#these scenes always reminded me of each other but actually seeing them next to each other now

[jimmyspades]

THE STICKUP (2002) | BOSTON LEGAL (2008)

[undoing-daughters-blog]

I'm going to explain the theory that Jinx is not actually dead

(I know this is long, I promise it's worth it)

This starts in chapter 8 of season two.

We see Jinx in the prision, she's devastated, lost, defeated, and wants things to end. And we see the first interaction she has with the voice of Silco. In this interaction Silco tells Jinx that "killing is a cycle" and that it would continue. But Jinx says she's "done running in circles", meaning: she wants to stop this cycle. To which Silco says:

And later, when Vi goes to visit Jinx, and Jinx tricks Vi and escapes the prison. Vi then asks her what she will do, Jinx answers:

And now Jinx knows the way to break the cycle, is by leaving.

Next time we see Jinx is in episode 9. She is still in the same mood as before, and now she cuts most of her hair off and burns The Last Drop

Burning down The Last Drop and letting go of her hair shows this closure. Later, she tries to kill herself, which is her way of "walking away" to "break the cycle".

But then Ekko shows up, saves her, and they go to save Vi and the others together.

At this point, Jinx wants to stop the killing and wants to leave, but she will always want to save Vi ("I'm always with you. Even when we are worlds apart").

But she still wants to break the cycle. She still needs to let go.

So, as she saves Vi from Warwick with the monkey bomb explosion, she escapes and leaves Piltover.

And we get a hint of that in the final scenes of the show when Caitlyn is going through her mother's database. She finds a blueprint of the hexgate tower and finds secret air ducts in the place where the explosion happened.

We also see her holding a part of Jinx's bomb.

And after seeing the blueprint she has this look. Like she's thinking "is it possible she survived?"

And in the very last scene we see one of these things that is flying away from Piltover.

Which reminds me of Season 1 Episode 1:

She has always wanted to ride one of them.

Maybe, this is her new way of walking away, instead of dying.

And the two frames are almost exactly the same, it couldn't not be a reference to that s1 moment.

And I know this theory may sound dumb but, why would they show us Caitlyn looking at those blueprints then? Every scene, every frame in Arcane is carefully designed. The team is very good, they wouldn't just show it for no reason. It wouldn't make sense. Especially because they have only 9 episodes of 40 minutes each (except 9 which has 50) to develop everything that happens in season two. And there are A LOT of things going on, they don't have time to spare. If they chose to show us that, it had a very important meaning.

Also I think it's kinda bad If Jinx just dies, I wouldn't like that ending, at least not like this.

[br0kenangel]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 2

Summary: after your last session with Aegon, you always feel him behind your back, when you were at home you could feel him here. And when your next session come, everything just got worse...

Warning: dead animals, just a little sex scene, minors DNI.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language and I wrote this at 2 AM alone in the home. So I'm sorry if it's not good, I was scared and I couldn't think. Hope you enjoy!

PART 1, PART 3, PART 4

That night, sleep came slowly to Y/N. The room felt colder than usual, the darkness pressing in from all sides. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind against the window sent her heart racing. She pulled the blankets tighter around her, trying to convince herself that Aegon’s words had just been that—a mind game, an attempt to unsettle her. But the weight of his gaze from earlier lingered like a ghost in the room.

He didn’t actually watch me, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. He was just trying to freak me out, trying to get into my head. That’s what he does.

But as soon as she closed her eyes, she imagined him standing outside her window, staring in at her with that unsettling intensity. She quickly opened them again, staring at the window across from her bed. The curtains fluttered slightly in the breeze, and for a moment, her mind played tricks on her, imagining a shadow behind them.

There’s no one there, she repeated to herself. He’s not here. He can’t be here.

She forced herself to roll over, turning her back to the window. But that only made her feel more vulnerable. What if he was watching her now, right behind her? She cursed under her breath, her skin prickling with the sense of being observed.

He’s not here. You’re safe. He just wanted to mess with you. That’s all.

But the thought looped in her head, becoming harder to shake. Every sound in the house became magnified—the creak of the pipes, the hum of the fridge, the rustle of leaves outside. Everything felt threatening. She tried focusing on her breathing, counting each inhale and exhale, forcing her mind to calm.

You’re a professional, she reminded herself, staring at the faint light coming through the crack in the curtains. You’ve dealt with difficult clients before. He’s no different.

But deep down, she knew Aegon was different. He was more than difficult—he was dangerous, unpredictable. The way he looked at her, the way he spoke about that dove, about watching her through the window... it was unsettling in a way that no other client had ever been. And that was what made it so hard to shake.

Hours passed before she finally drifted into a restless sleep, her mind plagued by half-formed dreams of shadows and cold eyes staring through the night.

The next morning, she walked to her office with a persistent unease in her chest. The street felt too quiet, and she found herself glancing over her shoulder every few steps, expecting to see Aegon trailing behind her. But there was no one. Just the usual early morning foot traffic—people heading to work, students with their heads buried in their phones.

He’s not here, she told herself again, quickening her pace. He’s not following you. You’re just being paranoid.

But every time she turned a corner, her heart leapt into her throat, expecting to catch a glimpse of his familiar figure. She tried to shake off the paranoia, but it clung to her like a second skin.

When she finally reached her office building, she sighed in relief, stepping quickly inside. The familiar scent of the lobby, the hum of the elevator, the bright, sterile lighting—everything felt like a small refuge from the gnawing anxiety that had been following her all morning.

But the moment she stepped into her office and closed the door, the unease returned. Her eyes immediately darted to the window, checking for any sign of movement outside. There was nothing—just the trees swaying gently in the breeze, the distant sound of traffic.

He’s not watching you, she reminded herself for what felt like the hundredth time. He’s just trying to scare you, and it’s working. Don’t let him get to you.

But even as she tried to focus on her work, her mind kept wandering back to Aegon. His strange, possessive words about the dove. The way he described wanting to clip its wings, to keep it trapped and close. It echoed in her head, too close to how he might feel about her. She shuddered at the thought, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for her coffee.

Later, as the day turned to evening and she walked home, the unease intensified. The shadows stretched longer, darker, and with every step, she felt like someone was just a few paces behind her. She forced herself to keep walking, telling herself not to look back.

He’s not there, she repeated, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. It’s just your imagination. He’s not following you.

But the urge to turn around became too much. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, her breath catching in her throat.

No one. The street behind her was empty, save for a few distant cars and pedestrians.

Her heart raced as she turned back, walking faster now, nearly breaking into a jog. She couldn’t shake the feeling, no matter how hard she tried. The shadows felt alive, watching her, waiting for her to let her guard down. And it was getting harder and harder to convince herself that it was just paranoia.

When she finally reached her apartment, she slammed the door shut behind her, locking it quickly. Her hands were shaking as she leaned against the door, trying to calm her breathing.

It’s over. You’re home. He’s not here. You’re safe.

But even as she said the words, she didn’t fully believe them. Every creak of the apartment, every shadow cast by the dim evening light seemed to take on a new, more sinister meaning. She jumped at the slightest movement, her nerves frayed beyond reason.

As she sat down on the couch, she glanced at the window, half-expecting to see Aegon’s face staring back at her from the street below. But it was empty, just the soft glow of streetlights outside.

He’s not watching you, she repeated to herself, her voice barely a whisper. He’s not watching you.

But the creeping feeling of being observed refused to leave, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, somehow, Aegon was watching—waiting for the right moment to make his next move.

A week had passed since their last session, but it felt like months to Y/N. Every day, her unease grew, festering like a wound that refused to heal. The feeling of being watched never fully left her; shadows felt longer, eyes sharper. No matter how much she told herself it was just in her head, there was always a faint whisper of doubt in the back of her mind.

Now, sitting in her office once again, facing the man who had been haunting her thoughts, she forced herself to breathe. Aegon was different today. His usual agitation, the relentless tapping of his leg and biting of his nails, was absent. Instead, he sat eerily still, his eyes fixed on the wall to her left, as if he was watching something that she couldn’t see. His lips moved faintly, a soft, tuneless whisper escaping them. She strained her ears to catch it but could only make out fragments of sound—a hum, almost like a lullaby.

The silence in the room felt thick, oppressive, and she had to fight the urge to shift in her seat, to break the suffocating quiet.

I have to ask, she told herself, steeling her nerves. You have to confront him about last week. You can’t let him think he can do whatever he wants.

She took a deep breath and spoke, trying to keep her voice calm, even though her heart was pounding in her chest. "Aegon, last time we spoke, you mentioned something… odd. You said I looked good last night… in my pajamas." Her voice faltered slightly at the memory, but she forced herself to continue. "I need to ask, what did you mean by that?"

Aegon didn’t respond. He didn’t even seem to hear her. His eyes remained glued to the wall, his lips still moving faintly, whispering that strange song to himself. His hands rested on his knees, the skin pale and bruised, nails ragged from relentless chewing.

"Aegon?" she pressed, her voice tightening as her nerves frayed. "What did you mean?"

He stopped humming, but his gaze remained unfocused, distant, as if he were somewhere far away. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he finally spoke, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. "Sunfyre died this week."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "Your… your cat?"

Aegon nodded slowly, still staring at the wall. "He was my only friend. The only one who understood." His voice was monotone, lifeless, as though the words were being dragged out of him.

"I’m… I’m sorry to hear that," Y/N said cautiously, watching his expression for any sign of reaction. But there was nothing. His face remained blank, his eyes never leaving the invisible point on the wall.

"He was beautiful," Aegon continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Golden fur. Like the sun. That’s why I called him Sunfyre. He was always warm. Always there."

Y/N swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. There was something deeply unsettling about the way Aegon spoke—as if he was detached from the world around him, floating somewhere she couldn’t reach.

"And now," he murmured, his voice taking on a strange, almost dreamy quality, "he’s gone. And there’s just… noises." He finally blinked, but his gaze remained distant, as if the room had become too small for him. "The noises never stop."

"What… what noises?" Y/N asked cautiously, her fingers gripping the armrests of her chair, trying to steady herself. Something in the pit of her stomach twisted.

"Them," Aegon replied vaguely, tilting his head slightly as if listening for something. "The whispers. The sounds in the walls. They’re everywhere now, you know? After Sunfyre… they got louder. He used to keep them away, but now there’s nothing. Just them. Always talking. Always laughing." His face twitched for the briefest moment, as if suppressing a shiver.

Y/N’s heart started to race again, an icy chill creeping down her spine. "Aegon… have you… have you spoken to anyone about these noises? Has this been happening for a long time?"

"They’ve always been there," he said in the same flat, detached voice. "But it’s worse now. It’s like they’re closer. Watching me all the time. Telling me things." His eyes, still glued to the wall, seemed to glaze over. "I try not to listen, but sometimes… sometimes they make sense."

Her throat felt dry, but she forced herself to ask, "What do they tell you?"

Aegon’s lips curled into a slow, unsettling smile. It was the first time he’d smiled since he entered the room, and it was chilling. "They tell me the truth. About everything. About you."

Her blood ran cold at his words, her mind racing as she tried to keep her expression neutral. "What… what do you mean, Aegon?"

"They tell me how beautiful you are," he whispered, his eyes still locked on that invisible point on the wall. "How you care about me. How you don’t want me to leave. They tell me how you wear that soft panty to bed. The one with the little flowers on it."

Her heart stopped. How does he know? How?

She felt light-headed, her vision blurring at the edges as panic surged through her veins. "Aegon… how do you know what I wear?"

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted his head again, listening, as though someone was whispering in his ear. Then, with an eerie calmness, he said, "The voices see everything."

Y/N’s hands trembled as she gripped the chair tighter. "Aegon, I need you to focus. What do you mean the voices see everything?"

"They watch. They’re always watching," he replied, finally turning his head to face her, his gaze locking onto hers. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and filled with a strange, manic intensity that made her heart lurch in fear. "Just like I do. Just like I watch."

The room suddenly felt much smaller, the walls closing in around her. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to run, to leave, but her legs felt frozen in place.

"Sunfyre used to keep them away," Aegon continued, his voice a low murmur now. "But he’s gone. Now there’s just me. And you."

She couldn’t speak. Her chest tightened, her thoughts a jumble of fear and confusion. She had to end the session. She had to get out.

But before she could move, the clock on the wall chimed, signaling the end of their time.

Aegon stood up slowly, still smiling, his eyes never leaving her. "I’ll see you next week," he said softly, his voice dripping with a sickening sweetness.

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving Y/N sitting in her chair, frozen in place, the echoes of his words reverberating in her mind.

The voices see everything.

The second Aegon left her office, she felt the walls pressing in, the whispers of doubt clawing at her. She packed up quickly, her hands trembling as she stuffed her notebook into her bag and threw on her coat. All she wanted—needed—was to get out.

By the time she reached her apartment, her fingers shook as she fumbled with her keys, her heart still hammering in her chest. As soon as she was inside, she slammed the door shut and bolted it, leaning her back against the wood as she tried to steady her breathing.

It’s just in your head, she told herself, her voice shaky and uncertain. He’s just a patient. He’s just trying to get under your skin. He’s not watching you… he’s not.

But the fear lingered. His words replayed in her mind, twisting around her thoughts like a poison.

With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number she knew by heart. It only took two rings before she heard the familiar voice on the other end.

“Hey, babe,” her boyfriend, Jacob, answered. His tone light and warm. “Everything okay?”

“No…” Y/N’s voice broke as the word slipped out. “Can you come over? Please. I—I need you.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be right there.”

The next twenty minutes felt like an eternity. She paced around her apartment, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on her chest. She kept checking the windows, the corners of the room, every shadow stretching a little too far, every creak of the floorboards making her jump.

When the knock finally came, she practically ran to the door. As soon as she opened it, she fell into his arms, her body trembling with the weight of it all.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jacob murmured, holding her tightly. His hand gently stroked her hair as he guided her back inside, shutting the door behind them. “I’m here. What happened?”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It’s… it’s Aegon. My patient. He—he said these things and I don’t know, it’s just… he knows things, things he shouldn’t know.”

Her voice broke as she recounted the details, her words spilling out in a frantic rush. She told him everything—Aegon’s strange behavior, his fixation, the way he talked about her. The voices. The watching.

Jacob listened, his face calm and reassuring as he nodded. “Babe, I think you’re just stressed. This guy… he’s messing with you because he knows it’ll get to you.”

“I don’t know…” she whispered, wiping at her eyes. “It felt so real.”

“I know, I know it did.” He pulled her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. “But you’re letting him get in your head. He’s trying to make you scared, but you can’t let him win, okay?”

She nodded against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. “You’re right. You’re right… it’s just in my head.”

“That’s all it is,” he said softly, his hands running soothingly down her back. “Just some creepy guy trying to push your buttons. But you’re stronger than that. You can handle it.”

His calm, rational voice slowly chipped away at the terror inside her. She breathed deeply, letting herself believe his words, clinging to them like a lifeline. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed that.”

“I’m here,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Always.”

The tension in her chest began to unravel as she melted into his embrace. Slowly, the fear that had gripped her all week loosened its hold. He was right. Aegon was just trying to get under her skin. Nothing more.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on her shoulders. “How about we forget all about this guy, huh? Let’s just relax.”

She nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds good.”

Without another word, he took her hand and led her toward the bathroom. The warm steam from the shower enveloped them as they stepped inside, the water cascading over their skin, washing away the remnants of the day’s tension.

He pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She responded, her hands sliding up his chest, the heat of the water matching the growing warmth between them. His touch was gentle but sure, his hands slowly roaming over her body as he deepened the kiss.

In that moment, the world outside didn’t matter. Not Aegon, not the fear, not the shadows that had haunted her all week. There was only him, the steady reassurance of his presence.

As they moved to the bed, their wet skin still warm from the shower, he kissed her neck, his hands sliding between her legs, slowly caressing her. She gasped softly, her body responding to the comfort and distraction he offered.

He kissed her deeply, and as his hands roamed over her, she closed her eyes, letting herself forget everything. For just a moment, she let herself believe that everything was okay.

The weight of Jacob's arm draped over her gave Y/N a sense of temporary calm, her mind finally lulled into a fragile state of rest after the events of the week. The sheets clung to their bodies, still damp from the shared heat, their limbs intertwined in a way that made her feel, for the first time in days, safe. Protected.

But that safety shattered in an instant.

A loud crash from the other side of the apartment jolted them awake. The sound of breaking glass ripped through the silence like a scream, sharp and sudden. Y/N shot up in bed, her heart pounding so fast it felt like it would burst out of her chest. Her boyfriend sat up beside her, his hand instinctively reaching for her.

"What the hell was that?" he whispered, his voice low, urgent.

"IーI don't know," Y/N stammered, already pulling the blanket around her naked body, her hands trembling as she clutched the fabric tightly. Fear crawled up her spine like a cold hand, squeezing her chest. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

Jacob swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing a nearby lamp as a makeshift weapon. "Stay behind me," he said, his voice grim as he stood, leading the way out of the bedroom.

They crept down the hallway, the air thick with tension, their breaths shallow and uneven. The soft click of the floorboards under their feet was deafening in the oppressive silence that followed the crash. Y/N tightened the blanket around her, the fabric dragging across the floor as she followed behind, her senses on high alert, every shadow on the walls seeming to twist and warp into something sinister.

The moment they stepped into the living room, the metallic tang of blood hit her like a punch to the gut. She froze.

"Oh my God..." her boyfriend whispered, the words barely audible, as his gaze swept over the scene before them.

Doves. Dead doves, strewn across the floor like discarded dolls. Their once-beautiful white feathers were soaked in blood, their delicate wings from their bodies, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Some of them were headless, their necks bent at grotesque angles, the floor slick with their blood. Their wings were now broken, shredded, discarded in small, crumpled heaps.

The smell was overwhelming, suffocating. The stench of death and blood filled the air, thick and coppery, clinging to their skin like a second layer. Y/N gagged, one hand flying to her mouth as bile rose in her throat. Her eyes were wide with horror as she stared at the carnage before her.

It wasn't just the doves.

The walls were splattered with blood- thick, dark red streaks of it, smeared in long, jagged lines. Words. Horrible, terrifying words written in the blood of the doves.

"MINE"

"LEAVE"

"ALWAYS WATCHING"

The writing was erratic, desperate, the letters dripping down the walls like some kind of twisted arning. The word “MINE" was repeated over and over again, sometimes scrawled so large it stretched from floor to ceiling, other times tiny, scratched into the plaster as if done by someone who had lost control.

The words clawed at her brain, a primal panic bubbling up from the depths of her mind. They weren't just words-they were a threat, a message, twisted and dark, filled with rage. Her chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes scanned the room, wild and terrified.

"What the fuck.." her boyfriend whispered, his voice trembling now, his grip tightening around the lamp. "What the fuck is this?"

Y/N's legs were shaking, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her as she stumbled backward. Her eyes darted to the window, and that's when she saw him.

A figure in the shadows, standing just outside the glass, watching her.

Aegon.

His pale, hollow face was half-hidden by the darkness, but his eyes一those wild, burning eyes一were locked onto hers, unblinking. There was something feral in the way he stood, the way his lips twisted into a sickening smile as he stared at her, his head tilted at a strange, unnatural angle, like a predator stalking its prey.

She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Her throat was dry, her voice stolen by the sheer terror of the moment. Her body felt frozen, paralyzed, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Her boyfriend's voice cut through the fog of her panic. "What is it? What do you see?"

She tore her eyes away from the window, grabbing his arm with trembling hands. "He's here" she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "He's outside... it's him..."

Her boyfriend whipped his head toward the window, but by the time he looked, Aegon was gone. The shadowy figure had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving nothing but the echo of his presence behind.

"I don't see anything," he said, his voice laced with confusion andfear. “There's no one there."

"No-no, I saw him!" Y/N insisted, her voice rising with hysteria. "He was there! I swear to God, he was right there, watching us!"

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as she trembled violently. "It's okay, it's okay. We'll call the cops. Someone broke in, this... this is some fucked-up shit, but we'll figure it out. He's not here anymore."

She nodded weakly, her mind spinning with confusion and terror. Her eyes kept darting back to the window, expecting to see those cold, unblinking eyes staring back at her. But the space was empty now, just an expanse of darkness and the dull glow of streetlights outside.

Jacob pulled out his phone and dialed the police, his voice low and urgent as he explained the situation. Y/N barely heard him, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic whirlwind of fear and disbelief.

The words on the walls seemed to pulse in the corner of her vision, the blood dripping down in slow, thick rivulets: MINE. LEAVE.

Her stomach twisted into knots, her entire body shaking as she collapsed into the nearest chair, her legs giving out beneath her. The doves lay scattered around her feet, their lifeless eyes staring up at her, empty and soulless.

She couldn't escape it.

No matter how hard she tried to convince herself it wasn't real, that Aegon wasn't capable of such madness, the truth was there-painted in blood across her walls.

This wasn't just in her head. This was real. Too real.

“There’s not much we can do without evidence,” one of the officers had said, his voice neutral but with an edge of doubt. “But we can check on him, just to ease your mind.”

And so, at 3 AM, Y/N, Jacob, and the two officers found themselves standing outside the grand Targaryen estate. The imposing house loomed before them, bathed in the glow of the moon, its towering facade as cold and uninviting as the man who lived inside. Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest, her skin crawling with unease as they rang the bell.

It didn’t take long for the door to open.

Alicent stood in the doorway, her face pinched with confusion and irritation, her robe wrapped tightly around her. She looked from the officers to Y/N and her boyfriend, then back again. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Officers," Alicent greeted politely, though her voice held an edge of irritation. "May I help you?"

Y/N’s voice shook as she stepped forward. “It’s Aegon. He’s been stalking me—he came to my apartment tonight. He left… dead birds everywhere, and he wrote on the walls with blood. He’s been following me. Watching me.”

“I’m sorry, but what is this about?” Alicent’s eyes flicked between Y/N, her boyfriend, and the officers. “This must be a misunderstanding.”

“No, it’s not a misunderstanding!” Y/N yelled, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her eyes. “He broke into my apartment. There were doves—dead doves—and blood… He’s been following me, watching me! He’s dangerous!”

Her boyfriend squeezed her hand gently, trying to pull her back, but she yanked away, pointing toward the door. “You have to believe me! Aegon is sick—he needs to be locked up! He’s not right in the head!”

Alicent’s face hardened. “That’s impossible. Aegon’s been here all night.”

The officers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to proceed.

Alicent’s eyes flicked to the officers, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “My son would never do something like that. He’s not… unwell. He’s just dealing with some personal things.”

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribcage as rage and fear bubbled inside her, her voice rising as she lost control. “He’s a fucking psycho, and he’s trying to ruin my life! He’s stalking me, and you’re just covering for him!”

“Ma’am,” one of the officers cut in, stepping forward to intervene, “let’s all remain calm. We’re here to investigate, but we need to speak to Aegon himself.”

At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed down the grand staircase.

Aegon appeared, descending slowly, rubbing his eyes as though he had just woken from a peaceful slumber. He wore a loose-fitting T-shirt and pajama pants, his blonde hair mussed, his expression calm, and his movements casual, almost lazy. He looked nothing like the manic, disturbed man Y/N had seen just hours before.

“Is everything alright?” Aegon asked, his voice quiet, soft, laced with concern. His eyes scanned the group, lingering on Y/N for a moment before turning to the officers. “What’s going on?”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. How could he look so normal? She knew what he was—she had seen him, heard his madness—but now, he was playing the part of the innocent. She could feel herself unraveling, her emotions spilling out uncontrollably.

Her blood boiled at the sight of his calm, innocent facade. He wasn’t the same Aegon she had sat across from in therapy—the one who whispered disturbing things and stared at her with dark, empty eyes. This Aegon seemed so harmless, almost apologetic, as if none of the horrors from earlier could be traced back to him.

"Do you know this woman, sir?" one of the officers asked, gesturing to Y/N, who was on the verge of collapsing under the weight of it all.

Aegon blinked slowly, his expression softening into something almost pitiful. “Yes, she's…my therapist," he said, his voice low and even, a hint of sadness laced into his words. "But…I'm not really sure why she’s here.”

One of the officers stepped forward. “Sir, we’re here following a report. This woman has made some serious claims about your involvement in an incident tonight. We just need to ask you a few questions.”

Aegon’s face contorted into an expression of confusion, concern knitting his brow as he blinked at the officers. “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” he said, his voice even, smooth. “I’ve been here all night. I haven’t left the house.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes going wide. “What? No—no, don’t act like this! You know exactly what you did, Aegon! You’ve been following me! You were in my apartment tonight! I saw you!”

Aegon shook his head slowly, his eyes filled with what looked like genuine confusion. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I was home all night. I would never do something like that.” He turned to the officers. “I’ve been going through a hard time. I recently…broke up with my girlfriend, and I started seeing Y/N to help me deal with the depression. But…I don’t know where all of this is coming from.”

“He’s lying!” Y/N screamed, stepping forward, her whole body shaking with anger. “He’s making it all up! He’s dangerous—he’s not the person you think he is!”

Aegon didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer to the officers, his face calm, composed, but his voice took on a vulnerable tone. “I think… I think maybe she’s upset because I didn’t reciprocate her feelings.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in horror. “What the fuck are you talking about? That’s not true!”

Aegon glanced at the officers, feigning embarrassment. “She…she made some advances during our sessions. I told her that it wasn’t appropriate, but I think she may have misinterpreted our relationship. Maybe she’s just mad that I didn’t…you know, return her feelings.”

Y/N’s world spun. The rage and helplessness surged inside her like a storm, the bile rising in her throat. “That’s a lie! You’re lying! You need to stop lying!” She lunged forward, her hands reaching for Aegon in a desperate attempt to stop him from spinning the truth any further, but her boyfriend grabbed her, pulling her back.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he pleaded, holding her tightly as she fought to break free. “Just stop!”

Aegon’s face twisted into something almost sad. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin her reputation, but…I’m worried about her. I think she’s struggling with some personal issues, and that’s why she’s saying all of this.”

The officers looked back at Y/N, their expressions unreadable, but she could feel their judgment. It was like a weight pressing down on her chest, suffocating her. They didn’t believe her. No one believed her.

“You’re fucking sick!” Y/N screamed, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. “You should be in a mental hospital! You—” She was hysterical now, her words a broken mess of sobs and fury. “You did this! You—”

“Ma’am, we need you to calm down,” one of the officers said sternly, stepping between her and Aegon. “We’ll handle this, but we need you to calm down.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Y/N cried, her voice raw and desperate. “He’s dangerous! He’s going to hurt me! He’s—”

But no one was listening. Not her boyfriend, not the police, and certainly not Alicent, who stood behind her son, a look of quiet satisfaction on her face as she watched the scene unfold.

Aegon rubbed his eyes again, stifling a yawn as if all of this was just an inconvenience, just a bad dream he would soon wake from. “I just want to go back to bed,” he said softly, looking at the officers with pleading eyes. “I promise I’m not who she says I am. I just…I just want to move on.”

The officers nodded, exchanging a glance before turning back to Y/N.

“I think it’s best if we leave now, ma’am,” one of them said gently, but firmly. “We’ll follow up on this, but…for now, you should go home and try to get some rest.”

Y/N’s heart sank. She had lost. She had been defeated by his lies, by his calm demeanor, by the illusion of normalcy he had created.

Her boyfriend wrapped an arm around her, guiding her back toward the door. Her legs felt like lead, her body drained of all strength, her mind clouded with fear. But as they stepped outside, she turned back for one last look at Aegon.

And that’s when she saw it.

His eyes were wide now, bright and burning with a terrifying intensity. He stared at her, unblinking, a slow, twisted smile creeping onto his lips. And then, with a single finger pressed against his lips, he made a silent gesture.

Shhh...

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[wondersinwaynemanor]

what if the batkids decided at the same time to bring their partners to the Manor and they argue about it?

[i can't stop writing long scenes]

scenario 1:

Duke has his arm wrapped around Izzy's waist as they make their way to the movie room.

Duke: Have you decided which movie you want to watch tonight?

Izzy, grins: The Notebook?

Duke, opening the door of the room, chuckles: But we've just watched that two weeks ago. Besides, Dick and Jason love that film, I've watched it a lot of times by now.

Izzy, turns the switch on to illuminate the room: What's the harm in rewatching-

they stop in their tracks as Steph and Cass enter the room from the other entrance of the movie room.

Steph giggles and leans towards Cass' face to kiss her. they don't even notice that the room is now bright with the lights on.

Duke, clears his throat loudly: Uh. Just to let you know, there are other people in the room.

Izzy: Sorry! We didn't mean to interrupt.

Steph and Cass, still holding each other, look at Duke and Izzy at the other side of the room.

Cass waves to them.

Steph: What are you two doing in here?

Duke: To watch a movie? Clearly.

Steph: But we started an hour ago.

Duke: I don't see a sign in the door that says it's occupied though.

Duke has really been hanging too, too much with Damian and Jason.

Cass, covers Steph's mouth before she speaks more: Maybe we can watch together.

Izzy, smiles: What were you guys watching earlier?

Steph and Duke, say at the same time: But this was supposed to be a date!

then Steph and Duke glare at each other, suddenly arguing over random things.

Cass shakes her head and leads Izzy outside the room so they can get some food from the kitchen.

---

scenario 2:

Dick continues to lead Wally to the private pool that was just newly built.

they just came home from a mission and some dip in warm water under the bright stars sounds so good right now.

by the time they both strip down to their boxers, Dick is a giggling mess as Wally bridal carries him on the stairs down to the water.

Wally, still carrying Dick on his arms, backing both of them on the pool wall: Have I told you today how beautiful you are?

Dick, blushes, wrapping his arms on Wally's neck: You always remind me. But tell me again-

then out of nowhere, someone shouts, "KABOOOOOM!" and a large splash of water hit both of them.

Dick, rubs the water off his eyes: What the actual fu-

and it's Roy from across the side of the pool, leaning against the wall with a smug grin on his face. on his side is Jason with the same kind of smile.

Roy, brings Jason closer to him: Oh, isn't it my two best friends of all time?

Jason, laughs: Ocupado, Dickface. Sorry.

he wasn't sorry at all.

Dick, groans, coming down from Wally's arms: You lied, Jay! You said you were out of town.

Jason, shrugs: Plans change, Dick.

Wally, rubs Dick's arm soothingly: A little warning next time, guys?

Roy, grins: Not our forte.

Dick, grumbles: You guys are assholes. Go to another area or something, I don't care.

Jason: I'm sorry, what was that, Dick?

Dick: Asshole, I said go to another area. Period.

Jason: Why you-

then the two brothers are moving forward towards each other on the water, aiming for a fight of sorts. one minute, Jason has Dick under the water and the next, it's Dick chasing Jason in the water like ducklings. like birds.

Wally hides Dick's escrima sticks, while Roy hides Jason's guns. just in case the fight escalates.

---

scenario 3:

Roy, whines: Jaaaaaybird, can we sleep now?

Jason: I said give me a minute, Roy. I need to grab a book.

Roy leans his weight on Jason, closing his eyes.

Jason: And I'm not carrying you, idiot.

although, he wraps his arm on Roy's waist, supporting him as they walk to the Manor library.

Jason, opens the door: Give me a few, kay? Then we can- WHAT THE SHIT?

Roy feels more awake than awhile ago as they both stare at Kon, shirtless on the couch and his hair a mess.

Jason: Clone, what are you doing here????

Kon, flushes, embarrassed: I... I... Um.

then Tim appears from behind the couch too, his hair also a mess, but thankfully his clothes still on. or else Jason would have threw up on the floor.

Roy just has a grin on his face the entire time, amused.

Tim, grins: Hey, guys.

Jason, pinches the bridge of his nose: I swear, Timmy, I fucking swear, if you and clone boy don't fucking take your hormones upstairs to your own room, I will-

Tim: You will what, Jay? I mean... You don't own this place. Doesn't mean you spend most of your time here, it's yours.

Jason: I never said I owned this! I just fucking said, don't do funny business on the library couch.

Tim, scoffs: As if you don't do funny business here.

Roy, grins even widely: The boy's got a point, Jaybird.

Jason, now even more upset: Go, go upstairs!

Tim: But-

Jason: Now, Tim!

Tim: You're not my mom!

Jason: And you're not being responsible!

Tim: As if you're any better!

then the two boys continue to argue, leaving Roy and Kon to shrug and make their own conversation by the door.

Roy: Hey, kid. How's the Young Justice?

Kon, smiles: Pretty good. How's the Outlaws?

---

bonus:

Damian and Jon are in the game room, playing some Mario Kart when they hear voices outside the room.

Steph: We were here first!

Dick: I thought I told everyone in the groupchat that me and Wally will be having the Game Room.

Jason: I already called dibs in the room.

Duke: I arrived earlier than any of you, so technically, me and Izzy get to use it first.

Tim: Hey, I never had the Game Room this week!

Cass, suggests: Can we just all share it?

Damian, opens the door, annoyed: Will everyone just keep their mouths closed? I have settled in the room already.

as the batkids continue to make their points, Jon exits the room and flies to the main living room where the rest of the partners are talking.

Jon, settles beside Kon: I guess this is a regular occurance.

Roy, chuckles: You have no idea, kid.

Wally: As long as I can remember, yes.

Kon: You'll get used to it, little brother.

Izzy: With a house so big, they still argue on who gets a room first.

Izzy, sees the Monopoly game under the coffee table, smiling: Anyone up for Monopoly?

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 ICARIAN

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai had known he was flying too close to the sun, he should have stopped himself while he still had the chance. {wordcount: 11.5k; fem!reader, romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: installment fiveeeee otherwise known as part 2 of installment four LOL! ugh guys i'm dragging myself thru the trenches right now i'm so miserable - i wasn't even up to posting this today i won't lie but </3 i pulled thru </3 if only barely. fun fact this is actually only a 3 scene chapter but the second scene is just MASSIVE. i wasn't up to restructuring so you guys are just going to get it as it is. this is also unedited because i just wasn't up to it so bear with me regarding mistakes. JUST TO REMIND YOU ALL: the last installment is DELAYED - i have 3 finals next week and haven't had the time to finish it. it will be up by the end of may </3 sorry guys. wow this actually is attempt number three trying to post this correctly - i'm so shot

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from badlands - if you guys read badlands, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole 12k chapter just because there's 4k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the SECOND scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in badlands, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, dazai cries </3 poor baby, sub!dazai, as always pussy drunk!dazai, bit of overstim on dazai's part too, jfhsuhdfsu i will say it starts on the bathroom floor so that might be a bit gross to some of you but dazai hardly even uses his apartment anyway so trust it's clean. bear with me. it just flowed from there i had to go with it. the story writes itself, i'm only the scribe. LOL let me know if i missed anything, i might have

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

Dazai is hardly listening to the conversation at hand. They’ve been going back and forth for thirty minutes about inconsequential matters. Tolstoy is getting increasingly heated as he goes tit-for-tat with Nabokov, evidently the tripartite alliance between the Russian mafias is not quite enough to quell all of the bad blood that’s simmered between them, but something about the situation isn’t sitting right to Dazai. He can feel it in his gut, swirling in the depths of his chest—something is wrong but he doesn’t know what.

Mishima looks equally put out, gaze trained on Tolstoy and Nabokov’s conversation, occasionally looking back at his executives. Cao seems bored, head tilted back against the red cushions of the round booth as he smokes a cigarette; in all regards, he seems relaxed, but Dazai notices the way the fingers of his free hand are tense on the table, as if he’s bracing himself for something.

Something isn’t right.

Dostoevsky is cunning. Intelligent. He’s been lethally sharp in every universe that the other Dazais have encountered him in. He wouldn’t send Tolstoy and Nabokov into this meeting with them at each other’s throats like this without an ulterior reason. Dazai is missing something critical; he knows it’s not something as simple as wanting to give off the appearance of a divided front as means to get Dazai and Mishima to lower their guard. Nothing is that easy. There’s some ulterior motive that Dazai has to figure out.

Cao’s presence. Tolstoy and Nabokov’s blatant hostility toward one another. Mishima’s words from earlier, warning him that something seems to be brewing, that Tolstoy and Nabokov had been on edge since he arrived at the event hall. Dazai’s head hurts, and he can’t focus, not when you’re in the other room without him.

Already, he feels as if he’s been separated from you for too long, he’d been hoping this meeting was only going to last thirty minutes at most, and it’s been thirty minutes already and hardly any progress has been made. If Dazai didn’t know any better, he’d think that…

He’d think that Tolstoy and Nabokov were stalling.

At once, Dazai starts catching onto the things that he missed. The way Nabokov keeps glancing up at the clock on the wall above Cao. The way Tolstoy’s gaze keeps flickering to his phone. The way Cao’s attention seems to be elsewhere. 

Cao Xueqin. A Dream of Red Mansions. A scrying ability.

His heartbeat slows and Dazai blinks. Once. Twice. Blood roars in his ears as his gaze twists down to where his phone is laying on the table in front of him, on its face. Tachihara should have texted him to let him know that he got to you. Him or Chuuya. He usually reports to Chuuya anyway, so Dazai figured that Chuuya would’ve gotten the confirmation. He turns his head to the side to look at the executive from the corner of his eye, trying to keep his breath as slow and steady and natural as possible when he realizes that Chuuya is frowning with furrowed brows, looking at his phone. Unsure.

Dazia reaches for his own phone, fingers deceptively steady despite the way his insides are curdling with a sudden jolt of anxiety. His eyes zero in on the top right corner of his phone. No signal. Dazai has been to this event hall countless times in this life and dozens of others—there’s always service throughout the building. 

Unless it’s being jammed, that is.

Dazai’s blood runs cold, gaze dragging from his phone to the door that leads to the hallway connecting to the event hall where you are. He feels as if he’s been doused with icy water and lit on fire all at once. For a second, he doesn’t move—he’s not sure if it’s anxiety or fear, or both, but he knows it’s because you’re out there and Dostoevsky is plotting something while trying to keep him out of the picture in this meeting. 

He should have known better. Mishima had assumed that Dostoevsky wasn’t in the building—he had his three best scouts prowling the whole building trying to place the real leader of the tripartite but had failed. Nabokov had apparently told him that Dostoevsky had to stay back to handle residual business in Russia, a blatant lie, one that has had Mishima on edge all night.

The one with the overcoat. The clown.

Dazai stills as he remembers the white haired man who hung around Dostoevsky in some of the other universes. Not all of the other Dazais encountered him—in fact, Dazai thinks there were only half a dozen other universes where he met the man, he can hardly remember his name, but when he did…

Spatial linking. Of course Mishima’s men hadn’t been able to hunt down Dostoevsky. Dostoevsky would’ve predicted that the Sun and Steel would seek out the mastermind with their scouts. He used the clown to enter the building without anyone knowing after the scouts finished their hunt.

Dazai had missed a critical piece on the board.

Dazai rises to his feet abruptly, mind numb, eyes distant, and lips parted to speak but no words escape them. Tolstoy and Nabokov exchange a sharp, pointed look, pausing in their hostilities, and Dazai knows. He knows.

Dostoevsky is going after you. 

He hears Chuuya and Kouyou calling after him but it sounds like a distant buzz. His throat feels clogged, his heartbeat is erratic and uncontrollable, his ears are ringing. His surroundings are blurry, a part of him doesn’t even know where he is: the event hall, your apartment, in the cafe below the Armed Detective Agency, it’s all blurring together.

This is it.

His vision swims and his head spins. The hallway seems impossibly long, much longer than it was to walk to the room. He can hear Chuuya spitting curses, scrambling out of the room, and he’s sure that his other executives and the other mafiosos aren’t far behind, but Dazai’s mind is on a single track. He doesn’t know how fast he’s moving—fast enough that Chuuya is chasing after him but can’t catch him. Something is heavy and cool in his hand—his gun—numb fingers moving to click the safety off.

This is it.

He might enter that hall and find you dead, slumped over the bar he’d last seen you sitting at, blood splattered across your face. Limp, cold. Just like you were on your bedroom floor. In the booth at the cafe. He’s pulling you from the water. He’s screaming for Yosano when he’s with the Agency. He’s screaming for Mori when he’s with the Mafia. Sometimes he’s alone, and he has no one to call for help, so all he can do is hold you and cry. 

It’s his fault. He knew this would happen from the beginning. He knew that being with you would lead you to the same fate that you’ve met in every other universe because of him. He knew that being with you would be your death sentence, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

His vision swims again, the red and gold patterns on the walls of the event hall are indistinct blobs, he feels someone try to grab his wrist—Chuuya, probably—but Dazai rips himself free and pushes himself into the event hall.

He ignores the eyes on him and the way people all instinctively move away from the sight of him with his gun out, he’s sure he must look deranged but he’s hardly even keeping himself grounded to this reality. Pages pile around him, every single one has variations of the same scene that’s haunted him for almost eight years written on it; one is being written before his eyes, he can see the words appearing on the blank sheet. He needs to find you before it’s complete. He has to stop it.

His eyes cut across the room, toward the bar he’d last seen you at, and you’re there. You’re there. It’s almost enough to make him scramble to put his gun away, cover up his steep spiral of paranoia even if you are looking right in his direction and see the gun in his hand. He can hardly come to terms with the consequences of this, how you’re seeing him right now, because his gaze tunnels right in on the person sitting next to you and his world comes to a halt. 

He lifts the gun. He ignores as people shriek and scramble to the edges of the room. He ignores the look on your face as he moves closer to where you’re sitting with Fyodor Dostoevsky. He ignores the way Chuuya and Kouyou and Piano Man have all skid to a stop somewhere behind him, trying to figure out what to do. Dostoevsky’s hand is mere inches away from brushing against your body, it would only take the slightest movement and you would be dead. It would be a game of who’s faster: Dazai’s trigger finger or Dostoevsky’s ability. Dazai’s always been quick to pull the trigger but now, faced with your life on the line, when he should be at his best because of what’s at risk, he finds himself scared and unsteady. 

He can’t lose you. He can’t watch it happen.

He paces toward you slowly, steadily, he swears each step he takes echoes across the suddenly silent event hall. He doesn’t stop until the muzzle of his gun is pressed against the back of Dostoevsky’s head.

“Stand up.” Dazai’s voice is deceptively cold and steady for the rage and fear that’s clawing at his chest, threatening to take control.

Dostoevsky turns his head to the side to look at Dazai, faint amusement in his eyes. “Are you sure you really want to do this here, Dazai?” 

The mocking lilt his voice takes is almost enough alone for Dazai to pull the trigger. And if that wasn’t, the way Dostoevsky smiles at Dazai like he’s won is certainly enough to push him over the edge.

Before he can, he feels Chuuya grab his bicep hard. 

“You can’t do this here,” he hisses quietly. “If you kill him now on neutral territory, we’ll have all of the mafias in the Eastern Hemisphere coming after you and the government on your ass. You can’t do this here and you can’t do it in public.”

Dazai doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how many mafias come after him for killing on neutral territory when invited as a guest. He doesn’t care that the government will come after him for such a blatant murder. All he cares about is getting Dostoevsky away from you.

“Chuuya is right,” Kouyou murmurs, low enough for only Dazai to overhear. “We can cover this up as is. If you pull the trigger, there’s no hiding what happened here. You know better than this, boy. You won’t be the only person this affects if you do this. Think of her. She will be implicated for coming here with you. Lower the gun and let us handle sweeping this under the rug.”

Dazai can’t even bring himself to look at you. He’s scared of what he might find. But he doesn’t even consider lowering the gun, not until Dostoevsky raises his hands and slips off the bar stool to step away from you. Even when he does, Dazai keeps it trained on him, still tempted to blow his head right off his shoulders.

“I meant no harm,” Dostoevsky says smoothly. “I was intrigued, wanted to know the girl who’s managed to capture your interest. I must say, I see the appeal. Beautiful and intelligent, you have quite the eye, Dazai.”

Dazai’s lips stretch into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s not kind, and it’s mildly feral, and Dazai’s pretty sure he must look entirely deranged from the way Dostoevsky’s eyes widen in a mixture of surprise and entertainment, just enough to be noticeable.

“If you ever go near her again, I’ll put a bullet through your fucking skull, Dostoevsky.”

He should do it now. He should. Fuck Chuuya and Kouyou’s warnings, he should put a bullet in his head and be done with it, move onto handling Christie so that both of the major threats to your life are gone. But he can’t. If he takes this opportunity now, if he kills Dostoevsky so blatantly on neutral territory, the Pale Flame and Three Deaths will come at him in full force, and Dazai is sure the Red Chamber won’t be far behind them with Cao’s recent interest in expanding his business into Japan. And you’ll be caught in the crossfire of all of it, Dazai has ensured that by bringing you here. Dostoevsky must have accounted for all of this. He knew that Dazai would be put in a situation where either way, whether he kills him or lets him go, he’d be throwing himself onto a blade. 

Is that it? Killing you wasn’t the goal, was it? Exposing Dazai was. Forcing him into this impossible decision.

Did he really just fall into Dostoevsky’s hands so easily? Even with all of the forewarning the other universes have given him?

It’s you. You always make him reckless, his mind is never as sharp whenever you’re involved, muddled with thoughts of you, plagued with spirals of paranoia and anxiety that make him double guess himself. It’s like this in every universe—he becomes stupid, he becomes rash, he becomes careless. It’s you.

You.

Suddenly very hyper aware of your eyes on him, Dazai lowers his gun, gaze turning in your direction. Dostoevsky lets out one last snide comment, something toward you, telling you ‘don’t you see’ but Dazai doesn’t even process it, heart in his throat as he looks at you. He doesn’t know what he expects—fear, betrayal, even anger. He’s not prepared for the emptiness. He can’t read a single emotion on your face, your eyes eerily void of any feeling as you stare at him. 

He says your name quietly. His voice cracks. He should be embarrassed, so many people watching the scene play out, so many of his enemies and allies and subordinates, and he’s staring at you like a lost child with an unsteady voice, but he can’t bring himself to care. The fingers of his free hand are trembling, and the ones wrapped around the grip of his gun are so wound so tight that his knuckles are white. 

You’ve never looked at him like this before. Not in any universe. 

He thinks he might throw up. 

You’ve been mad at him before, scowling at him whenever he distracts you from your work and snarling whenever he makes messes that he never cleans up, but your eyes always stay soft in spite of the venom you spit. He’s seen betrayal on your face a few times before, screaming at him through tears when he got a bit too close to a successful attempt, cursing at him for trying to leave you, but you hold him so gently that it makes up for the harsh words. You’ve been scared of him once, when he lashed out so badly during one of his slumps that he nearly hurt you, but even then, you were more concerned for him then you were scared for yourself, speaking to him softly to settle him down.

He’s never seen this. He wants it to go away. Desperately.

“I’d like to leave,” you finally say after a few moments of silence, and your voice is so vacant of emotion that it leaves him feeling even more sick.

Dazai nods, because he can’t bring himself to speak. 

He holds his hand out for you, waiting for you to take it.

You don’t.

You haven’t spoken a word since the event hall, and Dazai doesn’t know what to do. He used to find peace in silence—for years, he’d become accustomed to it, isolating himself from everyone around him, keeping everyone at arm’s length. The most he ever spoke was a few sentences to give out orders to his executives; his voice had become hoarse and raspy over the years of self-imposed isolation, unused to being utilized. But the past few months with you have utterly obliterated any semblance of comfort Dazai had found in solidarity. 

It’s become entirely intolerable, the silence is making him sick with anxiety; he has hundreds of lifetimes worth of memories with you and he can’t even vaguely predict what to expect from you right now. You’ve been tense and cold since leaving the event hall. Dazai tried to open up a conversation in the car once but found himself promptly ignored. Chuuya tried to say something to you but only received the same cold shoulder. Even Albatross tried to lighten the mood when the four of you got in the car, but all you did was stare out the window with your back to Dazai. 

Now, you’re back up in his penthouse with him. You haven’t sat down. You’ve hardly budged from where you’re standing near the elevator—Dazai wonders if you’re scared of him now, if you want to be as close as possible to the only exit in fear of him lashing out at you. The thought makes him even more nauseous.

He doesn’t even know what to do with himself. He doesn’t want to sit down, he’s uncomfortable standing in the living room, waiting for you to say something, and he can’t bring himself to try to break the silence because if there’s one thing he learned very swiftly, it’s that he can’t handle being ignored by you. He’d prefer anger and hate to the stonewall iciness you’re giving him.

He can’t even fathom what you might be thinking right now. You’re not looking at him. You’re staring at the window that looks over the city, he can see the bright flashing lights from Cosmo World flickering faintly in your eyes. It’s so quiet that he can hear the distant honking of horns, police sirens coming from the streets below. 

He just wants you to say something, do something. Yell at him. Scream at him. Hit him or punch him. Anything is better than this. 

It feels like an eternity before you finally move away from the elevator. You still don’t speak, but Dazai watches raptly as you make your way into the kitchen. You fling open the cabinets, searching for something, and Dazai’s lips part to ask what you’re looking for but he decides against it. You stop with your jerky movements when you catch sight of the numerous bottles of sake Dazai has stored in his cabinets—room temperature, because Dazai can’t stand cold drinks, they make his teeth hurt. He watches you struggle to uncap it and his body itches to move toward you to help but he knows it won’t do any good. It’ll probably just piss you off more.

When you get the cap off, you’re immediately bringing it to your lips. One. Two. Three. Four large gulps before you put the bottle back down on the counter and turn to look at him. The emptiness in your eyes is gone, replaced by something caught between hurt and anger and betrayal. It makes his heart sink, but he thinks it’s preferable to the emptiness.

“You lied to me,” you finally rasp out, shaking your head as you pace behind the counter. There’s a whole length of a room separating the two of you and Dazai longs for your touch but he forces himself to stuff his hands in his pockets and keep still. “You lied to me, Dazai.”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly without thinking, not liking the switch up. He’d finally gotten you to call him by his given name earlier in the night, he doesn’t want to lose it so quickly.

For the briefest of seconds, the hurt and betrayal in your eyes disappears and only fire rages in them. “Dazai,” you spit out pointedly. 

Dazai almost draws back, not having expected that. In all of the other universes, you’ve always been gentle with him even when you’re livid. You speak his name softly, even with a tight jaw and fisted hands—his given name, you’ve never used his surname against him like this before. Probably because most of the major fights he had with you in those other lives, it was months into the relationship; it’s only been a few weeks in this life so of course-

Dazai realizes, a bit dizzy, that he’s about to lose you.

You found out too soon. You found out through Dostoevsky, through Dazai's own loss of control. You found out in the worst possible way and you found out too soon.

Dazai is about to lose you.

“Okay,” he murmurs, not wanting to test your temper anymore, giving in as a means to try to soothe your anger, regardless of how much it might wound him because being wounded is nothing compared to losing you. “Dazai.”

His compliance seems to do nothing to quell your anger from the way you just scoff and shake your head again, looking away from him. You stare out over the city, dozens of emotions cloud your expression but Dazai still can’t predict what you might do next. He feels out of his depth, in murky waters with an anchor tied to his ankle.

“I knew it, you know?” you finally say quietly. “I knew it from the beginning, honestly, but I kept making excuses for you. I mean, the guns. The secrecy. You weren’t really subtle about it. Did you think I was stupid, or something?” 

“Never,” Dazai says honestly, without hesitation. He sees your gaze flicker down to the ground at his words, but you don’t make any move to speak again so he takes the opportunity to, in hopes that you’ll finally listen. “You’re the smartest woman I know. I-”

You interrupt him with a sharp laugh, it’s loud and almost cruel, and Dazai turns in on himself at the sound of it. He feels small and unsteady, like a child who’s being scolded by a parent. When you look at him again, your eyes are wide and wild, half-crazed in sheer disbelief. You don’t believe him. Of course, you don’t. It’s plainly displayed on your face. And why would you anyway? He’s given you every reason not to. 

“If you think I’m so smart, why didn’t you think I would figure it out?”

He tries to say that he knew you would. That he’s been living in fear for weeks that you’d finally see him for what he is but when he opens his mouth to say it, no words leave him. Like he’s frozen in fear, ice crawling through his veins, stones weighing on his tongue; he can’t respond, and he knows that he’s only condemning himself more. He tries to force something out but he can’t even make the barest hint of a sound. The mindkiller. He’s never responded well to fear, much less when you’re involved. 

You click your tongue, as if to solidify that his silence proves your point, or maybe you know what he can't bring himself to say and you just don't believe him. His stomach churns again, and dread spreads through chest when you say: “If I’m so smart, and I was going to figure it out anyway, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“You would have left.” Dazai is finally able to speak, but he speaks the wrong answer, clearly, from the way you let out another humorless, breathless laugh, eyes wide in disbelief. You look at him like he’s the most audacious man in the entire world. Maybe he is.

“Yeah, I would have,” you agree and Dazai flinches. “Without hesitation, without even looking back. And now, I can’t because you made me fall in love with you without even warning me about what I was getting myself into.”

Dazai’s heart should be leaping through the roof at your confession, but if anything, he feels even worse. His throat feels clogged and his chest feels so heavy. You’ve never regretted falling in love with him before. Not in any lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, because he doesn’t know what else to say. The words are still foreign on his tongue, he doesn’t think he’s ever apologized to someone in this life before the last twenty-four hours.

“No, you’re not,” you say bitterly, looking away. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to care so much about you that when you finally tell me who you are and what you do, I won’t be able to leave.”

Dazai stares at you, lost. He remembers how just the other day he was finding comfort in the way you could read him so easily, knowing he didn’t have to speak for you to know what he needed at the moment. He thinks he hates it now, because you’re finally reading deeper into his soul and seeing him for the sick, twisted monster he really is. Just like he feared from day one. Manipulative. Selfish. Undeserving. His fingers tremble in his pockets, nails biting into his palm so deep that he can feel blood trickling down his skin, but not even the stinging pain can distract him from the numbness spreading through him. 

“I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what?” you interrupt him. “You didn’t think I’d be upset? You didn’t think I’d be angry? Or maybe you didn’t think it would happen this soon? Is that it, Dazai? You thought you’d have more time to win me over in hopes that I’d take the news in stride. News flash, Dazai, no amount of time or charm would have made me accept this easily. Accept you easily. How could I ever accept any of this?”

Nausea rises to his throat so suddenly that he almost gags. He feels dizzy, taking a step back so that his back is against the wall, keeping him steady. Your last words echo through his head over and over again, he can’t escape them. The one person who’s always accepted him in every lifetime, the only person he was ever able to find a home in—how could I ever accept you? 

His cheeks feel wet, his eyes are wide as he stares at you. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. He doesn’t even think he could if he knew how to respond to that. His lungs are burning and his throat feels so swollen that even just the thought of trying to speak is painful. 

You let out a sharp breath, caught between a hysterical laugh and a sob as you press your hands to either side of your neck and pace across the kitchen. “What am I supposed to do, Dazai?” you ask, voice hoarse. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

He thinks it might be a rhetorical question, but he still forces out: “Don’t leave me.”

You scoff again, louder and harsher this time. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as if to futilely minimize the blow. “I wish leaving you was still an option for me.”

Oh. He’s going to throw up. 

He wants to blame it on the alcohol he drank earlier in the night. He wants to blame it on the stress of the past few weeks. He wants to blame it on anything but this, even though he knows damn well that this conversation is what triggered the bile that rises to his throat. He forces himself to move, nearly tripping over his feet to get to the bathroom because he doesn’t want you to see him vomiting up his guts.

He hardly makes it to the toilet, crashing to his knees and clutching at the seat as he dry heaves. Nothing comes up—he hasn’t eaten enough the past few days to have anything solid in him, too busy with preparations—but he can’t stop gagging, eyes stinging with tears and throat burning. He doesn’t know how long he stays crumpled at the toilet, losing track of time entirely, a part of him just wants to stay there forever so he doesn’t have to go back out and face you. 

Evidently, he doesn’t have to go back out and face you because you come to him. 

He’s gagging again when he feels your hand brush his back, hesitantly at first and then firmly. Your touch is warm, and Dazai thinks he must look pathetic as he turns his head to the side to look at you. Your expression isn’t as harsh now, your eyes are still conflicted but your face is softer. After a moment, you take a seat on the floor next to him—you don’t say anything, but you let out a soft puff of air as you slip your arm around his shoulders once he stops heaving. 

He crumbles into your chest, body collapsing against yours. You wrap your arms around him, and at once, the numbness starts to fade away. His fingers clutch at your dress desperately, afraid that you’re going to disappear, but you only hold him tighter. You bury your face in his hair, forehead pressed to the top of his head.

“You’re so unfair, Osamu.” Your voice cracks, you’ve lost all of your fire, but Dazai finds no solace in it.

“I know,” he croaks out, throat scratchy and voice wavering. “I know.”

And then words are spilling from his lips before he can stop them, jumbled and hardly intelligible and he’s not even sure that you’re understanding what he’s saying but he can’t stop himself: “I tried. I tried to stay away, I tried so hard, you don’t understand. I knew it would turn out like this, I knew I would ruin you so I tried to stay away, but I’m selfish. I’m so selfish, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I knew better, I’m going to-you’re going to-”

The panic is returning, the words he wants to say but can’t push out are too damning: I’m going to get you killed. You’re going to die because of me. Dazai is breathing but the air isn’t getting to his lungs, his chest burns, and now even with your arms around him, the numbness is returning. It’s rapid now, spreading from his chest to his arms, down his abdomen to his legs; it’s going to consume him entirely, he can feel it, he can-

Oh.

Your lips press to his. Tilting his head back to angle his face up toward you, you lean down and press your lips against his, swallowing his words, his air, his panic. One of your hands cup his cheek while the other cradles the back of his head, Dazai can hardly kiss you back, his lips feel cold and prickly, but his eyes flutter shut as your lips move slowly and carefully against his.

Not for the first time, he thinks that he doesn’t deserve this. Especially not now. He tastes something wet and salty against his lips—he doesn’t know if you’re the one crying, or if he is, and he doesn’t want to know, so he forces himself to move. His arm feels heavy and clunky, and his fingers feel stiff, but he’s able to bring them up to your face, palms cupping your cheeks as the tips of his fingers tangle into your hair. He kisses you until his lungs are screaming for air, and even as he starts to feel lightheaded, he kisses you still, because your lips are the only thing able to push away the numbness overwhelming him. 

When you break away from him, you keep your foreheads pressed together, nose nudging against his. You share the same thin sliver of air and Dazai feels dizzy, he wants to kiss you again but he doesn’t think he’s capable of moving yet, so he only stays crumbled in your arms, waiting for you to grace him with your lips again. 

“I wish I still had the chance to be a better man,” Dazai says hoarsely, honestly, gaze searching yours desperately. “I would be. For you.”

Please believe me, he thinks to himself helplessly, because it’s the truth. He would try to be. For your sake. He might fail, he might be too far gone, his soul corrupted beyond salvation and his blood black beyond purification, but he would try. He would try so hard for you. But he can’t, not in this lifetime, not without risking everything he’s strove to protect since coming in contact with the Book. He has to stay the criminal, the monster, the demon so that you and Odasaku can live out your lives here. Until Dostoevsky, Christie, and any other person that could turn out to be a threat to either of you are killed, Dazai has to keep playing this role. He has to. 

You don’t respond. Dazai thinks it’s because you don’t believe him and it makes him feel sick again. His lips part to repeat himself but you only press yours against his, as if to silence him. 

You don’t believe him, the kiss confirms it, and his heart sinks but he can’t even bring himself to protest, to insist that it’s true. Instead, he decides if he can’t prove it through his words, he’ll prove it through his actions. Even though his limbs still feel leaden and clumsy, he forces himself into a better position, sitting up a bit more and bringing both of his hands up to cup your cheeks. He tilts your head back, leaning into you and slowly pressing you back against the floor and distantly Dazai recognizes that this is not the place for this but the thought is only fleeting, he’s too lost in the feeling of your lips against his and your body pressed to him.

And you let him ease you back against the floor. You let him tilt your head back and when his tongue darts out to swipe against your bottom lip, you part your lips for him. He doesn’t have to knock your knees apart, because you spread them just enough for him to slot his hips between them to keep your bodies flush. He wonders if you can feel how clunky his movements are—his fingers still feel heavy against your face and he can hardly hold himself up above you. He hopes he’s not crushing you with his weight, he might be, but you don’t seem to care. 

He pulls back to ask if you’re okay with this but you chase his lips and he lets out a soft, muffled noise when you tug gently at his bottom lip and bring your free hand up to cup the back of his head, fingers tangling with his hair, pulling him back down to you. You drag your lips from his to slide them down his neck to the edge of his bandages. He twitches a bit at the feeling, wondering if you’re going to ask to take them off, but instead, you just trail your lips back upward, nipping at his jaw, and he shudders.

And then he finally hesitates, pulling away and not letting you chase after this time. He weighs his options in his head anxiously. He feels like he should do something, that he owes something—a lowering of a mask, a show of vulnerability, you’re entitled to at least that much after everything he’s done. Aren't you?

You give him a curious look and he tries to respond—he does, his lips part for him to speak but nothing leaves them. He swallows thickly, eyes fluttering shut as he braces himself before trying again, bringing one of his hands to yours and wrapping his fingers around it gently, lifting it from his chest to the bandages covering the left side of his face.

“Take them off,” he tells you, voice hoarse and shakier than he would have liked.

Your eyes widen, and he shudders a bit when your fingers smooth against the bandages, uncertain. “Are you sure?” you ask him softly, bringing your other hand to his opposite cheek, cupping his face in your hands again, eyes searching to make sure he means it.

Is he sure? Dazai doesn’t know. He can’t speak again as he stares down at you; a part of him is nervous, and he doesn’t even understand why. You already know who he is, what he is, but a part of him still fears that once you actually see him, something will change. And it’s ridiculous, so many other universes you’ve seen him without his bandages and you’ve never made him feel uncomfortable about it. But you’ve also never used his surname against him during an argument in the other universes, you’ve never regretted loving him, and you’ve certainly never wished you could leave him. 

So, yeah, he thinks the anxiety of you removing his bandages and then seeing him in a different light might be more of a possibility in this universe than any other one. His body is more covered in scars than not, and he knows it’s not attractive; he thinks if he sees your expression shift in a negative way when the bandages come off, it might shatter him entirely.

Just the face bandages then, he bargains with himself, swallowing thickly as he forces himself to nod. You sit up from where you’re still laying back against the tiles, propping yourself on your knees to shift closer to him. 

Dazai thinks his heart might be in his throat when he feels your fingers unclip the clasp holding the bandages together around the left side of his face, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly unwind them from around his head. He isn’t sure why he’s so nervous for this part—there are no scars on his face, but he still feels distinctly vulnerable, like he’s giving you a window into himself that might reveal more than he means to. He can barely breathe as he feels the last of the bandages fall to the floor, he can hear you push them to the side. 

Still, he keeps his eyes shut, counting each second that passes. He’s anxious, can’t even bring himself to look at you until you cup his cheeks again. 

“Look at me,” you say quietly.

Dazai does as you ask, he always does. He doesn’t know what he expects when he opens his eyes to meet your gaze; he prepares himself for the worst, for a twisted expression or thinly veiled pity, but he finds none of it. Rather, your eyes are soft and fond, tracing over his face, looking between each of his. He can feel the pads of your fingers gently brushing over his cheekbones, tracing absent patterns.

“You’re so handsome, Osamu,” you whisper, one of your hands sliding behind his head, intertwining with his hair. “Why do you wear them?” 

Dazai doesn’t know how to answer that. His throat feels swollen at your words, eyes a bit misty and fingers trembling against your thighs. Instead, he breathes out, “Kiss me.”

And you do. 

God, when you kiss him again, it’s so intense that it has his head spinning. He doesn’t know how long he sits there kissing you, back against the cabinets with you half in his lap. It could be a few seconds, or a few minutes, or a few hours—he has no concept of time whenever his lips are against yours. It’s only when you press your hand against his shoulder, murmuring for him to get up, that he finally pulls himself away from you.

Dazai forces himself to push up to his feet—it’s much more difficult than he thought it would be, nearly tripping over his own feet, but you follow him up to your feet, steadying him when he almost tumbles over. You bring your hand up to rest against his cheek, fingers gently toying with the edges of his hair. He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he forces himself to look you in the eye. 

“You’re so frustrating,” you say softly, but all of the fire is gone, replaced by that same soft look you’ve directed toward him—not him—hundreds of times before. “You are so frustrating, Osamu.”

His throat feels tight again, the sound of his name on your lips causing a wave of warmth to spread through him, the numbness slowly subsiding.

“I know,” he whispers, swallowing thickly, and you sigh, gaze averting to the side for a moment before you look back at him. He still can’t fathom what you might be thinking and it scares him.

But then you kiss him again, your other hand coming up to his other cheek and his hands fly to your waist, holding you close. You walk him backward, out of the bathroom and into the hallway. His back hits the wall and you press your body close to his, and this time it’s you whose tongue is darting out to brush his bottom lip, urging him to part his lips for you. He does, and he thinks he might be in heaven when he feels your tongue dip into his mouth, sliding against his tongue. His eyes flutter shut, rolling back just a bit when you trace the back of his teeth with your tongue before sucking gently on his bottom lip.

Your hands slide down from his face to his chest, over his jacket, down to his waist. Your fingers hook in his belt loops and Dazai groans as your lips ghost from his down to his jaw, breath shaky as trail slow, wet kisses to the sensitive spot behind his ear. He can hardly do anything but follow along as you guide him from where he’s been backed against the wall into his bedroom, dazed and entirely consumed by your touch. His head already feels a bit fuzzy, breath hitching as your teeth graze his pulse point, kissing down to the edge of his bandages and then across his throat.

He barely even knows where he is until he feels the back of his knees hit his bed and he topples backward until he’s laying flat on it. His chest is heaving, head dizzy and breath shaky as you straddle his waist. You don’t kiss him again and Dazai wants to drag you down for another but he can’t even bring himself to move. His body refuses to cooperate, nervous that he’s going to make the wrong move.

“Do you want this?” you finally ask after a moment, voice raspy as one of your hands squeeze his gently, as if to get his attention. 

Dazai’s brows furrow a bit, lips parting to respond but for a second, no words leave them. You wait with the patience of a saint as Dazai tries to process what you’re asking and respond to it. After what feels like an eternity, he nods once. Of course, he wants it. You search his eyes as if to make sure he’s not just agreeing to agree, and once you’re satisfied, you continue you with: 

“And do you trust me?” you ask softly, your gaze gentle as it searches his face for the next answer.

Dazai doesn’t hesitate this time, and he speaks as he breathes out, “With everything.”

He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but your expression is still soft and your touch is still gentle as you run your thumb over his knuckles. Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the gentleness you show him. You lift your hand to cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, throat spasming beneath his bandages as he waits for you to say something. 

“Let me take the lead then,” you say quietly, his eyes widen a bit at your words. “I want to try something.”

He watches you carefully for a moment, guarded and studying you. He thinks this might be another first, and the thought alone makes him feel a bit giddy because he can’t recall any other life where you’ve ever been the one to take the lead like this, especially the first time the two of you sleep together. You look a bit anxious the longer he goes without responding, so he nods and says, “Okay.”

He’s pliant beneath your touch as you lean down to press your lips against his; he lets out a soft, muffled noise when he feels your hips shift, unintentionally grinding down a bit on his straining cock. He’s more hesitant this time in the way his lips move against yours, unsure of what to do with himself. His fingers twitch from where they're resting on the bed, itching to grab your hips but not wanting to make the wrong move.

This has happened every time one of you tries to take the next step, either he gets interrupted or he ends up getting cold feet because he’s scared of doing the wrong thing and making you uncomfortable. And it’s ridiculous because Dazai has so many memories, he should know at least vaguely what you like and what you don’t like but he thinks having the memories are a double-edged sword because he overwhelms himself if what ifs: what if he assumes you like something and you end up not liking it in this universe, what if he does something that you only liked after the two of you have been together for a while and you’re uncomfortable with him doing it because you’re not as comfortable with him. Maybe Dazai is just overthinking it all but how can he not when you’re involved. He wants everything to be perfect for you. 

“Is this okay?” you whisper, separating your lips from his just enough for him to answer your question. Your breath mingles with his and Dazai can hardly think straight; it’s hot, dizzying, there’s something so intimate about it that it makes his body fuzzy.

“Yeah,” he says, eyelashes fluttering as he looks up at you. “It’s okay.”

You kiss him again. His lips move against yours desperately, needy, he’d be embarrassed if you weren’t matching his energy, but you are. He can feel your fingers tugging at his hair, your hips grinding down against his. Every time you start to pull away, he lifts his head from where it’s laying flush against the pillows, chasing your lips. 

He needs you. His hands slide from your thighs to your waist, keeping your body pressed to his. He’s needed you since the day he came in contact with the Book and learned about you, since the day he met you at the club, maybe even since the day he was born even if he hadn’t known it at the time. He thinks his entire life has led to this, to the two of you being together; your souls have been entangled since the moment you were born and he isn’t sure how he ever thought a life without you was possible. 

“I need you,” he gasps against your lips, hips jerking up just a bit to try to alleviate the pressure building in his lower abdomen, desperate to reach down and unbutton his slacks, but wanting you to make the first move.

Whatever nerves that have made him get cold feet all of the other times the two of you have tried to take the next stop are long gone. You don’t give him any time to wonder if he’s doing the wrong thing—the fingers of one of your hands intertwining with his dark locks, just tight enough to make him hiss into your mouth, eyes rolling back at the pleasant sting. Your other hand slides across his chest, even through his dress shirt, your fingertips seem to scorch through to his skin, leaving his body tingling everywhere you touch.

“You have me,” you tell him, breathless, and Dazai can’t bite back the noise that slips from his lips, wanton and obscene, borderline pornographic—if he was any more coherent, he might be embarrassed but he can’t find it in him. Not when he’s finally getting what he’s wanted after all of this time. 

His hands fly down to his slacks, he fumbles with the button and zipper before yanking them down just enough to free his cock and he watches as you sit back on his thighs, eyes wide and lips parted as your gaze focuses in on his cock, watching as the leaking precum dribbles down his length, alongside the vein running along the underside of his cock. 

“Please,” he breathes out, fingers biting into your thighs as he bunches your dress up to your hips, another low moan spilling from his lips just at the thought of what’s about to happen, lashes fluttering.

You don’t even take off your panties, clearly driven by the same desperation that he is as you slide them to the side and position yourself above his cock and Dazai gnaws at his bottom lip when he feels the tip pressing against your entrance. He can feel how wet you are already, so drenched that your slick is dripping down the length of his cock. His hips stutter up instinctively, but instead of pushing inside, his cock slides between your folds and he whimpers, arm flying to cover the lower half of his face. You don’t let him, fingers wrapping around his wrist to pull his arm from his face and pin it to the mattress above him.

“Don’t hide yourself,” you say softly.

Dazai thinks there must be stars in his eyes as he looks up at you. You’re so beautiful, lips parted as you pant softly, an adoring expression on your face as you look down at him. He loves you. He loves you, god, he loves you more than he’s ever loved anything in his life; he thinks that nothing the other Dazais ever felt for any of the other yous could ever compare to how he feels for you.

When his tip starts to push into your tight hole, all he can let out is another loud, lewd noise; his head falls back against the pillows. His ears are ringing, but distantly, he can hear you gasp. His vision is blurry as he forces himself to look up at you but Dazai thinks you look otherworldly with your head tilted back as his cock starts to stretch you out, lips swollen and wet from the kisses you’d shared. He thinks he must look insane, pupils blown wide and eyes wild as he tries to focus on the sight of you. All of the clever wheels that usually turn within his mind are crumbling.

His fingertips leave crescents in your thighs as you sink down on his cock slowly—too slow, it leaves his head dizzy as your warmth slowly envelops his length. He’s imagined this so many times before. Dozens. Hundreds. He has so many memories of the feeling of your body flush to his, thighs over his shoulders as he fucks you deep and slow, swallowing your moans, but he thinks that nothing compares to this, the sight of you above him, watching your body tremble and face shift as his cock stretches you out. He barely refrains from letting out a string of strangled curses, barely able to hold his eyes open to watch you. 

You give yourself a moment to adjust, and when you do, you look down at Dazai. He thinks he must look a mess—chest heaving, breath erratic, eyes heavy and lidded and entirely glazed over—but he doesn’t care, not with the way your hand slides up his abdomen, fingers tracing patterns along the bandages covering his body. You look beautiful—you always look beautiful—but you look extra beautiful right now, and he thinks he could stare at you forever and never tire of it. 

Experimentally, you roll your hips—it’s still slow, agonizingly slow—and Dazai throws his head back, another obscene moan spilling from  his lips.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his fingers falling from your thighs to twist the sheets below him, knuckles white. “Feels so good. So good.”

You let out a hum that’s caught between a moan and agreement as you continue the slow rolls of your hips, hands sliding up and down his abdomen in a way that’s deceptively innocent and soothing compared to how his cock is dragging along your walls. His body shudders at the feeling of it, heat pooling in his abdomen so quickly that it has his whole body tensing as he tries to push it away. 

“You’re so perfect.” Words spill from his lips, more of a babble than anything else as you lean down to ghost your lips over his jaw, nibbling over the bandages covering his Adam’s apple. It bobs beneath your teeth as he lets out another shaky noise. “S’like you’re made for me. I’d do anything for you. Anything. You know that, right? Anything you want, it’s yours.”

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, clawing at the sheets and occasionally reaching for your thighs, and he doesn’t know what to do with his body, hips jerking up at an erratic pace, like he’s trying to meet your pace but his body simply can’t match the slow rolls of your hips, desperate for more. He doesn’t know how you’re so put together—maybe you’re not, he can see through a blurry vision how your lashes are fluttering with each roll of your hips, breath shaky, but you’re just not as far gone as he already is.

“Anything?” you murmur, and he can feel your lips curve up against his neck.

“Anything.” His breath hitches, fingers reaching for your hips as he rocks his up into you, a desperate attempt to get you to pick up the pace. “‘d give you the whole world, burn it for you, anything you want, I’d give it to you.”

His hands slide up from your thighs to your waist as you lean down to press your lips against his in a deceptively innocent kiss. He tries to chase your lips as you straighten up but you don’t let him, one of your hands curling around his throat—not choking him, but firm enough that it goes right to his cock, lips parting in a silent moan—while the other braces back on his thigh.

He thinks that nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of you picking up the pace. His breath hitches, he chokes over a moan, stars sparkle in his vision as the tip of his cock presses deep inside of you. You sigh out his name and Dazai thinks this might be the closest he ever gets to heaven: you on top of him, cock buried to the hilt in your cunt, the sight of your blissed out face above him as his head spins. 

“Oh, fuck,” Dazai cries out, back arching and hand flying to cover his face again but the hand you have on his thigh flies forward to snatch his wrist before he can, pinning it back above his head. Dazai’s eyes roll back, you’re leaning over him entirely now, leaning most of your weight on the hand that’s pinning his wrist but the new angle adds pressure onto how you’re squeezing his neck, paring his airways just enough to make his lungs burn. “More. Faster, fuck, I-ah-”

His voice falls off into another moan, head falling to the side to press his cheek against the pillow. He thinks drool is starting to pool at the corner of his lips but he doesn’t care, he can’t even think at this point, too lost in the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock fucking deep in your cunt, your soft moans and gasps, lost in the feeling of your tight walls clamping down on his cock, the warmth, the wetness, your fingers digging into his wrist and the sides of his neck. He wants to tell you that he needs more but the words are garbled, entirely unintelligible. 

He forces his eyes back open, feeling the tears spilling over his cheeks just from the intensity of it all, the intensity of you. You’re gentle with him even when your hand is wrapped around his throat and his cock is splitting you open—he can feel the soothing circles you rub with your thumb, he can see the way you’re searching his face to make sure he’s okay. Dazai is just so overwhelmed that he can’t stop the way his next moan breaks into a sob; acutely realizing just how deprived he’d been of any type of care or love before meeting you, and forcibly coming to terms with the fact that he is never going to be able to go without this again, without you again. He’d known it to some extent before this, the thought of losing you and the light you bring him has made his stomach churn violently but this…

He’s torn from his thoughts when you suddenly stop the rolls of your hips, halting the spreading heat in his lower abdomen desperately. The noise that escapes him is something caught between distress and betrayal, dark eyes wide as he looks up at you questioningly, but the expression on your face makes his breath catch. Your hand slides up from his throat to cup his cheek, your other hand releasing his wrist so that you can hold his face between your hands, thumbs wiping away the tears spilling over his cheeks.

Distantly, Dazai recognizes that he’s still choking over sobs and that’s probably why you’ve stopped and that only rips his chest apart more because of course, you’re still putting him above you—even when you’re mad, even when you’ve just fought, when he’s betrayed you in a way that should be unforgivable, you’re still kissing away his tears and putting aside your own needs to take care of him

He doesn’t deserve you. Not in any universe, but especially not in this one.

He thinks he could stay here for eternity. Fuck the rest of the world. Fuck the Port Mafia. Fuck his plan. He just wants to stay here with you, your lips brushing his, sharing the same sliver of air. He leans into your touch, groaning against your lips when he feels your walls spasm around him.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes out, unsure if you can even understand him. “You’re so-”

His words fall off into another moan, and he can’t control his hips as they thrust up sharply against yours, another string of incoherent curses escaping his hips as your breath catches and you straighten back up, head falling back as you gasp his name.

Your nails dig crescents into his upper thighs through his bandages as you brace yourself back against them. You move your hips again—faster, this time, harder, and Dazai thinks his head is in the clouds. He’s so deep inside of you that he can feel everything, jaw falling slack as heat spreads through his body too rapidly for him to get control over. He wants to throw a hand over his mouth to muffle the lewd, pitched moans spilling from his lips but he can’t drag his hands from where they’re clawing at your hips, desperately trying to help you meet him with each thrust.

“I-hah-shit, I’m gonna-fuck-”

He slurs out your name and several obscenities, trying to warn you that he’s going to cum when he feels his cock twitching inside of you and his abdomen tensing, but you only lean down to press a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips and Dazai is gone. He wants to watch you, he tries, but he can’t hold his eyes open, they’re half-rolled back as he chokes over moans of your name, hips stilling as he cums deep inside of you. His body twitches, expression twisted as he presses his head so hard into the pillow that he thinks he might permanently indent it. 

His head is spinning, lungs burning, sweat beading at his forehead and hair matted to his face—he thinks he’s never cum so hard in his entire life; all of the nights he spent alone, desperately trying to fuck his hand to the thought of you in attempts to mimic how you’ve made all the other Dazais feel, to give himself some semblance of the pleasure you’ve brought him in other lives to hold him over on particularly lonely nights, they’ve never felt like this.

You don’t stop, even as he squirms and lets out jumbled pleas beneath you, body shuddering at the overstimulation but you’re too lost in chasing your own high now. He spasms beneath you, nails digging into your thigh as you fuck his cum deeper inside of you, bouncing on his cock desperately. He doesn’t care that the sensitivity is pushing his body to the brink, letting you use him however you want if it means he gets to see you like this. 

Dazai’s head feels light, pins and needles pricking his body—he thinks he might pass out but he forces himself to hold on, enraptured by the sight of you on top of him with your eyes half-rolled back, lips parted and throat bared to him. Your tits are half-spilling out over the low-cut of your dress and Dazai thinks you’re fucking divine. The only holy thing in this godless world. He wants to spend the rest of his life worshiping you.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, head falling backward as one final roll of your hips that has your clit grinding against his pelvic bone sends you spiraling over the edge. 

Dazai wants to sear the image of you behind his eyelids, watching as your nails drag against his thighs, drawing red lines even through the bandages, back arching, head tossed back—your body is trembling violently as you cum on his cock, expression twisted and entirely blissed out, sobbing over his name. He chokes and gasps at the feeling of your cunt tightening around his sensitive cock again, jaw tight and spots dancing in his vision as he’s so abruptly pushed over the edge a second time, the coil in his abdomen tightening and snapping all within the span of a few seconds.

He’s still reeling when he feels you slump forward onto his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck, shivering in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He’s only half aware as he instinctively brings his hands up to rest on your hips, rubbing soft circles of your hip bones to try to soothe you. 

He shudders when you press a kiss to his neck right at the edge of his bandages, and then tilt your head up to press another on his jaw. One of your hands comes up to caress the back of his head, fingers carding through the dark locks in a way that has his eyes drooping shut. 

“We’re not done with this conversation,” you finally say after a few moments of silence, voice soft, breaking the silence. Dazai stiffens a bit, lips parting to respond but no words leave them. “... but let’s just lay like this for a while first, okay?”

He lets out a shaky breath, still not entirely convinced that he’s not going to lose you, so he lets his eyes flutter shut as he nods. He may as well bask in this for as long as he can, and if you notice the way his fingers dig just a little deeper into your skin after your words process, you don’t mention it. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “okay.”

Dazai wakes up the next morning and you’re nowhere to be seen. The bed is frighteningly cold next to him and his heart is instantly in his throat. He doesn’t waste a second before he’s sitting up in bed, looking around, eyes wild and heart racing. He doesn’t settle down, not until his eyes fall upon where you’re sitting curled up on the chair of the desk he never uses, eyes trained on the dark clouds outside the window, the beauty of the sunrise wilted by a morning storm.

“His intention was to make me leave you.” You’re not looking at him, but you must have heard him sit up. “Fyodor Dostoevsky. The things he told me, they were to make me leave you.”

Dazai doesn’t move an inch, throat swelling. He forces himself to ask, “What did he tell you?”

He isn’t sure if he wants to know.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say—Dazai thinks that it definitely does, but he bites back the questions that rise to his tongue because you’re clearly not about to budge on your answer. “Who is he?”

“A monster,” Dazai bites out, bitterness seeping into his tone as he leans back against the headboard, eyes still trained on where you’re curled on his chair, gaze distant. “You have to stay away from him.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on seeking him out,” you say it so dryly that Dazai nearly finds humor in it. Nearly. The smile that rises to his lips is mirthless at best. You turn to look at him, finally, and Dazai finds only cool indifference on your face; the fondness, the softness, the gentleness from last night are all gone. He wonders if you regret it, but he doesn’t let that thought linger, it’ll only make him sick. “... He doesn’t seem like the type to give up.”

“He never is,” Dazai murmurs, ignoring the brief, questioning look you direct toward him, mind drifting off to all of the Russian’s incessant attempts to take you from him in all of the other universes. “Did he tell you what his plan was?”

Dazai doubts it, but maybe there was something he said to you that shed some light to it.

“He didn’t have to,” you say quietly. “He wants Yokohama, for whatever reason—couldn’t figure that out, I think he’s looking for something—and clearly, he has to get through you to get it. He thinks the best way of getting through you is by taking me away from you first. That’s what I’d gathered from how he was talking at least, what he was saying about you, the way he was phrasing it. I’d put together enough on my own during the night to fill in the blanks. He told me things about what you’d done as… what you’d done as boss of the Port Mafia—things you’ve done to enemies… to allies. He told me that I’d see the real you as soon as you realize that the meeting he set up was a farce; that the mask you put up would crumble and I would see you for the demon that you are.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, jaw tight as he averts his gaze to the window—he’d played right into Dostoevsky’s hands. He can hardly bring himself to look at you; he wonders if you do see him differently now that the cloud from the night before has worn off, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Now’s not the time anyway, there are more pressing matters.

“... He’ll come after me again, won’t he?” you ask quietly. “Getting me to leave you willingly didn’t work. If he’s so set on me being the trigger to your downfall, then he’ll come after me again.”

He would. As he always has. Of course, Dostoevsky would try to get to him through you, he’s tried it in every universe, and Dazai hadn’t been careful enough. He hadn’t been smart enough. He’d known this was going to happen and was still arrogant enough to believe he could somehow prevent it. He was a fool, and he was a fool at the cost of your safety. He doesn’t know how to respond to you, he doesn’t want to confirm your suspicions, he doesn’t want to admit that this is all his fault, that he knew this would happen and was selfish enough to pursue you anyway.

“... I’m scared, Osamu,” you finally say quietly, and you suddenly look a lot smaller from where you’re sitting on his desk chair, hunched over with your knees tucked to your chest. “I’m really scared.”

Dazai’s heart claws up to his throat and he pushes himself out of bed, still dressed haphazardly in his suit from the night before. He makes his way over to you and kneels in front of you, hands curling around your ankles as he looks up at you.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he tells you, voice a bit more raspier than he intended for it to come across as. “I don’t care what I have to do to ensure it, how low I have to stoop. I will not let anything happen to you, do you understand?”

Your eyes meet his, and he can’t help but notice that doubt still riddles your gaze as you search his face, as if you want to believe him but can’t bring yourself to. A pit starts to grow in his stomach, wide and gaping as he realizes that this is all really about to happen, and one mistake on his part could lead you to the same fate you’ve met in so many other worlds because of him.

Finally, the doubt slowly clears as you let out a soft breath, nodding, and Dazai inhales sharply, laying his forehead against your shin as he lets his eyes slide shut.

He won’t let it happen. Not again. 

again there was NO plot development in the smut - you guys didn't miss out on anything, pinky swear. i restructured the scene to fit the only notable scene (bandage removal) into the part before the smut, so if that felt a little forced, that was why </3 it wasn't supposed to be there. i was struggling trying to figure out how to move it upward a bit. the only arguable "plot" development was dazai letting go of his control freakiness to let her take the lead

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 7.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 1.2k

—chapter content/warnings: not much here!!, cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, subtle flirting (in san's and oc's terms lmfao)

—a/n: hi! just a friendly lil reminder that these half chapters are random scenes/bits that couldn't really fit into a chapter or stand-alone as one. they're mostly in the past and will not always follow the exact timeline of the previous or upcoming chapter!

San booked off most of his day to help Christopher with this symposium. Well, actually, most of the group has [minus a select few others] in order to make room for the quick tech rehearsal and run through before its official start time in the next half hour or so. The staff is now bringing in the fruit, cheese and other pastries, along with coffee, tea and juice— setting them outside of the conference room on a long table. The symposium is supposed to be 5 hours, being that everyone keeps to their 20-min presentation + 10-min Q&A times. San is off to the side speaking with Jongho and Chris, while Mingi and Zara are fiddling with the AV system to test their own presentations for the final time. Even though this is the one time most of their schedules worked, Yeosang had to skip out due to heading overseas for a conference. As San sips on his coffee, Yunho and Iseul walk in alongside of Namjoon. Per usual, he keeps greetings to a bare minimum:

AKA, a very subtle smile and nod to both. One that Yunho reciprocates, one that Iseul doesn't like to acknowledge.

But, whatever.

"Did you guys tell your labs about this?" Chris nervously wipes his hands on his dress pants, nervous about how his first symposium is gonna turn out.

"Dude." Jongho laughs and pokes fun at him. "Relax."

"I bragged about it way too much, I don't even know if people wanna come anymore." San teases, making Chris shake him by the shoulders. "Relax! They'll come!"

"What if no one shows up? We'll be giving presentations to each other—" Chris laughs, but a few people start trickling into the conference room; providing him with a sense of relief. "Oh, thank god." The three start giving small nods to the students and other faculty dipping in, greeting them just as they set their things down and grab some food.

"Can't believe you actually thought people wouldn't come. Think you might need extra chairs." San points out as more people flood in.

"Shit, I did it." Chris beams from ear to ear, shifting his attention to two more familiar faces. "Oh! Hey Y/N, Jiung!" He says as the two of you walk towards their group, giving them very curt bows.

"Hi." You smile at all, especially San. He bites onto his straw, trying his hardest to hold back his smile.

"Thanks for coming."

"Of course! Got a good lineup, excited to hear all the presentations!" Jiung tugs on his backpack straps.

"In that case, send me a full report on it tomorrow." Jongho jokes, making Jiung playfully roll his eyes.

"Do you see how he treats me?" Chris and Jongho laugh.

"Nah, he's been talking a lot about the work you've been doing and how you're probably the best person to help get the rig together for our optical electrophysiology project."

"Aw, really?" Jiung looks at Jongho. "You mean it?" Jiung has stars in his eyes and Jongho can't help but deny the allegations. He has said it time and time again; Jiung is definitely doing great work and Jongho doesn't want him to go anywhere. If he could keep him for good, he would. He hopes he can.

He'd just never say it out loud cause he's like that.

"Hey now." He shakes his head. "I never said anything, I don't know what he's talking about." 

"We have a few minutes actually, let's talk about that real quick and follow up in another meeting later on." Chris looks at you. "Sorry to have to pull him away from you, Y/N. Professor Choi #2 can keep you company?"

"All good." 

"Be back." Jiung looks at you. "I'll save us those chairs." He points towards two end spots near the middle section. You awkwardly watch as Chris, Jongho and Jiung approach another professor to talk about said project, leaving you with San. 

"Hi." He says shyly. You've never seen him this way, and he's too fucking cute, too fucking charming. It makes you replay the dinner events in your head, only pushing your curiosity of what he'd be like if you two were completely alone. 

"Hi. Is that your nervous face poking out? Are you nervous?" You tease a bit.

"Me?" He playfully scoffs. "No. Dinner was more nerve-racking than this."

"What, why?" You giggle.

"Because it's you. I have to be extra careful with you, remember?"

"Right." You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, heat rising to your cheeks as your eyes glaze over his figure; he's dressed nicely in a white button up, tie and grey vest. They're all dressed nicely for the occasion, but it's definitely an extra weakness for you seeing San like this. 

"You're cute." He mutters as he bites his straw again and takes a sip of his iced coffee, eyes looking around the room to make his flirting not so obvious. And it isn't, except Yunho has been watching from the side while he waits for Iseul to finish up working through some presentation issues with IT. He didn't mean to, but his eyes gradually glazed over to the two of you smiling and laughing.

He can't help it, but the interaction feels different. The only time he's ever seen San that shy and flustered is when he was courting Iseul. It almost feels like he's watching something unfold all over again. 

"All good!" Iseul says, knitting her brows together when Yunho seems to be preoccupied. "You okay?" She asks, Yunho finally returning his attention to her.

"Yeah, sorry. Was just people-watching." Iseul looks over, eyes also falling on San but she doesn't necessarily get a chance to think much about it before Yunho is chiming in again. "Let's go grab some food before it starts." He laces his hand with hers and leads her to the end, front row seats.

Meanwhile, you've been too busy keeping your attention on San to care about everyone else. You're so tempted to nudge him, be a little affectionate with him. And it's taking everything in you to remind yourself who you are and where you are at.

"Stop it."

"Glad you actually made it, though."

"I told you I'd come."

"And I'm glad it wasn't just something you said to brush me off in the hallway." You laugh.

"No, never." Jiung wraps up his talk with the other professors, his eyes meeting yours with a small nod towards the seats he sat his bag down at. "Well, guess they're done. I'll see you later? Goodluck on your talk, Professor Choi." He smiles toothlessly at you.

"Thank you, Y/N." He watches as you walk off and meet Jiung, plopping down onto the seat as he debriefs you on his impromptu meeting. 

"Hm." Jongho hums and clears his throat, slowly walking over to his bestfriend while sipping his coffee.

"Yes?"

"Nothing." Jongho squints his eyes at him, a small chuckle leaving his lips. "Productive conversations going around, I see."

"Mhm." San chuckles, knowing exactly what Jongho's hinting at.

"Hey!" Zara comes over with a bright smile on her face. "We saved you some seats." She points at the front row on the left side, waving them over. "Come." 

"Sweet, thanks." Jongho leads the way while Zara tucks her hair behind her ear and walks alongside of San.

"Ready?" San shrugs as he looks at her.

"As can be."

"I'm sure it'll be great like always." He smiles.

"Thanks." He lets her slip into the seat next to Jongho before sliding into the end seat, eyes quickly glancing over at you before he gets situated and switches modes for the symposium.

Though, you are incredibly distracting, and he can only hope he can get you alone sometime soon just to show you exactly how he feels.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thespiffynerd @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny

[buckgettingstruck]

here to ask about the camera panning to eddie. give me the freak answer pls

when i saw that shit airing i yelled and spilled wine on my carpet.

like. i feel like this is common sense but i dont know if people realize how intentional each second of a show/movie is. like whether the show is a silly sitcom or a serious drama everything is so intentional and purposeful. of course theres always continuity errors and mistakes that happen when you’re creating a show of that size thats been running for so long but for the most part everything has its intentions. its why you see certain themes come back again and again. im not gonna get into outfit meta or anything like that because its not really my wheelhouse but i did learn a lot about camera techniques and im a writer so. yeah.

shots are one of the most important aspects of a movie or a tv show. they set the mood. close up shots convey intensity and emotion while more wide shots establish a scene etc. they gave us a lot of close up shots of eddie’s face in the kim and eddie scene at the end of 7x09 because it was an intense moment for eddie as a character for example. you have to get the shot right to convey what you want your audience to see yknow.

so. you have the medal ceremony. they couldve done the announcements for these people in literally any order because they fucking wrote the script. they didnt do it alphabetically or anything normal they literally had the trio of triangulated desire standing in the back with buck in the middle AGAIN while chim and hen were being normal and serving cunt up front. and when they were sitting they had buck in the middle again because reasons. then once they got their medals itd pan to their families and significant others clapping. ofc for tommy they pan to buck because thats the person there supporting him. for BUCK they had so many options. they had bobby, his captain that he verbally said was his father figure the next episode, they had maddie, his fucking SISTER AND THE WOMAN WHO RAISED HIM, and they had tommy, the dude he’s dating. instead they pan to eddie.

literally that is the absolute LOUDEST fucking thing the show has done so far in my opinion. they panned to buck for tommy!!! they couldve panned back to buck or done it in a different order if they didnt wanna repeat so they could pan to them for each other!!! but they panned to eddie and the director of photography was even emphasizing that choice on twitter.

the entire bi arc had eddie written all over it. they had so many opportunities to shove their relationship to the side and double down on their friendship but they didnt. instead we had buck tweaking at the gym where we have no idea who eddie was even talking to on that phone, eddie constantly mentioned by buck in a kiss scene with someone else, the line of all time ‘MY attention?’, eddie interrupting the date next episode, buck not even giving a FUCK about the date because he lied to eddie, the shit maddie said that episode about being confused about his feelings, eddie saying nothing is gonna change between them (which. thats a chekov’s gun if ive ever seen one), and all the entire shit with the bachelor party. not even mentioning the implications of the song choice for the karaoke scene that paralleled madney because we didnt get it in the episode. they couldve completely avoided all of that but they didnt and then when buck is dating someone else they dont pan to HIM being happy and supportive for buck, they pan to EDDIE. it feels as if its supposed to remind us what’s actually going on or another attempt to clue us in

also like right after they had the two who were dating acting as acquaintances. and had that guy also kinda put buck’s excitement down at said ceremony. and later in that episode had buck ditch plans with the guy he was dating to make sure eddie was okay. for reasons i guess. so buddie canon or theyre doing a real bad job at getting me to care about bucks actual man

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#39: The Love of My Life (1.04)

gif cred: @figmentof

Now for years, I’ve pretty much acted like ‘love of his life'/'love of her life’ are Richonne’s official pronouns. So many of us have been referring to Rick and Michonne as the love of each other's lives for ages. And to now have an in-show moment where that's expressed directly - Heavenly. 😇 And I’ll be gushing about it for forever.

This scene is a magnificently acted and heartrending knockout. 👏🏽 And it's especially powerful because it's in this moment that Michonne gets to be so vulnerably honest about her pain and what/who has been causing it recently 🥺...

So after a beautiful, quiet, and poignant exchange between Richonne, they again have one of those emotional lingering looks in each other's eyes, and then the building returns to rumbling.

Rick uses the building as a way to sorta put a halt to the vulnerability when he starts to get up and say, “We gotta get out of here. We’re running out of time.” As he stands up and puts his pants on, Michonne looks up at him and concretely says, “No.”

Then I always like the way Rick says, “Michonne.” One; cuz I just always love the way he says her name and two; Even tho it’s very true that the building is about to collapse, you can already hear in Rick’s voice that he knows he’s probably going to comply with whatever Michonne wants to do lol.

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Plus I was like sir, Michonne didn’t hesitate to throw y’all out of a moving helicopter during a raging storm so staying in a shaking building a while longer is nothing to her crazy self. And we love her for it. 🤭

Michonne says with certainty, “We need to decide what’s next right now.” Rick tries to make his case one more time by reminding her that “this place is going down” and once again you can hear in his voice that he knows he’s about to give in.

Michonne looks right in his eyes as she says, “Sit, Rick.” She knows this is how it has to be. And it’s true. The whole reason she yanked them out of that helicopter was because they needed neutral ground for their timeout. If they leave here it’ll only make it harder to talk things through and get Rick to not revert to thinking he needs to call the CRM. 

Michonne makes an executive decision for them when she says, “We’re not moving until we decide.” I like how serious she is about this because she knows what’s at stake. Like if they can’t figure it out in this conversation this could potentially end with them going their separate ways. So they need to give this the time it deserves and the building can wait.

Michonne again recalls her bestie Nat when she says, “Nat used to say ‘You got to know when to go’ It’s not time to go. Not until we know where we’re going.” I’m with it. 👌🏽 And I think the building is with it too the way it shakes and rattles after she says this. That building said 'that's right Rick, sit down, buddy.' #DirectQuoteFromTheBuilding.😁

And so Rick gets on board and sits back down on the bed, placing the PRB in between them. I love that even despite thinking it’s crazy to stay in here, Rick is willing to stay a little longer in this crumbling building for Michonne. 

gif cred: @nat111love

And then I love the framing of it when Richonne both look down at the PRB on the bed and then Rick looks out focused on the shaking building and Michonne looks up focused on her shaking husband.

As Rick then looks at her with teary eyes you can see so much of that suppressed pain within him slowly but surely bubbling up to the surface. Michonne again takes this approach of asking questions that help Rick get to the bottom of what he really wants and feels when she asks, “After I left here, why did you come after me?”

I love that this is what she wants to address first because Rick going after her was a clear sign that they are way too magnetically connected to actually let each other go.

gif cred: @figmentof

Rick says, “You know why.” And I love the way he says it. 🫦He knows she knows he loves her more than life itself. But then I just adore Michonne saying, “Say it. I need you to.” Yes.👏🏽  Danai’s writing said this miniseries is not gonna just vaguely infer and imply when it comes to expressing Richonne's feelings about each other. Very refreshing to see.

I love that Michonne wants Rick to say the reason aloud even tho of course she knows. There’s power in hearing the words both for her and for him to have to hear himself directly say aloud why he couldn’t let her leave.

gif cred: @nat111love

And because she needs to hear it, Rick so willingly tells her why, and without even trying to be as romantic as possible he manages to be as romantic as possible by giving his honest answer, “You’re the love of my life.” 😭

gif cred: @riickgrimes

PERFECTION. 🙌🏽 After witnessing Richonne's beautiful years-long journey, can we just pause and take another moment to appreciate that there is now a scene where Rick declares Michonne the love of his life. All we've ever done is won, y'all. 😭

Hearing Rick so sincerely tell Michonne that she’s the love of his life brings me copious amounts of joy. 🥹 Rick knows she's the one. Past, present, future - Michonne is the one for Rick. The one & only. 😌

Then he adds to the devastating beauty of it all when he says, “I couldn’t just let you go. It felt like my heart ripped - ripped itself out of my chest and walked out the door.” If you wanna talk about romance, baby, this is it right here. 😭😍🫠

gif cred: @msanonships

I love Danai for writing this and Andy for so powerfully performing it.  We feasted on every word and this gave such a shining example of why Richonne's story is an epic love story through and through. 👏🏽

After watching his panic when she left the apartment earlier, I love that Rick now describes it by saying it felt like his heart ripped out of his chest and left. By personifying his heart walking out the door he’s saying Michonne is his heart. She leaves, his heart leaves. 🥲

And again, Rick isn’t even trying to be romantic. This is just genuinely what is pouring out of his heart for her. It’s just his truths. And it’s beautiful that his love for her is still so overwhelmingly strong that he could never move on or let go of her. He couldn't let her go when she walked out of the apartment just like he couldn't let her go during their almost 8 years apart. 😭

gif cred: @nat111love

I also think about Rick and Michonne's first season 3 scene face to face at the prison when Rick walks away and tells Michonne, “Can’t let you leave.” Man has that been proven more true than he could have ever guessed.

gif cred: @figmentof

Michonne hears this and she knows she feels the exact same about the love of her life because when she walked out earlier it felt like her heart ripped itself out of her chest and stayed in the apartment. 🥺

Like we really saw how extremely difficult it was for both these magnets to even have a few moments of thinking they were walking away for good. 🧲💔

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

So she urges Rick, “Then come home with me. It’s that simple.” I love how Michonne’s mindset is so firmly rooted in her belief that she and Rick can go home and overcome anything that follows if they’re together.

No matter how complicated things appear, she believes the simple truth that together they’ll figure it out. And...

But Rick isn’t so sure of that when he says, “It’s not…it’s not that easy.” Again, after so many years refusing to entertain any other idea than that he’d be making it home to his girls, this is now a Rick who is beaten down by the fact that it really hasn’t been as easy as he hoped to make it home. 

I like how even tho Rick seems like he’s jumping out of his skin with all the emotions swirling inside of him right now, knowing he’s on the brink of being the most honest and vulnerable he’s been in years, he still gives Michonne his full attention.

Michonne takes another effective approach that is so signature to Richonne - which is leveling through vulnerability. She lets Rick know how the CRM hurt her, leading by example of how he too can open up about how the CRM hurt him. 

She says, “Listen to me, when this army attacked my friends, I got hit too. I nearly died.” Once again, it’s important for Rick to hear these things and be reminded that Michonne has been through a lot and so being apart from her doesn’t protect her nearly as much as being with her. Plus now he knows the CRM almost took her life which has got to shake him up.

gif cred: @clonecaptains

She explains how she was holed up in a mall with Nat for an entire year and then emotionally says, “They took a year from me, from my time with my kids.” Pain. 🥺😖

The way her eyes water up thinking about the valuable time she lost with her kids thanks to the CRM. You can tell that rips her up inside because every moment with her children is precious and the CRM stole countless moments. 

I feel like the flagship show wouldn’t have given Michonne an opportunity to share not only what the CRM did to her but how it pained her. And it’s another reason I am so grateful to Danai for writing this episode and truly acknowledging Michonne’s feelings.

Then Michonne confesses, “I lied to you. I don’t know how Judith is. I don’t know if she’s okay. She stopped answering the walkie.” The way her voice breaks as she for the first time in a long time has to admit to herself that she doesn’t actually know if Judith is alright. 🥺 I just...

She so badly only wanted to entertain the thought that her daughter is alive and well out there but here she’s vulnerable as she reveals she hasn’t been able to know for sure for quite some time.

Rick reacts to this as it hits him that because of the CRM, Judith had to be without both her parents for an extended amount of time. 

Then Michonne says, "They've taken so much from us. Why give them any more?" So true. Michonne handles so much so well in ep 4 in how she gets Rick to really come to necessary realizations.

Like when she shares with him what the CRM took from her (a year, her time with her kids, her chance to get to Rick sooner, nearly her life) it’s leveling through vulnerability to help him see they took things from her too and so she understands what they’re capable of taking from people. And it shows him how he can open up with her and share what they took from him.

Rick is squirmy over all this tho and so he starts to look away. But I love that Michonne takes his face in her hands and keeps him looking at her as she passionately says, “This hope that you have in the CRM, sacrificing yourself - it’s not real. We, your family, are real. I’m real.” Y'all, it’s physically impossible for me to not tear up over this right here. 😭 So superbly performed and so powerful. 👏🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

I love that she wants Rick to see that over the years he’s been fed a narrative that isn’t real. This type of sacrifice won't solve things for him just like it didn't solve things for Okafor either.

Like Okafor tried to act like sacrificing being with his wife was the right way but it clearly still broke something major inside him. And Okafor's viewpoint of living only for the greater good was a story he told himself and believed in to run from the darker reality that he had destroyed what made him human and what made life worth living when he 💣 his wife.

Fortunately, the love of Rick’s life is here to remind him of what is and isn’t real and what he should actually pursue which is his being with his family.

I love that she appeals to Rick as the Family Man he is at his core when she says "We, your family, are real." She's helping him see he has a whole family who loves him and wants and needs him with them. And Michonne wants Rick to see that being with them can be his reality the second he chooses it.

And then I especially love Michonne earnestly telling Rick "I’m real."

I think about Rick’s last full TWD episode and how he has this breathtakingly beautiful moment with an imagined Michonne (again, thank you to Danai for advocating for that scene 🙏🏽) and at the end of the hallucination, Rick says, “...But this isn’t real” and Michonne assures him “Yes it is” because their love is real in any dimension.

The real Michonne doesn’t even yet know about all the dreams and visions Rick has had of her, starting all the way back from his final ep in s9, but it makes it all the more fitting for her to now almost be reminding Rick he doesn’t have to dream anymore - She’s right here.

It is so beyond refreshing to now see Michonne really in front of Rick and again helping him see that she is real and their love is real. Always has been, and always will be.😌

I adore how she then says, “Our love. This? It doesn’t get denied.” 👏🏽I love the passion in that delivery and the way Michonne has this clear reverence for the power of their love. Me too.🙋🏽‍♀️

gif cred: @nat111love

Richonne's love is really and truly an unstoppable force and it can’t ever be denied so I love that Michonne knows that and verbalizes it to Rick here.

gif cred: @nat111love

She says their love can’t be denied, “No matter what you keep trying to tell me…” and when Rick again starts to look away she turns his face back to her, almost as this act of recentering him to look at what's real and important as she says, “Or yourself.” She’s speaking some gospel truths, as always. 🙌🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

After she witnessed his panic attack in bed, Michonne knows Rick is wrestling with something deep within himself and knows he's been trying to lie to not just her but to himself too. And honestly, the two are so one that lying to himself is lying to her, and lying to her is lying to himself. 

Michonne saying "or yourself" is her addressing that Rick keeps trying to convince himself of something that's untrue and trying to deny a love that simply cannot be stopped.

gif cred: @nat111love

And then y’all, this next part both breaks my heart and heals me because Michonne looks at him with tears in her eyes as she gets exceptionally vulnerable to tell Rick, “And this - this back and forth…it’s hurting me, Rick.” 😭

How are we supposed to watch this and not burst into tears? 🥺

gif cred: @nerd4music

First of all; it is meaningful beyond words that Michonne got to just outright express that she’s hurting. And specifically hurting from Rick’s behavior and back and forth.

As I’ve said before, it’s so fitting to address the hurtfulness of the back and forth because it’s not just the pulling away that’s painful. Like to have those moments where they’re so blissfully bonded and connected only for that Rick to continually disappear. It’s all hurtful. 😔

Rick was so one-track-minded in his desire to keep Michonne safe that he ended up being the one to cause her harm. And I love that she just told him straight up that what he was doing was hurting her and that that was the catalyst for him to finally be honest and vulnerable with her.

Michonne says, “It’s making me become someone I don’t recognize. You’re hurting me.” The vulnerability is so raw and authentic. 😢 This is a woman who knows she can be completely real and honest with her man, even when he’s in this state.

gif cred: @nerd4music

Rick hears this and you can see her words hit him like a ton of bricks as he looks down with a tear. He knew he was deliberately trying to hurt her, but I think having to be confronted by those actions directly and hear Michonne say it outright, it becomes real what he’s doing.

And you just know from his penitent expression that he’s immediately deeming it intolerable to continue hurting her.

gif cred: @nerd4music

I love that something as simple as saying "you’re hurting me" ends up being so powerful. Because Michonne could have tried to say it without saying it or just let it be the elephant in the room but instead she has the maturity to just call it what it is and say what you are doing is hurting me. And hearing it laid out plain and simple has an immediate impact on Rick.  

TOWL made it very clear that Michonne does not exist just to carry the weight of Rick’s emotions. Supporting and uplifting him is a beautiful thing that she does so happily, willingly, and well, but she is also a person who needs to be heard and held in this relationship.

All that back and forth Rick was doing, it was making her lose herself as she tried so hard to hold onto those flickers or her Rick while seeing the man she loves rapidly fade away at any given turn. Similar to how Rick saw Michonne burn away in his dreams, Michonne has been having to watch her Rick routinely try to burn himself away from her in real life.

She needed the deliberate hurtfulness, the continuous deflections, and the kiss-like-we’re-still-madly-in-love-but-then-act-like-everything-we-have-is-broken thing to stop. For her sake and his. For their sake. And hearing her outright say that he’s hurting her is enough for Rick to snap out of it and finally put down the wall with the one person who always gets all of him.

Michonne continues to look at him as she says with certainty, “And I know you. That is not how you love.” This dialogue man. 🫠 Elite. 👏🏽🔥

gif cred: @nerd4music

I love this line so much. After saying several times in this episode that she doesn’t know who Rick is anymore, I love that here she says with conviction that she does know him and she knows the way he loves and it’s not like this.

Rick has a giant heart and is a very loving person, which is a huge reason he’s so compelling and unique as an apocalypse protagonist, and I love how Michonne expressing this here shows that she loves how he loves.

That’s actually something I noted a lot throughout TOWL (especially in episode 5) which is I adore how Michonne loves the way Rick loves. Like he’s Loverboy 5000 and loves giving gifts and affection and warmth and Michonne is so wonderfully reciprocal and appreciative of all the love he has in his good kind heart. It’s great. 🥰

And because she knows and cherishes how Rick loves, she’s able to look at him in this moment and tell him that trying to hurt her like this is not him. This showing of love through lies and inflicting pain has been eating away at Rick, and so he knows this is not how he loves too. 

gif cred: @nerd4music

Before this episode aired, there was a lot of discussion and curiosity surrounding what would be the thing that gets Rick to officially snap out of his defeated state in TOWL. What would prompt his turning point?

And I appreciate more than I can even properly express that what it ended up being was Michonne expressing her hurt. That was it. 🥲That’s enough. That’s more than enough. 😭

gif cred: @figmentof

Rick hearing that he’s hurting his wife is what spurs him to finally go to the depths of everything he’s feeling and let it out because no matter how hard or scary it’ll be, he’ll do those hard things if it means no longer hurting his wife. That means so much to me. 🥲

Danai deserves several gardens worth of flowers for this alone. 👏🏽🔥Having the hurt and vulnerability of a character like this be voiced and validated is rarely seen in media, and so it was very meaningful and healing to witness depicted on screen - both witnessing Michonne getting to voice her hurt and for it to matter so much that it’s the very thing that gets Rick to finally make a change. 🥹

Truly, this scene had me looking at Danai like...

She really wrote something special with this scene and this whole episode.

And also I just so appreciate Richonne’s communication. Rick’s previous relationship severely lacked that as he and Lori went whole pregnancy terms not talking about their issues and not getting things off their chest.

I think about the season 3 premiere when Lori says they need to talk and when Rick asks about what she just vaguely says, “Things.” She was still trying to tiptoe and make Rick have to be the one to directly get the tough stuff out in the open. Which was pretty unfair to do to him, especially after he was already the one who had to initiate getting all the secrets out of her and Shane in season 2 since they had no intent of confessing about their betrayal until he confronted them.

But with Michonne, she says the exact thing she’s feeling and thinking which makes their communication so healthy. I’m glad that now Rick has Michonne who loves and trusts him enough to be outright vulnerable and just tell him something as straightforward, honest, and effective as “You’re hurting me.” And he loves her enough to not shut down but rather hear her, receive it, and finally open up after she expresses this. He won't let himself intentionally hurt the love of his life any longer.

gif cred: @figmentof

So Michonne has powerfully poured her heart out to Rick in this phenomenally acted scene and now...it’s finally time for Rick to more fully pour his heart out to her and reveal what's really going on inside him.

And the next part of this scene can best be described as incredibly emotional and truly exceptional. 😭👌🏽

[bvnniz]

It’s literally me again!!

I sent this to the other one but yeah

So how about bunny is walking to Val’s studio (cuz Vox asked her to give him papers) and she walks in on them filming 🤪

y’all idc this is my favorite request & from one of my fav bunny!reader x vox fans too ❕

𝜗𝜚 warnings: porn, valentino, valentino’s affectionate with bunny, ANGEL DUST & BUNNY FLUFF BC BUNNY REMINDS HIM OF MOLLY ( i used to write angel & molly angst for my friends ages ago idk why y’all let me write something that could involve this )

A/N: vox allows bunny & valentino being affectionate with each other because of how often bunny is without vox due to him not always being around due to work and him knowing his lil bunny needs her attention and valentino has a soft spot for bunny so

“little one c’mere” vox said as he noticed you walk past his office door, you immediately turning around and skipping into the room on his usual spot. “hi bunny.” he smiled kissing you on the head.

vox was affectionate with you, but it wasn’t always immediately when you were with him, so him immediately kissing you confused you.

you tilted your head staring up at him. “you’re never this affectionate.” he sighed, shaking his head before starting to fix the ribbon bows you wore around your ears “i need you to go down to valentino’s studio. he promised he wasn’t gonna shoot anymore today so you should be fine, i just need you to give him some papers.”

you groaned hiding your head in his chest. “i’ll buy you a new stuffed animal.” you immediately took your head off on his chest before holding your hands out for the papers.

he handed you the papers and you immediately got up and started to walk out the door until you heard him clear his throat “forgetting something, princess?” you took a second before skipping back over to him and pressing a kiss to his screen.

you just stood at the door to valentino’s studio, too scared to actually walk in. but you did, immediately seeing one of his camera men standing near the door. “bunny, good to see you again. gonna assume you’re looking for val. he’s all the way down at studio 7 watch out though, he’s in a bad mood.” you nodded before walking over to studio 7.

valentino had heard your walking and immediately turned and smiled at you waving you over to come sit on his lap, you immediately started walking over but stopped as you saw that he was filming.

“CUT!” valentino yelled before chuckling at you. “conejita, over here.” you turned to him still frozen causing him to have to move you himself and put you on his lap. “if voxxy ever needs you to behave turns out he can just bring you here, no need to hypnotize you.” he let out another chuckle, all you did was lay your head against his chest.

angel dust had been in the scene, once valentino said cut he had noticed your frozen body, immediately putting his robe on then sitting next to you and valentino, although he wished he had been able to get to you before valentino did. “hi bunny.”

you just let out a weak hi in response, causing valentino to let out another chuckle. “poor little conejita isn’t used to seeing so much sex, poor baby is frozen scared.” angel just started making faces at you, trying to get some happy reaction out of you

there was a point where valentino had to watch over you for about a month because vox and velvette had to do stuff for business and weren’t anywhere near to be able to watch you, so valentino’s staff grew very fond of you. angel dust being the one who watched over you the most, wanting to make sure valentino never did anything to you.

after about an hour you still were scared, valentino did his ‘best’ to try and calm you down but ended up giving up and reading through the paperwork vox had sent you to give him. which is when vox materialized into the studio.

“there a reason she’s still here?” vox questioned, speaking quietly so only angel dust & valentino could hear if they were paying attention, in the off chance you had just fallen asleep. “was shooting a scene, she saw it, been frozen scared since, little conejita was so scared she was basically shaking.”

vox sighed before sitting on the other side of valentino and pulling you onto his lap. “hi bunny. you wanna go get that new stuffed animal?” he hoped the promises of the stuffed animal being brought up would get you all excited but they didn’t, you just moved your leg so they were across vox’s lap instead of straddling then laid your head on his chest.

angel just got up before walking around the couch and putting his head near yours “you want to meet fat nuggets?” his comment was the only thing to get you to have some sort of response, you just nodding your head. although angel still had one more person to ask, he turned his head to valentino

“no! you are not bringing that-” vox cleared his throat, valentino looking over then seeing you actually giving a response to something. “ugh fine. but if that pig ruins any of my studios he’s out for good.” angel nodded immediately going to his dressing room to put more than a robe on before heading towards the hotel.

“what i don’t get anything for allowing you to meet fat nuggets?” vox smiled as he saw you lean forward and kiss valentino on the cheek before laying your head back down on his chest. “my little bunny in a better mood now?” you nodded putting your legs on valentino’s lap which was your sign that you were in attention wanting mode.

vox let out a chuckle “you know you’re like tinkerbell you need attention or else you’ll die.” he smiled down at you raking one of his claws through your hair. “such a pretty little bunny.”

“voxxy im telling you, you need to have velvette update the little conejita’s wardrobe.” he said while playing with one of the holes in your tights, you loved wearing tights under your skirts but they were always full of holes due to you in your clumsy nature falling and then getting torn from that.

“velvette’s watching her tomorrow for me, believe me velvette will be having me have to carry about a years worth of clothes for her when i go to get her tomorrow.” you just shrugged “i like when velvette gives me clothes.”

angel dust had walked back through the door, out of breath from running from the hotel and back with fat nuggets. when you saw him you immediately got up and ran towards him. “bunny meet fat nuggets.” he said handing him to you, which you immediately cuddled your face into him.

vox and valentino had gotten up and followed you, just to make sure they were there in case something went south. “i want a pet!” you practically whined causing vox to sigh “you have vark, baby.” he said while making sure you didn’t drop fat nuggets as you sat down on the ground with him - although vox was a little more concerned of you sitting on the floor of the studio, not knowing the last time valentino had the floors cleaned.

“i’m practically vark’s pet though! he once made me sit on the floor so he could have the couch all to himself.” that was vox’s first and last experience of trying to leave you home alone, he thought if anyone tried to break in to hurt you vark would protect you and if you needed attention vark was there for you. but he ended up coming home to his bedroom door locked and you crying on the bed.

vox sighed “fine i’ll come back tomorrow with a stuffed animal and a pet for you.” which just caused you to look up at angel dust “can i keep him?”

so you’re experience in the studio wasn’t too bad, although you were still pretty upset that angel dust wouldn’t let you keep angel dust but he did say on the days where valentino had to watch you he would bring fat nuggets for you to hangout with so everything was good !

[palskippah]

Hi! Drew this based over a scene in Santa Clarita Diet bc Abby's relationship with her parents is so funny but also it's clear that she loves them aaa

Anyways, every once in a while Cyrus realizes that his other dad is actually cooler than he gives him credit for sjdfksj

Under the cut are some more thoughts!

-Btw I hope you get the 'of course' wink sjdkfjs

>My mom always does it whenever I ask a question that could only use a 'yes' as an answer, instead of nodding or talking and I think it's cool sjkdf (I don't use it bc I'm very uncoordinated, imagine I accidentally double wink or do the frog blink 😭)

-Cyrus is often so mean to him that whenever he's genuinely nice, sometimes Ambrosius' suspicious and wondering if he's being sarcastic or mocking him, even if Cyrus tries to tell him that it's nothing of that and he means it

>Like that scene in Santa Clarita Diet where Abby compliments her parents and they stare for a few seconds all seriously and then one says, don't listen to her honey, we did great (and it reminded me so much of that one scene in the comic with Ballister and Ambrosius sjdkfjs)

>This one:

>I really wanna redraw it like the scene in the show. Ballister going good job and Ambrosius just staring very calculating, and then going, don't listen to him, men, we DID get him >:(

-Also drew this because ever since Cyrus has been born Ambrosius couldn't help but feel that his son just knew that he wasn't a good person, the way he was always frowning at him (that's just his face, like Ballister's) and when he grows up, he seems to not like him much either pipipi

>Anyways one day (being a moody teenager) Cyrus says the typical I hate you, dad!!! D:< and locks himself in his room and Ambrosius' like, D':

>He's always mean too but that's just his teenager personality, sarcastic and stuff and Ballister doesn't take it personal because he knows his son is just like that (hopefully for the meanwhile, until he grows out of it), Ambrosius knows too but he's more sensitive and can't help taking it a bit personal 😔

-Also I got another idea for a small comic based over a kdrama I watched, where the daughter (the oldest of the two siblings) blamed herself over her dad leaving their family, and hated him for leaving too and many things, just very complicated.

>And aaa imagine Cyrus just never saying it but knowing that both of his dads' lives would've been different if he hadn't been born. Like maybe all of Ballister's plans to overthrow the Institute and stuff took longer, and some phases in his plan had to be put in hold because of him and stuff.

>Also for a while he feels like Ballister is bound to Ambrosius for life because of him (little did he know that those two would've been around each other their whole lives anyways, even if he never existed sjdkfs) then he realizes that they actually like and love each other, and then they try having something, or smth, and then he's like oh :) because seeing both of your parents loving each other and getting along is a very nice feeling (I've been told, idk from first-hand experience🧍 cries)

>Actually, I drew this unfinished thing about that, based over another scene in the kdrama I mentioned, where the daughter says, after being told that if her parents hadn't met, she wouldn't have been born, that it'd would've been for the better.

>I know the writing is terrible but Cyrus' complaining about Ambrosius and ending his rant with 'I wish they just hadn't met at all', and Nimona saying that she used to feel the same, but then realized that Cyrus wouldn't have been born, and Cyrus was supposed to say next, 'maybe that would've been better' and then Nimona doesn't answer and just stares at him wwhwh

-AND of course it's not Cyrus' fault that Ballister decided to have him, but he still has the feeling of having messed up his dad's life, and let's say that Ballister realizes for whatever reasons his feelings, connecting dots and stuff.

>So, imagine a conversation where he's saying very reassuringly, Meeting your father and later having you is one of the best things that had happened to me, or something like that. And Cyrus is resolutely not looking at him, but his eyes are getting teary, even if he feigns not acknowledging Ballister's words because how embarrassing, and how vulnerable he feels, but also he feels so relieved and loved too.

>And he doesn't know what to do with the feelings, also being a teenager with no feelings is his thing, y'know, so he's like, Just so you know, I'm not crying over what you said, I don't care about that, something just got in my eye- and Ballister just smiles because his son is terrible at communicating his feelings, but it's okay and he gets it, and just says, of course, let me get it out for you, and then he wipes Cyrus' tears and Cyrus gets a tad bit more teary but it's fine because his dad doesn't mind wiping some more tears wiwiiw

>(projecting so much into him bc when I watched that one scene in the show I cried bc I've felt the way the protagonist did (now I know better tho, I'm the coolest thing to happen to my mom yippiee) and it's a very ugly feeling, so of course I'm giving it to a character whwehw)

Anyways, that's it! I love them so much, I hope to make some more comics about the thingies I said above sjkdfd

[blugerine]

I’m just now realizing the geniusness of the dance scene in season 2 and how taking a “comedy” show seriously reveals so many new things about it.

NOTE: I have no idea if Neil Gaiman wrote this scene with the intention of it being interpreted in this way, but I really think it sheds so much light on why Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship seems like it went nowhere but downhill ever since season 1.

I feel like because New Omens is marketed as a “comedy show”, viewers usually go in with the intention not to take things too seriously (except for the more emotional beats that are signaled by somber music and intense acting *cough cough*), but as a result of that, we (or at least, I did) missed out on seeing some scenes differently because we originally wrote it off as “just a silly bit”. I definitely did that during the scene where Crowley performs the “apology dance” in front of Aziraphale because he left him alone to take care of Gabriel. I kept thinking about that scene over and over again in my head because it always seemed much more intentionally childish to me than any other goofy scene we see the husbands get up to in season 2 and even in season 1, and I just realized now a reason why that might be the case.

When Crowley comes back to the shop and has to apologize to Aziraphale, the first words that come out of his mouth are “I’m back”, and both him and Aziraphale know those words aren’t enough for Aziraphale to take him back, so what’s the next best thing? The apology dance! When Crowley initially resists the idea of performing the apology dance, Aziraphale reminds him that he’s done the apology dance numerous times in the past, listing all the specific years over the centuries to really get his point across until Crowley relents. After Crowley begrudgingly finishes the silly dance, the audience share a good laugh, Aziraphale is content enough to accept him back, and the fight they just had all seems so “stupid” now in comparison to the bigger fish they have to fry.

Now, what’s the problem in this scene? Or rather, why is this scene such a big deal in regards to why they broke up at the end of season 2? That’s because it’s, again, another example of how they always DANCE (quite literally) around the actual problems in their relationship that result in them constantly breaking up. And this has been happening for CENTURIES, time and time again, they always default to pushing their problems under the rug, letting bygones be bygones. They believe they’re forgiving and forgetting, but as Aziraphale keeps recounting all the years he’s done the apology dance, it’s very clear that they’ve actually never forgotten any of those previous instances of frustration and words of venom they’ve hurled at each other. Instead, they’ve opted to pretend they’re over it, onto “bigger and better” things to do as a distraction. The only time they start conveniently bringing up past wounds is when they have YET ANOTHER breakup scene.

The dance is performed so childishly because of the childish way they deal with the problems that arise in their relationship. Despite knowing very intricately about the infinite vastness of the universe, of mankind’s greatest strengths and weaknesses, they were not made to view themselves as having human emotions, and they were not trained to make compromises that did not threaten their very existence. Crowley and Aziraphale both started as angels, and Crowley wanted God to compromise with him about keeping the universe around for more years than She had planned. But God doesn’t take suggestions, so Crowley’s angelic status was quite literally burned from him as he was sent down to Hell, which traumatized him greatly, and made Aziraphale exist in fear of the divine punishment that came to those who disobeyed God.

As such, Aziraphale and Crowley have so little understanding of how to compromise in a healthy manner, because the first time one of them tried to do it, it ended terribly for both of them, and they subconsciously vowed never to do it again. That’s why, when one of them wants to apologize, it’s almost like a child’s idea of what one is. There’s no addressing of why Crowley’s so desperate to abandon everything and run away, or why Aziraphale is so adamant on staying, even when it clearly hurts him to do so. There’s NO reasoning or compromise. There’s NO talk other than “I was wrong, you were right”. It’s either your side or my side, or we never see each other again.

Aziracrow represents a very realistic on-and-off relationship, where two broken and codependent individuals cannot compromise for fear of divine punishment or even just fear of losing the one that means the most to them. And their little dance? It’s just one of the many times they’ve tried to ignore their very real and important relationship (and character) issues, and it just continues to rot away their relationship time and time again. It’s like putting a bandaid over an infection, but they’re both immortal and everything’s working against them to actually work on healing that infection from the inside out.

So yeah, the dance scene is fucking brilliant because no one saw that coming until you actually finish season 2 and think back on it. Again, maybe I’m just being delusional reading into a scene that wasn’t a big deal, but if Neil did write it with this intention, then I think the way he disguises meaningful insights into broken relationships, tortured characters, and religious trauma through the use of comedy to be really. fucking genius.

And really sad.

I think I might cry a bit after this actually.

(Also, hello, I still have no idea how to use tumblr 💀)

Edit: Just made a couple clarifications here and there! Also, thank you so much for all the positive reception 😭!!! Reading all your reblogged tags gives me so much serotonin agsjdgs it feels so nice being in this fandom so far ❤️

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Miscellaneous Sea Creatures

It's the penultimate* Bestiaryposting, and we have sea beasties! Yarrr... okay that's as much as I'm doing of that.

*Strikethroughs explained in the Aberdeen Bestiary section.

Anyone not sure what this is about can consult https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting, which I have fallen terribly behind on updating, but at least after next week I can't possibly fall any more behind.

To read about these Sea Beasties, click here:

For our next and, as I've alluded to repeatedly (assuming I've been counting correctly), last Bestiary Post, click here:

Without further ado, art below the cut.

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) has all eight here, and has made the majority of them Not Fish to give us a good oceanic variety. The reasoning behind the Alrittraes (see the linked post) is pretty good, I think, and I'm fascinated by the design of the Radwahrekh.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) has given us a similar top-to-bottom oceanic scene in a different style -- these are making me nostalgic for those big illustrations of All The Different Sea Critters I enjoyed staring at as a kid. The Alrittraes is very good in this one too -- I swear I've seen that critter on an old-fashioned Map of the Ocean somewhere. I also like the verging-on-draconic design of the Blochmokan.

@strixcattus (link to post here) has drawn all eight and attached naturalistic descriptions, as is their wont. Honestly I'm always impressed by how well those descriptions scan as Probably Real Animals. I think the designs of the Alrittraes and Blochmokan are particularly charming here, which is becoming a theme.

So, the Aberdeen Bestiary. No illustrations at all in this section, which is extremely disappointing. Probably due to the author's terrestrial bias. After the above list of creatures, the author goes on an extended digression about fish in general, their feeding and mating habits, and... and apparently Past Me was lazy enough to just skim this whole section on account of each folio just being labeled "Of fish, continued".* Which was a mistake, because it does transition back into talking about specific animals (a number of which are 100% not fish).

*I believe the folio labels are based on the manuscript's rubricated headings, so I can't pass off the blame on them for not making note of this.

So next week isn't the last one, because some of these critters are pretty good, and I can't let Past Me's laziness deny them their time in the spotlight. Once I've typed up this post, I'll go queue up another one to be the actual final Bestiaryposting. A Bestiarypostscript, if you will.

Anyway, the critters from this post.

Alrittraes

I think the water-spout thing flagged to many that this is the whale. Here's the unredacted end of that entry:

Whales are beasts of huge size, so called because of their habit of drawing in and spouting out water; for they make waves higher than other sea creatures; the Greek word balenim [balein] means 'to emit'. The male is called musculus; for it is alleged that the females conceive by intercourse.

In fact, the Ancient Greek phállaina just means 'whale'. (Its original etymology is apparently obscure.) I checked into what balein and balenim might mean just to be sure -- the former is Dutch for 'baleen', which makes sense. The latter is apparently the Czech word for 'package' in either the singular instrumental or plural dative form. So... I don't think this etymology is correct, is what I'm saying.

The bit about conceiving by intercourse, I think, is because they're mammals. Someone either made some observations about genital anatomy or actually observed whale sex out on the high seas somehow, and this was noted as unusual because fish aren't supposed to do that. (The medievals were fully aware of the external fertilization process, they just didn't think it counted.)

I have no idea why this means it is called musculus, and the Oxford Latin Dictionary is not helping.

I was about to continue with this and make some suggestions about the specific design of a mantlet, but honestly I think it's just the author (or, more likely, Isidore of Seville) making up nonsense etymologies.

Update: here I present the entirety of the entry for "mussel", from several pages later, which I think sheds some light on this:

Musculi are small shellfish; oysters conceive from their milk. They are called musculi, meaning, so to speak, masculi, 'males'.

So... maybe. Still weird.

Blochmokan

So this one confused me a bit, because the translator of the Aberdeen Bestiary simply calls it "flying-fish", but that seemed wrong to me because the heading says:

De belua que dicitur serra: Of the monster called the flying-fish.

And I think to myself, (a) why is it a monster? and (b) there's no way serra translates literally to 'flying fish', what is that word?

In an obvious-once-you-see-it moment, serra means 'saw' (whence English serrated). The definition 'sawfish' is also presented, but this is clearly not the same animal we call "sawfish" in English. Nor is it, I strongly suspect, the same one we call "flying fish". (Not least because bestiaries often have a very hierarchical order to them, and why would the flying fish be number two right after the whale?)

Hoping there is an explanation available on the great wide Internet, I Google "serra" "flying fish", and... who should I see as the number one result but the inestimable @a-book-of-creatures. They explain it better than I can.

Kearmoltir

So this is the dolphin, which is quite odd because apparently it means the "certain kind of fish" described here is not actually this guy like we assumed but instead a species of dolphin. Which is wild.

Meldilragg

The translator just renders this as "sea-pig", which I'm not really sure about, because as far as I know sea-pig or mereswine is an old word for 'porpoise'. Maybe they didn't translate it that way because they know something I don't.

Olnranming

This is of course the swordfish.

Radwahrekh

This might be the sawfish, but it does say serra again, so... who knows.

Shikwaewik

This one is the pike, which tracks; I don't think that needs to be elaborated upon.

Gurnwatlea

This one is the mullet, which I was surprised to see. I'm not sure why, maybe it's just because it seems like such a mundane and commonplace fish. But of course we also had some pretty mundane and commonplace mammals in that miscellany, so it's not really that weird.

Anyway, that's... a portion of our sea creatures.

[neoplatinum]

speed racer | nicha 'minnie' yontararak

summary: after the loss of your mentor, you reconnect with an old friend. also to discuss growing up around each other.

pairing: minnie x street racer!reader

themes: childhood friends to lovers, angst, sad minnie :(, small character 'death', mentions of yuqi

wc: 1.6k

eyes on the road, hand's on the wheels and keep your head leveled. that's what your mentor said to you when he offered to let you drive his road racer when you were thirteen. now at the age of twenty something and the loss of your mentor, you try to keep his teaching in your mind when you race. the only attachment you have left is his modded mk4 supra and a pack of half used cigarettes and lighter from his last days.

no one heard from him since, everyone agreed that he has passed away, but you knew better. that man was resilient and able to get himself even out of the worst situations, so you were confused when his family showed up asking where he had been.

his last words to you were, "drive." but there was nothing left for you here. in a past hobby that led to more injuries than a cash prize, you were determined to leave the street racing scene.

sometimes you race though, whenever minnie calls you to. one of the closest friends you had growing up. growing up around each other whenever her father gave you racing lessons or even just spending dinner together. both of you had grown up orbiting around each other but never collided until her father disappeared.

the funeral procession took place weeks ago, but you couldn't find the strength to attend. instead you opt to take his favorite supra out for a long long ride, reminiscing of his drifting techniques and his shifts. deciding it was the proper way to honor his disappearance, you take his supra out for every weekend.

tonight you find minnie's car out on an overlook as she stares out into the scenery of the distant city. her eyes glossy and arms crossed.

"hey." you start when you step out of her old man's car. she still hasn't registered that there's someone next to her. "minnie?" you call out to her.

"oh hi," she starts wiping away the tears that are rushing down her face, rubbing with her palms and wiping them off on her jeans. you offer a tissue and stand next to her.

"how are you doing?" you start.

"well how well can anyone really be doing when their father's missing and everyone thinks he is dead." she explains in a shaky voice and holding her own arms for comfort. you go into the trunk and hand her a jacket to wrap around.

"here." you offer, to which she smiles seeing the jacket. an old jacket that was once her father's. large and old and worn, with small holes and cutes along the sleeves. she can tell that you've been wearing it frequently.

"this jacket...you know he loved you right?" she starts, watching you stare into the city with a heavy heart. "he always talked about how much you reminded him of his young self."

"i know that old geezer loved me, i truly do." you begin. shuffling your feet and kicking pebbles to avoid looking at minnie.

"sometimes i thought he loved you more than his own daughter," minnie explains slowly, you look at her confused "i used to resent how much time he spent with you instead of his own daughter. how he could devote hours to a kid that isn't his when he has his own."

you nod, its obvious what circling around each other since you were young has put you two into. she resented you for the attention you were given. on the other hand you resented her for being the kid that he went home to and spent time with, leaving you to sleep outside and away from their family.

"glad to know we both felt the same." you grin and she drops her jaw.

"what?" she exclaims.

"i resented you too minnie, you were the kid he actually went home to, i was left to sleep alone in the shed while you were his family. i always just felt like a stray, never part of the family." you turn more serious and face her as you talk.

she stops to think about your words and feelings, to understand your point of view and why you feel the way that you do.

"he really is something else." she laughs a bit and turns back to face the city. "i miss him."

"me too minnie."

she looks at your features, ones that are familiar and ones that are new. not seeing each other for so long has definitely been jarring.

"i see you still take his car out for spins." she glances at her father's black supra. she circles the car before settling into the passenger seat.

you get into the driver's seat and watch her marvel at the car that was once her fathers.

"stupid dad, him and his cars." she lets out tears when she sees the photo of him and minnie in the glove box, a treasured photo that she never knew he kept. you smile at the photo and lean over.

"lets go on a ride, i'll follow you." you smile at her. she nods and settles back into her own purple car. turning the engine into a loud roar before setting off into the night, you following behind closely as you both share the same feelings of driving.

--

you both reach a local convenience store by the end of the night. as you both eat cup noddles by the window, minnie turns to you.

"how are you and yuqi doing?" she asks, immediately you cringe at the question. rather unfortunate memories resurface when you think of song yuqi.

you answer honestly, "she dumped me." digging into your bowl of noodles and slurping loudly. minnie nods to process the answer; you can see her curiosity overflowing.

"what happened?" she continues in a more gentle tone. her eyes following your eyeline.

you sit and ponder the breakup as well as the aftermath. a hard topic to go back to, considering yuqi and minnie were close friends until you started dating yuqi.

you cough a bit, "she says that im in love with someone else." the air becomes stiff, yuqi hasn't spoken to minnie in a long time so she's suprised by the answer.

"are you? in love with someone else?" she asks and hands you a napkin. in between bites you try and think about the question because it has you stumped for weeks.

"not that i can think of." it's hard to come to terms with your own feelings for other people. instead, most of the girlfriends you've had all approached you first.

"then you're dumb." minnie bites out.

"do you know something that i don't know?" you counter.

she nods and points at you. "when we used to hook up, way before yuqi, you called it quits because you liked me." she explains.

"no i didn't." you roll your eyes, you hooked up with minnie because it was safe; it wasn't complicated like feelings were. you both understood each other's boundaries, never crossing past them. "that wasn't why i called it quits."

"then why did you call it quits?" minnie prods at your brain.

"it was probably because you said you liked someone." you mutter back, eating more of the ramen you had.

"nope, didn't like anyone at the time." she smiles as she says it, "you were just scared that you were falling for me." she grins in that familiar manner; when she knows something you don't know.

"i didn't like you then minnie." you conclude, a little exhausted from all this interrogating. "did you know that yuqi was uncomfortable with us hanging out?"

she nods, "yeah, it's why we drifted apart. she thought i wanted to steal you."

"as if." you scoff at the idea.

"she wasn't wrong though, i did want to steal you from her." she goes on. the shock is written all over your face.

minnie nods and explains that she used to like you too, but her dad forbade you two from ever dating. "he hated the idea of us dating. said i should find someone who isn't like him: not dangerous, you know."

"i agree, you should find someone better."

"see, that's why you're just like him, always thinking i deserve better, when all i want is you." she continues, and you let her. she explains how she always wanted you around, and when you called it quits, it broke her heart.

you're confused, but she explains that she's always liked your resilience and that yuqi dating you is what made their friendship distant; she couldn't bear to see you two together.

"yuqi is nothing like me, she's loud, she's brash and she gets what she wants. i've waited for years to even ask you how you truly feel about me. all along i've liked you." she says.

you nod, a little shocked by all this, minnie never mentioned that she liked you all these years, even when you told her you wanted to get to know yuqi better.

minnie is a woman that feels hard, feels all her emotions and lets others take her spot, even if she deserves it. and you feel awful, knowing that her feelings were never properly reciprocated. also that younger you was too caught up in your own suffering that you had strung minnie along.

"i'm sorry for dumping this all on you all of a sudden." her shoulders drop.

"it's okay, i needed to hear this. to finally understand us." you explain back. it's strange, seeing minnie after all this time, so familiar yet she's changed, grown into herself more. trying to better grasp the opportunities that she has. meanwhile you're staying afloat lost in yourself, confused where to go next.

"hey, if i beat you down that mountain, you owe me a date." she grins, shaking her car keys.

"and if i beat you?" you ask back.

"then i owe you a date." she says back.

you laugh out, "fair deal. let's drive."

--

a/n: don't know how i feel about the ending but i wanted to do a street racer story for a minute. wanted to incorporate more about street racing but i got tired. stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[markantonys]

i was caught super off-guard by the reveal that the wondergirls will in fact return to the white tower at the start of s3, because i'd long assumed there surely wouldn't be time for that. my gut reaction was to be Not Thrilled about it, due to worrying that it would mean spending too long rehashing s2 territory rather than moving on to the next phase of the girls' stories, but having mulled it over, i now see many reasons to be excited about it! naturally, lots of them are gawyn-related <3 and "letting characters spend precious time together before they're separated for the next 10 books"-related

GAWENE!!!!!!!!!! gawene gawene gawene!!!!!! it was always a point of sorrow for me that my prior s3 structure theories couldn't fit in any gawene time beyond "maaaaaybe they could have a brief meeting in caemlyn if the waste-bound gang makes a pitstop there", but now they might get to have multiple scenes across multiple episodes! they might have a chance to build a solid initial emotional connection before the story takes them apart for a while! i am literally overjoyed at the prospect!

in addition to this being good for me, it's also good for the story and for rand's future romantic endeavors. egwene ALSO showing sparks of interest in a new person (especially if said new person is a cute prince who worships the ground she walks on - yes this is the truth of who gawyn is, you all don't know him like i do) will do wonders to sell show-onlys on a Final Randgwene Breakup. we need to see that egwene and rand are BOTH moving on from each other and BOTH ready to leave their romance in the past and start new relationships.

it's also important for later, because gawyn's future storyline hinges on him feeling emotionally attached enough to egwene to be willing to desert his own army to help her

guys imagine egwene meeting gawyn for the first time AFTER all her damane trauma instead of before........i could totally imagine her feeling uneasy or stifled around nynaeve and elayne for a little while because they look at her with such pity and guilt over what happened and being with her old friends reminds her too painfully of how much she's changed as a person after what she's been through, but gawyn is a brand-new post-trauma friend, he doesn't know any version of her but the one before him now, he doesn't know what happened to her, he doesn't feel sorry for her, he's not constantly trying to apologize to her or ask if she's okay or tiptoe around her, and thus spending time with him allows her to just feel Normal again. i'm emotional!!!!

anyway

more tower time will also allow proper wondergirls trio time! we didn't really have it in s2 since nynaeve & elayne didn't become close until after egwene was captured, and we won't have much time for it in the future since they'll be split up for a lot of the story, so getting a couple episodes now with them as a full trio will be wonderful.

and more specifically, more time for the egwene-elayne friendship! they were so sweet in s2, but didn't get a TON of time actually together, and they might not see each other in person much for the rest of the series (though TAR zoom calls might be plentiful), so i'll be thrilled to see them get to hang out a little at the beginning of the season. and especially to see egwene's end of the friendship and see her affirming how much she cares for elayne, after the back half of s2 treated us to a lot of elayne's end of it and her devotion to egwene.

trakand siblings!!! another big point of sorrow for me in my previous theorizing was that elayne wouldn't get to actually interact with her brothers except for perhaps in a flashback cold open (i'd imagined elayne would go straight to tanchico from falme & the bros would show up at the white tower looking for her). but now, we will get to see all three of them together! we'll get to see the full sibling dynamic! and considering that they might never be all three together in one place again (depending on how the show maneuvers people around), this will be invaluable.

it will also help the brothers' characterizations & storylines to see how they interact with elayne and how that later results in desperation to keep her safe & get answers on her whereabouts leading them towards some questionable decisions

egwene taking her accepted test early in the season (potentially even in the first episode?) could be a very handy vehicle for showing the audience where her headspace is at in the wake of all her s2 trauma. i'd imagine her test scenes will be Accepted Test: Abridged Version since we already dove so deeply into it with nynaeve, but something like the seanchan as her past trauma in arch 1 and romance with rand as the piece of home she needs to let go of in arch 2 could be done as quick but effective scenes to show us what she's wrestling with internally at the moment.

and getting more egwene-siuan interactions will be very fun! seeing how the wondergirls might feel about siuan after hearing of her Attempted Randnapping (if they do hear about it from rand and moiraine, two people who are famous for not telling anyone things) would be interesting.

possible elayne accepted test giving us insight into her character? i won't bank on it since 3 onscreen accepted tests might be excessive, but at the very least we might get a scene like the books where she and egwene are both shaken after their tests and nynaeve comforts them, and perhaps elayne tells them a bit about what she saw in the arches.

also! if mat is also involved in some early-season tower shenanigans, then of course this means getting the mat-gawyn-galad fight, which means i can finally realize my long-held dream of putting the text post "guy frantically looking up 'i think i like men' on his phone immediately after losing a fight with another man" onto a relevant screencap of gawyn. this is crucial stuff, people! and i will in general be delighted to see any potential mat-gawyn interactions. soon it will be time to prepare my Unexpected Ships bingo card for s3!

[starlightshadowsworld]

I actually really love that Kunikida isn't the perfect intermin President during the Cannabalism arc. That we see him panicked and worried.

Kunikida's not a cold calculating leader, it would (to me) feel out of character to see him take the role calmly.

Not to mention he steps up during two tragedies, with Dazai getting shot and Fukuzawa falling ill.

Everything is tense and Kunikida has been known to panic in situations like this. Which, can you blame him?

He's no perfect prodigy.

He's not ready to take Fukuzawa's place, and hopefully he won't have too for a long time. But none of this means Kunikida shouldn't be the next President.

He's not ready, yet.

But he will be.

Kunikida has all the makings of the a good leader. He essentially runs everything with the staff while Fukuzawa handles the rest behind the scenes.

The strength of the Agency has always been teamwork. They're here for each other. Ranpo encourages Kunikida, reminds him of that.

Give your orders, anything you need deducting leave it to me.

And it's that reminder that let's Kunikida shine. He's not perfect but he doesn't need to be. The whole thing with the girl was designed to break him and Kunikida still goes on.

The Agency are great at dividing up into teams, doing parallel investigations. Which we see happen, Kunikida and Atsushi split off from the rest to find another solution.

He chooses to prioritise the safety of the citizens. Which is exactly the the path the President wants them to take.

And when Dazai and Fukuzawa return Kunikida is back to his usual self. All things considered he did a great job. He was unsure and relied on his team to help him.

He's not a lone wolf, he's not Fukuzawa or Mori or Ranpo or Dazai. He's not a prodigy and he doesn't have their methods of running the show and taking charge.

Doesn't make him any less.

[songsofadelaide]

"Can you kiss me?"

Your words hung thick in the balmy night air, so much so that you felt like you could take them back at any moment.

"It doesn't have to mean anything."

Yet Satoru heard them as clear as day with how close he stood before you. His blue eyes were bright with confusion at your sudden request, though it was something he felt inclined to fulfill.

For many long years, you two orbited each other like celestial bodies, sometimes following the same path but most of the time just passing by each other. Satoru was one of your older brother's closest friends, so it only made sense that he would see you as the little sister that you were. But you weren't just his best friend's little sister to him— you were a brilliant girl in your own right, but perhaps too smart for your own good. Men always wanted docile, unassuming women for themselves so their decisions would never be questioned, but you were neither, thus never fitting into your society's mould of how women should be. You were what they called the fruit at the bottom of the basket, but you were also the light of your elder brother's life— and his beloved headache, for you posed a problem for him if you couldn't find a husband for yourself anytime soon.

"All my life I've waited patiently, but I truly want to know what it's like to be kissed."

It doesn't have to mean anything, you remember yourself saying earlier. But you've adored him all your life and you've heard it from your brother yourself that Satoru would never give you the time of the day...

But he approached you carefully, so unlike he normally would, his blue eyes taking notice of the nervous quiver in your glossy lips. At that very moment, you had his complete and undivided attention and you couldn't quell the heaving of your chest as your heart jumped inside you, only for it to burst as he leaned down to tenderly press his lips against yours. His lips were warm against yours, moving against yours, coaxing you to follow his lead, and you could have sworn he moved to cup your face in his palm. And you couldn't tell if it was your cheek that was hot or if it was his hand that was burning.

Satoru kissed you with a fervour you've never experienced before and it somewhat scared you. What if you search the world for this kind of feeling but never find it again? You wouldn't even be surprised if that's the case. You loved Satoru, after all. For the longest time.

It doesn't have to mean anything, you reminded yourself, but that kiss was everything to you now. And you only asked him because it would mean so little to him since you held almost little to no sway over him at all.

You part from him with tears prickling your eyes and his breath still on your lips, but you don't forget to thank him for granting your request, inane as it may have sounded to him. He could only follow the trail of your dress as you disappeared into your family home once more, as you were obviously trying to spare yourself from any more embarrassment.

It was only when you haunted Satoru's dreams in ways he never thought you would— in ways he never thought he'd look at you— that he realised you actually do hold a lot of sway over him.

He woke up the next day and found a bowl of fresh fruit on their dining table, but he searched the very bottom of it for the one so bruised yet tender, and it proved to be the sweetest of them all.

"Now, what do I do with this new information?" He chuckled to himself as he savoured the moisture and flavour, only to be reminded of the tremble of your glossed lips from last night.

✦ Inspired by Penelope and Colin's first kiss (Bridgerton S3 x 01) omgdfdg I have so many emotions abt that scene lol.