymicrowave @sofi1sstuff @astrogyen @queensarmy @roxytheimmortal @ducttapewizard @nerdreader @avengersftspn @yoonallthetime @forevermoremagcon @napnappsworld @lemonwaterandgreentea @enmuswife3

I tagged everyone but idk why some people's accounts are not showing up😭

"THIS PLACE IT'S BEAUTIFUL" you whispered to yourself, eyes taking in the cave you was in. It's been a day since you was taken to this mysterious place, your ankle already fine from whatever treatment the healers have used.

Harucan had been around you the whole time, bringing up random things to you and showing them.

You also met the healer that treated your ankle, her name was Akna. Akna was gentle and kind with you, making you feel much more at ease with being in this mysterious place yet you was still riddled in fear for your life.

The only source of happiness you did get was the little visits Huracan would give you through out the day, a guard chasing behind him as he reaches towards you and rung his arms around you tightly.

He became even more clingy to you— the woman that saved his life, he wanted to return the favor of you helping him by making your time spent in the cave a bit more interesting so he brought random things he found around the cave and in depths of Talokan to you.

Your ankle felt much better, allowing yoi to walk slowly again which caused Huracan to pull you by the wrist to show you around the cave properly.

The place was indeed beautiful—magical. The blue lights hanging from above , the water that escaped from the cracks gently falling from above.

Huracan points towards a small hut, the roof made out of straw and the walls made of clay. Around the place was weeds that grew from the cracks on the ground— the small hut was surrounded by what looks like objects from the surface world— a scuba diver helmet, a recorder, a fisherman's boot..?

You suppressed a laugh as you thought about the little mermaid— how Ariel would collect anything that was found from the surface world in the ocean.

Huracan tugged at your hand towards the dimly lit hut— wanting to take you inside of it, you was hesitant, scared that you left the place you was at and it would cause the Talokanil King to be upset with you intruding.

"Come!" Huracan insisted, you took a thick gulp and allowed the boy to drag you to the hut, you were about to enter until a hand sudden grasped your unoccupied hand sending a fast chill of fear to spiral down your spine, goosebumps irrupting and covering your skin as you go pale.

" Huracan, why did you bring this surface dweller here?" You heard a gruff voice says from behind you , the grip on your wrist getting a bit tighter as it yanks you away from the young boy as you let's out a shocked gasp.

You turn around slowly, fear radiating off of you to see a Talokanil man, his skin a similar shade to Huracan's. He looked fierce and even more scarier than Namor, a scowl behind his apparatus.

"Attuma! I just wanted to show her my father's paintings." the boy whines out, a pout forming on his face but Attuma's stern expression didn't flutter at the child's attempt to let thr two of you off the hook.

You didn't understand anything the two said but from the Talokanil's tone in voice he was not happy. At all.

Attuma holds you by the arm tightly and pushes you away from the hut, he gently takes Huracan's hand but the boy slips it out of his grasp.

"Huracan.." the Talokanil warrior says in a warning tone but the boy ignores him and ducks under the man's arm to be by your side.

'Why does this kid like me so much?' You thought, your heart beating faster as Attuma sighs and just pushes you forward to walk back to where you was meant to be.

Attuma disliked— no he hated the idea that Namor brought a surface dweller, once again down to their secret kingdom. Attuma pushes you towards the hammock once they reached the place you was meant to be as you falls onto the flimsy cloth that was 'your bed'.

'My arm..' you thought, rubbing it gently as Huracan was pushed away by Attuma to not get closer to you.

How could his king, his Ruler, K'uk'ulkan — so easily trust this surface dweller? Did he not learn from what had happened a few months back with the Wakandians? Even though they had an alliance, Attuma still didn't like this idea— he felt that his home is now at even more threat than it was before and now seeing that you was roaming around freely in their secret home made him even more questionable towards K'uk'ulkan.

With a warning glare towards you—knowing that you won't understand his threat towards you, he walks away— Huracan being dragged with him as you just watched, fully understanding the wordless threat towards you.

'I need to get back home.' You thought, your body laying on the hammock as you curl your legs into your chest, your heartbeating faster that you could infact — be killed at any moment.

    ✧ : - ⭒ - : ✧ : - ⭒ - : ✧

Namor's fingers gently touched the pearls in his hand, a heavy sigh leaves past his lips as he thinks about his late Queen.

She , Huracan and the Talokanils where the most precious things to him yet he had lost one of the things he cherished with his heart and soul. When the queen died, part of his heart also died with her— for him, she was the sun to him.

Her beautiful smile forever etched into his mind as a shaky sigh leaves past his parted lips as he leaves the pearls that had crafted pieces of vibranium threaded with it back down on his table— the last gift he had given to her before she was taken away from him and their son.

"FATHER! " He heard an all too familiar voice call out to him, instantly he was alarmed at the tone of voice Huracan had called for him. His thoughts instantly drifting towards you, his breath hitching at the fact that you may have harmed his son.

He rushed out of the hut, heart beating faster only to find Attuma holding onto the boy's arm tightly, bringing him towards the hut as the boy wails.

A sigh leaves post Namor's lips, feeling revealed that his son is okay but his brows furrow when he sees the way Attuma held him as he raises up his hand towards Attuma, instantly he let go of the child's arm as Huracan ran towards his father to hug his waist.

"Attuma is being mean to me again." The boy sobs into his father's chest as he gently pats his back.

"What happened now, Attuma?" The king asks.

"Huracan tried bringing the surface dweller in this area." Attuma simply says, Namor's eyes slightly widening as he looks down at Huracan.

"My child why did you try and do this? you know we can not trust her fully." Namor states, Huracan's glossy eyes looking up at his father.

Namor himself, does not really know what to do with you. It was a rushed decision to bring you to Talokan to heal you from your wound and you had a panic attack, if he had left you— you would have surely being dead. He wanted to leave you but his son didn't approve of this, insisting that you saved his life and took such great care of him.

He didn't think back than, now he is left with a problem— how is he going to send you back without you opening your mouth? What if you planned all of this, what if you manipulated Huracan?

Namor's trust in the surface world was weak, the only surface people he now trusted were Wakanda.

He had made a grave and foolish mistake yet for his son it was not. He had never seen his son so enthusiastic since the death of his mother.

"I just wanted to show her the paintings you did." Huracan says as Namor's gaze soften.

"Hura.. you know we can't trust the—" no y/n is different, she saved me. You are lying about the people from above." Huracn says defiantly letting go of his father, tears brimming his eyes.

"Hura—""leave me alone!" the boy shouts as Huracan pushes his father hand away from him.

"I'm tired of only being here and believing that all the surface people are bad yet the surface world is not as bad as you said. " Huracan shouts and backs away from his father and Attuma as he rans away before screaming,

"And ice cream is amazing and I hate you for keeping it away from me!" the boy says before diving into the pool, his father sighing, brows furrowing at the child's words as he have heard about this so called desert before.

"This child." the king mumbled out, heart stinging at the word hate  as Huracan had thrown it towards him quite a few times.

"We should get rid of the woman, K'uk'ulkan." Attuma suddenly states, grabbing Namor's attention.

"And how we do that, Attuma? " Namor asks already knowing the answer to his question.

"Killing her." The Talokanil warrior says. Namor's creased his brows , a frown forming on his face. Knowing that if he was to kill you , Huracan would become even more hateful towards him and he didn't want this.

"I can not. Huracan would become hysterical." Namor says, watching as Attuma frowns deeply.

"It's for Huracan's own good. We don't know what's her true motives are, K’uk’ulkan." Attuma says, voice filled with warning. Namor was torn between the safety of his people and his son's fixation with some random surface dweller (you) , he regrets deeply spoiling the young child.

"You spoilt him way too much." Attuma mutters as Namor replies " Let's give her some time, we can't just go about and kill her. If she does anything that goes against us or is a threat than— we will kill her."

Attuma didn't like this decision as he gives K'uk'ulkan a firm nod— the tension between the two strong as Attuma walks away from K'uk'ulkan, his doubt and faith in his leader becoming weaker as he clenched his fist in anger and dismay.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 | okay so now i need to write more new chapters but idk what else to write. writers block and college drained me :/

reblogs and likes are highly appreciated 💞

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 2

read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 2.4k

Chapter 2: ‘Put It On Me’

Joel Miller: cold, aloof, and famously uncharitable. 

Not a man you could ask for a favour. Especially not to join a stranger in a highly dangerous and potentially deadly journey across the country.  

But Joel, despite his reputation, was not a god, he was only a man and that meant he could be bribed or blackmailed, perhaps. 

Drugs or alcohol were not an option. Despite being the most sought after product in the Qz, Joel wouldn’t be interested. He was the one who sold them. 

A dull ache had begun to spread across the back of Juliet’s skull. She dropped her head onto the table and felt the sweat coating her skin stick to the glossy paper of the map. 

The spiral turning in her mind started to pick up speed again, her darkest thoughts now gripping her lungs. Juliet forced herself to take a deep breath, and another, and another. Her father knew where she was now, she had to get out of her apartment and out of the QZ, fast. 

Juliet thought back to every interaction she could remember having with Joel, every time their eyes met or every time he looked away too quickly. Joel was impenetrable, always holding his thoughts close to his chest. 

Juliet sat up quick, her hand instantly reaching to her forehead to calm the wave of dizziness that washed over her. 

She remembered something: 

Abe, a kind but pliant man, worked the radio for the QZ and held ‘office hours’ on weekdays. Anyone in Boston who wanted to contact another QZ waited in a large queue in the dusty hallway outside Abe’s apartment. 

Not Joel, though. 

Juliet was walking through the building a few days ago when she shuffled past the line of bored residents. With no intention of stopping, she kept her head down and avoided eye-contact, as always. Her pace slowed, however, when she heard a familiar name. Juliet turned her head and noticed two men complaining, not very discreetly, about Joel: 

“This isn’t the first time he’s done this,” grumbled a tall man who leaned against the peeling wallpaper. 

His friend grunted and moved closer, “he just walks past, skipping the whole line like we ain’t even here” he replied, rolling his eyes. 

The tall one snorted, “As if he’s the only bastard in Boston who needs to use the radio.”

Juliet paused, now incredibly interested in the conversation of the two whining men. Joel was sending messages out of the QZ? To who?

Juliet continued to walk past the queue and rounded the corner until she could safely tuck into a dark corner and attempt to catch a glimpse inside Abe’s apartment/office. 

There he was. Joel Miller, sliding a piece of crumpled tin foil across Abe’s desk.

It didn’t take a genius to know what was inside. 

Joel sat forward, his elbows now resting on the dark oak as he watched Abe open the silver package. She was only able to catch a glimpse of his profile but Juliet could still make out the hard clench of Joel’s jaw, locked in place, as he waited for Abe to take a puff. 

They started to talk and Juliet inched forward, careful to remain in the shadow of the corner, but she was too far away to hear any part of the conversation. It was clear it wasn’t going well - for Joel, at least. 

Seconds later, Joel abruptly rose from his chair, the screech of metal rang out along the hallway, and he stalked out of the apartment without looking back. Terrified she might be caught snooping, Juliet was gone before he reached the doorway. 

Juliet shook her head, she had forgotten all about that strange observation, having been immediately caught up in another Firefly ambush when she left the building. 

Now though, the memory flushed her body with adrenaline. She sat up straight, the ache in her head had begun to recede. A plan started to take form in her mind, the different puzzle pieces clicking together. There was someone important to Joel outside of the QZ. If she found out who that was, she could use that information to her advantage.

That meant she had to pay a visit to Abe. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t share intel for free. 

Juliet turned to the window on her right, the glass was clouded, aged with the building. Still, Juliet could make out the dark blue sky as night rapidly descended on Boston. Shock had dulled the passage of time, the minutes silently passing around her. 

Juliet walked to her cupboard, her steps quick as she grabbed her hidden backpack filled with supplies ready to be used at a moment’s notice. With one last mournful look at her apartment, Juliet made her way across the hall to Kenny’s door, the neighbour who didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. 

He broke into her apartment on more than one occasion. It was only fair she repaid the favour. 

Juliet pulled a hair pin from the inside pocket of her jacket and started to work on Kenny's rusted lock. Her neighbour was notorious for arriving back home seconds before curfew, always narrowly missing the enforcers. So Juliet had some time, less than an hour to be exact. 

Seconds later, Juliet heard the familiar metallic pop and she was in. Similar to most in the QZ, Abe was very receptive to bribes. She had witnessed it first hand when Joel expertly slid that tinfoil in his direction and Juliet watched a lazy grin glide over Abe’s face. 

Good thing Juliet knew someone else Joel sold to and good thing that person was stupid enough to leave his supply on his dining table where anyone with a hair pin could find it. The small, chalky white tablets were now safely tucked in her jacket pocket. 

Juliet made her way out of the apartment, cringing as the old linoleum creaked under her cautious steps. She took the time to lock the door behind her before tiptoeing down the stairs and past Margaret’s apartment. Juliet prayed no shadows under Margaret’s door announced her departure from the building. 

Outside, the streets were quiet, most residents of the QZ probably now tucked away in their apartments. A peaceful night of relative safety was taken from Juliet the second she picked up that letter. 

She was on borrowed time anyways, Juliet always knew her father would find her eventually. 

Tendrils of doubt and fear threatened to creep back into her mind and destroy the numbness which currently clouded her thoughts. As she moved through the murky streets, Juliet wasn’t just racing against time.

When she arrived at Abe’s building, Juliet sacrificed a precious moment to rest her back against the red brick wall and let her eyes fall closed. Juliet was not a naturally hostile person, she always prioritised indifference in her daily interactions. But she was a survivor, which meant that she would do anything, be anything to ensure her safety and the survival of the people she loved. Meaning, for Ethan, she would wear a mask of hostility. 

She entered the building and hugged shadows to Abe’s apartment. Juliet didn’t wait for an invitation to enter before she stalked through the unlocked door. 

“Abe, I need a word,” Juliet declared, she kept her voice clipped and steady.

Abe stood by the radio and turned quickly at the sound of Juliet’s entrance. A puzzled expression took over his face, his mouth turned downwards. 

“Juliet? What are you doing here? It’s almost curfew,” he said, his voice cushioned with a cautious tone. 

When Juliet just stared back, Abe released a heavy sigh and walked over to his desk. He pushed back his chair and dropped himself into the padded leather. 

“Take a seat,” Abe huffed as he pointed across his desk at the vacant chair.

Juliet approached at a leisurely pace as she took the seat opposite him. She placed her backpack on the floor, leaned forward in her chair and placed her elbows on the table. Then she straightened her back, attempting to imitate the air of intimidation she had witnessed from Joel. 

“I’ll keep this short,” Juliet asserted. “I need information about Joel Miller.”

Abe’s furrowed brow deepened, confusion now etched in the fine lines of his face.

“Joel?” He asked, before sighing.“I don’t deal in information, Juliet. I just listen to the radio,” Abe replied, dismissal clear in his tone, as he shifted in his chair, moving to stand.

“Stop,” Juliet commanded. She raised her left hand and willed it to stay steady as she reached her right hand into her pocket, pulling out the pills. Just like Joel, Juliet locked eyes with Abe as she slid the contraband.

A smug smile twitched at the corner of her mouth as she leaned back in her chair, folding her arms over chest. 

“Like I said,” Juliet maintained, stretching out the words, giving Abe time to make the right decision. “I need information on Joel Miller.”

Abe stared back at her and for a moment, one terrifying moment, Juliet thought he would throw the pills back at her. But no, Abe’s irritated expression eventually transformed into a sly smile to match her own. 

“Okay. What do you want to know?” he asked, already reaching for the drugs. 

Relief was sudden and intense, it settled deep in her stomach and relaxed her tight muscles. Juliet was careful to not let it show on her face. 

“I know he has someone on the outside he’s contacting,” she paused.“I want to know who.”

Abe whistled low then tossed back one of the pills with a swig of water.

“Well, that’s a whole can of worms,” he replied. 

Juliet raised her eyebrows and made a vague gesture with her hand - go on. 

“He’s got a brother,” Abe began, swallowing rough. 

Once again, Juliet willed her features to remain neutral, to show no sign of the shock now coursing through her body. A brother? 

“He stopped responding to Joel’s messages about three weeks ago,” Abe continued.“Not like him, he usually replies within a couple days. Got Joel all worried.” 

It was Juliet’s turn to be confused. Joel, worried? Juliet had yet to see a glimmer of emotion on the man’s face. He was always so stoic, always so detached. It was a surprise to hear there was someone he cared about, someone he worried about. 

Unaware of the turmoil that raged behind Juliet’s steady features, Abe continued to speak as he rambled something about Joel’s accusation of his incompetence. Juliet collected this new information about Joel and held it close as though it was the key to getting to Ethan. It might well be. 

“I told Joel not to go after him, that it might just be a fault in the signal. But of course he wouldn’t listen,” Abe muttered, rolling his eyes. 

Juliet perked up, tuning back into the conversation… Joel needed out of the QZ.

“Where does his brother live?” coaxed Juliet, attempting to exude only vague curiosity. 

“Wyoming,” Abe replied, shaking his head. “He can’t be serious if he thinks he can travel that far alone…” he trailed off, resting his hands on the desk in front of him.

Wyoming… Juliet’s fledgling plan became a concrete shape, igniting a flicker of hope within her. Her old community, her father’s community, was in Iowa. After years of studying old maps, Juliet was almost sure that it was about halfway between Boston and Wyoming. 

This could work.  

“Is he planning on going alone?” Juliet asked, eagerness seeping into her tone. 

Abe’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, he’s been dealing for a car battery, no luck though. He can’t wait around much longer,” he replied. 

Juliet nodded as she placed her sweaty palms on the dark wood of the desk and pushed herself out of her chair, grabbing her backpack.

Abe leaned back, rolling a pill between his fingers.

“Juliet… Joel’s a capable guy but there are worse things than infected out there. I hear everything on the radio. There are raiders, there are slavers…” he trailed off again. 

Juliet knew this all too well. 

“I appreciate the concern, Abe, but that’s not what I paid you for,” cautioned Juliet. “Keep this quiet,” she warned, turning towards the door and out of the building.

She didn’t look back. 

Outside, curfew was now in place so Juliet pulled her hood up and moved silently through the dark streets. The pressure in her chest was slowly building through her entire conversation with Abe. Now, it threatened to burst. Juliet stopped on a corner and tucked herself into an alleyway. The rain had started, it splashed off the pavement and dampened her jeans. Juliet’s skin was buzzing, electrified by the string of new information about Joel. 

For years, Joel was a mystery. Juliet had learned more about Joel in that five minute conversation with Abe than she had in the three years they worked alongside each other, and now she had to use her newfound knowledge against him. 

Juliet had no other choice. She would use Joel’s desperation to sedate her own. 

Juliet looked up towards the night sky, letting the rain glide over her skin. She took a long breath, licked the water from her lips and moved out of the alley. Juliet danced along the sides of buildings as she headed towards Joel’s apartment.

She had watched him head home a few times after their shifts, his apartment in the same direction as her own. This time, though, it appeared before her so suddenly that she had to force herself to stop, to calm her racing heartbeat as she made her way to the front door. 

Shivering, Juliet gripped the door handle into the building, turning it open as her heart continued to pump more adrenaline straight into her gut.

Juliet stalked up to Joel’s apartment, releasing a trembling breath from her damp lips. This was all happening too fast, the puzzle pieces forming her plan had clicked together so quickly. All she could focus on was the bigger picture. But what about the smaller details? What would she say to Joel? Would he even recognise her? Should she knock the door and risk his neighbours hearing her? 

Juliet didn’t have to agonise over those thoughts for long. Without warning, the rapid sound of multiple locks consecutively turning reverberated through the dark hallway, before the door swung open. 

Joel Miller stood before her, one hand on the handle, the other on the chipped wood of the entryway. Juliet released a strangled gasp, her eyes widened at the sight of his permanent scowl and furrowed brow. 

“Juliet?”

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

anyway here’s my cornley polytechnic drama society into the woods fancast because I think it’s the perfect sort of show for them to fuck up 👍

jonathan plays the baker, alongside sandra as the baker’s wife. I imagine this is shortly enough after peter pan that they’re still very bitter at one another. said bitterness absolutely shows onstage, but it fits the characters perfectly and the audience ends up thinking that they’ve just finally gotten good at acting. jonathan brings a homemade “medieval feast” to celebrate opening night and it poisons the entire cast

annie plays the witch. this was the only casting decision that was unanimously regarded as good until chris let it slip that he’d ultimately done it because she was “the loudest singer.” robert took great offense at this and, despite having no interest in the part before, began campaigning to play the witch instead. it did not work. annie’s witch costume has two layers to make the quickchange at the end of act 1 easier, but the top layer keeps falling off before the reveal is supposed to happen. her magic staff is supposed to emit a smoke effect but it keeps malfunctioning, and at a certain point she just gives up and tapes lit cigarettes (stolen from trevor) to it. this goes about as well as you’d think

dennis plays the narrator. everyone had assumed it’d be an easy role for him since he could just read all of his lines off his book prop, but this is proven wrong near instantly when he starts genuinely reading the book instead. when dennis actually does start reading from the script, it becomes immediately clear that he somehow has the director’s copy and the entirety of the rehearsal notes are read out loud, including several deeply personal things that chris has written in his script for convenience

dennis also plays the mysterious man, but he keeps forgetting which way he’s supposed to be related to the baker. over the course of the show he goes from father, to son, to brother, to father again, to distant cousin, to grandmother

chris plays cinderella’s prince, alongside robert as rapunzel’s prince. they spend the entire show trying to out-act one another, and it goes without saying that this ends up a complete disaster. robert makes any moment into an unplanned duet to try and prove that he could have succeeded in seducing the baker’s wife. chris shows up at rapunzel’s tower and attempts to choke robert out with her wig. they get in an opt-up battle at the end of agony (reprise) that ends with robert singing a note so high it shatters a stage light

in accordance with typical into the woods casting, chris also plays the wolf. he orders a very expensive “wolf suit” online from someone he thinks is a bespoke costume artist. it doesn’t arrive until opening day, and it becomes immediately clear that what chris has actually bought is a full on fursuit. it’s very hard to see in and he keeps running into the fake trees

robert is double cast as milky white. there is no practical reason for this whatsoever, as milky white could’ve just as easily been a puppet or some kind of cutout on wheels, and it’s very obvious the whole thing is just a power move on chris’ part. during the scene where milky white is meant to “eat” the props, vanessa misunderstands and literally feeds them to him. he chips a tooth on cinderella’s shoe

due to a lack of numbers, vanessa is playing both cinderella and rapunzel. her costume is split down the middle, and due to this she can only face in one direction as each part. this means that half of the time she’s facing away from whoever she’s talking to, and that she frequently has to walk/run backwards without turning her head at all. whenever cinderella and rapunzel talk to each other she faces straight forward. the break-off mechanism in rapunzel’s side of the wig doesn’t work (sandra ends up stealing a single, barely visible hair), so she’s also constantly tripping on her hair

max, being in a new relationship with sandra, desperately wanted to play alongside her as the baker so that they could kiss onstage. unfortunately for him, he is playing jack instead. although this is maybe the single most-fitting role he’s ever been cast in and he’s genuinely giving a great performance, the opportunity is ruined by his having to do every scene accompanied by robert’s milky white

lucy was supposed to play little red, but was pulled from the production the day before opening by her parents, who have banned her from performing with “robert’s troupe” after what happened in peter pan

consequently, little red is now being played by trevor, who is wearing a costume far, far too small for him. trevor manages to get away with reading his lines off papers pinned to the inside of his cloak, but he doesn’t know any of the songs, so sandra has to sing them offstage for him while he lipsyncs

all of the ensemble characters are played by a celebrity “guest” frantically switching between various comically large hats. chris tried to get francis back for this part but after some careful deliberation he determined that it would genuinely be easier to kidnap a famous person than to get francis to come back after the disaster that was peter pan. the tension is only worsened when, via a botched music cue, it’s revealed that francis is now an active member of trevor’s metal band

the giant was supposed to have been played by trevor via voiceover from the sound booth, but now that he’s onstage playing little red the part is left to approximately four members of the run crew who are desperately trying and failing to say the lines in unison. lucy breaks into the theatre sometime during the baker’s wife search sequence and takes over the giant’s part the next time she’s on, much to trevor’s dismay

the worst fuck-up award goes to annie, for accidentally knocking the supports out from under dennis’ narrator platform during last midnight and triggering a chain reaction in which every fake tree onstage topples each other one by one like some terrible, life-threatening game of dominos. honorable mention goes to chris for spending $6000 of max’s inheritance on a custom costume without actually seeing it at any point during the process

the worst injury award goes to max, for getting his circulation cut off and almost losing a hand after his arm got stuck inside the golden hen puppet midway through act 2. honorable mention goes once again to chris, who got stabbed with a bunch of glass shards when robert broke that stage light