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beyondthebackup · 8 months

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🌧- For a heavy, emotional secret

L is After Beyond Birthday

In the beginning, there were two.

A, the first.

B, the second.

L, a distant mirage.

A's mission was simple: become L. B's path to worthiness was less straightforward; before he could become L, he had to defeat A. From the tender age of 8 until around a decade later when his rival drew his last breath, surpassing A was B's goal. His obsession.

A and B grew up in undeniable intimacy. Their status as the first and the best alienated them from their peers. For a while, they could be children and co-exist as something other than a pact of mutually assured destruction. Eventually though, the fierce competition came to define their relationship. Parents are often warned not to compare their children to one another to avoid breeding resentment or complexes of superiority. Unfortunately, Wammy's House did not find such advice relevant. They were judged like prize cattle.

Their identities solidified as foils to one another in this strange, manufactured world. A vs B, golden child and scapegoat, martyr and monster, opposing forces in perpetual conflict that would define The Prototype Generation as a venture in abject failure. They found common ground only in this curse of not being L.

B lived as A's shadow for the better part of his life. His horizon ended at A's back, even knowing he would die before he ever got the chance to succeed L. That timer ever-present above A's head reinforced B's developing sense that Wammy's House and by extension, Fate, had doomed them both. This only made B's mission to subjugate him all the more urgent; he spared no effort to prove they were equals as adolescent feelings of fraternity, desire and inadequacy birthed a twisted fixation. B would no longer imitate or chase A in death. His domination would be complete.

...This victory, when it came, was decidedly hollow.

Following A's death, B quickly realized that he did not want L's position - or A's, for that matter. He would not be Wammy's good boy and do L's bidding until the day he died. B could see the writing on the wall, the never-ending stream of younger children entering the orphanage. Were they ever going to let him succeed?

A and B, the prototypes, would never become L.

L. Who was L? Who was this person A died trying to become? Who was this person B sacrificed his entire identity to imitate? Was he even real? Was he flesh and bone and blood like they were? Of course he was...and that was the disappointing, devastating, destabilizing truth of it all. It was fundamentally impossible for L the human being to meet the standards of the deity B was groomed to worship. A and B were sacrificed not for a God, but a false idol.

They never stood a chance.

Following this conclusion, B found his resolve.

B did not want a future.

B did not want justice.

B wanted revenge.

B wanted L.

Transference is when someone redirects their feelings about one person onto someone else. B's obsession with his deceased rival became inseparable from his feelings for L. He only did what he was rewarded his entire life for doing, and L became the horizon he would follow to his death.

Not his position. Not his title. Him. His humiliation. His defeat. His destruction.

If A died trying to become L, B would die trying to defeat him.

It was Fate.

#ask #headcanon #meme #a-for-alternative #beyond birthday

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jam-knife · 11 months

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What insecurities did B try to exploit in A? What are some of B's insecurities?

(OOC: ooooookayyy this is gonna be a long one. @a-for-alternative this is for you <3)

Insecurity

It was no secret that, within the walls of Wammy's House, A and B had very precisely defined roles to fulfill. In fact, it was tacit understanding, if not verbalized certainty.

The alternative, and the backup. The ideal successor, and the dreaded contingency measure. The first choice, and the next best scrap.

The leading example, and the cautionary tale.

Scores, psychological examination, and availability to be used to their owners' desire had all played into assigning them to said roles, which were later thoroughly enforced by their peers' merciless judgement.

Only behind closed doors, in the privacy of their shared bedroom, could the two successors shed those expectations and give in to an instinct by all means obscene to disrupt the status-quo. Only then could A allow himself to take pleasure in being degraded, and could B indulge, free of criticism, in his most basic thirst for satiation and violence.

But that freedom, that ability to tear off the masks that had been forced onto them with surgical precision since childhood, was a result of several years of clawing and clashing. Before they grew to become each other's relief, the two boys were nothing to each other but an enemy.

A never-ending source of dread and insecurity.

B could not surpass A in performance. No matter how hard he tried, regardless of talent and effort, he never seemed to overtake that fraction of a cent that kept him at the base of A's glorified pedestal of academic excellence. He couldn't even, for the love of him, figure out if the awareness that the scores were rigged against him should be a relief or an even greater source of frustration.

But.

There was a hidden power in consistently and unavoidably stepping on your rival's heels. A sweetness to the desperation as they try to sprint further ahead yet being unable to establish that much craved distance.

At first, B had thought it a punishment, being forced to cohabitate with that frilly, unpolluted doll of a person. That is, until he learned what buttons to push to make the kitty show its claws.

Close. Closer. So close the other could feel his breath faltering and taste the panic staling his tongue.

That's right. B couldn't threaten A's self-esteem with achievement. But he could undermine his stability. He could sabotage his sense of safety. Of continuation.

Rejoice in your superiority. Enjoy it while it lasts... because we both know you can only run for so long. One day you will trip; you'll lose your footing, and find yourself questioning where it all went wrong as your perspective tumbles to the ground. And when the taste of the dirt below penetrates the gaps in your teeth, I'll be right behind you, ready to stomp all over you. And guess what, A... NOBODY will reach out to help. You're A l o n e ... Alone, with me. And you still dare sleep... Did you know... how deep a sleeper you are?

~*~

As for B...

Every day spent with that phantom hand pressing his head into an subservient bow was excruciating. It didn't really matter if his performance had earned the admonishment or if it had been despotically shrouded onto him. The feeling was the same.

Inferior.

So painfully inferior.

Never good enough. Never good at all. From the moment he was born, he had been an abomination, his conception cursed, his existence sacrilegious in and of itself.

M i s t a k e.

Nobody roots for you. Nobody chooses you. Nobody wants you. NOT EVEN YOUR MOTHER WANTED YOU!!! Whatever victory you manage to snatch, you know damn well it'll be stolen. Only through death, through aleatory extinction of the truly worthy, can you hope to thrive.

Inadequate.

Faulty.

Unstable.

Unmanageable.

Last resort.

Backup.

Backup, backup, backup, backup backup backup backup backup backup backupbackupbackupbackupbackupbackupbackupbackup.

What the FUCK is a backup GOOD FOR?! Your entire worth depends on his failure. Look at the numbers, look at them closely... And express thankfulness that such a thing as programmed obsolescence exists.

#beyond birthday #roleplay #ask #death note #insecurity #a-for-alternative #wammy's house

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extrxmegxnius · 10 months

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"Do you ever think about what's left of our parents...?" Alternative murmured as they both gazed down into the disturbed grave they had begun to uncover. The varnish of the lid had long since eroded, leaving it an unspectacular matte black, A wondered if the purchaser would have opted for a cardboard box if they had foreseen this fate. Black earth, threaded with roots and beetles were torn out, leaving their fingernails soiled at the cuticles. They rested on their beaten shovels, rudimentary tools for the task. All this in the name of finding B a hyoid bone for his collection.

A young Beyond Birthday's eyes squinted hard as he thrusted his shovel deep into the earth before leaning over it at the elbow, wiping his brow with his free hand. Digging up this unfortunate soul's grave was no small task, having left B with wet splotches in the shirt under his arms and a wide streak of sweat going down his chest and back. He had been laser focused on unearthing this casket and wasn't listening at first, and so he flung his head around to A's position with a resounding huh? Oh, yeah.

Still thinking more fixedly about how to go about opening the casket, Beyond sneers.

"I guess it depends on what stage they're in." He responds rather absently, as though completely disinterested.

"Mine have certainly had enough time to rot, bloat, and be eaten away by all manner of bugs and underground creatures that consume buried flesh. They're bones now, like this guy. Unless you mean something a little more philosophical. Do you worry about where they're at in the afterlife? Perhaps you're concerned about how they were reincarnated," B continues to prattle in a very matter-of-fact sort of way as he takes up the shovel once more, deciding all of a sudden he didn't need to be careful anyway. He plunges the shove'ls spade directly into the casket's seam and starts trying to leverage the thing up. Annoyed that A isn't yet following suit, he shoots his friend a lazy glare.

"Do go on, but I didn't bring you with me to simply watch."

#a-for-alternative #asks #death note rp #death note #beyond birthday #{i hope this is okay!! i haven't had B on my mind enough bc stress :(( }

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massivecore13 · 10 months

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✉ need more, i am greedy

㊁ : emergency

[TEXT] ABORT MISSION ABORT MISSION

[TEXT] Your concoction didn't work, the greenhouse's carnivorous plants just died instead of turning into monsters. Told ya it wouldn't work genius, ah!

[TEXT] C's storming out but Roger isn't giving it a fuck and he's about to be back… get the hell out of his office

♡ : endearing/affectionate/loving

[TEXT] I love the shape of your scalp. So perfectly round and smooth.

[TEXT] It would make a perfect ornament on my nightstand <3

👅 : sext/suggestive

[TEXT] I know a place where they serve a special blend of coffee. Room 707. Opened by 9.30 PM tonight. Shall we go?

♪ : musical/lyrics

[TEXT] [ Sent attachment:- OdeToADeath.mp4 -]

★ : wrong number

[TEXT] 👻🎞️🍿

[TEXT] Nah not tellin' A 'bout the movie night

☯ : angry/hateful

[TEXT] WHERE.IS.SCRAGGY

[TEXT] I know you're hiding, but it won't help. I will find you wherever you are, A.

♖ : drunk/drugged

[TEXT] I like

[TEXT] Damn.I.like hid n sek

[TEXT] U hidin well

[TEXT] BUT I WILL FNDU

(And A is right before his eyes, judging)

♛ : worried

[TEXT] Is it a serious wound?! Are you bleeding?!

[TEXT] I am not coming unless you're dying. That's all I care for.

♘ : late night

[TEXT] I'm bored. Wanna join me in doin' some chemical experiments in the lab?

#a-for-alternative #ic #all he says is nonsense with a sense #he keeps showing A all his love praise him

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thecarefulcatalyst · 2 years

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Starter Call: A-for-alternative

Another Day another ranking, more stress which left her stomach in knots and everyone livid or far too pleased with themselves, she was tired just thinking about it, if she bothered to speak up.

But she never did. Never spoke up, never complained to them, just a yes sir and off to try and meet the ever rising standards, hopefully they'd be pleased enough to avoid the seemingly constant discussion of the importance of applying yourself...

For now she'd comfort herself with her books; off the library a little bit of what would be light reading here before heading off to read the board again.

"...A Deadly struggle is taking place...dum dum.."

@a-for-alternative

#A-for-alternative #Starter call!

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daily-spooky · 28 days

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deseos-de-la-via-lactea · 7 months

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source

#you are strong #you can do this #art #aesthetics #fox #indie #grunge #alternative #aesthetic #space #universo #universe #vintage #stars

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karnalesbian · 3 months

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she commit acts of intercourse on my erogeneous zones until i achieve sexual climax

#pattern recognition has transitioned from a reliable ally into a dangerous enemy #alternatively: memes that were written by data from star trek

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catchymemes · 3 months

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#funny #lol #haha #humor #meme #memes #tiktok #music #alternative #goth #gothic

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innerenigma · 1 month

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•Normalize Fanart for Fanfics Again You Fools•

It's not cringe anymore (it SHOULDN'T be cringe anymore), just do it. You're doing something you enjoy, who cares what anybody else says! So spread the words my fellow internet brethren.

Spread the Word :)

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beyondthebackup · 10 months

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"You can't be telling me that you've shed all your prevaricating bullshit and become sincere, how will there be even a shred of you left to recognize?" He gibed, giving Backup a neatly wrapped box fashioned with a red bow. "It's a shame you would have to go so much further to become more than second~ You look confused, B. did you forget your own birthday?"

The smile doesn't fade.

"Oh, please don't talk to me about prevaricating bullshit, Alternative. It's called mirroring," A relief, then, that honesty does not dull his wit. He takes the box from him. "You know, you're so mean to me, but then you pull stuff like this...you invented mixed signals in our relationship. That is why I looked confused."

B undoes the ribbon delicately, but does not treat the wrapping paper with any such gentleness. His latest peace offering comes into view as he opens the box.

#ask #a-for-alternative #truth serum #rp #magic anon #plot #birthday's past

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jam-knife · 10 months

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I miss you in ways that don't make sense. Sometimes, I look for you in places I know you've never been so they will feel a little less miserable to stay in... Maybe I just need to be medicated.

Beyond's fist tightened, when the words hit him.

Spoken, yet immaterial, in that voice he knew so well. That voice he was closer to forgetting every day but that still replicated itself to perfection in his mind when he was vulnerable enough to hear it.

Right then, the words had found him in the middle of grey, rocky hills, a drizzle thinner than a breath dampening his cheeks into a chill. He hated ties, but he was wearing a tie that day. By his feet, a single rock stood, too blatantly planted among the grassy patches to look natural.

Two years ago, they didn't even let him keep the ashes.

Erased, like his name had been from every record in the globe. Evaporated, like he had never set foot in that House to begin with. Like no pillows had been warmed by his head, no lives touched by his candor.

B only had a couple pictures, scribbled papers and a few pieces of clutter to remember him by. Only scraps of proof that he had existed to bury in his place... as if that could ever be enough to replace the person they had belonged to.

Head bowed down, he looked at the rock, wincing at the words A's voice had conjured in his mind as the drizzle built like ice on his hair and the back of his neck.

He no longer knew where the voice came from. His rational self thoroughly refused to believe the source could be paranormal... but then again, there were things -like being able to determine the date of someone's death with absolute precision- that couldn't be explained rationally.

It could also be a trick of his brain, he supposed; a bittersweet form of self-torture, reminding him of what he'd lost forever. The only thing he'd ever desperately wanted to keep, ironically, was the only thing he was too powerless to protect.

Or maybe those words told precisely what B himself wanted to say. What he felt in the deepest fibers of his soul. Things that would always fall on deaf ears, now that the receptor was no more.

'I miss you in ways that don't make sense' ...

That phrase stuck to him the most, and he almost wanted to bark out a laugh. The scars on his arms and the burns of ropes around his neck were proof of how much he had tried to reach A. Each drop of blood spilled and each noose that had failed were a testament of how far behind he still was.

I miss you even more than I miss myself...

People liked to think Beyond Birthday was a psychopath, with no room in his bleak heart for any emotion other than sadism.

Yet, a psychopath wouldn't stand in the rain, wearing a tie he hated on that of all days. A psychopath's lips wouldn't tremble, and his tight-shut eyelids wouldn't let the overpowering burst of tears leak out.

A psychopath doesn't cry out, scream or crumble like this.

#a-for-alternative #beyond birthday #roleplay #ask #death note #wammy's house

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lesbiansasuk3 · 1 month

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