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#Twilight secretly likes doing Anya's hair
thelreads · 2 years
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"His father who may or may not be a rival spy that was taken down by Twilight in the past, if not something far worse..."
Frankenstein's monster? The stitches remind me of that
Oh, I have some ideas what he might be... And all thanks to a friend that pointed out a few details that I hadn`t noticed.
First off, there`s the talk about mythical creatures in this chapter, the Chimera and the Griffin, and a quick google search provided a few interesting insights
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The first thing being that they are opposites. So, if we know that Anya is the Chimera, Damian is the Griffin here.
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And it does seems to fit with the vision he and others have of his family. Leaders and protectors of those below them, symbols of mighty and richness. Now, on the other hand...
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The chimera is a female creature, and not only it is seem as evil and bad omen, it shows up when disasters are to unfold, almost like it can predict them happening. It also fits Anya, as she`s always quick to rush to where calamity will strike
This sets them in an interesting spot, and remember, as Chimeras have a lion head, they also have a goat head, and one of their traits is that they have horns
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but in this case, it seems like the goat and the lion head were fused into one, and it shows on Anya as well. She has her hair as a “mane“, and horns on the sides.
Horns on the sides of the head
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Almost on the same place that Damian`s dad has his stitches. like the horns - that being - the implants, were removed. Maybe Anya also has scars on those spots and that`s why she never takes out her hair thingyes.
So, in short, it could be that he was also an experiment on project apple. It could be that he`s a precursor to Anya, since she`s the seventh test subject.
It could be that he is actually a chimera as well, trying to pass as a Griffin
Besides, wasn`t there a talk about how he`s a reclusive who`s rarely seen in social events? It could be because he`s unable to shut down completely the mind reading power, and he feels overwhelmed in crowds, almost like anya did. Besides, him being a high ranking member of the government would make even more sense if he was secretly a psychic, he was able to maneuver his way around, and would add more weight why SPY HQ wants him gone, he`s a threat that they need to eliminate, and they can`t let anyone else know about what he can do. Oh god, to think that the same fate can befall anya- jesus!
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abluescarfonwaston · 3 years
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Loid opened the door.
“You’re married!?” A female voice screeched.
Loid closed the door. Holding it closed as the person on the other side banged against it frantically.
“Loid?” Yor’s voice was high and concerned. Butter knife clenched in her hand. “Who’s that?”
Anya’s eyes went wide. Loid pressed his forehead against the door as it pounded.
“That.” He lamented. “Is my sister.”
“Stop yelling. The neighbors are staring.” He scolded when he finally opened the door.
She shoved past him. Taking in the apartment. Surveying their domain before her eyes settled on them.
She was all blue eyes and wild blond curls.
His sister.
Yor’s hand stayed tight around the butter knife. Half afraid she attack.
The hand not holding the knife was firmly clasped between both of Loid’s sister’s. Blue eyes drilling into her as she opened her mouth – undoubtedly to comment on how quick it must have been or how she wasn’t good enough or how she didn’t approve- and said,
“You deserve better.”
The door clicked closed behind Loid as he sighed. “Olivia –don’t.” He plead.
“No you seriously do. I once listened to him wax poetic about bumblebees for eight hours straight and I once watched him dive into an empty swimming pool and-“
“Yor, Anya, meet Olivia Stahl. She’s been working abroad the last few years. She was an intern I helped train during residency.”
“You helped train me?” She turned on him. “I’m sorry which one of us drank that spiked cocktail just to prove a point about how strong his liver was? Because I specifically remember telling you not to drink it and then you downing it in one go because-”
He did not make eye contact with her. Eyes train well above her head as he continued on ignoring her. “I didn’t realize she’d come home. Lovely to see you again Olivia but I only made enough for three so you’ll have to be going now-“
“Auntie!” Anya jumped out of her chair and hugged her leg. Halting his shoving her back out the door. “I missed you!”
There existed gratitude and irritation in equal measure in his heart. Gratitude that Anya had decided to play along with the situation. Irritation that her ploy would slow his removal of Olivia.
Olivia smacked his stomach with the back of her hand. “Well your daughter has decided I’m staying so I’m staying! It’s fine I’ll just eat your portion.” She settled herself down in his seat with a smirk. Anya stared up at her expectantly. Olivia smacked her forehead and dug around her bag pulling out a small figurine. “Sorry I didn’t bring your official present Anya. I heard he’d tricked some poor woman into marrying him and I forgot your gift at home.”
She’ll just pick something up later and pretend she got it abroad.
“But maybe you can keep an eye on this little fellow for your Dad until then?”
It was a small figurine of a bumblebee. Incredibly lifelike. Its eyes tiny ordered hexagons. She frowned and shook her head.
He plucked it from her palm and set it on the counter. “A Bombus Fernaldae. Will you drop this joke? It was one time.”
“It was not just one time! And the fact you could identify what kind of bee it is says plenty about how much you secretly like it.” She turned her focus to Yor. Ignoring Loid’s put upon sigh. “So tell me how he managed to trick you into marrying him.”
“I- well I actually asked him?”
Her lips curled with revulsion as she stretched the word “Why?” into an eight syllable groan.
Loid sat down with a new plate serving himself a new meal while Olivia ate the remains of his old one. “Eden requires children who apply to have two married parents. She was helping us out.”
You’re telling her that? I thought we were keeping it quiet.
“Oh I gathered what you got out of it but I was asking what she got out of it.”
“She doesn’t owe you an explanation Olivia.” He scowled. Olivia yipped in pain drawing her legs up onto the chair.
“Don’t kick me!”
“Don’t interrogate my wife.”
“Is it blackmail? If you need me to get rid of him for you I can-“
“I’m not blackmailing her!”
The conversation rapidly dissolved into bickering. Full of stories and inside jokes that were thrown and discarded far too quickly to unravel.
Loid ran his hand through his hair for the fifth time in as many minutes. The floof levels rising higher and higher. His locks growing more and more bedraggled as they continued.
Anya’s wide eyes snapped between the two of them like a riveting tennis match.
“Actually,” She started, interrupting the flow of their verbal sparring. Loid froze mid stab of the steak on Olivia’s plate. Suddenly remembering they weren’t alone. “Loid helped me out. Being single at my age can attract the wrong kind of attention.” Screams of the people the secret police dragged away filled the space between words. “And my brother was worried. I was very lucky to meet Loid when I did.”
Olivia side eyed Loid. “Lucky. Right.” She smiled brightly at Yor. “You have a brother?”
Loid settled back into his chair, the impish grin falling away as the conversation drifted to calmer waters.
“Walk me out?” She requested after the last of the dishes were put away.
He nodded. Anya’s eyes followed them out the door.
“Anya you have to finish this if you don’t want to miss spy wars.”
Her focus turned back to the homework with a groan.
She offered a cigarettes to him.
“I quit.”
“For your fake family up there?”
He shrugged. “We’ve both read the studies. Seemed as good a reason as any.”
She blew out a smoke cloud. “Sure but it’s not like cancer’s going to get a chance to kill us.”
“Was there a point or did you just want to make my laundry more difficult?”
She hummed. “Can’t it be both?” Elbowed him.
He settled against the brick wall with a sigh. “What’s the job?”
“Get a solid night’s sleep? How’s that for a mission.”
His head tapped against the wall. Eyes closed and face turned upward to the hazy sky. It did nothing to hide the lines of deep seated exhaustion.  “They send you to do a psych eval?”
“Should I?”
“I’m fine.”
“Fine like I’m just overworked but am actually fine or fine like you’d get your makeup perfect before going in for an eval?”
“My makeup is always perfect. Yours however-“ He tilted his head to peer down at her. Tossing a cheeky grin her way.
“Is impeccable.”
“Just like I taught you.”
“You did not!” Shoving him. He bobbed to the side dramatically before returning to his position. “They seem nice.”
“They are.” His eyes found the carton in her hand longingly. He tore his eyes away. “Bombus Fernaldae huh.”
“Going to pull a cuckcoo bee on them when the mission is over?”
“The mission comes first.”
“Not going to turn you in for wanting more asshole.”
His eyes dragged up to their window as she took a drag of the cigarette.
“We can’t be more than we are.”
“Did you just make a bee pun? Cause I will tell the entire department. I’ll report you for that. Assault on a coworker.”
“I rented a castle and they barely batted an eye. No one will believe you Nite Lite.”
“I have an actual title these days you know.”
“And I promise I will never use it.” He assured like that was the problem. Which it wasn’t. He pat her head. She considered biting it off. “Just overworked. This has been. Good for me I think.”
“Aside from the potential cleanup?”
“I try not to think about that.”
She snorted. “She deserves better.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t agree with me. It doesn’t make you less of an asshole.”
“She knows it’s fake. It’s not like I’m lying to her about that.”
“Oh so she knows that. Great and I’m sure your brat totally got the memo about how-“
“Stop.” His voice heavy and dark. “I didn’t design the mission.”
The smoke curled in the air. “Yeah I know.”
Cold threaded its ways slowly into their jackets.
“Did she actually propose?”
“She did. I was so shocked I fell flat on my face.”
“Ugh! Don’t tell me shit like that! Literally no one ever believes me when I tell them what a mess you are! It’s Agony! Agony you hear me?”
“So sorry my lying is more effective than your honesty.” He leaned over her. “It’s this handsome face of mine. People instinctively think I’m put together.”
She gripped his smug face. Shoving it away as he pushed against her. “I will break your handsome face and then we’ll see if anyone can put you back together!”
He laughed as she shoved him away. She stopped.
It sounded genuine.
It had been so long since she’d heard him laugh like that. Not since his last partner had been –
Twilight cocked his head at her questioningly.
“She still deserves better than you and your knockoff curries.” She told him one last time. Stamping out the cigarette butt with her shoe.
But it seems like she might be good for you.
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andistewart · 3 years
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Ghosts (Part 2)
(Part 1) 
"So. I, got a birthday card in the mail last week. It was from my mother."
"Mhmmm." acknowledged the therapist. "And, are you still not speaking to her?"
"Yes. That's right. I wasn't expecting the birthday card."
Silence.
"What did you do?" she asked him.
"Um. I stared at it for awhile. I have this box where I keep, souvenirs and memories and things. I went to my room and threw it inside. I didn't open it."
Silence.
"... I didn't feel much. Really. Well, I was a little bit annoyed. I have thing thing with birthdays, and I'm a little happy she remembered. But um. I'm still, like, a little angry. I guess. Seeing that card, seeing her name on the return address. To have her descend into my reality again made me upset."
"I see." She gently nodded her head, pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.
Silence waited to be punctured by the echo of an emotion or a memory. He could feel his hands getting sweaty. He clasped them together loosely and placed them on his thighs. He used his thumb to wipe down his palms.
"I don't know though."
"What don't you know?" she asked.
"Um. I. Don't. Know. If ...." He spoke as if he was trying to translate a language in his mind that he was unfamiliar with. "... it was the right thing, to do."
"Mmhmm." She reassured the question.
≈≈≈≈
"See. That's the thing though. People don't understand what jazz really is. It really bothers me." Kohl said as I sipped my beer. "It's too, defined, you know?" His vowels traced a reverse parabolic arc in tone. The word fell and bounced up, and fell again.
Kohl was another french schoolmate. He was in his twenties with wispy brown hair above a gaunt face that was usually covered with a toque. His entire aesthetic was thrifted Wes Andersen. He looked like he belonged on a boat in The Life Aquatic. He even had the mustache. 
"Yeah I see what you mean. I think when she said she hated jazz, she meant bebop and excessive drum solos. She's fine with the other stuff, Billie Holiday. I think." I said.
"That's what I mean. So, like, your ex, she doesn't understand what she's saying. But most people don't. Jazz is everything that's new in music. That's what real jazz is."
"You really think that?"
"Yes. Jazz doesn't even mean anything. It was a made up word to explain what wasn't contemporary music at the time. It was a made up word to explain this energy, this vibe in the clubs where they'd be trying new things with music."
As he spoke I had caught a glimpse of something familiar from the corner of my eye. Something that had always lingered in the blank pages of my conscience but never fully erased. Faded, sticky remnants of what used to exist.
"... so yes. There's so much to explore and still to discover with it. Like, there's a lot of interesting jazz being put out now. That crosses genres." 
The figure grew larger as it kept moving towards me. I recognised it sooner than I could believe the coincidence. Years later, out of all the cities, out of all the parks, a ghost from my memory had appeared.
The shape walking towards me was my ex Anya: it was all unmistakeable. A gait as if a giraffe had become human; her long neck craning around slowly while the rest of her body stayed fixed. A narrow frame with long limbs and a slightly protruding, pointed chin. A left kneecap turned inwards. Hair; long, brown and straight were still the same. Glasses; large, black, and thick frames were still the same. A faint lisp when she spoke was still the same. Through the dim lights of the park those large, but sunken blue eyes were still the same. She was walking through the park with her friend who looked physically opposite. If Anya was all angles and bone, her friend was rounded corners and softness.
I'd run into her before, but it had been two years now since. They were quick affairs where I'd thought she was rude; but, who really knows the truth when a love story ends? I told myself after the last encounter that the next time our paths crossed; I'd ignore her. I'd pretend we never happened. If you ignore a ghost, were they ever alive in the first place?
I brought my attention back to Kohl.
"... but really the problem with old jazz, or what people think as jazz ...." Kohl kept on. Anya and her friend were coming closer. It was difficult to keep my gaze on Kohl. "... is that it's just dead music. It's dead music, from dead people, from a dead era. It's been played to death." They were ten feet away. I lost my composure. I swung my head behind me. 
Our eyes met. 
For a few moments in the dim twilight amongst the murmurred commotion of the park it could have been as if the past few years hadn't happened and we were still together. But time changes all. She said nothing. I said nothing. Soon, after some seconds I turned my head around to face Kohl. They never stopped walking.
"There's nothing new to discover there anymore." Kohl said.
I felt them pass behind us and drift away. Where she occupied one corner of my eye, she now occupied the other. I turned to stare. I secretly was hoping she'd turn back to look. She didn't. I thought of chasing her and saying hi; but, I had no physical compulsion to do so. And in a breath, they were gone.
"When I was a DJ at college," Kohl said "I really tried to play the kinds of records that would make people uncomfortable. It's because its important people learn to be uncomfortable with new experiences, new sounds you know-"
"I think I just saw my ex." I interrupted.
"What? Oh. Those two?"
"Yeah. The tall one."
"Oh I see. You didn't say hi?" He asked after pausing.
"No. No. I guess there's no point." I replied. "It's in the past now."
≈≈≈≈
"Well, like I've said before. There's no right thing to do. It comes down to what it is you want, what it is that makes you feel better." She fixes her glasses. "If you don't want a connection with your mother because it makes you feel better, emotionally, mentally, then ignoring the card is a perfectly justifiable action."
"I remember that." He replied. "To be honest, I'm really not sure what will make me feel better. I think it does. Yeah."
"Mhmm. That's common. And normal."
Her phone on the table beside them began to beep. It echoed through the room, the closed wood door, and faintly into the basement halls outside.
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