#yeah he can be horrible but the constant shaming of him for his choices ???

[circeius-invidioso]

I do not get why the Red Corsairs are not a popular choice.

Like.

Like here is the elevator pitch for the warband and then we can come to some justified conclusion.

What isn't there to love?

You want me to turn into an infomencial and make a top 3 reasons why the Red Corsairs are great?

Cause I can.

And I will.

The Diverse Working Enviroment

Here in the Red Corsairs we might have started as Ultramarines but the barrier for entry is on the floor. So anyone can join.

You are Night Lord with a bad rep and no ship.

Buckle up we got you covered.

You are a Fallen and have 20 Dark Angels all up in yo business? Trying to shoot down the boss babe you are?

Fear not, or in our case. Know no Fear. We are strapped and don't get clapped.

You are a traitor that likes their Legion but sadly you got in our way?

Tough luck buddy, you will join or die and your geene seed will join our cause. Nothing personal battle brother. Just business as usual.

Everyone is welcome as long as they follow Huron's guidelines and don't aggitate the topless sweaty Khorne worshipping Ultramarines in the basement.

Sustainability

Unlike the corrupt Imperium of man and the corpse Emperor our leader is powered by miracles (which is trully a miracle how he survived but that on the next section), and we use 0 psyckers to power our crap.

Our carbon footprint is also minimum as we use salvaged goods and don't indulge in toxic industries that destroy worlds.

The Red Corsair base of operation is in the Eye of Terror and from there we expand our scope. A place greatly known for its constant shifts, and horrible conditions but the tan our serfs have are spectacullar from all that cosmic radiation.

Finally we are commited to recycling. As in we take from our victims benefactors and put those stolen goods to some great use. Nothing goes to waste, neither mortal, nor static object. If something is not nailed on the floor we will take it.

In fact we might take the floor too and the nails used to set it in place.

Nothing goes to waste!

Unmatched Leadership

Last, but certainly not least.

The man.

The myth.

The Legend.

Huron Blackheart.

Aka Lufgt Huron.

Aka what would happen if we gave a compressed Guilliman a daemonic familiar and left him to ferment in a warp storm.

Not only the name is so edgy you might cut yourself by saying it out loud. But also it's complex enough that if you say it quickly three times without twisting your tongue theres is a chance furniture might start levitating.

The man has put his Ultramarine brain to use and amased enough influence and power to put the Black Legion to shame.

Huron went from 0 to 100 in no time, he is a self made Warmaster. With no daddy issues or troubles in the world, he goes into battle blasting Alestorm in the voxxcasters.

He does not care.

He probably wears this when he wants to relax.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

He has a biker gang specifically organized to hunt down those who have betrayed him.

They slap those things on their armors not for the usual biker reason

(which fun fact the meaning is, 99% of the bikers are law-abiding, where the 1% are not. That's where the 1% comes from. The more you know 🌈)

no they wear that 1% because that's how high are your chances of escaping from them are.

Is that a bit extreme?

Yes.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

The dude once gathered his buddies and decided...

to you know. Have a casual outing. Nothing too serious, it was a sunday afteral.

So they decided on.

Kidnapping Guilliman.

Which they almost did if not for a Fallen of all people getting in the way.

But still.

The mad lad took Macragge's Honour and went on a joyride/ mini civil war.

Who in the galaxy can turn and say.

Yeah, I stole Macragge's Honour, almost captured my old Primarch. Told a daemon prince they are irrelevant on my way there. Anyway after crushing a fool who thought he could take my crown as king of the space pirates, I went to the home planet of the White Scars and kidnapped and tortured their Chapter Master. What did you do this week? 💅

Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

You tell me I can be an immortal, gorgeous chaos Ultramarine goth boy going on pirate adventures across the galaxy?

Where do I sign up?

I don't need ink for a signature.

I will use my own blood.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Hey, hopefully I’m not too late for the 1.5k thing? If I’m not, can you do nickstalkers for Nick Valentine? Your choice on first or last name.

(If not feel free to just ignore this, I know you probably have a lot of asks to attend to)

Yes, absolutely! Ole Nicky always needs some lovin' (no matter what the canon game says), so here you are!

(And you weren't too late when you requested this, but this is one of the last ones I got, so we're getting closer to the end here, folks!) 😊

I hope you love it! <3

N) Nickname. What are the nicknames they have for their s/o? Do they like when their s/o uses nicknames?

Heh, nicknames lol.

ANYWAY

He lets his names for you slip out easily, even before the two of you are officially together. Calling you his 'partner,' and referring to you as 'doll' (gender neutral) are common before the romance really ramps up. After the two of you are official, he likes to use lots of the classic pet names for you, like darling and dear, his better half, dove, beautiful/handsome, honey, an occasional 'knockout' slips in there sometimes too; and he uses them often. No shame from the detective on this front, he uses pet names with you in public just as much as he does in private.

As for him, he really does just appreciate any term of endearment you have for him. (I happen to be partial to Nickerdoodle, myself). But a 'honey' and a 'dear' directed at him just feel so natural, so domestic that they almost transport him back in time to the old Nick's life, to the seemingly easy romance he shared with his Jenny. If you call him anything along the lines of 'handsome,' or 'dreamboat,' he'll be as close as a synth can get to blushing. Nick may not always believe it himself, but he's not going to argue with you on the subject of his attractiveness in your eyes. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," and all that, you know.

I) Insight. How easy is it for them to read their partner? (Mood, thoughts, etc.)

Well, he's a detective, and a damn good one at that. And he cares deeply about you and your state of mind, your health, both mental and physical after all of the horrible things you've been through. So... yeah, he's in a constant state of ensuring you're doing alright, paying close attention to your moods and reactions to certain events, sights, sounds and places. Nick is always the first to suggest you take a break or a breather, the one to remind you to eat and drink, to keep your strength up, even when that's not something he personally needs to worry about. And as far as responding to your changes in mood, the man's a professional. He does this for a living, essentially. When his clients have been through something awful, when their loved ones are on the edge of a breakdown, when they're worried beyond reason, when they haven't slept since their family member disappeared, Nick is there to comfort them, to ground them and make them feel heard. He does it with all the more passion when it comes to you. If you want your space, he's privy to it, but if you need him close, to talk or just to sit with you, he'll be there.

You'll be hard-pressed to find a partner more caring, more attentive, and a partner more skilled with healthy communication than Nick Valentine.

C) Cuddle. Do they like to cuddle and show affection? How?

If you don't initiate it, he tends to be reserved with his physical contact with you. It's not that he doesn't want it, in fact, that couldn't be further from the truth, but... Well, he's not made of the most huggable material on the planet now, is he?

Still though, he tries. With what he has, he does his best. His good hand is always the one to grasp with yours, and he's an avid "arm around your shoulders" kind of partner whenever the two of you re walking side-by-side or seated next to each other. But... the less, ahem, clothes that are involved, the more hesitant he is with you. Your skin is so soft, so easily scratched or bruised by his skeletal hand, by the ruined parts of his skin-like covering that are slowly rusting and peeling away, revealing the sharper bits underneath. Usually when the two of you settle in for the night, and you try curling into him, or wrapping your arms around him, he dresses himself in some softer clothes. Long pajama pants and long-sleeved shirts that are soft to the touch and keep his sharper points off of your skin, and keep the cool touch of his body off of your warmth. Those nights that it works though, when the two of you can be closer than he's ever been with another person, Nick still can't sleep, not really, but he can smile as you snore against him, he can close his eyes and feel more human than he ever dreamed he would.

K) Kiss. What are their kisses like? Who kissed who first?

He's careful with you... but his kisses become simply all-encompassing once they reach their peak. They always start out slow with the buildup, with Nick carefully placing his hands on you, and making sure your own exploring fingers don't get nicked by the exposed metal bits on his face, but soon after, he presses himself fully into you, to the point that it's hard to tell where his lips begin and yours end, if not for the difference in temperature. It's almost hard to breathe as well, given that he doesn't really have that problem, he sometimes fails to consider it as much as he probably should.

He was concerned from the start, and unsure, given that he hasn't had a whole lot of smooches in his synthetic existence, and he hoped like hell that he didn't taste all too bad, what with the metallic materials that made up his mouth. So you have to be the one to initiate the first one, if only because he wants to be absolutely positive that this is something that you really want. Later though, when it becomes more commonplace, when you both are used to it, Nick kisses you often and more openly than he ever thought he would. It's a greeting and a goodbye, an 'I love you' quick as a peck, an 'I missed you' with more gusto than simple words, and an expression of his affection that he becomes all too used to. The others in the Commonwealth may find it odd, this union between the two of you, but the synth couldn't care less; and even if his public kisses get you both to the center of some bigoted attentions, that's never stopped him from living his life before. And, well, he doesn't really see that changin'.

[furiousgoldfish]

Personal post about trauma under the cut, extremely upsetting content, do not read if you had narcissistic parents and don't wanna get triggered, I am very sad and mad and it's hard to talk about this. TW child labor, child torture, brainwashing, death threats, narcissistic abuse.

*

I was a hardworking child, I was happy and excited to work, I wanted to be a part of everything that's being done. I noticed work warranted for people to get respect, food, praise, acceptance, and I wanted to work hard so I too would be a part of that. My family lived in a rural area, they kept animals, grew fields of crops, were always in some sort of construction work, so me always being eager to work was pretty much ideal for them, or you'd think that it was. You'd think that.

I was working eagerly and I realized, that unlike for adults, I don't get respect, praise, acceptance, or sometimes even food. It was for some reason denied to me only. And I was still happy to work because I chased that feeling of personal accomplishment, even if there was no rewards. And again, you'd think this is perfectly convenient and ideal to parents who wanted free labour and to give no recognition or praise in return. You'd think that.

But it wasn't enough for them. Father got this idea to take me out to work with him alone, away from home. I remember the place we went to, only as a place I need burned down to the ground before I could breathe again. It was a demolition-construction of a house, and I don't remember how many time I've been there. All I know is, after first few times, I no longer wanted to go. I begged not to go.

I am guessing my father could not bear the looks of me working happily, or even working silently. Me doing everything I was told was not fun enough for him– so he would give me false instructions. As an easy setup for punishment. I did exactly what I was told, and would get screamed at and beaten up. Then forced to keep working in tears, shaking, terrified, injured, while being further berated. And that was only the start.

Even as a child, I was diligent and responsible about doing work, and I know I was getting things done just fine, because, I was doing the sibling's share of chores too. If siblings were called to work, they would simply mess up on purpose so I would be told to repeat it after them, correctly. Sometimes siblings would have me do it and take the credit, which I didn't mind because working made me feel better about myself. It made me feel useful. My mind was already dissociated from my body to the point where I no longer felt exhaustion, pain, strain, or any physical effect work was having on me. I would get berated and shamed if I showed signs of being tired or strained. So my body disregarded it all.

And yeah, that wasn't enough either. I was still sometimes feeling okay. If I was allowed to work alone, and let my mind wonder, if nobody commented on it I knew it was okay.

So this is where they decided to take a step further and disallow me to feel okay at any point. I was humiliated while working to the point of tears. I'd be ridiculed in front of guests. I could no longer enjoy my own thoughts, but constant criticism, insults, accusations and humiliation was raining down on me at every step. And when I was done, with tremendous effort it took to endure this, I would be told 'It would have been better if you had done nothing.' So my insane effort to endure abuse to get things done, was rendered worthless in a second.

Father kept taking me away to work alone with him, and forced me to listen to his monologues, which I hated, because he was boring, wrong and self-obsessed, but I wasn't allowed to say that, or argue. My silent compliance was never enough. He had to hit me. He had to find something to berate me over. He kept inventing reasons. I would clean his entire garage and he'd move a steel closet I couldn't possibly move and berate me for not cleaning under it.

I had a log thrown into my head, causing a head injury, and I had to keep working. I fell and fractured my shoulder so badly I could barely walk; I was brought to a forest to drag logs around, too heavy for me to lift. I was sometimes orchestrated to get injured; father would start a trailer I was standing on the edge of, and forced me to fall by quickly moving forward just enough. I was still expected to work after that. He hit me with a blunt edge of an axe and berated me for standing there. I was told to 'not expect a lift to the hospital'. I was brought to work while starved, grieving, suicidal. I was lied to about where I was going and what would I be doing, and for how long. I was never allowed to stop working.

And the game of giving me wrong instructions and punishing me for doing it 'wrong' never stopped. I caught on and begged for correct instructions. I would ask to explain, how to do it, to show me, anything. 'HOW OLD are you not to know this? I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO TELL YOU! YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS BY NOW!' And by his rage, I could tell that if I don't do it any way I knew how, I'd be punished instantly. I had no choice but to try – and of course fail, and feel horribly ashamed for 'deserving to get beat up'. Eventually my brain started shortcircuiting at the simplest tasks, I would mess up because I was in terror. I couldn't think.

At this point, I no longer wished to work for people who would inflict violence on me. And that is when I was quckly informed that if I didn't work, I would be killed. Not in those words. It was 'You have to work if you want to live!' followed by 'We can kick you out and you will starve on the street. Nobody will take you in. There is no place for you. Nobody wants someone like you. You don't deserve to eat if you don't work.' My choices were taken away. If I still refused, the result would be to beat me and force me to work injured, shaking and crying.

All this, for what? I would have been HAPPY to work. I would have been chasing my little daydreams and singing the pokemon tune, and if I was ever praised, I'd be the happiest kid on the block. I was a kid who liked to work. I wanted minimal fairness, minimal acknowledgment. To be a part of the family. Only that.

It just wouldn't do for the narcssistic father. Watching a child be broken, terrified and shaking, crying, ashamed, guilty, working past exhaustion, in injuries, was just too tempting for him to pass up. Even free labor wasn't worth to him as much as the pleasure of child torture. He needed that like it was a drug. What kind of a sick high did he experience, breaking a defenseless kid? What kind of pleasure did it entail, getting someone rid of their natural happiness to work? Was it fun, tearing me into pieces, over and over again? Does he remember it as a delicious, satisfying pleasure? Does he daydream about it? He knew it was wrong; he forced me to stop crying and hide the tears before we went home. 'Don't say anything to your mother.' I was told before being stuffed back in his car.

And now... I can't work. I can't even move sometimes. It was torn away from me. My ability to work was ripped away from my child body when I had no way to defend it or to grab it back and protect what is mine. I can't work anymore. It's terrifying. It terrifies me to not work. Because I was made aware working is the only thing keeping me alive, and capitalism confirms this, so I remain to forever fight with myself about how even if everyone says otherwise, I still deserve to live. Heartbroken, abandoned, with my basic human abilities stripped from me. It doesn't make me deserving to die.

I am so angry and sad. If I had my natural ability to work back, I'd be fine. I would be able to live safely. I wouldn't spiral into feeling like an unworthy member of society. I learned to survive very insecurely like this, but I hate every second of it. To know that instead of this insane uncertainty, anxiety, guilt for being bedridden, guilt for existing and not moving, I could have just found a job, have normal income? I can't bear it. I can't bear knowing this was wrenched away from me, because it was pleasurable to do so, because tearing me into pieces was a fun hobby for people who didn't care if what they were doing to me killed me. And I couldn't have done anything to stop it. And I'm like this now. Unable to take any more torture, unable to endure any more of being triggered, wondering if I would die from lack of resources, or would my body fail permanently in attempts to process all the exhaustion and pain I was dissociated from for my entire childhood.

How was this worth it. How it could have been worth it to anyone, destroying someone's ability to work, only because it's pleasurable. I felt the plan was to work me until I no longer could do it, then kill me. It's what they did to animals. And I was told I was more worthless than an animal. I was called lazy and a monstrous name I can't even translate, that implied I was burdening everyone with my existence.

It was even a bigger punch to my face to realize, after I escaped, that he was profiting from everything I did. That it would have taken money – way more than was ever spent on my survival, to get all that labor done. He was profitting while telling me I was worthless and don't deserve to eat or sleep in his house. He is now renting the place I was broken to help build. I was torn apart and he is still benefiting from it. And I have nothing. Not even a functional body to work with anymore.

I know I'm not the only person who was constantly left alone with narcissists as a child and had this, or worse, done to them. They don't care which pieces of children are left over by the time they're done getting their high. We're only a thing to consume, not living beings, not people, not someone whose life matters. Our pain is food to them. My father readily became a predator who snached his own kid away for torture sessions, and felt proud and fulfilled to turn his own child into a creature who cannot work anymore to survive.

Don't leave children alone with narcissists. I am trying so hard to get better, but facing reality, is this a thing a person gets better from? It's not a bodily harm of once or twice, this was happening for the most majority of my lifetime. It makes sense I cannot move. It makes sense I'm terrified to be triggered into this. It makes sense I can barely bear the reality of it. A person tortured hundreds of times wont just get up and walk away. I can't either. I have to lie here and hope that one day it will get better.

If you read thru all this, and you relate to the parts of this story, know that I am so sorry for what you were put thru. It's devastating and horrenous. If this is how you grew up, it would have been better not to have a family. We all should have been protected from this.

[mint-yooxgi]

Can you write a yandere!idol!jaemin drabble please?

God, every time he sees you, you manage to set his blood boiling.

Ever since your company thought it would be a good idea to collaborate together, the two of you have been like this. If anyone asked you what you thought about Jaemin, you'd simply reply with an 'I hate his guts', with Jaemin replying along the same lines. Considering the constant bickering the two of you get into whenever you're around each other, no one would argue that fact.

However, Jaemin is the wiser. He knows it's just an act you put on around everyone else to protect yourself. Obviously, you're as desperately in love with him as he's in love with you, but he's too proud to make the first move. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself, but he doesn't know how much longer he can wait.

Every time he sees you, especially when the two of you start going back and forth, he has to strongly resist the urge to kiss you. Oh, how easily that would shut you up, not to mention how you would melt into the kiss after all this time.

Perhaps you're just testing Jaemin, attempting to figure out his level of devotion to you. Well, the next time he sees you, he'll show you just how fully committed to you he is.

Luckily, today is one of those days where you're scheduled to film a music video with his group. The concept they're going for is a kind of reverse harem style with each member attempting to court you. Jaemin can honestly say he's looking forward to your scenes together, but he only wishes the others weren't around. If only their scenes with you could be replaced with more scenes of just you and him.

So far, the shooting is going well, the two of you managing to stay professional throughout the entire thing. Well, Jaemin decided to not pick a fight with you for the hell of it today, and actually show you how much of a gentleman he can be towards you. No matter how much he misses the cute reactions you give him, showing you how good he can be to you is more important at the moment.

It isn't until around lunchtime that you're all able to take a much needed break. You're currently just hanging out in your dressing room alone since you didn't want to run the risk of picking a fight with Jaemin around the others. Especially not since your manager scolded you the last time.

No, now you have to act 'civil' and 'kind', whatever the fuck that means. You roll your eyes just as a knock sounds on your door. Standing up, you're about to walk over to see whoever that may be when the door opens. You're pretty sure Jaemin can read the shock on your face as he walks into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Hey," he greets, quickly and quietly sliding the lock into place, which does not go unnoticed by you.

Your eyes narrow, "hi."

With the way you're glaring at him, you're able to convey wordlessly what's on your mind, i.e. why is he here?

"Sorry," you don't think you've ever heard him apologize for anything when it comes to you, and your brow furrows in confusion for he looks sort of nervous. "I just was hoping we could talk."

"About?" You quirk a brow expectantly.

"Us,"

"You want to talk about us?" Your voice reflects the disbelief on your face. At the slight nod of his head, you scoff. "What's there to talk about? There is no us."

Something flashes behind his eyes, "exactly."

"Excuse me?" you reply, incredulously. "I thought I made it abundantly clear how I felt about you."

"You know, you're a terrible liar," he goes on to say, slowly stalking towards you as you try and keep as much distance between the two of you.

"You really want to call me a liar?" You're starting to get mad. Leave it to Jaemin to push your buttons before you film you final scenes with him.

"All I'm saying is," he manages to trap you against the wall, head between his arms, "you don't need to pretend any more."

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours, successfully stealing your breath away.

Oh, how Jaemin so longed for this moment. Nothing could have ever prepared him for the feeling of your lips on his, for you feel divine, and if he had a choice, he would never want this moment to end.

Except, before he knows what's happening, you're shoving him away, his cheek now bright red and stinging as his face is turned to the side.

"Don't ever fucking touch me again." Your voice is a low growl, the threat clear as day.

Jaemin blinks, stunned, as he turns back to see the furious expression you wear on your face. His face falls, "you mean, it's not an act?"

"Act? What do you mean act?" Your brow furrows as you brush past him towards the door, leaving him to stare in a daze at the wall where you once were. "I thought I made it abundantly clear that I don't like you."

No, this isn't right. This can't be happening.

Turning around just in time, Jaemin watches you storm out of your dressing room after unlocking the door. His heart aches in his chest, feeling as if someone is squeezing the life from him. With how he knows you hold his heart in your hands, you might as well be.

Shaking his head, he clears his thoughts. You obviously were caught off guard by his actions, and as a result, too embarrassed to admit the truth of your own feelings towards him.

Yeah, that's it! Obviously you don't hate him, you're just confused in your love for him.

Rubbing at the side of his face to ease some of the throbbing, he grins to himself. Next time, he'll just have to make his feelings clearer. Next time, things won't go this horribly, and you'll actually reciprocate his feelings instead of being embarrassed about them. There's no shame in admitting your love for him, next time.

[stopeatingwhales]

vinyl searching (pt. 2) x graham coxon

here’s the second part, hope you guys like it! there’s something about 1999 graham that i just love so much, and i know he was struggling during this time so i wanted to write about caring for him because he clearly needed it during this time. 

Pairing: 1999! graham coxon x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 3.166

part one

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Me and Graham decided on meeting in a small bar on the same road, a couple hours later in the evening. Once my shift was over, I had scurred off to my little flat in order to put together an outfit that was appropriate. I didn’t want to wear something that was too overtly sexual - hell, I wouldn’t even have the courage to be able to wear something like that - so I decided upon wearing an oversized t-shirt and baggy jeans. Very 90s. However, me meeting up with Graham was probably going to be more for him than it was for me - although I was so happy that me and him finally were able to take our ‘friendship’ somewhere outside of the small record shop that he sees all my life in, it was very evident that he was in need of someone to be there for him. Now, understanding his demeanor and overall attitude to things from the multiple times that we had conversated, I had hoped to be the one that he needed. Although there was many time I could’ve attempted such a gathering previously, you never know when would be the right moment to chip in and attempt to portray the care that you have stored internally for that significant person, and how they would react to that. For Graham it was a much more awkward situation; the only times of our communication were technically only professional, from a worker providing help and service to a customer. That was how esoteric we were to one another - practically known strangers. If I had come across Graham in a supermarket and he had noticed me, chances are that we wouldn’t interact, the only communication we would be able to branch out to one another being a simple ‘Oh hi! You alright?’. You had to build a sort of relationship with someone over a period of time in order to be able to do something like I did, and that is minusing the amount of nerves you'd have, as well as the courage you’d have to give yourself.

After I had finished with my constant worrying about how this meet-up was going to turn out, I left the house to go to the bar. The walk there felt as if I had been repeating the same events that had occurred during the day, just at a different moment in time. Hardly anybody was in the streets, which was quite ordinary at this hour of day, though it always seemed as if nobody left their homes. As I walked past countless convenience stores, hairdressers and fast-food places, which proved to show there was residency above them from the brick wall built on top, contrasted against windows placed as an outlook to life, very ironically used as to convey that nobody was ever leaving their homes, it proved to me just how mundane and repetitive life had become. The distance apart between each sheet of glass to the one adjacent to it being monochrome. Constant. Unchanging. Almost how all of our lives have been built to follow a system of continuous, resolute living, perpetually ignoring how it forces our lives, that have so much undermined potential, to be wasted, to the point we are simply dependent on enjoying life as we admire it. From a window in our bedroom, to which it becomes boring - as all you are ‘admiring’ is the same sight, every single time. And though this way of living may not be satisfactory, or enjoyable in the slightest, protesting against it would not do anything. Strikes from work would not do anything; you still need to live, and to live you need to earn money, money earned from working. It’s a ceaseless cycle which destroys the mere idea of a dream, aspiration, or motivation to carry on. In turn, what is received is the attractiveness of sadness, distress, and melancholy. You cannot shame those for being addicted to something harmful; if there is no point created for their lives except to be a little pawn on the chessboard of this planet, to take a risk and rebel against it is all you can do - though it would only put you in a situation which can cause more harm than good to yourself.

Once I had arrived at the bar, I decided to wait by the entrance so there would not cause confusion for Graham as to whether I was inside the building or not. I had noticed the skies begin to significantly darken in their calming shades of blue, instigating the advent of the evening to commence, however it was not dark enough to see sparkles in the empyrean yet. Though it was beautiful to stare at the single-coloured canvas, questioning the mere idea as to how it had formed such a shade of peace, but also existentially questioning how things come to be. Nevertheless, my admiration for the skies was quickly interrupted. “Hi y/n.”

Shifting my head into alignment with his, I had been greeted by the sight of Graham, facial expression clearly evident of nervousness, though it was attempted to be masked from a small smile curving on the corner of his lip. I noticed he was still in the same clothing as he had been in our previous encounter at the record shop earlier in the day, which caused a grin to paint itself on my facial expression. “Hi Graham,” I chriped, connecting eyes with him for a second, widening my smile that was already plastered on my face. “Let’s go inside.”

Inside the bar was nothing much I hadn’t expected; smoke surrounding the atmosphere from cigarettes, and due to the time being early, the place wasn’t as crowded, but you’d assume it to be from the clouds of smoke that welcomed you once you pushed the door open - you could hardly see the lengthy oak wood table separating you from the myriad amount of drinks that could be supplied to you by a simple asking. Ushering over to the nearest booth available, me and Graham sat opposite each other. The booths were always much more comfortable to sit and relax in, the cushioning of the sofa was almost that of a pillow; it was so cozy it was hard not to fall asleep on them. It was a much better choice of seating rather than the tall timber stools attached to the bar. I never found it appealing to sit there and have a chat with someone; it felt as if my privacy had been snatched away with ears surrounding every place my eyes could land upon. It's a much more peaceful atmosphere in a booth, which I had assumed would be a preferable place for Graham, shown from his quiet demeanour. His quietness was something that engaged me so deeply into him as a person - he wasn’t the type to rush to the bar, get drunk, and go off with the first person he had seen, who he hadn’t properly connected with or perhaps spoken to at all. He was much more down to earth, potentially from the amount of fame he had gained over the past couple years; it makes those yearn for silence, and in turn changes their perspectives and outlooks on simple things like outings with friends, for some may avoid them at all costs out of anxiety and fear of being noticed. You’d think that’s the absolute of their desires, being famous, stealing the hearts of so many, but it becomes so much more than that. The press picking out every ‘flaw’ you have or things that you do, the crowds of youngsters dying to get an autograph as if their lives depend on it, the paparazzi perpetually flicking their cameras only because you trotted on the same street to go to the same shop that every normal person goes to… The amount of eyes constantly on you gets overwhelming. I empathised with those who turned to drugs and alcohol to escape horrible feelings like these. Just like Graham.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” I asked Graham sweetly, my smile still on my face.

“Yeah sure, I’ll have a beer.” He responded, our eyes glued to one another's which made me notice the eyebags that had drooped onto the top of his cheeks; it was very evident that he had attempted to nap before meeting me, which made my heart swell out of pity for him - it was obvious he was struggling to even sleep these days.

I nodded before heading to the bar and ordering our drinks. Waiting for our drinks at the bar gave me time to think over everything that was currently happening. It felt as if my entire day had vanished to this one moment where I had unexpectedly landed myself ordering beverages at a bar with the one and only Graham Coxon. It was a wonder to think about how he was feeling at this current moment. He didn't seem as if he was doing well at the moment, he always seemed so exhausted, and his social skills had become very poor over a couple of weeks. It went from him being very calm and candid in our short encounters, slyly recommending each other music with subtle hints of our liking toward each other, to him forming a much more apparent stutter in comparison to the one he already had, as well as being unable to connect eyes with me for a interminable period of time - it was evident that things were progressively getting worse for him, though I wasn’t going to force him into speaking about anything. I just wanted him to be aware that he had at least a friend there for him, potentially that being the girl that he would always see at his local record store.

Walking over back to the booth, I handed him his pint of beer. “Thank you,” he mustered, almost instantly taking a sip from it before noticing the drink I had bought for myself. “Orange juice?”

I laughed slightly at his shocked reaction as I lit myself a cigarette and took a hit from it, him definitely not expecting that of all drinks. “I don’t really like to drink, it never makes me feel that good.”

“But you smoke?” He questioned, a confused expression plastered on his face, paired with a grin.

“Smoking helps with stress, alcohol makes you drunk and gives you hangovers which simply ruin your day,” I answered back, taking a sip from my drink. “Also orange juice is literally the best juice, alcohol tastes like shit you know.”

A small chuckle escaped out of Graham’s throat, causing my eyes to land back onto him again. I gained the perception that he felt somewhat better about actually speaking with someone, which made me feel so touched and taken aback; I had genuinely felt my heart skip a beat out of sadness and yearning for him. He genuinely deserved better than what was going on with him mentally and physically, and the fact that he couldn’t even celebrate the release of his band’s 6th album was paining - he couldn’t attend a lot of the sessions, not out of detest towards any of his band members, but because he mentally couldn’t bring himself to. He was isolating himself without realising, or he may have realised, but couldn’t do anything to stop it. “I must agree on that… But orange juice is too sweet,” He replied, scoffing. “It’s definitely not that much better than a pint of beer, love.”

Shaking my head out of offense towards his last remark, I inhaled my cigarette once again before exposing the smoke from my lungs. Diverting my stare to the ashtray in the middle of the booth, I examined the built-up ash on the tip from the roll of tobacco crumble off from a single flick of the wrapped up paper. “Anyways, how are you?” I asked him, simultaneously offering him a cigarette whilst doing so to avoid any awkwardness.

After taking a cigarette from the packet I owned, then lighting it, he answered. “I’m alright. What about you?”

“Apart from being offended by you saying orange juice is gross, I’m alright too,” I joked, earning another laugh from Graham. “You seem tired.”

Sighing slightly, I watched him scan the room before answering. “Yeah, I am. What gave that away?”

“Your eye bags, you look like you haven’t slept,” I responded, hoping that what was leaving my mouth wouldn’t come across as offensive in any way. “Not in a rude way, though.”

“In all honesty, I haven’t really been able to sleep recently. Not a clue why.” He replied, taking a hit from his cigarette before copying my actions from earlier and erasing the gathered dust onto the ashtray.

“Oh, I understand that,” I said, taking a long drag of the cancer stick before replying. “Same thing happens to me when I’m stressed.”

As the night went on, we spoke about all sorts of things, trying to get to know one another much more as we were so intrigued by each other’s presence. Over time, he opened up much more, his poise changing from being a quiet, dismal, bereaved person, isolated from society, to one that seemed as if he was enjoying himself by hanging out with a friend. Seeing a beam constantly illustrated on his face made me realise this outing meant more than just ‘meeting a friend’. It was leaving the house for the first time in ages, to simply have a good time with someone. He was gentrifying the bare human emotions that he had forgotten were calloused out of anger inside himself. The atmosphere is much different when we’re separated by the till in the record store, the only conversations we could tend to have surrounding music or the weather that day. I felt so much more connected to Graham in this given moment, and knowing that he was gaining pleasure from this made me feel so much happier. Finally, he seemed content, relaxed, and much more aware of his surroundings, not caught up entirely by his mind and the evilness that he would be manipulated by. It was as if from this simple meet-up, he had realised that there was so much more to life than staying at home, pent up with his own thoughts; to his dismay. And though it can be extremely difficult to overcome the hurdles of not believing everything your brain implements to your mind, the important part was that he was making progress. By merely speaking with another person, about topics completely contrasting the negativity resident in his brain, it takes his mind off of things, and would allow the realisation that he is able to overcome these struggles, with the right support.

We hadn’t realised just how long we had been conversing for, until the room began pouring with young adults ready to enjoy a night with their friends. A quick glance at the clock gave the hour away; it was nearing midnight. The time was hardly wasted, we had both created a friendship and connection with one another which bloomed like roses during the spring seasons. Absolutely beautiful. I knew that what we had formed with each other would last for at least a significant amount of time, and I definitely hoped that it would. “Let’s get going, it’s getting a bit crowded right now.” I said, getting up from my seat - Graham nodding along and following me out.

There was a distinctive change in temperature inside the bar in comparison to the streets. The breeze was more prominent, with the skies now pitch black accompanied with the twinkle of the stars and the picturesque glow of the moon. We both began walking to the end of the street, having no idea what was about to occur, going along with it as if there was nothing else in the world except us two, as if it was just ours, and that nothing else mattered at all. This shared moment between us was the only thing able to plague our minds, for everything else that crossed our minds seemed to be insignificant, with no importance to our lives from here on, no matter how much it had afflicted our minds from apprehension hours prior to this moment. Oh, the vulnerable silence shared between us. How much importance it held towards aiding our minds, providing a certain mental clarity that was simply unheard of, as if a certain point of synchronicity in time was exposed between us, forming it as though, as banal as life is day-to-day was always, there was euphoria. Subconsciously, we were both communicating with each other in a sort of telepathy that was so rare in newly flourished relationships like ours. It was as if I had always been close with Graham, as if he was always a cogent figure in my life, that today was only just another catch-up session after not being able to talk with one another for a significant period of time. We both enjoyed ourselves, and there was no need to say anything about it. It felt as though if one of us spoke, it would erase all the memories of the occasion shared in the bar previously. Nothing could explain the elation my body was feeling at this time; from life seeming so meaningless and dull, experiencing something like this amount of joy came as such a shock to my body - it felt as if I had been drugged with so much alcohol that I was witnessing junctures that were only fragments of my imagination.

Stopping our slow pace at the end of the road, I turned my body to face Graham’s, him copying the same actions as me. Briefly, I stared lovingly into his eyes, a smile perched on my lips, him reciprocating with a beam, purely out of content, not mannerisms. Turning my head to stare at his hands, which awkwardly embraced one another, I mustered enough courage to form an embrace with both my palms - him slightly taken aback at first, to which he quickly went along with the moment. His hands were soft, delicate, and held warmth interlocked with mine. We simply stood there, hands laced together, inhaling the brisk air whilst slow waves of air gushed between us. Nothing could get more perfect than this. It was evident that between us, it was definitely more than a simple friendship, and it was obvious that both participants were not objecting against such passion to be compromised into something more. The action of holding his hand gave the notion that he was not alone in everything that he was undergoing; it was there for reassurance, as if it was me indirectly saying, I know you’re struggling, you don’t have to tell me, and I can tell you seem lonely, but I’m here for you. And I won’t ever leave, or let go.  

“See you soon, Graham.”

[sleepysnk]

hello guys! this wasn't a request, but it is a small gift for @kwnblack ! i decided to make a third and final part for the two previous Zeke scenarios i wrote! i hope you enjoy :).

Zeke x Fem!Reader: I Promise

Warnings: slight manga spoilers and slight angst

Part 1 Part 2

It had been about a month or so since Zeke had his last encounter with (Y/N). After that night, he left the island, and (Y/N) had no idea. She woke up the next morning, and notice he was gone. It confused her that day. Where the hell did he go?

She spent that whole day after searching for him. She went around Marley, but she never found him.

As the weeks went on, (Y/N) began to not feel like herself. She felt sick all the time, and she was very tired. She always blamed it on stress, but a few of her friends were concerned with her behavior. They didn't like the way she was acting. (Y/N) never looked good either.

After some arguments with friends, she decided to just finally go see the doctor. She explained to the doctor about her symptoms, he was concerned with how sick she was, and how she was fatigued most of the time.

"I'm going to run a few tests (Y/N), we should figure out what's going on" he said.

(Y/N) had multiple tests run on her, and what the doctor told her was shocking.

"Congratulations! Your expecting a baby"

Those words made her whole world stop.

She was pregnant? She never imagined in her entire life she would get pregnant, even with how young she was. (Y/N) knew who the dad was, it was Zeke for sure. She was the only man she was intimate with, but where was he?

The doctor explained her options. He explained that if she wanted to terminate it he could, but she insisted that she wanted to keep the baby. (Y/N) didn't want to let the opportunity slide, so she decided to keep it.

Her friends were extremely supportive of her and the baby. Thing was, they weren't exactly happy with who the dad was. They all shamed Zeke for leaving, in a way, her friends made it seem like Zeke only wanted to have sex with her. Nothing more than a one-night stand.

This made (Y/N) extremely emotional.

Many questions ran through her head during that month. Did Zeke only want her for one thing and one thing only? Did he lie about how he felt about her? So many questions with little answers.

Zeke on the other hand, had no idea she was pregnant. The time that they met fell at an unfortunate time, he had to head back to Paradis to obtain Eren. (Y/N) had no idea about these plans, and it sort of slipped Zeke's mind. His intention was to never leave her like that, he didn't have a choice.

She had some support from her best friend Mia (random name). Mia helped a lot with anything that she needed, and (Y/N) was extremely grateful for her. Without Mia, (Y/N) probably would have been so lonely.

"Imagine if it's a girl (Y/N)! A little you running around" Mia said.

Mia had been more excited than (Y/N) was for this baby. She dreamt about her best friend having a baby, and becoming an aunt or a God-parent.

As much as (Y/N) was excited, she couldn't help but feel those dark thoughts sometimes. She always thinks about Zeke, and she feels so much sadness run through her whenever she does.

"Are you thinking about him again?" Mia asked and looked at her.

(Y/N) nodded. "No! I'm fine, I just feel really moody right now. This pregnancy has made my hormones go all over the place" she replied and tried to seem convincing.

Mia had to deal with so much when it came to her best friend being pregnant. The mood swings, cravings, constantly peeing, and constant sleep. (Y/N) was thankful though, without Mia, she would have been stressed out to the max.

"I'll rip his damn head off (Y/N). You know I'm capable of that" she said and looked at her friend.

(Y/N) chuckled. "You won't need to do that. I think I want to nap being honest, so you can go if you'd like" she said and smiled.

Mia stood up. "Alright, well you know where I'm at if you need me" she said and made her way towards the door.

She watched as Mia exited. (Y/N) felt a sad wave hit her all at once, the emotions she felt were the usual. She felt tears fall down her cheeks as she thought about Zeke again. Was she really just a one-night stand to him? A woman who he got in bed just for one night?

(Y/N) went to her bed and began to sob. Her emotions running wild, and coming out once again. She's had countless days where she'd cry about it, who could blame her? The woman was pregnant and all she had was her friends.

All she had was the memory of him.

As the weeks went on, she began to feel a bit better. She actually put on a genuine smile, and she wasn't faking it. Her friends told her to not stress, it wasn't good for the baby. She had to take that in. (Y/N) was feeling better about herself, she went out with Mia and looked at different baby items that would be needed.

She had gotten a few items. (Y/N) was quite prepared for her baby, and she was very careful. Even being only about 2 or 3 months along.

But she was in for quite the situation.

(Y/N) stood looking outside her window. It was a warm and sunny day, she missed the summer breeze. It always reminded her of how beautiful the world was. She noticed some people beginning to run in the same direction.

"They're back!"

"Do you think they got him?"

(Y/N) was confused as to who was being talked about. She began to follow the people, and she noticed a pretty large crowd formed.

She noticed Mia was there. "What's going on?" (Y/N) asked.

She looked back at her. "I'm not sure... I'm just as curious as you are" Mia replied.

That's when she felt time stop.

Zeke was standing there with Reiner badly wounded. What the hell happened? As much as she wanted to run up to him, she knew she couldn't. Reiner and Zeke looked horrible.

"Where is Eren!?"

"Yeah! You promised to bring back the founding titan!"

Zeke just stood there quiet. The mission was a failure. Bertholdt was dead, and Paradis now had his power.

His eyes scanned the area as he noticed a familiar (h/c) haired girl standing there. (Y/N). Zeke noticed how upset she looked, he wasn't sure why, but he wanted to know.

"Let's go (Y/N)" Mia said and grabbed her arm.

She lead her away from the crowd. "Mia, what the hell happened? Who is Eren? What do they want with him?" she asked.

Mia sighed. "Couldn't tell you, all I heard was that they went with each other" she replied. "I guess we know where Zeke went after all this time..." she added.

(Y/N) looked down and stood by her friend. She didn't want to face him right now, it would be too much for her.

Zeke had been taken to the infirmary along with Reiner. Both were injured and needed to be checked on.

"Your injuries are minor, but it'll take you awhile to heal.." the nurse said and looked at Zeke.

He nodded. "May I request a visitor?" he asked.

The nurse furrowed her brows. "Are you sure about that? I can get someone to do that" she asked.

Zeke ran a hand through his hair. "Yes I'm sure, please get me (Y/N) (L/N) please" he replied.

She nodded. "Very well, I'll be right back" she said and exited the room.

Zeke waited as his heart began to race, he wanted to explain everything to her about the mission. She never knew about it, he didn't want her to worry that day, so he kept what he was doing out of it.

"Zeke?" The nurse said and entered the room.

He looked up and noticed she wasn't with the nurse. "Where is she?" he asked.

She sighed. "I'm not sure why but (Y/N) refused to see you. I can't force her, I'm sorry" she replied.

What the hell was up with her? She was avoiding him now? He knew leaving her so fast was kind of not a good idea. Zeke needed to talk to her as soon as possible.

Three days had gone by, and he hadn't seen (Y/N) around Marley. She had been a ghost. He wasn't sure where she could be, but he wanted to know.

(Y/N) did her best to avoid him. She did her shopping at odd hours, or she would make Mia do things for her. Mia completely understood, but she didn't want her to run away forever.

Mia sat in a bar by herself. She wanted (Y/N) to come for some company, but she was having morning sickness, so that was a huge no.

She noticed Pieck enter the bar. She had her crutch with her, since she spent so much time in her titan form, she forgot how to actually walk like a human.

"You look like you've seen better days" Pieck said and sat next to her.

Mia looked over. "Same to you" she replied and took a sip of her drink.

Pieck never knew Mia well. "Well.. when your mission becomes a total failure, you feel like shit so" she said and shrugged.

Mia laughed a little. "Hm... it can't be as bad as your best friend being a pregnant hormonal mess" she said.

The dark haired girl nodded. "Ah pregnancy huh? Why bring a child into this world" she said and leaned against the table.

"Not sure but it happened, (Y/N) deserves better though" Mia said and shrugged.

Pieck stopped. (Y/N)? She had heard Zeke talking about her during the mission, and pretty recently. Was that the girl he was trying to speak to? She heard his constant rant about this woman ignoring him.

"Excuse me.. I need to leave" Pieck said and began to make her way to find Zeke.

Mia found it odd how quickly the girl left. She shrugged and kept drinking. Pieck rushed as quickly as she could to find him.

"Zeke!" she yelled as she saw him talking with Reiner.

He furrowed his brows noticing her quick pace. "Something wrong Pieck?" he asked.

She looked at him. "Do you know (Y/N)?" she asked.

Zeke looked at Reiner and back at Pieck. "Yes... why?" he asked.

She nodded. "Did you know she was pregnant?" she asked.

His mind totally stopped when those words came out of Pieck. She was pregnant!? Maybe that's why she was avoiding him.

"I had no idea... excuse me, I need to go" Zeke said and began to make his way to her house.

(Y/N) sat in her home exhausted. Her morning sickness was horrible, so she spent most of the day in her bed and napping. She heard a knock at her front door. She assumed that it was Mia.

"Mia I-" she opened the door and saw Zeke standing there.

She stood there for a moment in shock. "(Y/N)... can we talk please?" he asked.

She sighed. "Come in.." she replied and moved so he could come in.

Zeke entered her home and watched as she shut the door. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

She furrowed her brows. "About what? What is there to talk about!?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "That you're pregnant!? What else?!" he replied.

Silence flooded the room between the two. "So you do know.." she said and sat down on her couch.

"I don't understand why you never told me. I've been here for days" he said.

She felt anger rushing through her. "Tell you? Why would I? You left me that day. You left me after we had SEX Zeke! You know how that made me feel? You made me feel like I was a one-night stand. I never knew you were going to leave like that" she yelled.

Zeke looked at her. "I'm sorry (Y/N). I should have told you that I had to go, I didn't want to worry you. Everything was at the wrong time" he replied.

She crossed her arms and shook her head. "You worried me 10x more when you left me that day, again" she said.

He felt horrible in the moment. "I know... I wanted to tell you" he said.

(Y/N) ran a hand down to her belly which was slowly getting bigger. "So why are you here?" she asked.

He looked up confused. "What? That's a stupid question. I'm here because I know I got you pregnant, who the fuck do you think I am (Y/N)? Some guy who bangs a girl, gets them pregnant, and then leaves? I care about you that's why I'm here. I want to be here for OUR child. If I didn't give a shit, I wouldn't have bothered showing up here" he replied.

She fell silent as he spoke, she didn't know what to say. "I'm about 3 months.." she said and looked down.

Zeke nodded and stood up. "I'm sorry for leaving you that day. Please forgive me" he said and held her hand.

She bit her lip and looked around. "I can forgive you Zeke, but how do I know you're gonna leave again?" she asked.

"I'll be more honest with you. This mission came fast and there wasn't much I could do to stop it" he replied.

(Y/N) nodded. "I see..." she said and looked at him.

He ran his hand down to her belly. "May I?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Yes" she replied and lifted her shirt a bit.

Zeke looked at how big her belly had gotten, it wasn't huge, but it was noticeable that she was bigger. He lied his head on her belly, and pulled her hips closer to him. The sight alone made her heart flutter. She ran her fingers through his hair.

"I can't wait to meet them, I don't have much time left" he said and looked down.

She nodded. "What do you mean?" she asked and furrowed her brows.

Zeke felt a bit emotional in the moment. "Curse of Ymir remember? I don't have much time left (Y/N).. I want to make it worth it for you and them" he said and stood up.

She noticed the tears in his eyes. "Zeke.. don't worry. I'll make sure it's worth it for you and the baby" she said and smiled a bit.

He wiped his eyes a bit. "I'd love that (Y/N), I promise I won't leave you ever again" he replied and hugged her.

She put her head on his chest. "Promise?" she asked.

He smiled. "I promise" he replied.

[mccall-me-maurice]

The fic idea nobody asked for but me: Simon doing Roger’s makeup

Pairing: Simon x Roger, Implied Jack x Ralph

Word Count: 2,093

Warnings: None that I can think of at the moment

Roger likes to think he’s gotten pretty good at doing makeup. It has been a constant hobby since he was 15. He usually just wears eyeliner, seeing as it was the easiest thing to put on his face in a small amount of time. It also suits his look.

Recently, his friends have been teasing him about it for months on end, Ralph finding it hilarious that Roger actually spent time on his appearance. Not that nobody else in the house wore makeup, they pretty much all did, but Roger of all people seemed to come as a pleasant shock to them. He had initially flipped Ralph off, silently sending Jack a look that screamed help me. Jack had then laughed at him, in classic Jack manner, and retreated to his room, loud enough to wake the only other housemate, Simon.

Perhaps it was because Roger worked at a beat up club that he just enjoyed the darkness on his eyelids as the shitty blue lights hit them. He really didn’t have an explanation. He never had thought he needed one. Nobody saw him put it on, and nobody saw him without it. He usually only saw the other 3 housemates between shifts when he was scrambling for food and then running out the door. Simon, Jack, and Ralph had never been really active with Roger anyways, it wasn’t a super big deal.

However, today was different. Roger couldn’t seem to fall into his very simple routine, starting the eyeliner over time and time again. He ended up swearing violently and facing the fact that he desperately needed someone else to do it. He went looking for his closest friend, but Jack had recruited Ralph to put makeup on his face, the blond scoffing at every given time when Jack flinched, so he couldn’t rely on the redhead anymore. In fact, Ralph looked so concentrated on Jack’s face that the raven haired boy was actually too intimidated to interrupt them. Just to ensure he didn’t get a brush in the eye, because Ralph did get very violent at times. Which meant Simon. Roger wasn’t even sure if the boy would talk to him, let alone help him. It was no secret Simon’s lifestyle differed heavily from his. Between lip rings, dark eyeshadow, and tattoos, he was basically everything the softer boy hated. But he was faced with no choice because if he didn’t get his eyeliner done, and soon, he wouldn’t be ready to go out with Ralph and Jack.

So he approaches the tan boy’s door, heartbeat in his ears and lays two very soft knocks on the wood. It’s opened almost immediately and Simon is standing there, a smile on his lips that quivers when he sees who is at the door.

“Roger? You usually don’t knock. Or talk to me at all… What’s up?” Simon leans against the door frame, arms folded across his chest. The raven haired boy just inhales, trying not to break under the somewhat scrutinising gaze. He really doesn’t want to snap at Simon, but with the look he’s getting, he’s not sure how much longer he’ll last. Although, he’s always been one to assume with the boy. Simon was just someone he could never figure out, from the day they met till this very moment. He would never ever know how Simon Cortés felt, and it annoyed him more than anything on this planet ever could.

“Just want to ask a favour. Do you know how to do eyeliner?” The look in the shorter boy’s eyes softens almost immediately, as if he was on edge before. Like Roger would hurt him. Now, he’s loosened his stance and is even giving the other boy what could be a genuine smile. He steps aside and for the first time since they’ve moved in together, Roger walks into Simon’s room.

He really doesn’t know what he expected, but whatever it was it’s what he got. Little succulents line his windowsill, sunlight streaming through the windows. His curtains are lace at the bottom, so dainty that Roger wonders where he could’ve possibly bought them. Everything else about the room follows the theme. The area above his bed has a ginormous collage of photos, taking up the entire wall. Roger doesn’t remember taking them, but there are photos with him, Jack, Ralph, and Simon in it. Simon clearly took it, because he’s closest to the camera and is mid-laughter, Jack is also laughing, but in between his teeth is an apple slice that also sits between Ralph’s, who’s smiling like a fool. And for some reason, Simon’s gaze is on Roger, who is throwing a peace sign up and giving him one of the only smiles Roger’s ever given anyone. It’s a really nice photo, and Roger is tempted to take it. But his gaze gets caught on a section of photos of Roger, all at the club he works at. He has to admit he looks really good under the lights, but it doesn’t explain why Simon took the photos. He didn’t even realise the boy had kept them, he had just asked Roger to pose and took a couple polaroids. Everything else is people Roger has met in passing, Sam and Eric, Peter, and Percival. He never really cared enough to get to know them outside of a ‘hello’. But they all seem so happy up on Simon’s wall that he wonders if the boy himself is their source of joy.

“Lay down on the bed, I’ll go grab my eyeliner from the bathroom. And a couple of makeup wipes because I might mess up once or twice.” Simon gestures to the strawberry comforter that lines his bed and leaves Roger alone in the room, the bathroom door wide open as he rummages through drawers. The older boy does as he’s told, lying down on his back, eyes trained on the ceiling. There are little cracks and crevices in it, probably because the house is older than all of them. Roger’s hands clasp over his stomach and it occurs to him that he has no idea why Simon didn’t ask him to sit upright. It’s how Ralph always does Jack’s makeup, so he can get a better view of the boy's face and complete control. Unless Simon is planning on doing it from the sides, which makes a little sense but his bed is pressed against the wall.

“Can I sit on you?” Roger almost bolts upright from the shock of Simon’s words. It’s an innocent question, but the raven haired boy has no fucking idea what he could mean.

“Um. Sure?” Simon closes Roger’s eyes with his fingers, and weight is applied to the boy’s middle, what the younger one meant finally hitting him. He can’t see Simon, but his best guess is that he’s straddling Roger, leaning forwards so he can get the best angle. It’s horribly cliché, but knowing Simon, his intentions are pure and he doesn’t mean anything romantic by it.

“You have really nice eyes. I mean like. For makeup application. Mine are more hooded so nothing really shows up all that well. Not to mention you just have a nice face. Sorry, you probably can’t respond right now.” Roger exhales harshly to mimic laughter, trying to stay as still as he can so Simon can do whatever he needs to. A brush is pressed against underneath his eye and what he assumes is pigment is spread around.

“Look up. Like open your eyes and look up.” Roger does as told, seeing Simon’s concentrated stare before he does it. He really wants to talk to Simon, but his mouth stops working and all he can do is focus on the soft brush strokes. So Simon fills the silence for him. “I’m assuming Ralph is working on Jack and that’s why you came to me. Probably for the better, Jack doesn’t know what looks good under those lights. Not that I do, I just have photos for reference of what does and doesn’t work. But you know, whatever works and whatever doesn’t. Did you notice you look good with red and orange underneath your eyes? Like a blushy colour. Makes your eyes pop.” He doesn’t mind Simon’s rambles, with the occasional gentle fingers over his eyelids to close them. He’s actually quite entertained by the boy as he happily draws a line of black over Roger’s eyelid.

“And instead of eyeliner on the bottom, I’ll do a charcoal colour because it. Looks. Better.” Roger smiles and almost immediately regrets it because he has no idea whether he just messed the poor boy up or not. He lets his face relax again, praying Simon wouldn’t be offended by the lack of a reaction. Instead, the tan boy taps his cheek twice, which means he needs to open his eyes, and looks down at him, smiling. They’re uncomfortably close, seeing as Roger usually doesn’t let even Jack get within a foot of his face. Simon is about 6 inches away and the raven haired boy can see everything. How the green in his eyes mimics the trees in a forest, the dimple on Simon’s left cheek that shows up whenever he smiles, the faint blush dusted across his nose, how strands of his hair are falling down his face, everything. He’s sure the boy can see everything about his face too, but he’s been looking at it for some time now. Roger has barely opened his eyes, and when he does he certainly wasn’t looking at Simon. More like up at the top of his bed.

“It looks good. A real shame you’re going to wash it off later.” He shifts from Roger’s waist to grab a mirror and hold it up, letting the raven haired boy finally see what he had done. And Roger’s breath is taken away. Everything that he doesn’t like about how he looks seems to have disappeared. He’s honestly baffled at how good his roommate is at doing makeup, because he’s never seen Simon in any. “I did eyeliner, eyeshadow on the underneath of your eyes in that coral colour I was talking about, and smoked out the harsh lines of the eyeliner a little bit with the charcoal colour. Then I put little dabs of white in the inner corners and on the brow bone. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s great. Thank you so much.”

“Anytime! It’s a shame you’re going with Ralph and Jack. I mean, they were planning on going out with all 3 of you, but I kinda wish you could stay. Maybe it would make the house feel less lonely, y’know? Plus they’re kind of in that awkward flirting stage. More power to you for going with them, I could never put up with the longing stares and the footsie from across the table. Think I’d snap at them to get it over with if anything.” Simon shifts himself off of Roger, the area feeling oddly cold now that the other boy’s body heat left him. Roger sits up, watching as Simon makes his way to the bathroom to put everything away.

“I um. I could always stay. I don’t really like being with them either. The whole flirting thing makes me feel sick too. Maybe we could just… throw a movie on my laptop and make some popcorn?” Simon beams at him like Roger never thought anyone could and the butterflies in his stomach finally make an appearance. But no, he doesn’t like Simon. Not like how Jack likes Ralph. Just friends. Just friends.

“I’d love to! But then I did your makeup for nothing.” Simon gives him a small pout, almost as if he really wanted Roger to show off his face to the world. As if he really wanted everyone else to see what he had done, how he had turned a solid 6 into a 10.

“I mean, the person who did it should be the person who gets to see it the most, right?” Simon stares at Roger, eyes crinkled from his smile before, in one swift movement, pecking both of the boy’s cheeks. His lips are impossibly soft and Roger can’t breathe, his heartbeat is right there in his ears and his face is probably bright red. Simon looks up at him, a look in his eyes that just seems euphoric. He gives Roger a soft smile, green eyes meeting purple ones.

“I think you’re right. It should only be me.”

Okay, so maybe they’re more than ‘just friends’.

[kissed-by-snow]

My Take on the Radiant Quote

Jon noticed the shy looks she [Myrcella] gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn't even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool.

His half sisters escorted the royal princes. Arya was paired with plump young Tommen, whose white-blond hair was longer than hers.

Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon [...] Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall. 

- A Game of Thrones, Jon I

Let me begin by saying I don’t think Jon describes Sansa this way because of  a romantic interest in her. However,  I do think this quote is interesting because it describes their relationship in a different way and has other implications. One way to read this quote is by contrasting to how he sees about Myrcella to how he sees Sansa. 

Objectively, both Sansa and Myrcella feel the same about the boys escorting them - flushed and lovestruck, but Jon calls Sansa radiant and Myrcella insipid and stupid.

The reason for this could be multiple things:

he’s notes how happy she is (notice he doesn’t talk about Arya’s appearance - which is probably either disappointed, disgruntled or neutral - most likely because Sansa’s happiness is so vibrant)

a side observation might be that he’s never seen Sansa look so happy?

he’s happy that she’s happy (calls her radiant when he could have mocked her admiration by calling her insipid)

This leads me to believe that their relationship isn’t as bad as people usually interpret it to be. I think they had a fairly neutral relationship but didn’t have much to bond over (he’s into swords, she’s into embroidery he was a punk, she did ballet, what more can I say) and with contrasting personalities, tended not to gravitate towards each other. So, a neutral but respectful relationship considering their own duties, roles and how they spend their time (which was mainly in different social circles).

Now, the people Jon most frequently remembers are his father (for obvious reasons) Robb and Arya.

First, let’s begin with Jon’s relationship with Robb.

Robb, his rival and best friend and constant companion;

- AGOT, Jon III

Jon told the story of how he and Robb had found the pups newborn in the late summer snows.

Robb and Bran and Rickon were his father's sons, and he loved them still, yet Jon knew that he had never truly been one of them.

Jon had often hunted with his father and Jory and his brother Robb. He knew the wolfswood around Winterfell as well as any man

- AGOT Jon IV

Jon was still not certain how he felt about it. Robb a king? The brother he'd played with, fought with, shared his first cup of wine with? But not mother's milk, no. So now Robb will sip summerwine from jeweled goblets, while I'm kneeling beside some stream sucking snowmelt from cupped hands. "Robb will make a good king," he said loyally.

- ACOK, Jon I

...so Robb and he used to climb the towers of Winterfell to shout at each other across the yard.

- ASOS, Jon VII

Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb. I made a botch of that. Robb had become a hero king; if Jon was remembered at all, it would be as a turncloak, an oathbreaker, and a murderer. He was glad that Lord Eddard was not alive to see his shame.

- ASOS, Jon X

When Jon had been very young, too young to understand what it meant to be a bastard, he used to dream that one day Winterfell might be his. Later, when he was older, he had been ashamed of those dreams. Winterfell would go to Robb and then his sons, or to Bran or Rickon should Robb die childless. 

- ASOS, Jon XI

You can't be the Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born, he heard Robb say again. And the stone kings were growling at him with granite tongues. You do not belong here.

A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. 

- ASOS, Jon XII

It reminded him of warmer, simpler days, when he had been a boy at Winterfell matching blades with Robb under the watchful eye of Ser Rodrik Cassel

- ADWD, Jon VI

From the above quotes, we see that Jon’s memories oscillate between feeling fond and mildly resentful/jealous of his brother. They’ve been together the longest and had the most in common but Jon was constantly aware of the distance in status between them. And when you consider the fact that Ned wanted Jon to have the best education possible, Robb and Jon had more reasons to spend time together but his status as a bastard in comparison to Robb’s as the heir of Winterfell, does seem to hold him a little back from having a bond as close as the one he has to Arya. 

Now Jon and Arya almost seem to have too many reasons to be close. From sharing the Stark look (which in the books, only they share and which may have made Jon feel a little better compared to Robb) to feeling out of place (Jon as a bastard and Arya not wanting to conform to traditional femininity) and having common interests (fighting, mainly). Add on to the fact that Arya is almost just as likely to inherit Winterfell as Jon? Yeah, they have every reason to be close.  

And Arya … he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had … yet she could always make Jon smile. 

AGOT, Jon III

Something about her made him think of Arya, though they looked nothing at all alike

ACOK, Jon VI

She wasn't wed and her weapon of choice was a short curved bow of horn and weirwood, but "spearwife" fit her all the same. She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier

ASOS, Jon II

Jon Snow sank to one knee in the snow. Gods of my fathers, protect these men. And Arya too, my little sister, wherever she might be. I pray you, let Mance find her and bring her safe to me.

But what if Arya was not there to be saved? What if Lady Melisandre's flames had told it true? Could his sister truly have escaped such captors? How would she do that? Arya was always quick and clever, but in the end she's just a little girl, and Roose Bolton is not the sort who would be careless with a prize of such great worth.

ADWD, Jon VII

He wanted to believe it would be Arya. He wanted to see her face again, to smile at her and muss her hair, to tell her she was safe. She won't be safe, though. Winterfell is burned and broken and there are no more safe places.

Wherever he might send her, though, Arya would need silver to support her, a roof above her head, someone to protect her. She was only a child.

“Once Cregan gets a child by me they won't need me anymore. He's buried two wives already." She rubbed away a tear angrily, the way Arya might have done it. "Will you help me?"

ADWD, Jon IX

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot. Her face was always dirty. Would she still have that little sword he'd had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl.

ADWD, Jon XI

Compared to Robb, every memory Jon has of Arya is positive. He emphasizes their similarities and feels protective of her as she was the closest family member to him (and he still thinks of her as a child in ADWD which is why Jonarya makes me feel more than a little uncomfortable). He sees her in everything and everyone because she’s directly tied to his happiest memories and is his closest tie to the Stark family.

TL: DR - So, the reason he reminisces about Robb is because he grew up with him (and was a similar age to him, had the same education and also shared a father) and even more with Arya because they related to each other the most and had the Stark look (especially Arya because he doesn’t have the attached semi-resentment of Robb becoming the lord of winterfell, because it’s what he’s always wanted).

This doesn’t mean that Jon and Sansa’s relationship was awful or horrible or that they hated each other. Just that Jon has more memories and similarities to Robb and Arya.

Moving forward, I would like to see them develop a closer relationship (once they reunite - I’m tentatively in the camp of Grey Girl Sansa -  through their own reciprocal experiences (Jon, from bastard to Lord Commander, and Sansa, from Lady to Bastard), learning the value of home (both Jon and Sansa were most eager to leave, albeit for different reasons) and coming to appreciate each other’s compatible but different skill sets. 

[silverbastardgoldenfool]

Realm of the Quarantine Reread End-of-Book Questionnaire: Royal Assassin

Any differences between your first/previous reading experience and this one?

Not as stark a difference as with Assassin’s Apprentice, but definitely still there. Apart from all the obvious stuff, like feeling much more attached to the characters already and picking up more details, I think the biggest change was a complete lack of patience for the teen romance drama lol. There was a decent period where I was feeling quite frustrated with it. Not that I loved it the first time round, but back then I had a very different view of how it fit into the story. I saw it as teaching Fitz a depressing lesson of what it really means to be a royal bastard and a king’s man. Fitz’s literal need (for all he knows he would have been killed if not for his deal with Shrewd) and sense of duty to put his loyalty to his king and country first creates a relationship that is toxic, turbulent and built on lies. And teenage horniness masquerading as love. I saw all that the first time and thought it was just something he had to go through. Now I know it’s something he never really goes through but rather grips onto, romanticises and ultimately goes back to. I know the point of that is meant to be that he finally gets to have something for himself, but why it had to be Molly specifically??? I have very few qualms with Robin’s writing choices overall, but why she chose to write their relationship this way if they really are meant to be is beyond me, especially when so many of her other romances are written so well - it feels like it can’t possibly be unintentional. For most of this book they’re either fighting or fucking and honey! That ain’t love! Hell, Fitz all but sees her as just another demand on his time as the book goes on. But he can’t let her go because she’s the one thing he can point to that makes him feel normal. Not happy, not cherished, not safe. Normal. She’s simply a refuge from his real life. He literally says to Chade “I need her.” I find that so telling, man. It’s not really about her, which is a shame because Molly is great. They’re just really not good for each other.

So yeah. It’s just kind of trying to read all the Fitz/Molly stuff when you know and don’t like what it ultimately culminates in. At the same time… Bee… So I will always be conflicted lol. I just can’t separate the events of Royal Assassin from the furious disappointment I felt when I finished Fool’s Fate. Perhaps I’ll have a new Fool’s Fate experience this time that will make the next re-read a bit easier in regards to Fitz and Molly? But I won’t bet on it lol.

Anyway. It’s not as if I haven’t already said just about everything there possibly is to say about Fitz and Molly yet I also feel like I could go on about it forever. Luckily this is kind of as bad as it gets in terms of how much “screen time” they actually get (apart from Fool’s Assassin maybe? But they don’t bother me too much in that) so yay! I made it! And hopefully it’ll be a good few books before y’all have to endure my ranting about it again :)) Also hopefully this doesn’t give the impression that this read was more bad than good? It was mostly just a particular angsty chunk before they properly get together that was a bit of a slog to get through, but overall I really loved reading this book again and got a lot out of it.

Something you can’t believe you forgot

That Molly punches Fitz in the face hard enough that he bleeds and that Fitz fully intended to punch the Fool for asking if Molly was preggo before seeing he had already been beaten. I pretend I do not see it.

Favourite character introduction moments/scenes

Omfg I was just about to say “huh we didn’t really get any major character intros in this book” bitch Nighteyes???? But in my defence I just. Cannot process the fact that Nighteyes is only really in 3 of 16 books he just feels omnipresent to me BUT his introduction is most definitely iconique and god I love him and he made me cry eight thousand times!

Favourite character arcs

Speaking of Nighteyes: what a glow up. He goes from angry, scared, untrusting little bb to……. Nighteyes. Like. How does one even describe the kind of person Nighteyes becomes. He’s just Nighteyes and I love him with all my fuckin heart!! He is Fitz’s constant… He is wise… He is silly… a comedic genius…… a big, open, unconditional heart. Incomparable. I can’t believe I’ve seen ppl saying they dislike/d Nighteyes……. Honey…… it’s called taste xx

Favourite quote/s

Again no tabs so it’s a bit harder to keep track but there were a few that stuck out enough to copy down. There are a lot of iconic quotes in this book that get shared a lot so I only bothered with ones I didn’t remember.

- “I wince to think of the price willingly paid for loving me.”

- “My soft, clean bed beckoned, like a soft, clean tomorrow.” (mood)

- “I looked and saw they were both made of hungers, like containers made of emptiness.”

Favourite relationships

Kettricken/Verity obviously. I was shocked by how little time they actually have together being in love before Verity leaves??? Because all I remembered was how strong their love is. But the whole journey towards that love is what makes it stand out as an actual compelling story in its own right. This is definitely one of Robin’s greatest skills as a writer; giving the minor characters depth by giving them their own relationships that grow and change and have a life of their own outside of Fitz. It makes the world feel so much more alive.

Also Burrich/Fitz in this book continues to be bittersweet, but with a lot more sweet in there than usual! They fully start out this book as a team. Burrich calling Fitz “FitzChivalry” makes me fuckin emo and idk why even. Burrich does seem to start seeing Fitz a lot more as his own person in this book which changes their dynamic in some rly nice ways. The fact that towards the end of the book Burrich even uses the wit to help Fitz is enough to make me cry tbh - and writing this has made me realise that I’m officially past any uncomplicated good times between Burrich and Fitz y’all mind if I fuckin die real quick!!

Fitz/Verity is soy pure and beautiful. Fitz and the Fool is always, always compelling and complex and tender and perfectly mysterious. But overall you’d have to say Fitz/Nighteyes, hey? They are literally meant to be, in a way so straightforward and undeniable and beautifully simple that I never really know what to say about it. Little brother!!! :’) They literally make me cry all the frickin time lol rip!

Favourite setting

There aren’t that many to choose from in this book! Ima go with the skill river bc hey, Robin’s magic systems are so unique and beautiful and the fact that the skill is written as a kind of a place is really frickin cool and deserves a shoutout.

Favourite chapter

The final chapter (not the epilogue) ummm broke my heart but it is written so beautifully, oh my god, it’s like an out of body experience. I feel like this is kind of when RotE becomes RotE - the first time it really goes to that place that is so fitting yet so unexpected, so beautiful, so tragic, so awful, so visceral. Making use of the genre to really test the limits of humanity; to see how far you can bend a person without breaking them and then refusing to turn away from the consequences. Idk man!! I don’t know how to describe it without sounding like a pretentious dick but it really is that intense and strange and overwhelming for me. There is something in that moment, when Burrich pulls Fitz’s body out of the earth and Fitz/Nighteyes is recoiling from it and deeply terrified… Something about the enormity of the existential questions raised converging with the pinpoint specificity of it all being wrapped up in the story of a character that feels so real and who you care about so deeply… It’s almost written like a horror scene, but that’s not quite the feeling. It’s just the RotE feeling; there are multiple throughout all five series, and it’s what makes these books unlike any other.

Most loved character

Fitz, Nighteyes, the Fool all had my entire heart this book. The Fool is just so sad and pathetic and literally must be protected!! I think I’m kind of obsessed with Burrich? Also I think I almost forgot how much I love Kettricken? She’s a complete badass of course but she’s also got the biggest goddamn heart like…. Who said she was allowed to be such a beautiful person???

But god, everyone. I love them all.

Most hated character

What can I say? Regal is disgostang. Wall Ass a close second.

Raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimised by Robin Hobb (most heartbreaking and/or visceral moments)

Shall I list just a few? :)

- Burrich screaming at Fitz through the bars of his jail cell, horrible things you can’t help but feel are at least a little bit true

- Burrich sobbing over Fitz’s dead body repeating, “You aren’t dead, you aren’t dead.”

- Fitz going to Nighteyes before everything went down on the night of the coronation and just fuckin hugging him really tight

- Fitz trying desperately to leave his broken vessel behind but not quite being able to disown his body

- The Fool being beaten

- The Fool being beaten again

- The Fool sprawled and weeping across Shrewd’s dead body

- The Fool really believing for a moment that Fitz had betrayed him and killed Shrewd

- Fitz tending the Fool’s wounds………. bitch….

- Chade giving Fitz a chance to escape with them and Fitz going to kill Serene and Justin instead

- Idk why this is even that sad but Nighteyes saying the only person he loves is Fitz!

- The entire incident with the forged ones literally tearing apart a three year old girl, which I had completely blocked out until now :)

- The fact that Fitz continues to be reminded and traumatised by this incident for the remainder of the book beCAUSE HE IS A GOOD BOY. A VERY GOOD BOY WITH A VERY GOOD HEART.

- Fitz repelling at Nighteyes to try and force their bond broken

- LITTLE BROTHER

- WOLVES HAVE NO KINGS

- High off his face Fitz calling Patience “mother” no shut the fuck up!!!!

Details, observations, spoilery notes made with the benefit of the full picture

- I’ve been trying for ages to decipher when the Fool started falling for Fitz, and I think I’m officially putting my money on their last interaction in AA. “I wish I had a place that was as much me as that place is you.” I mean. If someone said that to me… I’m not a slut but who knows, ya know? (I know this is more a note for the last book but I thought of it while reading this book. So shh.)

- It’s so clear to see this time how much Fitz’s sense of self and politics are affected by his time in the Mountains. He obviously feels much more inclined to their way of thinking about royalty and sacrifice and equality and returns to Buckkeep with a self-respect he’s never really had before. Weird how being among people who don’t just think of you as The Bastard will do that.

- It’s no wonder Fitz becomes so fixated on Molly; he literally has almost nothing else to occupy him and no companionship when she suddenly shows up

- It’s gross that he spies on her, obviously, but you can’t not take into account the fact that Chade has been teaching him since he was ten that this is justifiable behaviour; a reasonable way to gather information and get what you want. Fitz’s lack of social awareness goes further than him just being a little awkward; he has literally been trained to believe the only thing wrong with stalking would be getting caught.

- I’ve seen a few people talk about the fact that Regal isn’t appropriately punished as if it’s bad writing and like, while it is frustrating, it is supposed to be frustrating - it is not a plot hole. It made sense to me the first time I read it and it was even more obvious this time; Regal has the loyalty of the inland duchies. If he were to be publicly punished those dukes would rally behind him and raise hell, and Regal would no longer need to play the part of the dutiful prince. Even if Regal died a “natural” death - something I can’t see Shrewd or Verity orchestrating anyway - the inland dukes would feel that they no longer have a Farseer on their side and may, again, raise hell. It’s a delicate balance that would be outrageously difficult not to topple if you removed Regal from the equation. There is a lot more to it than I’ll bother writing here but yeah. I don’t really know how people can read this book and think that Regal retaining his life and position is some sort of lazy plot contrivance. It was all set up in the first book dude.

- Fitz and Nighteyes meeting in this book is the perfect metaphor for our need for connection versus the fear of inevitable loss. Fitz’s experience tells him that entering into a bond with an animal can only end in pain, yet he can’t resist it. In real life this is especially true with humans and our animal companions, since they almost always have a shorter lifespan than us; signing up to love them is signing up to lose them. But the same is also true of our relationships with other humans. And like Fitz, we have all had our fair share of loss and pain. We all have our reasons to be afraid of the connection we naturally crave. Sometimes we give in to the fear to the point of holding ourselves back from it entirely. That’s where Fitz is at when he meets Nighteyes. But what’s so beautiful about their arc as a metaphor is that it suggests that these connections, if we submit to them, are what keep our vital spark alive. Even when Nighteyes dies later in the series, the sentiment always remains, essentially, “It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.” Ya boi is projecting bc it’s hard to be vulnerable and make friends as an adult, but I think the observation stands. Love and connection and vulnerability are key threads that run throughout all of Fitz’s story, but in this book it is best represented through him and Nighteyes.

- “I hoped I would not become too adept at lying to myself.” Honey, you got a big storm comin.

- Very inch resting (gay) that Fitz finds it hard to meet the Fool’s eyes. I know almost everyone does bc his eyes are weird, but I reserve the right to reach and I will absolutely NOT be accepting criticism.

- I find it interesting that Fitz says Kettricken’s wit is not strong just because she doesn’t use it exactly the way he does

- I know it’s not meant to be funny but……. The way Fitz described losing his virginity had me literally laughing out loud

- Fitz was really like “okay i better go break my bond with Nighteyes” just cos he and Molly fucked. Teenagers don’t deserve rights.

- You know what? I really, really appreciate how fucking weird these books are lol. What other author would use their magic system to have their characters accidentally intruding on each other’s awkward sex stuff? Okay, maybe a few, but they would do it to be like, edgy and sexy. Robin Hobb just does it to make you cringe so hard you lose several years off of your life.

- But seriously, even apart from the cringe stuff, these books get so strange and out there and like! That’s what magic is for! 

- Bruh. When Fitz is like “omg poor Verity…. He’ll never have what i have with Molly” I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone encapsulate the self-important delusion of teen romance so perfectly lol. Wow.

- Okay some Fitz/Fool stuff that made me lose my tiny mind. Sorry.

- Fitz literally said about the Fool “he burned too brightly” I WILL DIE.

- Fitz is always like, irritated by the Fool… yet positively delighted by his presence at the same time…… okay bitch

- Inch resting how Fitz has always been uncomfortable with the Fool getting serious. I don’t quite know how to put my thoughts on this into words so like. I’ll just put it there. Make of it what you will.

- “Sit on my clothes chest and take your shirt off…” i stopped fucking breathing noah fence

- “I ran my fingers lightly down the line of his jaw, and around his eye socket. At least no bone seemed damaged. ‘Who did this to you?’ I asked him.” my GOD this is literally textbook gay/romance. It hurts me. It physically hurts me.

- Straight from my notes: “I can’t even focus on reading this bc it’s the first time they are tending each other’s wounds and I am a homosexual!” and “the gays are quaking!! (it’s me I’m the gays)

- Okay wow! I think that’s it! Hello if you made it this far! Hope this was remotely coherent and I’m always keen to hear your thoughts on my thoughts :)

Anyone doing a reread feel free to fill this out! You don’t have to use the tag :)

[crossdressingdeath]

The lotus pond anon made me think that there is a general trend in all the poor babie JC meta that always makes me throw up my hands in frustration, and it's that everything is always about himself, more exactly about how other people usually worse tragedies affect him and make him feel sad but only about himself, with no thoughts spared to what the other person is going through or how they may be struggling. Typically for them, the most tragic thing in the whole WWX ordeal with the Wens in1/4

the BM is that it made JC feel abandoned, aka that lotus pond thing, but JC isn't made to consider how WWX might have felt alone in the world and betrayed, while it could be the perfect source of drama and trauma because for JC fans, JC is *supposed* to care about WWX a lot, he could feel sadness at his inability to have protected WWX or just be sad for WWX life as a brother should, but instead, he's always painted as justifiably angry at WWX because WWX made him sad by abandoning him. 2/4

He's written as sad for not being liked by JFM, but never sad for disappointing his father, and it's not that I think he should feel that, but it's a very realistic feeling for the situation, but no fans think that JC would ever see himself anything else that a blameless victim of unfair criticism in all situations. It's always about himself, his feelings, his other feelings, how other people actions affect him, often pushed at ridiculous lengths such as blaming LWJ for being saved by WWX 3/4

but with never a thought spared to how his actions might make others feel-had anyone ever seen sad meta about JC regretting hurting someone?- and it's a constant for all meta written for all his relationships. Even JC fans can do no better but to paint him as someone totally unable to stop being self-centered for a couple minutes to consider someone else's POV or to have some basic empathy for someone else's plights and have to try to paint this bad side of his character as  tragic and likable

A huge part of JC’s character is how he always makes himself the victim, and it’s actually a shame how often that gets forgotten, because JC realizing that the people around him frequently suffer as much or more so than he does and him coming to understand that his insistence that he always has it worse than anyone else is often what drives people away and working to fix that and consider other people could actually be a really interesting story. With him it very much is always about what other people do to him, even when their actions don’t really have anything to do with him or he actively forces their hand; WWX and the Wens is the perfect example for that. WWX left Lotus Pier because he couldn’t let innocent people die, but to JC it was all about WWX abandoning him. And then WWX couldn’t come back because JC told him he couldn’t until he let the civilians he was protecting die, but to JC it was WWX’s choice to just leave for no reason. And yeah, JC doesn’t consider for a second that WWX felt just as alone and abandoned and even betrayed in the Burial Mounds, having been told he had to choose between letting civilians die or leaving his home forever, as JC did after WWX died.

Basically, can we please have less “poor uwu baby JC, abandoned cruelly by his family for no reason because they’re all awful!” and more “JC might have felt abandoned but part of that was due to his own actions and another part was a horrible tragedy that neither of them wanted to happen or deliberately caused and the rest was the natural result of his siblings being their own people with lives that didn’t revolve around JC, and he has to realize that he is not always the biggest victim in the room if he wants to have any relationship with WWX in this second chance they’ve been given”. The situation is always more complicated than just “the people around JC are always cruel to him specifically and no one else for no reason”, and JC being so self-centred that half the time he doesn’t even consider that the people around him are suffering as much as he is is not something he should be coddled for and allowed to believe.

[luna-almighty-god]

Guardian Angel N°14 [Brother, my brother]

Here is chapter fourteen !

The drawing is mine, please don’t take it!

This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information.

Enjoy reading !

===

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

===

“Why keep him awake?”

It was a question Ink had been asking himself for a long time. Since Nyx had reached adolescence. Since Nightmare had put a terrible, horrible spell on him, at least for those in need of sleep.

Not that the Artist gave a damn, far from it. He was just curious, intrigued even, not the strange choice of the master of nightmares. After all, Nightmare saw in Nyx an heir, so wasn't it foolish to weaken him like that?

But the keeper of the nightmares had given him the most serious answer in the world:

“Have you never experienced sleepless nights? As the hours go by, as the next day comes, one can see thoughts, ideas, worries multiplying. At night, when we don't sleep, our worries and apprehensions grow, become so great that nothing seems possible anymore, that tranquility gives way to paranoia. Insomnia is the dark side of imagination, joy and hope. In the morning, everything seems confused, disaster scenarios assail our minds, and the day unfolds in this second state, this state of terror. We get up, we tell ourselves that we're going to make it.”

He had a sinister smile on his face:

“But once you go to bed, once you try to sleep and you're confronted with the night again... the same scenario happens. And the constant terror makes us lose all hope. We can't see what's really around us.”

He had watched Ink sneer:

“This way, isn't it easier to keep him under our control?”

Yes, you do. It was a lot easier.

And Nyx was well aware that he was being manipulated all along. But what could he do?

*** ***

PaperJam should never have gone there alone. He knew that, of course. But there was no way he would sit there and do nothing, and if he had asked for help, he would have been forbidden to go!

Of course, he could have called Goth, but Goth would have told Geno, who would have told Error! So, option to be avoided.

Jammy found himself wandering in the multiverse, feverish but determined, and above all terribly lonely, trying to feel the magic energy of Nyx.

But he couldn't feel it. On reflection, he had never felt it.

It had only increased his anxiety and he had hesitated to return to his parents - who were probably looking for him.

[But he felt it.]

Confused, PaperJam didn't understand. He didn't understand why he suddenly felt the magic of his daddy Ink... twice.

The incoherence was even stronger when he had perceived an anomaly in one of the two magics, and it's the anguish - as well as the curiosity - that pushed him to go towards this strange magic.

Oh, for God's sake... why did he go alone?

He hadn't thought about it, he had to admit it. Yet he should have been alerted by the magic that appeared out of nowhere and which, as if by chance, showed up when he was alone. He should have been worried when he saw this magic that seemed to be calling him. He should have worried when he had arrived in this AU desert.

But he hadn't done any of that.

And the reckless child, besides not being suspicious, didn't realize that he had been watched since his arrival in that remote UA. Observed? No. Scrutiny would be the operative word. Scrutinized from head to toe, examined, judged, by that red look filled with hatred, the look of an Ink who was not his father, far from it, very far from it.

“I led him to us. Get rid of him now.” commanded the Creator of the future at Nyx's address.

Nyx opened his eyes, to look at his father with terror and incomprehension:

“Don't you want to take the place of your doppelganger and thus acquire his family? What is the purpose of killing this child then?

- This child is not my son. He will never be my son like you! You were not born of my union with Error! This kid is from the Ink of this timeline, this Ink that I will take care of making disappear, who in no way deserves MY Error! He didn't fight for it, he didn't know what I went through! He cheated! Cheated because of you! I will never accept it, I will never accept anything that comes from him because of you! Including that stupid, weak kid!”

The cartoonist was caught in a cold sweat, intimidated by the angry look his father gave him. He could only nod his head feverishly, trembling, and Ink gave him a satisfied smile:

“Good. Join me when you're done. And don't be long.”

He opened a portal and went through it without waiting.

Abandoned to his fate, Nyx felt a sob hugging his throat as he turned around to observe PaperJam a little further away, poor Jammy who hadn't noticed him yet and who didn't suspect his fate for a moment.

No... No, he couldn't feel pity. He couldn't sympathize, he couldn't let himself be touched. PaperJam meant nothing to him, at least Nyx tried to convince himself of that. But how can you convince yourself to hate a young skeleton who has supported you so much these last months? A little skeleton who was mischievously coming to sleep with him every night, keeping him company during his long insomnia ? A little skeleton who had the delicacy to never reveal his withdrawal crisis ...

PaperJam was too nice ... And it was this kindness that was going to kill him.

Jammy barely had time to react when he perceived the use of magic not far from him. Before being able to defend himself, his legs were swept by a tentacle, and he collapsed head first against the ground. Confused, he raised his head in panic, only to freeze at the sight of Nyx standing nearby, looking down on him. Looking at him in a way that PaperJam hated...

The child swallowed as he saw tentacles materializing from the shadows. He didn't understand anything anymore, but Nyx was definitely not in his normal state.

The appendixes sprang towards him, with the clear purpose of quickly reducing it to dust. And if PaperJam didn't move, nailed to the ground by surprise and anguish, he was nevertheless able to raise his voice as his big innocent and confused eyes planted themselves in Nyx's eyes:

“Big brother... ?”

The tentacles froze a few millimeters from his body, while the older one petrified in amazement, the words dying in his throat:

“.... W-what...?” stuttered the cartoonist.

PaperJam felt his soul squeeze. He gratified his elder with a look of anxiety, fear, but above all .... Filled with a tenderness and love that surprised Nyx.

Slowly, braving his fear and ignoring the appendages that seemed as frightened as he was, the child came to gently put his hand on a tentacle, to gently caress it to calm him, to comfort him.

“.... You called Ink 'Daddy' .... explained the younger one delicately. And ... You have tentacles, you draw ... you eat black apples .... Your eyes change shape ... So, DaddInk and Nightmare are your parents ...?”

The perspicacity of his younger brother surprised Nyx, who made his tentacles disappear in panic, retreating one step:

“I...”

Jammy puffed up his cheeks:

“I'm not an idiot... Don't lie to me...”

The Draftsman observed him for a few moments, unaware of this turn of events. He finally looked down in shame:

“... No, you're not stupid. Quite the contrary. You're right, I am the son of Nightmare and Ink. But I come from another timeline...”

Paperjam tilted his head to the side, intrigued. He got up slowly without letting go of Nyx's gaze:

“... Timeline ... My parents often talk about it, but it only concerns AUs like Undertale ... But I understand the principle. You're, like... a possibility? Something that could have happened in our lives? And I must be the same for you, right?

- It's, like... (Sighs) It's kind of like that, yeah...”

The child took one small step, then another, so as not to frighten his brother, giving him time to get used to his presence as if he wanted to tame him. And it seemed to work, for despite his trembling, Nyx let him approach without making the slightest gesture.

“... Nyx ... if you tell me what you're afraid of ... ?”

The drawer tightened, his throat tied, before finally raising his eyes full of tears towards his younger son:

“... I ... I ...”

He put one hand over his mouth, choking a sob.

“...I don't want to destroy my family again...”

He closed his eyes, repressing the tears that were burning his eyes, and that was enough for PaperJam to brave the last meters that separated them, and come to embrace him with all his strength:

“... you won't destroy it. You are too nice for that...

- ... No. I'm sorry, Jammy... Y-You don't know what I could've done... You don't know me...”

The child laughed nicely:

“There's a lot of things I don't know, but that doesn't stop me from trusting! You know ... I don't know Father well ... he's clumsy with me, and he's afraid to touch me ... but I trust him because, even though he doesn't talk much, he protects me and tries to make me happy.”

Jammy had a lovely smile:

“Just like you, Nyx. You try to help and protect everyone, so you're nice! My sweet big brother!”

He came to rub his face against his chest and Nyx's cheekbones took on a soft mauve hue. The child finally let him go:

“So, what can I do to help you?”

The elder one frowned on the arches, before he began to think:

“... I don't know myself what I can do ... what I want to do ... I want my parents to be happy, but in order to do that I have to hurt other people I love...

- And is that necessary?

- ... ...excuse me?”

Nyx watched his younger brother look innocently at him:

“Will it really make them happy that you're doing this?

- ... Yes... that's what they want...

- But... what they want won't necessarily make them happy. I want candy all the time but Papink won't let me eat it... It annoys me, but at the same time it's to make me healthy, and therefore happy!”

Nyx blinked, surprised by his words... and finally he started to laugh. At first softly, then more frankly, as if all his pressure suddenly disappeared, that he was freed from a weight too heavy for his shoulders.

PaperJam was surprised:

“Did I... did I say something stupid?”

The drawer caressed his skull while trying to calm his laughter, his pupils regaining a soft golden color:

“No Jammy, on the contrary. You're absolutely right!”

The child's eyes opened wide when his elder carried him suddenly. He looked at him confusedly:

“Nyx?

- Let's go home little head! It's time for me to take control of my life!”

Something that made PaperJam smile and raise his fist triumphantly:

“Yeah! Well spoken!”

They exchanged a knowing glance and Nyx took out his pencil, making a gesture to create a portal. But of course, nothing could simply happen. Fate, karma, whatever else, did not wish to help or support poor Nyx, whose life seemed to mock him every minute of his existence.

Fate came in the form of a tentacle which flashed towards the two brothers, and if Nyx had the presence of mind to step aside, he petrified when the appendix stole his pencil from him!

“No,” he exclaimed as he turned his head, only to be covered in cold sweat the next instant.

Nightmare, his father, was standing there, looking bad, looking quite.... disappointed.

PaperJam hiccuped in fear as he came to hide against Nyx, trembling, feeling the negative aura of the nightmare master amplify throughout the entire UA.

“I should have been firmer”, scolded the guard, whose pupil crackled with anger. “Ink gave you an order, execute it Nyx!”

The drawer moved backwards, feverishly ... before puckering the arches and putting Jammy behind him, not without letting go of the Nightmare gaze.

“No, he said. I'm sorry, Father, but I can't hurt my little brother.

- HE'S NOT YOUR BROTHER!” shouted the master of woe. “THIS IS NOT YOUR TIMELINE! THIS IS NOT YOUR LIFE! YOU DON'T KNOW THESE PEOPLE, AND YOU WOULD BETRAY ME FOR THEM?!”

Nyx gently rubbed PaperJam's back to calm his tremors as he faced his father with more determination:

“I've only known them for a few months... but they're all I've ever dreamed of... I won't let you take them away from me.”

Nightmare shudders like his aura, before his blue eyes become darker than ever, before the air around him becomes icy, before the earth beneath their feet trembles and cracks under the weight of an increasingly uncontrollable magic.

The hoarse voice of the guardian rose:

“I should have finished you at birth.”

Nyx became livid, grabbed PJ against him as his own tentacles materialized to surround them, forming a shield that Nightmare clashed with when he attacked them.

The shock was severe, Nyx wince at the impact, not feeling able to match his father. He kept Jammy against him and dragged him abruptly into the shadows, only to move furtively and at high speed away from there. It might have worked if Nightmare wasn't a dark follower himself ....

“Poor coward ! Is this how I raised you?!” he cried, turning the Nyx's soul blue, before forcibly pulling it out of the shadows.

The cartoonist hiccupped, dropped PaperJam and fell to the ground as he himself was thrown against a nearby rock. Although the pain was nothing compared to what he had already experienced, he still let out a yelp of pain as he collapsed to the ground, landing badly on his hands.

He grimaced, feeling his wrist electrify him. To think that this wound would never have the slightest respite ...

Nyx looked up at his father. He had no desire to fight him, but his sire left him no choice.

Nightmare passed Nyx's tentacles without harm, probably because the rage made him more powerful than ever. He made the bones appear and threw them at his son, scolded when he saw him dodge them, decided to turn his soul blue a second time and suddenly pulled him towards him.

Nyx hiccupped, could not hold his body, which was heavily propelled towards Nightmare. He yelped when his father grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up without the slightest softness, darting an angry look at him.

“Nyx, you're just a...”

The keeper stopped suddenly, surprised, as if he had noticed something that had been too well concealed until then:

“.... That a kid ... weak ... and dependent ...”

The last word had been blown slowly as an unhealthy smile appeared on the teeth of the master of misfortune, whose gaze had been illuminated with a sadistic glow full of madness:

“That's why you're not getting anywhere at the moment... You have no more apple ~”

Nyx petrified, his breath accelerating in anguish as he watched his father without knowing what to do.

Paperjam, not far away, also tensed up, remembering all too well the crisis that his brother had made, crisis which had been able to be calmed only thanks to apples precisely.

Without understanding the desire to cry which had suddenly embraced him, Nyx felt his magic trembling, trembling under a terrible apprehension. And Nightmare's smile only added to his palpable horror.

So ... what can I do to make you a good dog again?" the guard purring. Should I give you apples? Would you be interested? »

Nyx's magic became more painful, his body seemed to be bitten from the inside, violently lacerated by frost teeth. Each of his bones screamed grace as his pupils slowly began to alternate between blue and gray, panic and supplication.

“N-no...” he articulated slowly, using violence to answer nothing else.

But his body screamed the opposite, his whole being was sweating and begging, while his mouth spoke only lies that Nyx would have liked to believe:

“I don't care about apples...”

{I need it}

“No matter what it does to me...”

{I'm scared}

“It doesn't matter if I disappear... I wasn't even supposed to exist...”

{I don't want to die}

“I, uh...”

The tears came back furiously burning his eyes, but he struggled not to let them out.

“I... I... I...”

Nightmare had darkened, arched arches, hating the response, which sounded to his ear canals like a pathetic, laughable lament.

“... To think that I saw you as my heir... when you're just a stupid emotional kid playing grown-up.”

[CRACK]

A painful crack. An umpteenth on the trembling soul of Nyx.

“... I just wanted to see you happy...” the drawer hiccupped as the first tears began to fall. “I just wanted to...”

He screamed at the ground, his spirit twisting as his skull hit the ground. One minute his heart was high, and the next he regurgitated. He regurgitated a reddish liquid with a pungent taste, while the world around him began to turn, that his body gave him the impression of being torn apart and crushed, oppressed, on the verge of yielding, of breaking.

“NYX!” shouted PaperJam while straightening up without daring to intervene more, petrified of terror by the negative aura of Nightmare which also gave him desire to cry.

The master of nightmares looked at his son with an evil eye, his fists clenched:

“... Since you want it so badly, why don't you just die?”

His magic was activated, forcing Nyx to curl up on himself as the guard scolded:

“... Die of madness, you idiot.”

Nightmare snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened.

...not in the eyes of PaperJam at least. But Nyx, he felt it violently. That storm that swept through him, that invisible padlock that gave him nightmares every night, that fucking, fucking spell that had begun to crumble in the last few months...

And Nightmare had just struck the fatal blow.

He had definitely removed the spell that was keeping him awake.

Far from seeing this as a release, Nyx lost his pupils, his face turned livid. Panic, fright, horror, terror.

[He sank into darkness]

[He sank into silence]

[He fell into fucking nightmares]

===

Next Chapter

You can support me on my Utip or on my Ko-fi account !

===

Credits =

Nightmare ->  Joku

Ink -> Myebi

Paperjam -> 7GoodAngel  

[2ofswords]

001 pathologic

Even if it says “Pathologic” I’ll mostly be talking about Pathologic 2 and specify if it’s not the case. It’s just where most of my experience lies since I’m not done with Pathologic Classic HD yet. ^^

Also I’m putting this one under a cut because… man. That got long! Like way too long, I thought I could do this one very quick and now two hours have passed and I’m still writing it! Dear god, these are a lot of questions!

 Favorite character: ... It’s Dankovsky. We all know it. I mean I went into the game being like “I’m pretty sure the tragic asshole character is gonna be my favorite...” Credit where credit is due, I persevered until the day 11 conversation. But we all would have known that Marble Nest would have gotten me anyways so.. Yeah. I especially love his dynamic relationship with Artemy in Patho 2 and he is just a fun and complex character, that I really love to think about and who has made some terrible decisions while still staying sympathetic for me. Also the mix of science and dreams is just something that I find interesting and also can kind of relate too. Love that stuff! 

 Least Favorite character: In Patho 2 it’s Oyun. The way he talks about the Kin makes me really uncomfortable. The animalistic portrayal is for me one of the biggest flaws in the game and he is the worst offender. And yeah since he is one of the Kin, I’m probably not the one who should judge... But I don’t know... from what I’ve heard that seems to be considered a problem by the fanbase in general... Outside of that I also think he’s just structurally very badly included in the game? He appears very late and is hostile in a way that doesn’t really make you engage with him. And I was way to stressed and didn’t get enough opportunities to actually talk with him to really make a connection (though one reason was, that I didn’t give him my house in the first run. Didn’t want to, so I had the pleasure to walk to Shekhen every time to meet him.) Even without the very questionable undertones his constant ranting about strength and leadership didn’t really appeal to me in a game, where leadership just far has only proven to fail everyone in a time of crisis. The way he is revealed as the murderer is kind of weak, since you either figured it out long ago or the game just randomly tells you... He just is very unappealing to me. Vlad the Elder also fucking sucks. But at least he as well as the game are so open about it, that it’s easier to ignore while the game seemed to make me want to like Oyun, while I really couldn’t so this one makes me a little more salty.

 5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): 1. Artemy/Daniil: What a shocker! Narrative foils who have an actual rivals to friends ark in the game and a shitton of sexual tension within it! What’s not to love? 2. Lara/Rubin: I just think they deserve each other. Both of them are very hard working and prone to giving up themselves for the greater good but they are also harsh to others. I think they would apreciate each other but also reign the other person in and care about them. 3. Daniil/Rubin: I just want Rubin to be happy, okay? This one is more a Patho 1 thing, but they really appreciate each others work and I really like how they interact in the Bachelor route. They care about each other and they share a lot of struggles and actually a more similar view on the town and the world than Daniil does with Artemy. Also again we have two very hard working people here, who would have a lot of bonding over weird science projects. (Even if these one are worse at reigning each other in and fights would be pretty horrible to the point of needing a mediator because non of these two are talking to each other and maybe only stoop down to writing very passive aggressive letters...) 4. Notkin/Khan: Also more of a Patho2 thing, since they act way more brutal in P1 and also do not really reconcile. But in P2 they seem to care and immediately bury the hatchet when shit hits the fan. The whole house of the death quests shows them more as bickering friends. And I have a soft spot for bickering friends romances, okay? Also this one is obviously only two teenage boys having a crush, no shitheads allowed here! 5. Yulia/Eva: I cannot really chose between my favorite w/w pairing, there are so many good ones! Right now it’s Yulieva again. They are tragic, they are soft, they are so atmospheric and fun to write! Also I just love Eva and think she should get as many girlfriends as she wants.

 Character I find most attractive: Uhhh... I don’t know I find their models beautiful but there are not a lot of them I find specifically attractive. I guess it’s between Daniil, Artemy, Lara and Yulia for me. Daniil get’s the most ridiculous style points ever but... too old for me specifically. I think Artemy is really attractive but I think his outfit is also really unflattering ... Lara is so much my type and so is Yulia! (Though why didn’t you keep the short hair, queen, it would have made this choice so easy!) I think I’ll have to go with Lara, because I first saw her and just went “I love you” immediately? 

 Character I would marry:  If I assume that the other person would be as happy with our arrangement no matter who I chose: Victor. He is the perfect husband by definition and I want to learn more about time magic. Though this marriage would remain very much platonic and also very much sexless... he is way older than I am and that is disregarding that time is weird for the Kains. Also we have to consider Nina’s continuing existence... okay I don’t mind that one at all.

 Character I would be best friends with:  My first instinct is to say “man all of these people would despise me”, which is such a Pathologic mood. I think I would be best friends with Eva. I think we would get along well and we’d have much to talk about. Also, her house is cool and we could go stargazing!

 A random thought:  I love Dora! She is the worst and most iconic child caretaker of all time and I want to talk about her! The whole baby thing and the way it’s delivered to Artemy is already great but then she just silently takes the baby and gives the reward when you’re there the second time? The time she takes Grace away is genuinely such a good dialogue and a tough decision so that’s great but then, she manages to actually get Grace adopted by a dead person, if Peter is dead! And then she may think it’s Andrey WHO IS DEAD TOO! Seriously, who hired her! I know the entire town is falling apart but man! Dora sure as hell doesn’t help the case. But she tries her best! I think. I hope.

 An unpopular opinion: Oh I have a lot of unpopular opinions, but I think most of them should get their own post, where I can explain in details and a bit more serious what I’m actually talking about. But here’s a small one: Okay ummm… please my fellow burakhovsky shippers, please don’t get mad but… uuuumm…

…

I like the first Bachelor conversation in Patho2 better than the one in Patho1. … Okay, look. I love the “left hand right hand” line as much as everyone else. Wouldn’t have missed it and loved it in Pathologic Classic! And I also think it’s a shame that Daniil’s homosexuality got dialed down. Totally agree with that. But! I really love them starting out on the wrong foot. Their whole dynamic of having to establish their relationship makes their journey and the scenes where they actually reconcile again so much more powerful to me and I love how dynamic it is. And having the two of them completely clash underlines for me how much they have to try and develop to be more comfortable and confine in each other. It’s a great starting point! Also the scene is hilarious in it’s own right. The whole buildup to it where Artemy is in such a desperate position to find out his own kind-of-brother wants to murder him… starting this whole thing with “you owe me” and the whole “Vorakh” thing. It’s really great how in retrospect it’s just a really fucking bad start and a trainwreck of the Bachelor trying to sound competent but from Artemy’s perspective it’s just utterly horrible because the whole town wants to kill him, his father is dead and this stranger is talking some bullshit! Yeah, nobody would have any patience and so the situation escalates immediately! It’s great storytelling and absurd and… I really do love this scene and it’s dynamic and I think it's a great first interaction! (Even if it is sad if people think that they now get the Bachelor. Which… dynamic storyarc… complex character. But I think most people will get that eventually, if they just engage with the whole storyline.) It also makes it a bit more genuine when they actually do act friendly, because you can see, how they act, if they’re not trying. In P1 the Bachelor’s dialogue can feel manipulative rather than friendly and while that has it’s own positives, I just prefer the more dynamic approach of their relationship. To be honest, I think both conversations fit in their own games nicely. I just prefer the overall approach to their relationship arc and I also think it’s just less clumsily written and a bit more memorable apart from the very first line. And while I love it in Patho 1 I couldn’t really see it and it’s sudden intensity in the writing-style of the second game, so I also do not really miss it specifically in their interaction. It’s great were it is but it wouldn’t enhance the situation here.

 My canon OTP:  Victor and Nina. This man just loves his powerful evil and passionate wife and I respect that. I think the way they are described and how Victor would fit in makes this combination so interesting to me. He is quiet and capable and you can really imagine the whirlwind Nina still appreciating him and... it’s so cute, okay? They are in love!

 Non-canon OTP:  (Oh my god, there are so many pairings where my brain goes “what do you mean, they aren’t canon???)  I think Lara/Eva is a really cute pairing that sure as hell isn’t alluded to in the Canon at all. Lara deserves Eva’s positivity and her view on the potential of the soul could be really cute. And Eva deserve her practical care and consideration. Also they are both talking about how they do not know what to do with their live and since they both arrive at this rather depressing conclusion very differently, they might be able to help each other!  Also they could play matchmaking with the local doctors together and I find that hilarious.

 Most badass character: Aglaya. There isn’t really a competition. (Okay Clara is also really badass and one has to mention Aspity for just dying when she feels like she should make a point and for being alive whenever she has something really important to say... that’s also pretty badass and she also is in general.) Aglaya is so powerful and intimidating and armed with metaknowledge. She even knows about her plot armor (and how long that will last...) Do not cross this lady, you will definitely regret it! (Okay the true answer is obviously Teensy. But shhhh…)

 Pairing I am not a fan of:  I’m not really a fan of Aglaya/Artemy especially in Patho2. I just cannot get over her immediately opening the gallows and then breaking Grief down. Artemy in Patho2 doesn’t really feel like a person who would appreciate either and he gets like really upset about Grief without it getting really resolved. (And Aglaya is very unapologetic about it, which might be a part of the truth since we don’t know what happened but still doesn’t help the case.) Also they talk very businesslike and like Aglaya is just making plans which Artemy in mind which doesn’t feel like a good baseline even if she appreciates his insight. It’s still only one person making the decision in the end... But I also totally get the appeal and they are both stubborn, have an interesting way of seeing connections and their worldviews are very interesting together especially, if we think about P1, so I also get shipping them! I’m just not the biggest fan myself.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Uhhh... Hm... There is not really a character I find completely broken and I’ve complained about Oyun enough... So I have to go with Aglaya and only for the reason that I find the ending where they leave town pretty forced. (I’m sorry, I don’t hate her! All of the characters are so amazing, she only has some writing choices specifically that I didn’t like! But I still think she’s cool!) I actually kind of like that it exists and I think the way it plays out is very heart-wrenching and honestly amazingly made but the whole way to get to the decision feels a bit awkward to me just because both of their duties get weirdly lampshaded without making the meta entirely obvious. Either just shattering the fourth wall here or making the situation way more desperate for both of them would have done the trick, I guess.  I in general would have loves, if her meta would have been used a bit more explicitly. It felt a bit gimmicky to make her cool at times and while Artemy might not be the route for that... there ideology talk in Patho1 sure as hell managed that. Their dialogue is still good but I had very high hopes while I approached it. I do know that there is more behind the meta and I wish we could have seen a bit more of that then her offhandedly mentioning it. She never really engaged with her struggle and never allowed Artemy to really engage with it, what also made the whole town fleeing scene a bit jarring, especially if you didn’t play the first game. 

Favourite friendship: I mean the whole apple basket gang friendship, obviously! Is there really another friendship that competes in the game? I love their dynamic and I also love how torn apart the friendship is and how they are only beginning to reconcile even at the end of the game. Not all is good yet but they stay hopeful and I think that is a very strong message.

[pacifistghost-moved]

ABCs of your OCs

A list of oc questions in alphabetical categories - i made each category based on the first word I could think of in alphabetical order, so enjoy!

Chosen muse: Blade/Project 936

A: Aptitude 

1. What are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young? Climbing and sneaking around

 2. What activities have they participated in? Enforcing the law, torture, spy-work protecting important Shinra figures, being used as a weapon in war (uncommon). Some versions start a rebellion against humanity.

3. What abilities do they have that they’ve worked for? Controlling their electricity enough to be able to stimulate parts of the brain of another subject. Perfect for torture.

4. What things are they bad at? Emotions. Default Blade is almost incapable of feeling, unless placed in an extremely abnormal situation.

5. What is their most impressive talent? Probably his regenerative abilities? While it would be extremely painful, wounds that would be otherwise lethal on other life-forms are a simple nuisance for Blade. He can regrow his entire body from a single cell, if necessary.

B: Basics

1. what is their hair color? He doesn’t have hair, but is covered in black pycnofibres.

2. what is their eye color? Red. But he gained some small, green flecks after he was captured.

3. how tall are they? 32 cm

4. how old are they? 15 years old

5. how much do they weigh? 5 kg

C: Comfort 

1. how do they sit in a chair? The same way he’d sit on the ground. Kinda like a dog. But sitting isn’t that comfortable for him, he prefers to just lay down.

2. in what position do they sleep? Hung upside-down if a perch is available. If not, he curls up very tightly.

3. what is their ideal comfort day? Default Blade does not do comfort days. BUT other versions would probably want to relax in a cavern with their friends, surrounded by berries.

4. what is their major comfort food? why? Berries, they were his favourite as a child.

5. who is the best at comforting them when down? Default Blade does not get ‘down’ (unless he is malfunctioning in some way). Pain!Blade would probably be able to be soothed through magical or telepathic means. Rebel! and Rage! would have to be comforted by their monster allies.

D: Decoration 

1. how would they decorate a house if they had one under their name? It would just be a tree. Like, your average tree. Actually, no- if he could have a super tall tree, he’d be satisfied.

2. how would they decorate their child’s room? He wouldn’t, because they’d be sharing the tree.

3. how do they decorate their own room? Look up.

4. what type of clothes and accessories do they wear? He has a translator embedded into his skin, and an eyepiece that allows for scanning and ID. And, most importantly, a collar that suppresses memories, emotions, and allows for him to be remotely controlled if necessary.

5. do they like makeup/nail/beauty trends? Obviously not.

E: External Personality 

1. does the way they do things portray their internal personality? No, because default Blade’s true personality is suppressed into non-existence. Other versions, however, are freed and behave true to themselves. It is important to note that Shinra has permanently and irreversibly changed Blade’s personality, so even after he is freed, he will never be able to return to the sensitive and soft-hearted creature he had been as a child.

2. do they do things that conform to the norm? Conformity does not matter to him.

3. do they follow trends or do their own thing? Default Blade does not do trends, but he is too much of a shell to do his own thing. Other versions do their own thing.

4. are they up-to-date on the internet fads? No, he has limited access to the internet through his eyepiece when he needs to research something relating to his mission.

5. do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own? He’s always just being himself, and doesn’t care much for what others think.

F: Fun 

1. what do they do for fun? No version of Blade has time for fun, but if he did, he would love climbing, basking in the sun, and play-fighting.

2. what is their ideal party? Even if he had access to parties, he would hate them.

3. who would they have the most fun with? Rebel! and Rage!Blade would have fun spending time with their allies in the rebellion 

4. can they have fun while conforming to rules? No, as mentioned before, default Blade does not have fun, while other versions are not conformists in any way.

5. do they go out a lot? No.

G: Gorgeous 

1. what is their most attractive external feature? To call him attractive is an... interesting choice of words. But I imagine his red eyes would be quite vivid.

2. what is the most attractive part of their personality? Undying loyalty and devotion (to Shinra for the default version, to monsterkind for Rage! and Rebel!). Pain!Blade is in too much pain for this kind of thing.

3. what benefits come with being their friend? Loyalty, protection, and extremely rational advice.

4. what parts of them do they like and dislike? Default Blade does not care. Pain!Blade is in too much pain. Rage! and Rebel! hate how they are so terrified of facing their past (involving their family, and all the terrible things they were forced to do when working for Shinra). However, he is proud of being the one to start the rebellion against humanity.

5. what parts of others do they envy? Pain!Blade envies literally anyone who isn’t as horribly mutated as he is. Rebel! and Rage! envy humans for not having to live in constant fear of death because of the existence of a certain bipedal species.

H: Heat 

1. do they rather a hot or cold room? No particular preference.

2. do they prefer summer or winter? Summer.

3. do they like the snow? Yes.

4. do they have a favorite summer activity? Does basking count?

I: In-the-closet 

1. what is their sexuality? He’s a monster, so it’s irrelevant. But if you had to make me say one, bisexual.

2. have they ever questioned their sexuality? Nope.

3. have they ever questioned their gender? Nope.

4. would/was their family be okay with them being LGBT? Obviously yeah, they’re monsters.

5. how long would/did it take for them to come out? He never did, he’s way too busy to have the time to find someone.

J: Joy 

1. what makes them happy? Default Blade may feel satisfied after completing a mission. For the others, definitely looking after his fellow monsters and aiding them in finding their freedom.

2. who makes them happy? Bramble, his surrogate daughter (verse-dependent)

3. are there any songs that bring them joy? No.

4. are they happy often? No.

5. what brings them the most joy in the world? Completing a mission (default), freeing his kind (Rebel! Rage!)

K: Kill 

1. have they ever thought about suicide? No, but there have been moments where he wanted to die or wished he never existed (verse-dependent)

2. have they ever thought about homicide? Not just thought about it, but actually committed it.

3. if they could kill anyone without punishment, would they? who? Default Blade will kill whoever is designated as his target. Rebel!Blade would want to avoid death, so no. Rage!Blade would want to kill all of humanity.

4. who would miss them if they died? Some people in Shinra may find it a shame if he were to die, since he is considered extremely useful. Ghost would have a huge breakdown if she lost Reunion!Blade. Monsterkind would mourn Rage! and Rebel!

5. who would be happy they died, anyone? Criminals would all breathe a sigh of relief over the death of Blade. Humanity would likely respond the same way for the other versions.

L: Lemons 

1. what is their favorite fruit?  Any kind of berry. Maybe a cranberry?

2. what is their least favorite fruit? He likes all fruits.

3. are there any foods they hate? He can eat practically anything, but after he was captured by Shinra, he vastly preferred sunlight and electricity/lightning/plasma over any kind of solid food.

4. do they have any food intolerance? Nope

5. what is their favorite food? B E R R Y

M: Maternal 

1. would they want a daughter or a son? He already has an adoptive daughter (verse-dependent)

2. how many children do they want? He’s willing to look after whoever needs him.

3. would they be a good parent? Default Blade would not offer any kind of emotional support, so no. However, Rebel! and Rage! would be great parents, if a little distant when tending to other duties.

4. what would they name a son? what would they name a daughter? Probably something relating to a plant. As we see with Bramble.

5. would they adopt? YES.

N: Never Have I Ever 

1. what would they never do? Disobey Shinra if under the control of the collar.

2. what have they never done that they want to do? Secretly wants to know what it’s like to be pet by a human (verse-dependent)

3. is there anything they absolutely can’t believe people do? Being cruel or manipulative (verse-dependent).

4. what is the most embarrassing thing they’ve done? Run straight into a tree when playing with other juveniles, before he was captured.

5. have they done anything they thought they’d never do? Abandon Shinra and fight humanity (verse-dependent)

O: Optimism 

1. are they optimistic or pessimistic? He’s a realist.

2. are they openly optimistic, throwing it on others? He may try to motivate you with a good speech (verse dependent)

3. are they good at giving advice? YES.

4. is there anyone in their life that throws optimism on them? Bramble (verse-dependent)

5. were they always optimistic? He had been optimistic as a child.

P: Personality 

1. what is their best personality trait? Loyalty

2. what is their worst personality trait? Never questions orders (default), extremism (Rage!), constantly blames himself (Rebel!)

3. what of their personality do others love? Determination, I think.

4. what of their personality do others envy? Maybe how willing he is to give himself up for a cause? (verse-dependent)

5. do they hate anything about their personality/about other’s personalities? How much he fears his past. He also despises those that are narrow-minded or selfish (verse-dependent).

Q: Questions 

1. do they ask for help? Only if necessary

2. do they ask questions in class? Never had the chance to.

3. do they answer questions that make them a little uncomfortable? Yes.

 4. do they ask weird questions? Not particularly.

 5. are they curious? Yes, if something sparks his interest.

R: Rules 

1. do they follow rules? YES (default), nope (all the others)

2. would they be a strict or laid-back parent? Strict.

3. have they ever been consequences for breaking a rule? If he were to break a rule (which is verse-dependent), depending on severity he may be ‘discarded’.

4. have they broken any rules they now regret breaking? No.

5. do they find any rules they/others follow absolutely ridiculous? Default Blade does not question the rules in any way.

S: Streets 

1. are they street-smart? Somewhat, yes. He deals with criminals so he knows certain ‘street rules’ and tricks and such.

2. would they give money to someone on the streets? He doesn’t have access to money, but if he did, Rebel!Blade or a freed Reunion!Blade may be the only ones to help a human that has found themselves on the streets.

3. have they ever gotten in a fight on the streets? There have been some skirmishes with criminals, but they never last long.

4. has anything happened to them on the streets? I mean, he tracks down murderers, drug-lords, spies, and kills/captures them, so he gets in some intense battles.

5. are they cautious when out? He is always on alert.

T: Truth

1. are they honest? Very

2. can they tell if someone is lying? In most cases, yes.

3. is it obvious when they’re lying? Generally, yes.

4. have they lied about anything they regret lying about? None of the Blade’s are particularly prone to lying

5. have they told truths that have been spread against their will? No.

U: Underdog 

1. have they been bullied? Nope. Unless you count being experimented on and tortured physically/mentally by scientists and turned into a killing machine against his will.

2. have they bullied anyone? Nope.

3. have they been physically attacked by a bully? Nope (unless you count scientists).

4. have they ever been doubted? I imagine some scientists may have been iffy during the course of his creation.

5. have they surprised people with being good at something? YES. He over-performed as a Weapon of Mass Destruction, and Hojo is the one person who realises that Blade has the potential to destroy the world if the worst-case scenario for an Overload were to play out. So Blade is particularly dangerous when it comes to destruction

V: Vomit

1. do they vomit often? Occasionally, if malfunctions/mutations get too much.

2. do they get lots of stomach aches? Yes, all versions of Blade are in pain in one way or another.

3. are they good at comforting someone ill? Not at an emotional level, but he may know certain herbs/medicines that can help with physical comfort.

4. what do they like as far as comfort goes? Nothing in particular, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being pet or hugged.

5. do they burp, cough, or hiccup most when nauseous? when vomiting? No. He may, at either random points or when feeling strong emotion, expel unidentified black liquid from his eyes and mouth.

W: Water

1. do they drink enough water? Yes

2. have they learned to swim? Yes

3. do they like to swim? Not particularly, but he can do it when necessary.

4. can they dive? Yes

5. can they swim without holding their nose? Obviously.

X: Xylophone

1. what is their favorite genre of music? Doesn’t have one in particular, but if you made him listen to music, I imagine he’d enjoy Classical music.

2. do they have a favorite song? No.

3. do they have a favorite band/artist/singer? No.

4. can they sing well? Definitely not.

5. can they rap? He’d sound terrible, but he’d probably be good at finding words that rhyme and stuff.

Y: You 

1. how old were you when you created them? 18

2. what inspired you to create them? The Blade on this blog is inspired from some characters that will appear in one of my stories (though he is much, much more powerful than the ones in that story).

3. were they different when they were first created? VERY. His first incarnation was female, and she was a darwinopterus living alongside other prehistoric animals. She was similar to Andromeda (who is more similar to Blade’s first incarnation than the Blade we currently know), in that she is the daughter of the leader of a huge pack.

4. do you enjoy writing them more than other characters? I really love writing him, but there are a couple of muses I prefer.

5. what’s your favorite thing about them? How scary he can be. What’s fun to explore is that he is naturally underestimated because of his size and appearance, yet he is an insanely efficient killer.

Z: Zebra 

1. what’s their favorite animal? ...He is an animal.

2. do they like animals? Well, yes, he kind of has to.

3. cats or dogs? He gets along better with dogs.

4. what’s their dream pet? He can’t have a pet, really, since most of the freed versions of the character mutate the ability to understand all sentient life. Unless you count a plant as a pet, but he wouldn’t be interested in a plant.

5. do they have any pets at the moment? No.

 Tagged by: Stolen from @ofgeneticperfection

Tagging: Whoever wants to do it! And also myself, because I might do this for Ghost.

[alfredosauce50]

Who's the bad guy? ( 2p + 1p America x reader) 3

Wordcount: 2,700 The reader is referred to as she/her

Allen's place was a small yet rather decent house that only had one floor. Crisp, beige white paint used to flake off of the wood from the outside onto the grass below, but you advised him that it would be better without any added color on the lovely burgundy wood anyway. Sometimes you two would get together and have little "Not Spring day Spring days" to keep his place at an inhabitable and decent condition to stay. It was now a more neater, humble little house paired with a polished black impala next to it that seemed to be cared for better than the actual living space. "Allen!" You shouted, pounding your fists on his door. "Open sesame please!" If you hit the door any harder, your hand would have gone straight through it. The only thing stopping you was the fly screen. Withdrawing your hands once again to let them rest against your sides, you stood around on the front porch with your lips pursed. The sides of your hands were starting to sense a little sting from the constant thumping pressure inflicted on it. You let out a huff and glanced down at your phone, clicking it open to reveal the time. Half past nine it was, and that lazy redhead was still unable to pick himself up to answer his own door. 

Yes, Allen was still half naked curled up under the covers completely deaf to all his surroundings. His counterpart, however, was typing away busily on a tablet on one of the kitchen high chairs with wireless earphones and spoke rather quickly into it. You raised your hand against the hard surface of the wood and was about to knock once more but someone's voice stopped you. Narrowing your eyes to look past the dark filter of the fly screen, you peered around to attain the perfect angle to spy on the activity in the house. "Look, I just want it done by tomorrow night. Is that too much to ask for?" He sighed, his face unseen and focused on the bright screen sitting in front for him. His back moved occasionally and his arms moved elegantly but efficiently as he worked his way around his temporary desk set up on the counter. You stared at him in wonder. "Yeah, of course. I have my part done. It's all on you now. Alright. Bye." Once the house fell into silence again, you called his name. "Alfred!" You spotted his blonde tresses move as he jolted to turn around and look at you. Stifling back a couple of laughs, you waved at him. His baby blue irises brightened at the sight of you under a pair of rimless glasses. "(F/N)! Good morning!" He smiled, hopping off the chair and walking over to open the door. There was nothing but the sound of his footsteps and the faint snoring from one of the bedrooms, and there was nothing that could please him more. "Good morning!" You replied, finally able to see him clearly with the door out of the way. "It's nice to see you up and working already." He welcomed you into the humble abode before disappearing into the kitchen again. "Yeah, I'm on vacation and yet people can't seem to get work done without me there." He huffed. A few clinks of glass was heard from where you were sitting. "Would you like me to get you anything? Orange juice? Coke?" Peering over to the source of the voice, you hummed. "Oh, water is just fine, thank you." He nodded subconsciously and filled a glass from the tap just as you requested. Placing it in front of you on the coffee table, he took a seat next to you. Muttering another word of thankfulness, you reached for it and took a few sips allowing the cool liquid to soothe your dry mouth from all the shouting. He returned his gaze to you. "So, how's your day been?" You cleared your throat and grinned at him. "I don't know, how has yours been, big shot?" He shot you a quizzical look. "Seems like you've been pretty busy in the morning. What kind of career gets you so busy that you can't even answer your door?" Alfred's lips separated agape and he waved his hands at you apologetically, absolute terror flashing in his eyes. "I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting, really!" He spluttered. "I was just on the phone with one of my employees and uh, he kept on putting shit on hold. Yeah, I'm usually not that busy that I can't answer the door," Your lips stretched into a wide smile and you cracked up in his face. "Haha, I know, I know. I was just messing with you." You breathed heavily. Absolute confusion made its way to his face and he rubbed his nape sheepishly. "Hehe, oh right." He murmured. He flickered his eyes over to you and found you still gleaming at him with that adorable smile of yours. Immediately darting away his eyes, he felt the horrible burn on his neck spread to his ears and cheeks. Taking another sip of your water, you shifted on the cushions to get comfortable all while he had his visage focused in his lap. "But really, what kind of job do you have? You sound pretty important to me," You continued. He turned his head over to you and blinked. "Oh, er, I work at this company." He replied, unsure on whether to get any deeper than that. "Pretty busy company." You hummed with a hint of disappointment. "So busy that you can't even get a day off in your vacation? I was even thinking of showing you around town too!" You exasperated, catching him by surprise. Of course he had a few free days to spare, but just not today. That didn't seem to matter to him and he suddenly jolted up to sit up straight. "Wait, what? You should have said! Of course I'll come!" The atmosphere exploded then, two hearts pounding in exhilaration from a soon-to-come little play date in town. That set off an in-built mental alarm inside a particular man who was just peacefully snoozing away a few doors away. He inhaled deeply and groaned, rolling around on his thin double mattress that squeaked loudly under his weight. Blinking away the cloud of rust that had formed over his eyes, he stuck up his arm in the air and stared. "I know this great cafe, just a couple minutes away. We should drop by and grab a bite to eat there. Then we can go to the mall just across the street. It's not the best mall in the world, but I love their sales and stores..." The fast-paced wording was bound to throw anybody off track, but he had long grown accustomed to it because he had no choice. Speaking of malls, the thought of you suddenly crossed his mind at the mention of it. If you weren't talking about malls with him or your gay blond Italian friend on the phone, who else could it be? All his ideas tied together and formed a rather ugly shape. The obnoxious laughter of his most loathed relative ricocheted in the walls of his mind like bullets. Even if it was just his imagination, God did it hurt like the real deal. His face was consumed with a frown and he threw the blankets off of his legs, ready to burst out the door in nothing but a pair of boxers. It was his house, so why should anyone care? "Did someone say mall?" He asked, appearing in the living room and cutting your lively conversation short. The two of your heads darted to him and your lips stopped moving. "Woah hey Allen, why don't you put on a shirt or pants at least? We have a guest over," Alfred coughed. He was dismissed almost immediately and Allen took a seat in the middle of you two. The couch dipped significantly lower causing your form to slide down and press against his shoulders. "Doesn't matter. We've seen each other in less." He snapped, bringing a rush of blood red to your face. You slapped him on the shoulder and clenched your teeth tightly. "Allen!" You seethed. "You have no shame!" That was one time, one fucking time and he still won't stop bringing it up. It occurred when you unfortunately opened the bathroom door without knocking to reveal him butt-naked in front of the mirror and shaving his... Places. You never returned to that bathroom ever again without knocking, even if he wasn't in there. Now, what was the time when he peeked at you? Changing in his bedroom turned out to be a horrible idea. He flashed you a toothy grin. "What's there to be shy about?" "Everything, Allen." You grumbled. He knew no bounds, this man. With you, he just loved crossing yours. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close so that you could feel his hot skin flush against yours. What was he doing? You peered up at him slowly to find him already staring at you. For some reason, your heart was fluttering when he touched you. "Come on babydoll, we're best buds, aren't we? No need to hide anything," He replied, making your face heat up again. Keeping his gaze locked with yours, he held you closer so that it was almost like a hug. This was done in a fraction of a second, but he was able to catch the fact that Alfred was making and boy, was he tense. You breathed in frustratedly. "Yeah, but you're a dude and I'm a girl. It doesn't work like that," Seeing that he still looked unconvinced, you turned over to Alfred. "Right, Alfred?" He nodded quickly. "Yeah, dude. (F/N) isn't comfortable seeing your junk as a dudette," Allen rolled his red-hued eyes. "Alright, whatever you say." He murmured. Everything then drifted off into an awkward silence. Duty calls for you to break through the ice. "So..." You started. "Alfred and I were planning to go to town. You wanna tag along?" He widened his eyes and he felt his stomach churn. So that was what the two of you were up to! Of course he was going to tag along! "Fuck yeah I'll come!" Anything to keep an eye on that stupid cousin of his. He was going to watch him like a hawk with every second he had on his hands. After Allen slipped on something to wear which consisted of a white tank top, bomber jacket and of course, pants, the three of you set out on a little adventure to the local shopping district. Nothing to compare to what the real shopping districts were like in New York, but it was all you had growing up. As the residential area slowly disappeared out of sight, taller buildings and the street full of stores and cafes filled your line of vision. Since it wasn't close to the appropriate time to eat lunch yet, the three of you wandered through different stores on the main street. Besides the time spent browsing through goods and window shopping, Allen's hand never left yours. Interlocking his fingers with yours, he walked closely by your side when shop-hopping. You thought it was cute of him, but he was acting a little out of the ordinary nevertheless. The homely buzz of chatter filled your ears just as a waft of warm, baking bread engulfed your nose. The air inside was very warm and inviting, bringing people closer as they shared their thoughts and opinions in casual conversations. You've just arrived at one of your friend's bakery cafe, one of the most popular places to eat with the community. Taking a seat at one of the tables with the two boys following suit, you all ordered something different. The waiter disappeared into the kitchen. "How do you like it here so far, Alfred?" You asked, "Not too shabby for you?" Allen found himself snickering silently. "Oh, it's totally awesome! The stuff here is like, really cheap." He replied energetically, earning a satisfied hum from you. "That's good to hear," You said. Shortly after the three of you finished your meals with Alfred finishing first despite eating three times as much, the owner walked up to you three with a tray in his hands. There sat three gleaming glass bowls of ice cream sundaes loaded with a mountain of chocolate syrup, sprinkles and a rainbow of other toppings. Before he could place them on your table, you held up your hand to stop him. "Hold on, we didn't order these," You cut in. He flashed you a smile and chuckled. "I know, it's all on the house." "What! No way! We can't have this, it's too much." You continued. "Oh, of course you can. You've got your new blonde friend here to help you. He ordered three mains, I think he can handle some dessert." He laughed heartily and gave Alfred a few pats on the back. You exchanged looks with the said boy and found him just as surprised. "I gotta say thanks for bringing me another hungry mouth to feed. For this one, I'll say ravenous." You smiled. "Well, thank you!" He waltzed back to the kitchen with an empty metal tray. "... Holy fuck." You heard Alfred whisper in awe. "I've never eaten something like this for free." "You haven't?" You picked off another chunk of the chocolate ice cream and stuffed it in your mouth. "I have. I used to get free food from this place all the time when I was little," "Same." The blonde gawked at the two of you with more disbelief with a hint of jealousy. If he ordered a sundae back at where he was from, he'd pay the full price no doubt. How come it was different here? He tried figuring that out by giving the cafe another quick scan, the first time being when he stepped foot on the vicinity. The atmosphere was jovial and full of laughter, smiles radiating the room like no light source could ever do. But everyone here was dressed in tatters! He couldn't understand how anybody could be satisfied living here. Unless... His gaze softened at you. You were laughing at Allen who'd just dropped a spoonful of strawberry ice cream on the table. The melody of your laughter was better than any music he had ever been blessed to hear, albeit an orchestra or a concert. People were satisfied with simplicity? Maybe that was why there was still a sense of happiness around such a poor neighborhood. For once, he was genuinely laughing along with you. He thought he wasn't able to enjoy himself with his time here at Allen's, but... He realized something this time. Even if he wasn't going to complain as much as before, the redhead was going loathe his visit much more than he ever had. Knowing that the 'asshole' thing won't work anymore, he needed to come up with some plan B tactics to keep you out of his hands. The lively blonde continued to converse with you, telling one-liners and even... What was that? Did Allen just hear him flirt with you? He watched your face heat up a couple notches and he felt himself do the same, except out of fury. It wasn't just plain anger that was surging through him, but hurt. His chest grew tighter as he stared at the two of you out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to make it look obvious that he was watching. But what gives? The way how that wonderful smile graced your face every now and then made his heart melt. The world didn't deserve it, and Alfred certainly didn't either. He used to be the only one who made you smile like that. The longer Allen sat there in silence with nothing but ice cream, the closer Alfred leaned into you. If this wasn't in public, Allen would have had his hands around his throat by now.

[stillness-in-green]

not any major question but I was wonder what characters do you consider underrated(besides chad)?

Well, first let me distinguish between underrated and underutilized.  The former is, I think, a fandom view, while the latter would be characters I think the show itself didn’t do enough with.  There would be a bit of overlap between lists, I think, but not much–if the show can’t be bothered to do enough with a character to make them interesting, who can expect the fandom to care?  

So this list will be more about characters I think the show mostly did just fine with, and who should get more love by the fandom!   And I’m glad you gave me the plural option there, because while I could narrow this down to the single character I think is most underrated (and I’ll flag her when I get there), I’d certainly rather ramble about lots of them.  

-All of the Human Debris Whose Names Don’t Start With The Letter A: Dante is competent at things he has no business being competent at; he’s funny, in a very different way than Shino, and his desire to make a name for himself combined with his history suggests a streak of pure defiance that it’s a miracle his Debris days didn’t break him of.  Derma doesn’t get as much narrative attention as Masahiro or screentime as Aston, but he’s a keeper anyway.  Thoughtful and measured, unwaveringly loyal, and I would bet money that he has a Survivor’s Guilt Complex the size of at least a small moon.  And Chad (YES I KNOW) is a hard worker, smarter than he thinks, a complete sweetheart, and also riddled with self-confidence issues, and he does not get enough love.  

-Biscuit: He completely dropped out of the fandom’s eye after the first season, and it’s a shame, because I think there’s a lot to be said about how things might have gone if he’d lived.  There was talk in Season 2 about how Orga made so many decisions alone–Zack wasn’t close enough to him; Eugene and the others too dependent–but Biscuit would have been that bridge.  He’s one of those characters that needed to die for Tekkadan’s rise-to-glory/fall-from-grace story to go the way it did, but I wish I saw him in more AUs.  If he doesn’t die, he’s going to be really important!

-Savarin: Savarin was doing his best, okay?  And yeah, his best was pretty bad, but he had a horribly well-positioned view of what was going to happen if anything went even a little wrong, and then watched all those exact things go down just like he knew they would.  And then he died, and then Biscuit died, and we don’t even know how much Cookie and Cracker ever found out about any of it.  What a shame.  The Dort Uprising cast are characters that really help flesh out the Post-Disaster timeline as a setting, and speaking as someone who has played a tabletop game in that setting, they’re Good Characters.  

-Isurugi:  Yeah, he could have used even one dedicated scene before his death, but good lord, even going on what we have, Isurugi is fantastic.  He’s stoic but clearly still sitting on a huge untapped well of sentimentality, devoted even when McGillis is giving him absolutely nothing in return emotionally, and clearly the sort who thinks things through at length before deciding on a path, yet once he’s made that decision, he is as constant and unwavering as wrought iron.  I’m dying to see more of anything exploring Isurugi, and the emotional investment he’s made in McGillis regardless of McGillis’s reciprocation or lack thereof.

-Iok: Look, I know all the reasons people hate Iok, and they’re all valid.  But like…  Guys, he makes a legitimate attempt to protect Rustal Elion by throwing himself between Rustal and a dainsleif.  It’s hard not to love that kind of genuine, pure–and very, very stupid–devotion at least a little.  

-Todo Mirconen: Fight me, Todo is hilarious.  And maybe there’s just a little bit more to him than everyone thinks?  Like, he’s a bully early on, sure, but I don’t think he’s a coward, per se, so much as he is self-serving to the bone.  Remember that, front lines or not, we meet him as an employee of a civilian military contractor.  And perhaps he didn’t have much choice in jobs when he was younger, but I think it’s pretty clear by his connections in the second season that he could have gotten out of that life by the time we meet him if he’d really wanted to.  I think, despite his appearance, he maybe does enjoy having a modest degree of excitement in his life?   

Amida: If I had to pick one character to top this list, it’d be her.  I think there’s a very solid case to be made for Amida being the most purely skilled pilot in the whole of the show, but I don’t actually care overmuch about Who Would Beat Batman In A Fight categorizations, when instead there’s a much more interesting case to be made about her and Naze near singlehandedly wiping out an entire sector in which female Human Debris were probably trafficked.  Truly, Amida is a light that burns as brightly as the sun.  What a champ.  What a complete queen.  What an exemplar to her women.  I wish pixiv could do her more justice than porny doujin and fanart where she’s shorter than Naze.

-Kudelia: Curiously, I think people undersell her pragmatism and why she’s going to be as important in Mars’ future as she is.  Kudelia–even in her idealistic early days, and only getting more prominent over time–has a realistic side her character type often lacks, most explicitly laid out in her early talks with Makanai and the situation with Hashmal.  

-All the show’s wacky Space Pirates are terrible and yet great.  They’re not important enough to the plot for me to begrudge the fandom for ignoring them, but like the Dort characters, they’re a big part of the setting’s flavor, and I love them for that.  I hope Dawn Horizon staged a daring rescue of their captain in all Gjallarhorn’s confusion and internal strife at the end of the season.  If Kudal Kudan had survived, I would have wanted him and Brooke Kabayan to escape into the abandoned section of whatever mining colony the Turbines dumped them on and then spent the next twenty years hating each other less than they did the entire rest of the universe.

-Makanai’s aide: So underrated by the show that he never even gets a name.  I don’t think the show needed to do more with him, but he’s the number one bit character I wish we had a name for, even if just in the credits like Yamazin.  

Thanks as always for the question!

[fraink5-writes]

Human Qualification- Chapter 2

June 19

Happy New Year, everyone! Here is the second chapter to Human Qualification. As with the previous, thank you to @missmizpah​ for beta-reading!

Summary: To slowly lose all your functions until you are nothing but a trapped mind in a deteriorated shell, that’s what it means to be ‘No Longer Human.’ 

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

It was the most dreadful day—the birthday of his intolerable partner. For only one and a half months after he was born, Chuuya had lived in peace, and, every year after on the anniversary of Dazai’s birth, he was unfortunately reminded of the ruin of his happiness. Of course, he did his best to ignore the events of that day. He envied the people he saw on the streets, bustling about their days, oblivious to the horrible event which had occurred years ago. Whether they smiled or frowned, Chuuya thought that somewhere inside there was bliss, simply by not knowing Dazai Osamu. In the beginning of his life, Chuuya had also known bliss, but it had since died and was repeatedly murdered. In fact, on such loathsome days like this one, Dazai made great effort to further disfigure Chuuya’s calm.

Dazai was not discreet with his hints. He wouldn’t let a moment of Chuuya’s forgetfulness slip by. Along with his constant reminders, he was oddly insistent that Chuuya celebrate with him, an invitation which Chuuya would turn down without hesitation. For Chuuya, that insistence was the most grating. Was Dazai really that desperate for attention? No, that was impossible for Dazai, the cold mafia executive. With the exception of Chuuya (regrettably) and two acquaintances, Dazai was distant and usually cruel to most other organization members. Not to mention, the need for attention was too simple a reason for Dazai Osamu. There was definitely an ulterior motive. Chuuya suspected that if he ever did anything for Dazai’s birthday, the brunet would make a fool out of him. So, for that reason and his general dislike, Chuuya ignored every single invitation. That day, he intended to do the same.

But strangely, no invitation ever came. The sun was already setting, and Chuuya had heard nothing from Dazai so far. In part, he was grateful, but (he would never admit to this) he was also troubled. This was so uncharacteristic for his partner that something had to be brewing—either an ultimate plan to finally humiliate Chuuya or actual trouble. Unfortunately, the latter nagged at Chuuya’s mind.

This was the fault of some words which Dazai had uttered a few days back: “I’m going to die soon.”  Even without saying a single word about his birthday, somehow Dazai managed to annoy his partner. Was this too part of some elaborate plan? A premeditated scheme to trick Chuuya? If so, the redhead saw right through it. But, even then, he found himself walking right into the trap. The moment in the bathroom seemed so genuine—so serious—that Chuuya’s convictions wavered. For once, he wanted to believe Dazai. Even Dazai wouldn’t stoop so low as to make a joke about dying just to humiliate Chuuya, right? Chuuya scoffed; he was definitely putting too much faith in the Mafia executive.

With the best nonchalance he could muster, Chuuya strolled into the liquor store. He didn’t have the slightest hint about what Dazai wanted, and, frankly, he didn’t care either. Thus, he turned to his fallback gift: booze. It was the universal gift. Chuuya searched the shelves with great attention, not to quality (as he would do when shopping for himself), but to price; he was going to buy Dazai the cheapest in the store. Then, at least, if Dazai died shortly after, Chuuya wouldn’t have the guilt of having bought nothing. That was his sole motivation. He wouldn’t have cared whether Dazai liked it or not had he not had his reputation as alcohol connaisseur to worry about. For this reason, he ended up leaving the store with a fairly expensive bottle of sake in his hand.

Hating his gullibility, Chuuya trudged towards Dazai’s apartment. He enviously watched the young adults starting their night out, the working parents returning home to their families, the kids loitering. They would probably live long lives. For mafiosos like Chuuya, that chance always threatened to disappear. When he was younger, he used to fear dying on even the tiniest missions. He had long since outgrown that dread. And yet, Dazai’s story had revived it. Suddenly, death seemed so close, almost tangible. Did Dazai feel the same way? Was he afraid? Chuuya doubted it. Even as a child, Dazai never showed apprehension. It was completely foreign to the brunet. Chuuya suspected that was the case for all emotions, and it caused him great disdain.

As he climbed the stairs, Chuuya saw two familiar faces heading down—Dazai’s acquaintances. Not wanting to be seen, he shadowed his face with his hat and proceeded up, eyes unmoving from the step in front of him. Finally, he arrived at the door and knocked just hard enough to make a noise but light enough Chuuya hoped Dazai wouldn’t hear.

Dazai swung open the door with a grin which startled Chuuya—though perhaps not as much as Chuuya’s presence had done to Dazai. “Oh.” The smile on the brunet’s face was quickly replaced with a confusion. “...Chuuya?”

“Uhh..” Chuuya was at a loss for words. His reason for being there wasn’t at all convincing, even for himself. Blood rushed eagerly to his face, so he pulled his hat down further. “Happy birthday, asshole.” He thrust the bottle of sake at Dazai and waited anxiously for the taller man to take it into his hands, so he could make his escape.

Unfortunately, Dazai was taking his sweet time about it. “I.. I’m surprised you’re here. You never come.” Dazai smiled slightly in a way which made Chuuya want to leap from his skin and fly down the stairs. “Thank you, Chuuya.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m your partner, after all.”

“You want to drink it?”

“Huh?” Chuuya blinked at his partner. “You’re not planning anything, are you?”

“Hmm? No, and if I was, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Chuuya was beginning to see the layers of malice underneath Dazai’s grin. Normally, he’d say no immediately, but it was difficult to pass up expensive alcohol, especially a bottle that he had spent money on. “Fine.”

A few cups in, and Chuuya was certain he had made the right choice. It wasn’t the best bottle of sake he had tasted, but it was for Dazai, so it didn’t need to be, and it was enjoyable at least. That enjoyment had flooded Chuuya’s brain with a tempest of emotions, which he channeled into idiotic banter with Dazai.

“Chuuya, really,” By the rosy color of Dazai’s cheeks, it was obvious he was drunk. “Thank you for coming today.”

“Yeah. You know, that story you told me the other day? I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Even now, after this, it still persists.” Chuuya poured himself another cup. “How fucking annoying!”

“I’m surprised you believed me.��

“What? No! Do you think I’m that stupid?! I’m still waiting for the trick. I’m fucking prepared. Fucking...”

“There’s no trick. It was the truth.” Dazai sighed, “Well, I didn’t expect you believe me, and certainly not like this...”

“Is that right…” Chuuya’s head flopped onto the table.

“Now, if you want me to humiliate you, that can be easily arranged. But, you’re practically doing it all by yourself.”

Chuuya briefly lifted his head—“Fuck off!”—before resting again. Without any thoughts, words rose to his mind and flowed from his lips like a fountain. “Is it terrifying? Doesn’t it horrify you to know that you’re going to die? Do you feel anything? It’s scary, isn’t it?” The tears had begun to accumulate in his eyes. In his stomach, there was a horrible churning, also threatening to spill over. He pounded his fist on the table in frustration.

“Chuuya.” Dazai looked on pitifully, which infuriated Chuuya. The redhead flew to his feet and lunged at Dazai’s collar. Before he could say a word, he jerked his head to the right and vomited.

Dazai sighed again. “I think you’ve had too much. You’ve basically drank all my sake.”

“I bought it.”

“It’s my birthday.”

“Oh right… happy birthday.” Chuuya dropped Dazai’s collar and stared at his feet with shame.

“Oh, nevermind that. Just make your way to the bathroom.” Dazai put his arm around Chuuya and acquainted him with the toilet. With an arm on his partner’s back, he groaned. “Gross. I can’t believe I have to be doing this...”

“You’re a bigger pain on a daily basis!”

“Ow. What a mean thing to say, Chuuya!” Dazai smacked Chuuya’s back extra hard. “Well, one day you’re going to owe me for this.”

“If you think—” Chuuya started before Dazai seized his hair and threatened to drown him in the dirty water. “Okay! Okay!”

Chuuya didn’t say a word as he continued to empty his stomach along to the rhythmic pats on his back and sadistic cooing “There, there.” Slowly his senses blended together like paint until they created a shade of black.

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