#3.8k$

[oldjewelryfeed]

VICTORIAN ETRUSCAN REVIVAL 18 KARAT YELLOW GOLD ANTIQUE GRAPEVINE AMPHORA DROP EARRINGS

[cyberdragoninfinity]

alright dana needs to wail and bark and holler about yugioh vrains now or shes gonna explode

GOD. VRAINS, HUH. YUGIOH VRAINS. I finished it a little over a week ago and even though I've been mad busy it is eating at my brain like it's out to kill me, and I suspect it's gonna keep doing that for a While. 8) Anyway time for my post-yugioh spinoff watch tradition of typing up my thoughts in a little (big) retrospective so so LEMME GET STARTED!! I SET MY MONSTERS IN THE LINK ARROWS TO MANIFEST MY CIRCUIT!!!!! LINK IT TO THE VRAINS BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!

[as always, for this anime from almost 10 (?!?!) years ago]

ok i can't talk about VRAINS without talking about the. circumstances surrounding my life while I was watching it. if i may be a bit emotional and Real Talk for a moment. tw talking about loss of a parent, but I started watching vrains in mid-October, a few weeks before my dad would pass away in early November. And then I finished watching it last Sunday, a few days before my family would scatter my dad's ashes at sea on April 24th. And let me tell you it is almost downright hysterical just how About Grief (especially Familial Grief) vrains is. I kept jokingly calling it "truly Such a yugioh to watch for someone whose dad just died"--literally why are there THREE. THREE!!!!! DEAD DAD/PARENT PLOTLINES GOING ON WITH CHARACTERS IN THIS SHOW. THREE!!!! FUCKING GOD LMAO. like it's not the first yugioh to be About grief but jesus mary and joseph the way grief, loss, the idea of preserving the memory of those we love and how they can live on in our hearts forever, the way all of that is so intrinsically baked into vrains and the way it tells its story is A) genuinely so moving and sweet and also B.) ABSOLUTELY INSANE TO EXPERIENCE GIVEN HOW THINGS HAVE BEEN GOING FOR ME THESE LAST FEW MONTHS. SLASH POS. SLASH LOTS OF LOVE

all that to say yugioh vrains is just so "i experienced this piece of media at the exact transitional period of my life where i needed it most," and that's going to be special forever for me. the effect it's already having on me is of a magnitude i can't even fathom yet. it's going to sit with me for years. IT'S GOOD. IT'S REALLY FUCKIN GOOD. This yugioh made me bawl my eyes out like three different times over the way it shares themes of how grief and trauma can puss you to extremes,and how keeping close the bonds we have with each other, even when the people we care about have to go to away, is so so crucial and helps us move forward. There is love and there is loss in every inch of this fucking yugioh and it's incredible, I see why it's such a beloved series. I KNOW NOW. I SEE THE PEAK. I FEEL IT.

I do also absolutely see why it seems like a lot of people hold this as one of if not The most "serious" yugioh. And I get it! It handles some really fuckin grim, heavy topics (most all of them really remarkably well and gracefully!) BUT ALSO. I GOTTA SAY. THIS YUGIOH IS SO FUCKING FUNNY. AND SO GOOFY. AND SO RIDICULOUS. AND THATS AN INTEGRAL PART OF THE EXPERIENCE FOR ME. I watched the dub primarily as I usually do (+ all of s3 subbed and some other eps subbed) but let's be real the original is hilarious too. You get your 18 episodes of Ai being one of the most tragic, miserable saddest yugioh villains of all time but before then and even during it he is so STUPID. SLASH POS. HE'S BOUNCING AROUND BEING AN ANNOYING LITTLE FUNNYMAN LOONEY TUNE AND IT RULES. I WILL NOT STAND FOR VRAINS COMEDY ERASURE. the comedy makes the heavy shit hit even harder!!! FROG AND PIGEON ROCK YOUR WHOLE WORLD.

also, re: the dub. again i know im dubliker3000 im always hyping up the dubs but vrains miiiight be my favorite of all of them, alongside the arc-v dub. YES it didnt translate the end of yusaku and ai's duel maybe the best it could have, but being completely real it's still a perfectly serviceable ending (i actually like the very VERY end of vrains more with the dub version--yusaku reiterating that he'll do whatever it takes to find his friend is SWEET and i LIKE IT) and writing off the whole dub because of it is really silly. it is not NEARLY as bad as the way some people act 😭 there's something really particular about like...the way characters talk and word things in the vrains dub that I just really like. characters joke around a lot of course but they also talk in this very This Feels Like How People Talk IRL way to me and it's so engaging. it's very believable is a way i'd put it. idk maybe it's just that I watch a lot of live action comedy shows but some vrains dub dialogue would slot in so perfectly in one of those and i love that lol ALSO THE DUB PERFORMANCES JUST RULE. DUB WINDY YOURE EVERYTHING TO ME.

OK oh my god im rambling already lmao--let's break it down in my little subsections I like to do in these posts!!

Stuff I Didn't Like: Gotta say, there isn't a Whole lot that I just straight up don't like in vrains, but also. oh my fucking god. why does this series hate women so much DFHGSYDFGY IM SORRRYYY BUT IT'S SO ROUGH. ARC-V HAD THE BAR ON THE FLOOR RE: YUGIOH GIRLS AND SOMETIMES VRAINS JUST STARTS DIGGING.INTO THE BEDROCK. vrains only has like 5 women of note in it and all of them end up experiencing some sort of horrible fate at one time or another (except Hiyami maybe???!? shes too busy wanting to fuck akira i guess) AND IT'S JUST SO..... MAN. the world if VRAINS liked aoiskye more. she's so cool and theyre constantly putting her through the most horrifying experiences imaginable for the entire run of the series. they fucking mind control virus'd her by like episode EIGHT. THEY DID THIS SHIT TO HER

AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON POOR MIYU. FUCKING INSANE THAT THE LOST INCIDENT IMPACTED SIX KIDS BUT ONLY HALF OF THEM GOT TO LIKE. ACTUALLY BE CHARACTERS. JIN FANS NEED FINANCIAL COMPENSATION. big deranged smile...it's fine.... i'll fix it myself...gripping my Windy Kid character concept/design so tight in my fist......

IT'S LIKE. vrains has SUCH cool characters and concepts but you can really feel the pacing crunch on some of them it's a dead horse at this point but this show had 120 episodes and LIKE EIGHT OF THEM ARE RECAP EPISODES. IT'S LIKE YOU CAN FEEL THE STRUGGLE THROUGH THE SCREEN.It is a goddamn MIRACLE that this show made it to air and was cohesive At All with the all the stories of production issues I keep hearing about it.

HM. what else did i actually dislike......oh right lol it's not really a Major general dislike and more me exaggerating as a bit but it's hysterical that multiple people were like "ohhh Spectre's gonna be a Danaguy" and then the second he started dueling I couldnt stand him and wanted to beat him to death with a golf club JHDFHGYUYDF SORRY TO EVERYONE HE'S JUST SO FUNNY TO RAG ON. unfortunately the way he treats skye makes my skin crawl and not even in a cool way. MY FRIEND CALLED HIM "INDUSTRY PLANT DANABAIT" AND SHE'S RIGHT. he's like baby's first yugioh weirdguy. he's a chat-gpt generated danaguy. he's a government danaguy psyop. he's We Have Yuri Arc-V At Home.hes FINE i just like him only in the hyperspecific read i have on his dynamic with revolver. WHY IS HE THE SINGLE MOST INCONSISTENTLY DRAWN YUGIOH CHARACTER. I DONT LIKE LOOKING AT HIM. GET HIM OUT OF MY HOUSE.HORRIBLE WHITE BOY. SLASH NEG

OK. ok. ok. im calm sorry about that aside. ACTUALLY. WAIT. ONE MORE THING i wish with my whole heart that Soltis Ai still sounded like a shrill little funnyguy IT'S SO SAD THAT HE DOESNT!!! IN THE DUB ESPECIALLY!!! I LIKE HIM BUT HE SHOULD BE ON THAT DUB!MARIK SHIT. POUNDS MY FIST ON THE TABLE. ALAS. L for enjoyers of when yugioh characters sound Fucking Annoying 💔

OK IM DONE. THAT LEADS REALLY WELL INTO TALKING ABOUT VRAINS' CAST, THOUGH. SO.....

Favorite Characters: im saying this with so much genuine love in my heart: it's so funny that i had like a solid half dozen people hedging their bets on either Spectre or Ryoken being the vrains guys to Do Me In and then I watched the show and instead I got the needle blown clean off the Danaguy Meter by THESE FUCKING THINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HOW COME NONE OF THE DEAD DADS IN VRAINS MAD ME CRY NEARLY AS HARD AS FLAME THE LITTLE 🔥🤓☝ FUNNYGUY DID. WHAT'S UP WITH THAT. THIS GUMBY SHIT IS SERIOUS

sniffles. i love the Ignis a perfectly normal amount. im so enamored with their interpersonal complexities. All of their decks are crazy cool. I love their funky elemental noises they make in the sub when theyre moving, I LOVE THEIR DUB VOICES, SO SO MUCH. theyre just so fantastic. everything a goddamn ordeal in area family. bonzi buddy polycule born from traumatized six year olds and their brainwaves.. I love that I spent the entire series wondering what was gonna be the spark that sends Ai over the edge into becoming the s3 villain and the answer literally is "his whole family died and he's going mad with loneliness and grief" YEAH SURE I'LL BE FUCKING NORMAL ABOUT IT!!! WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK. THESE GUYS GONNA HAVE ME SLAMMING MY HEAD INTO THE WALL FOR MONTHS. WHEN I DESIGN SOLTIS FORMS FOR THE OTHER FIVE IT'S OVER FOR YOU GUYS

but of course even among the six of em i WILL play favorites. I have a feeling Flame and Lightning and Ai too maybe will have a delayed effect on me and will have me going insane over the summer but for now let the record show my absolute tippy top fav is MY STUPID FREAKLET ONE-EYED EAR OF CORN.

WINDY HAD ME BY THE THROAT FROM HIS DEBUT EPISODE. HE'S PLAYING DANA BINGO TO FUCKING WIN. what do you mean he talks with the insane winding cadence of a donald trump speech at 1.75x speed in the dub and nobody has noticed this before. what do you mean he got his original personality mangled and reprogrammed into a violent dangerous little freak. what do you MEAN he almost DIES and loses an eye from a computer virus. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE COMMITTED A VEHICULAR MURDER. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE COMES BACK AS A HORRIFYING GOO MONSTER JUST TO TRY AND KILL SOMEONE ONLY TO DIE HORRIBLY ONCE AND FOR ALL AND ALL OF THAT WAS LIKE THREE MINUTES IN THE MIDDLE OF AN UNRELATED EPISODE!!!!!!!!!!! EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM IS INSANE. AND FOR MEEEEEEEEEEEE I LOVE YOU WINDYYYY 🌽🌽🌽🌽🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️

ANYWAY. ANYWAY. ASIDE FROM THE MICROSOFT CLIPPY GANG vrains cast is so fuckin solid, man, it's hard for me to pick top favs from the non-goober cast. It's mega basic but I love Soulburner, I'm a sucker for fire-motif characters, he's just a sweet kid and his dynamic with Flame makes me cry my eyes out. AND I LOVE YUSAKU TOO one of my biggest fears going into vrains was that i wasnt gonna click with him as a yutag, since he isn't as Big Personalityed as guys like Jaden or Yuya, and I also was on the fence about him based on his dinks lines, but actually seeing him in show? god hes so fucking COOL. HE WAS SO BRAVE AND SO LOYAL AND SO AUTISTIC AND SO WONDERFULLY WRITTEN. you couldnt ask for a better protag with this show!!!! Or a better rival, ryokenvarisrevolverGUN does kick ass on like every level.

I also love the amount of VRAINS characters who are either A.) Just Some Guy, B.) Some Grownass Adult With a Job, or C.) Both. it's fucking awesome. Kolter and Akira and Emma are some of the realest ones alive. Shiima is so FUNNYYYYYY. and well nobody else likes him but I think Blood Shepherd is fucking hysterical and his aura is off the charts. Grownass 30something cowboy AND he's got crazy sibling drama. Don't worry Kenneth I'LL like you (also that's my dad's name, another little insane thing in the 'vrains came to me when i needed it most' jar)

ough im not even gonna bother ranking my top 5 characters in this show yet. i need to mull on it more. I WILL say special shout out to Bohman and Harlin/Hal because theyre going to make me fucking insane if I think about them anymore. AND THEY WERE EVEN YUGIOH SIBLINGS. GOOD GOD.

Favorite Season/Arc:.MOOOOMMMMMMM IT HAPPENED AGAIN.

like. it's so funny to me that the shit that happened with 5ds when i watched it (enjoyed the first season, but the second half/season made me absolutely frothing rabid dog crazy) happened AGAIN with vrains. I DONT KNOW WHY. I CANT EVEN FIGURE OUT WHAT IT IS THAT MADE SEASON 1 NOT CLICK AS MUCH FOR ME!!! i liked it a lot, it's absolutely some of the best yugioh, it has one of my all time fav duels in it!!! but then. well. season 2 rolls up and just starts kicking my ass right out the gate. AND THEN SEASON 3 ALSO STARTS KICKING MY ASS. AND THEN IM DEAD ON THE FLOOR.

seriously props to this beleaguered production team, they really make those last 17 episodes BITE. .the grief IS endless and you WILL feel it. I wish the season could have been longer to really explore some of the intricacies floating around in there more, maybe do some more stuff with the other higherups at Soltec/those fucking shareholders, but man they really make the most of the hand theyve been dealt.

but yeah Season 2 is my favorite im so fucking sorry i promise im not setting out to latch onto the least enjoyed parts of a yugioh every time they just keep cramming all the danabait back here. every introduced character this season I'm hooting and hollering over. Theyre getting thick in the weeds of what it means to be alive and it rules. Windy blast. Lightning is building Jesus Christ in Garry's Mod and well I simply can't be normal about it. That stretch from ep 68 to ep 80 or so is like the most insaneo dana psyche blast in a yugioh since the Ark Cradle. The Yellow Dog Run. They Killed Earth and Crafted His Corpse Onto Gore's Brain. OH WELL OK!!!! Also the season finale made me cry so goddamn hard. bobcat (grief themes) got you.

Favorite Duel: This is actually a hard question; I always like thinking about my favorite dues in a ygo beyond just my first favorite, but with VRAINS' it starts to get tough to single out individual duels I like beyond. Two In Particular.

First up, i fucking LOVE the Playmaker vs. Akira duel in season 1. This is, gun to my head, absolutely my favorite vrains duel. The setting's cool, the monsters are cool (Tindangles one of the sickest archetypes I've ever SEEN), you get clobbered by the Lost Incident lore and Yusaku gets MAD mad and it goes hard as hell. AND THAT SHIT YUSAKU DOES. WHERE HE SPECIFICALLY LETS THE DUEL PLAY OUT LONGER THAN HE NEEDED TO JUST TO KEEP THE MONSTERS REPRESENTATIVE OF AKIRA AND SKYE'S BOND OUT OF THE GY. MAKES ME CRAZYYYYYYY thats one of the most moving things ive ever seen in a yugioh duel!!!! i dont ever wanna hear people say yusaku doesnt care about people EVER AGAIN!!!

And secondly, to absolutely nobody's surprise, the Revolver vs. Windy duel makes me start spinning around and barking and doing flips and shit. It's got EVERYTHING. Windy being a little freaklet, his crazy ass airships, Revolver rolling up in his kickass s2 fit and busting out a GODDAMN SYNCHRO SUMMON!!!! WINDY ALMOST DYING IN ONE OF THE MOST HORRIFIC CIRCUMSTANCES IVE SEEN IN A YUGIOH. WINDY AND LIGHTNING'S WEIRD GAY THING THATS MAYBE BURNING A HOLE IN MY BRAIN A LITTLE. THEY MADE THIS ONE IN A LAB TO BLOW UP MY BRAIN. it's also just a really fun duel, I love that they keep passing Magic Cylinder back and forth like a blunt. Borreload Savage Dragon also shreds harder than hell we all know but I'll say it again.

Beyond those, it's like... I genuinely really enjoy most All of the other duels in the show (except like. some of the filler duels and the times poor Skye loses -___- MOST OF THE TIME FOR NO GODDAMN REASON. her duel with bohman can stay because it does crack my skull in a little but it's on THIN FUCKING ICE!!!!) They're just really fun to watch, stuff like the Speed Duels adds an engaging new dimension to how duels unfold and tons of decks in VRAINS are just Fuckin' Cool. Runner-up duels I would maybe slot into my favorites tier include the absolutely agonizing (/pos) Kolter vs Playmaker duel, Revolver vs. Soulburner (DUEL THAT MADE ME CRY BIG AND A LOT) and uhhhh Soulburner vs Bohman........ . .. .... it's not a Good duel like. like At All. but Random Windy Event in the middle of it was so catastrophic to my ecosystem it earns my favor ❤

Other Miscellaneous VRAINS Gushing and Howling: UGH. GOD. IT'S JUST REALLY GOOD. IT'S REALLY GOOD AND IT MADE ME CRY SO MUCH MORE THAN I EVER EXPECTED IT TO. I'd always been a bit wary that VRAINS wasnt gonna do much for me in the grand scheme of yugiohs--i cant even say why??!? maybe just me being stubborn??!??! EITHER WAY. ANYWAY. it took a minute for it to really catch me in its claws but it GRABBED ME. AND DID NOT LET GO. after arc-v it is fucking crazy to see a yugioh that actually Delivers and Earns its themes and messages. EVERY TIME THE YUGIOH IS ABOUT THE BONDS WE HAVE WITH EACH OTHER I FEEL IT IN MY CHEST. BUT THIS TIME ESPECIALLY. TRULY ALL WE HAVE IS OUR LOVED ONES. EVEN WHEN THEYRE GONE, THEYRE NEVER GONE FOREVER

^i liked both the dub and sub of the last episode in equal measure but i WILL say the sub one made me cry more. the montage of all the families and friendships in this damn show got me good

I definitely think I watched the last season of VRAINS a Particularly insane way (dub first, then immediately followed by 1.8x-2x speed sub version) but honestly it was the perfect way for me to experience it and i'm not kidding--VRAINS' dub AND sub compliment each other, both bring their own little details to the table that for s3 just help paint this even more nuanced, complex picture of the Absolutely Endless Abyss of Grief and Sadness Happening in There. Should you watch yugioh this way? PROBABLY NOT. BUT ALSO IF YOU CRAZY LIKE ME GO FOR IT IT MAY DO SOMETHING TO YOU !

ouughgh also ALSO!!!! i LOVE just how true it is that duel links VRAINS world really does pick up where the show leaves off, and i cant WAIT to go back and reread vrains world events now that I know the characters and the story better. IT'S SO CRAZY COOL THAT DUEL LINKS INHERENTLY CARRIES THE TORCH OF VRAINS THEMES OF MEMORIES, HOW THEY LITERALLY CAN MAKE THE DEAD LIVE AGAIN. GUGHGH IT MAKES MY DUEL LINKS LORE SCHOLAR ASS GO BANANASSSSS

also when they put windy and lightning in dinks im gonna be SO annoying thats a threat and a promise<33

just. AUGH. MAN. VRAINS!!!! im so so glad i watched this when i did, maybe i'm booboo the fool finding genuine comfort and solace in the funny card game children's cartoon but between this and the yuri duel links event yugioh has really been helping hold my psyche together in the wake of losing my dad. vrains is POTENT and I fucking love it. Those showrunners were apparently going through all the levels of Dante's hell trying to bring this show to life and for all their struggles the end result pops off pretty fuckin hard. I'm so excited for it to sink further into my bloodstream in the coming months. The grief may be endless but so is the love. I cannot fucking believe they had to put the Funny Roomba Robot down like a sick dog and well we just all have to be cool with it. sniff. it's fine.

I love your Yugioh VRAINS..... I love Yusaku and Kolter's friendship, I love the goofy dub sandwich vs. taco hotdog running gag, it feels just SO 'stupid unfunny bit two friends would take to the grave' and it's perfect. I love Ryoken's absolutely hilarious character trait that he keeps running fucking boomer traps that havent been relevant since 2006. I love his deck full of the fucking ugliest dragons I've ever seen in my life. slash POS. I love the Gore, everything about him, what if the Rock played a fuckign trading card game--it's fucked up what happened to him in s2 but i DO admit 'they stitched a dead Ignis into his brain chip' Makes Me a Little Sick in the Head, SO. YOU WIN THIS ROUND YUGIOH. I LOVE GOUKIS. I LOVE DINOWRESTLERS. I LOVE STORMRIDERS. I love love LOVE how absolutely raw as hell extra deck summons go in this series, ESPECIALLY the legacy mechanics--Synchro and Xyz summons in this hype me the FUCK up!!! I love how ridiculously cartoonishly evil Soltec is, I wish we got to see them more as an antagonistic force. At least got Queen tho. RIP Magnum Cuntquake i wont forget you.

I love Ai and Yusaku's dynamic, I love that Ai just Says Shit and yusaku doesnt say a goddamn thing. Ai might be my favorite 'yutag duel partner' character, thinking about it.... what can i say i love a character who's nonstop annoying AND sad :,) I love all the different flavors of Yugioh Siblings we get in this one, with halfsiblings and stepsiblings and 'regular' siblings and more--I like them all!!! I love that technically like half the action in this show takes place inside a hot dog food truck. I love the data storms, fuck it, ride the cyberspace tornado and pull a duel monster out of it NOW!!!! I love Ryoken's stupid yacht that becomes a key location in season 2. I love the Harlin vs Blue Maiden duel episode for just completely smashing my kneecaps in with this fucked up and miserable AI 'family.' I love Flame's insistence on sharing the meaning of his name literally every possible opportunity he can get. I love all the different ways characters announce that they're creating their circuit when link summoning. I love the back half of the Yusaku vs. Bohman duel, when Flame tells Ai the Ignis will live on in his heart and Darkfluid gets summoned and me well I'm just a puddle of tears on the floor.

ok I'm officially outta steam I can barely read my screen <-- *doesnt have her contacts in* thank you for everything VRAINS you are in fact peak. ask your parent's permission before going online and meeting a little elemental booger made from your trauma. peace on earth my final message GOODBYE.

I LOVE YUGIOH!!!!!!!!!!!

[moghedien]

lae'zel, permission, and what she actually wants

the thing about Lae'zel is that she's always looking to someone to give her permission

basically her entire life up until the beginning of the game has been a fight to be allowed to live. she has to prove she's better than her peers. she has to prove that she's worthy of fighting for Vlaakith. hell, even when she was an egg, she would have had to prove she was worthy of hatching because if she'd been a bit late she wouldn't have even been allowed a chance.

she doesn't really do anything unless its what her goddess and her society allows and she'll do exactly what is prescribed. she bristles at any attempts to find a cure for the tadpoles that aren't going to the creche because that is what she is supposed to do as a good githyanki. anything else is a deviation from what is allowed, even if it might work.

so you look at her romance through that lens, it really sort of pulls everything together.

In the act one scene, she's still following the rules like a good devoted of Vlaakith. She will sleep with you one or two times if you ask her to, but will bristle at anything more than that. She's a totally typical normal githyanki after all (she isn't), and it isn't normal for githyanki to have any kind of serious romantic relationships. "love" isn't even a real thing, and is just a strange mental illness that cowards use as an excuse (all of these are things she actually believes at the beginning of the game based on various bits of banter and dialogue where she's reflecting retroactively on her previous beliefs). Straight up, anything beyond casual sex is not allowed, so she doesn't even question it as an option.

Then by the time you get to the Act 2 romance scene, Lae'zel's entire world has been upturned for unrelated reasons. She did everything as she was supposed to and nothing she wasn't and Vlaaktih betrayed her. Her entire culture and society betrayed her despite her never doing anything without their permission.

It seems like she is somewhat quick to accept that and switch her allegiance. Her entire existence was because Vlaakith gave her permission to exist, and then Vlaakith betrayed her no matter how devoted she was. So Vlaakith is a liar and she learns that Orpheus is a possible answer to solve the Vlaakith problem, so now she's committed to Orpheus.

It seems like a quick turn, but if you look at Lae'zel as someone who needs permission, then it makes more sense. Vlaakith can't give her that anymore, so she needs someone else to tell her how to live, so that becomes Orpheus, who of course conveniently isn't there to actually tell her to do anything. So she does as Voss says to try to save him and that becomes her entire life motivation. Because what else can she possibly do? She needs someone's permission to decide how to move on now.

By the time you get the Act 2 romance scene, Lae'zel is on this path, right? If you look at the actual Act 2 romance scene, its basically her asking for permission again. Not in the way you'd immediately expect, because while she is asking like, your permission to develop your relationship into something further, its not just you she needs permission from. She needs her societal expectations to give both of you permission.

To elaborate, you're a fucking wrench in all her expectations of what is right. You were supposed to be a one or two night casual fuck, and then she went and got fixated with you. She calls it an obsession. She says its bothering her more than Vlaakith's betrayal, more than her people hunting her, more than the worm in her head. Those are all problems that she has some instruction on how to address. You, she has no fucking clue what to do about. Rebel githyanki aren't exactly giving instructions on how to pursue romantic relationships with people while planning on how to take down Vlaakith. Even if they are more lenient and accepting of those kinds of attachments (which we have no idea if they are or not), she hasn't been around any of them long enough to figure that out.

In her feelings for you, she's confronted with feelings that to her culture are perverse and which she has no societal context for. Even if there was someone who might give her the go ahead to pursue that relationship, she has no idea who they might be. She's someone who's entire life has revolved around what she has permission to do within her society, and she finds herself drawn to do something that she has no way of even figuring out how to approach in an acceptable way.

And despite all of that, and all the complications around what asking more from you would mean from a githyanki standpoint, she still gets to a point where she wakes you up in the middle of the night and begs you to do something about it.

She's frantic and confused and its clear she doesn't even really know what she wants from you, so she asks you to prove yourself and fight her. Its not because she thinks you're too weak for her. She admits she finds you strong the first time she comes onto you. Alternatively, she basically negs you after having sex with her by calling you weak and a coward and she is more than pleased to have sex with you again after doing so. Strength or weakness has nothing to do with why she needs you to fight her.

She needs you to fight her because that's how she's always had to prove herself worthy of existence. Her entire life has been a series of peers and comrades she had to fight in order to prove that she could go on. So when she doesn't know what else to do about you and there's nothing else to tell her how to proceed, she needs you to fight and prove that you (and her) can go on.

But the thing about the duel you have, is that the outcome doesn't actually matter. Regardless, it does give her what she needs to know to go on your relationship, but not in any ways she expected. Regardless if you win or she does, she gets overwhelmed and realizes that she wants you and she wants you to want her. Something definitely starts to shift in her mindset after the fight.

If you win, she's alarmed by the contradiction that she should feel ashamed for having lost. If you lose, she's alarmed by the contradiction of feeling no joy in having beaten you. She realizes that she doesn't want to be doing the thing she's supposed to do (fight to prove her worth) and instead wants to protect you. She also says that she wants you to protect her, which is something that she only says if you lose the fight, which I think is notable and makes the shift a bit more obvious.

Because she only says it if you lose. You lost. You just showed you were weaker than her. And she still wants you to protect her. By all githyanki standards, you shouldn't even be worthy of living if you couldn't win the fight, but she not only doesn't want to see you hurt, but she wants you to see that she doesn't get hurt. Not only should this not make sense because you lost, but it is maybe the first time Lae'zel has admitted she doesn't want to have to rely only on her own strength. She wants to rely on you, even if you're weaker and couldn't beat her in a fight. That challenges everything she has ever believed in her life probably as much as being betrayed by Vlaakith did.

If you win the fight, she doesn't admit that, but I think the sentiment is still there. It just isn't something that she has to directly confront in the moment because you proved that you can protect her. In that instance, she's coming to terms more with the fact that she should feel weaker or ashamed but isn't. In either instance, she was asking for permission from her ideals on how to deal with the You problem. In either instance, she's confronted with something that challenges that. Either you fail to meet the expectations she thought she had, and she finds out she doesn't care, or she fails to meet the expectations of a githyanki soldier and she finds out she doesn't care. Because either way, she figures out she wants you more than she wants to be the good githyanki that does what she's supposed to and act like she's supposed to act. Being "obsessed" with you should be perverse and wrong, but she embraces it whether she has permission (from her society) to do so or not. That is an extremely big deal.

And even before we get into Act 3, there are some interesting beats here about Lae'zel's romance in Act 2 still. One of the two things I want to discuss is the kissing. After the main Act 2 romance scene, you get new dialogue options, including asking her to kiss you.

This is kinda where we get into my opinions on the best choices to make with her romance, and I'm aware that these are my opinions and people deciding to do other things isn't incorrect. I'm pointing this out because I'm gonna start talking a lot about choices soon and which ones I think are the best thematically and from a character standpoint. They are my opinions. You are allowed to disagree. I will however be defending and arguing my opinions here. You don't have to get angry or defensive if you did something else or don't agree with my conclusions.

Now, back to kissing Lae'zel. The notable thing about asking Lae'zel to kiss you is that her initial reaction is embarrassment. It's somewhat of a turn from how she is open about talking about your sexual encounters before this. The entire fight scene, which may have ended up with the two of you making out in the middle of camp until it faded to black, was seemingly in front of everyone and she had no concern about that.

Kissing just out of the blue though? She's shy about that.

Because just kissing for no reason is soft and pointless, really (and if you watch the Lae'zel kissing animations, they are all in fact very soft and sweet). You don't really need to do it. Before hand with the sex and whatnot, she fully has arguments about why that was ok and even beneficial for the overall task at hand. Soft little kissing though? There's no reason to do that unless she wants to. Hence her embarrassment.

Now, she won't kiss you in Act 2 when you ask because of her embarrassment. Not unless you persuade her to do it. You only have to persuade her once and if you succeed, the first time she is clearly nervous and looks around uncomfortably. In all honesty, it seems somewhat uncomfortable to persuade her especially given her initial reaction. I do, however, think its the best thing to do for her.

Yes, she's uncomfortable. She's uncomfortable with your entire relationship now because she's has no experience even knowing about a situation like this and from a githyanki standpoint, affectionately kissing in public for no reason is basically outing yourselves as being perverts. She also very, very clearly wants it. The way you persuade her, is by pointing out that she probably wants this. And if you succeed in pointing that out to her, she is smiling and afterward when you ask her to kiss she is clearly happy and very soft about it all.

If you don't persuade her, I believe you can still kiss her without the check if you wait until after the Act 3 scene, so she is clearly comfortable with it at some point. Persuading her might seem like you're pushing her past her comfort zone. That's honestly why I didn't do it for a while. But looking at how she reacts after the fact and what happens after, I do feel like its not so much pushing her out of her comfort zone. Its more challenging her to push against her initial ideas of what she thinks she should do and instead encouraging her to do what she wants. More on that later.

The other romance beat that happens in Act 2 occurs some time after the main scene in camp, when she get about as vulnerable as she's been yet. She asks you for softness. She wants to be with you and she doesn't want the rough, passionate, hedonistic type of night that has been all of your relationship up until this point. She asks for gentleness, softness, and she's terrified. She says outright that its terrifying for her to ask this and she's been working up the courage to do so.

This is meaningful in multiple ways, because its not only a sign that your physical relationship is becoming something more than just sex. Its a sign of how much Lae'zel has changed. Because Lae'zel is someone who needs permission in everything. Up until this point, we haven't seen her ask for permission, she simply waited for her betters to give it to her and denied herself if they didn't. When it was someone who isn't above her, she makes demands. She doesn't ask permission. Ever. Now she outright asking you for permission to be gentle and soft. She didn't just need to build up the courage to be soft. She needed to build up the courage to ask to be allowed something she wanted.

As I stated before, I think Lae'zel's instinct is to not take into account what she actually wants, but to just go ahead with whatever she thinks she's supposed to do. That's how she was raised and indoctrinated after all. Gently pushing against her first reactions to things allows her a chance to push against that instinct of behaving how she was indoctrinated to behave. I think her asking for a softer touch is a sign of this changing for her. The Act 3 scene is even more so.

The Act 3 romance scene is sort of the height of Lae'zel's character growth. One thing that makes me sort of sad is that I feel like you don't really get to see the fullness of her character unless you romance her. That's true with other characters I've romanced so far to some extent, but not as much as with Lae'zel.

But here you romanced Lae'zel, so you get to see her admitting how much her perceptions have changed because of you helping her see things differently. She has different perspectives and she finds beauty and bliss in things she used to find dread in. She loathed the sun, and now drags you to a roof top just to stare at it coming over the horizon (please don't stare into the sun). She finds herself liking Faerun and the colors in it. She admits all of this before she brings up what she actually wanted to talk to you about.

Lae'zel has no terms in which to describe your relationship. She doesn't know about dating (or courting) or marriage and she doesn't actually even know what the word love means. She doesn't ever say the word until six months later in the epilogue, but what she's describing to you on how she feels is without a doubt love and what she's asking of you is more or less marriage. She doesn't have the terms or any cultural context to make it easier to ask, but she wants you to stay with her, whatever happens. That's the only way she can really describe it. Staying with her. Because even if you've only actually known each other a short time, you might be the most constant thing she's ever had in her life, and she's probably terrified of what it means when the Absolute is dealt with and there is no mission keeping you together. She isn't asking for permission now to stay with you, but is asking for you to stay with her. Where you might be and doing what, who knows, but she is for the first time just pursuing something she wants that she hasn't been given explicit permission for beforehand.

And then, we get to saving Orpheus.

This is where my thoughts might get controversial, but as I said, you're free to disagree but I'm arguing for my ideas here.

I'm not sure how any of this changes if you go a different route in the final parts of the game, so I can really only speak on the options you get if you saved Orpheus and he became Illithid.

So you do the thing that Lae'zel has been lead to believe she needs to do and free Orpheus. I personally cannot blame the man's attitude given his being imprisoned for who the fuck knows how long and the fact that he is still willing to sacrifice himself. However, it is clear that he is perhaps not quite as understanding as Voss lead you to believe he would be. Given that he tells you that you should have let his guard kill you if you were actually on the same side as him, which notably would have doomed everyone and lead to the Absolute's victory. But again, centuries of imprisonment, we cannot blame the guy.

The point I want to make with bringing that up at all, is that, even in these little bits of conflict that don't really amount to anything in game, its a crack in the ideal of Orpheus. He isn't every grand thing that Voss promised you and Lae'zel he would be. He's not bad here and gives us no reason to think he is, but its a crack. Lae'zel didn't have any reason to doubt Vlaakith or see her imperfections until it was too late, after all. I'm not saying the two are equals, but Lae'zel went from worshipping an evil false-goddess to holding up that goddess's enemy in similar reverence in a shockingly short amount of time. The girl jumped from a cult that worshipped one powerful figure to a radical rebel movement that held up another. And we immediately see little tiny cracks in the facade of Orpheus.

Lae'zel won't. Lae'zel doesn't know how to be anything but utterly devoted to the highest figure of authority she sees as worthy to follow. Lae'zel won't know to be wary. But you should be wary as fuck about what Orpheus is going to ask of her.

Cut to the end. We win, the absolute is defeated, yay! Mind Flayer Orpheus is asking Lae'zel to kill him and take up his mantle and lead his rebellion against Vlaakith.

In that moment, you have really two options. Technically there are multiple dialogue options, but really there are two. You can let her go (and potentially go with her) or you can persuade her to stay. If you tell her to do what she wants, she and you will leave on dragons to fight the rebellion against Vlaakith.

I do not think this is what Lae'zel wants.

When Orpheus is giving her this duty, she doesn't look happy about it. She just finished the single most traumatic event of her life, which turned everything upside down and completely shook who she is as a person. Now she is being handed what she had said she wanted. The means to free her people and defeat Vlaakith. She has a silver sword. She's being given not one, but two red dragons. And she just looks fucking sad. She looks exhausted as Orpheus is commanding her to do this.

She is someone who has never lived a life where she was able to want her own goals or life. She was Vlaakith's. Now she's being ordered to carry Orpheus's legacy. And I do believe she wants to stop Vlaakith and save her people from her control. But she is being given all of the burden of doing so and commanded to begin immediately upon completing her previous ordeal.

Lae'zel has been following orders her entire life. She isn't one to even consider what she actually wants and instead does what she thinks she's supposed to do. So when Orpheus tells her to do this, she is going to obey the authority figure like she was been indoctrinated into doing. When you ask her what she wants, she will say you're coming with her because she's at least broken away enough to do that but not to consider that she doesn't want to go.

Gently pushing against Lae'zel's immediate reactions, as I said, is I think the way to get her honest, genuine desires. If you persuade her to stay and disobey Orpheus, she does seem suddenly energized. She will then say that her destiny is not for Vlaakith or Orpheus to decree. Her destiny is hers alone. Neither Vlaakith nor Orpheus will give her permission to do that, but you can. She doesn't obey you. You aren't an authority figure and you have probably shown yourself to be weaker than her at several points in the game. But you still give her permission to choose her life and she accepts that.

And this, is how you break the Lae'zel out of the cycle that she finds herself. in. The only way she isn't perpetually bowing down to some authority figure is if she stays in Faerun. Because she escaped the authority of Vlaakith and immediately went to Orpheus, who now she can't even escape because he's dead and she is the one holding up his legacy on his behalf. She can't choose to leave once she's accepted that responsibility, and she frankly does not look like she wants to accept that responsibility.

If she stays on Faerun, she is still fighting Vlaakith. Not only because she is literally hunting down and murdering Vlaakith's forces, but she's living completely free of Vlaakith's influence in a way she couldn't otherwise. She isn't living under Vlaakith's rules, nor having to live in direct antagonism to Vlaakith's rules by forming a new society from scratch for the githyanki. She's just living. Occasionally going and massacring Vlaakith's soldiers as a means of survival, but otherwise just living how she wants and with who she wants. And in theory, she could go and join the rebellion proper any time in the future. If she stays, her future isn't certain, and that, I think, is the best thing for her.

In the epilogue, if you are with her on Faerun, its clear she doesn't really let herself rest still. She busies herself (and you) by tracking down Vlaakith's forces to eradicate, and she tells you of another one she found, noting that she can't rest for long. You have the option to push against this gently, suggesting taking some time off. No persuasion needed. She not only agrees to take some time off, but she immediately has a vacation suggestion which she has clearly been looking into and is excited to check out. But Lae'zel is not someone who is going to consider what she actually wants. She's going to suggest what she thinks she should be doing, but with some gentle push back, will let you know what she actually wants.

Because you're not really rejecting her ideas when you push against the instincts that have been indoctrinated into her. You're giving her permission to decide what she wants to do, and Lae'zel is always someone looking for permission.

[saeun]

you're married to geto suguru, yet you plan to kill him. interesting, right? truth be told; you despise suguru. you loathe his touch, hate his voice, detest his entire person as a whole. you never loved him — it was simply just toleration.

suguru... he's a decent husband, at most. he gives you money — which is most important — he buys you gifts, he's home, at least. suguru gives you everything but himself. you cried for his touch, he never gave it. you begged for his presence, he said he had pressing business to attend to. he's the best but worst fucking husband ever.

it's not only his negligence, it's him slowly replacing you with someone else. slowly, but surely, you've noticed that another person has been consuming your presence, wringing you dry of the little authority you had within the geto residence. at first, it bothered you to the core. every time you spoke to suguru about these concerns, your voice echoed through the walls like a broken record. in one ear and out the other; heard but not listened.

your tears dropped, yet to him it did nothing but cause a wet mess. he'd always sigh, feeling guilty to leave you spiraling in your emotions. "don't cry, love," he'd say, whispering sweet nothings in your head. he'd bring you to his chest, completely swallowing you in his hold. his fingers would caress your body, reminding you that you're a geto, you're apart of him now. you're not alone. only the foolish marionette will melt in its master's dull words. once the marionette was you, twice is what it won't be.

the honeymoon phase wilted, what's left is nothing short of two adults tied together by a piece of paper. a liar is what you refuse to be. if anyone may ask, you will not lie. it's true, your heart feels heavy. you miss the suguru you met as naive teenagers, you miss the suguru who loved you from the moon and back. unfortunately, what comes must go. you've grown tired of being the sole one who reminds him about anniversaries and birthdays.

his effort to maintain the marriage no longer exists. his attraction to the mistress heightens every week. it hurts, yes, but you're numb to it. hell be damned you've become the forgotten wife but never will you ever be the wife who allows her cheating husband to be.

no, never. they won't get a laugh out of you — they won't get the last say. the blame glazes over both, yet it soaks suguru more. as a married man, he should've known better than to entertain a mere lady's lust to him. now comes his price to pay, and soon she will pay hers. a circus that walks together, dies together.

it's never easy planning a murder. you don't want to get caught — prison isn't somewhere you'd want to be. the easiest and most effiecent way to ensure suguru's death will be poisoning. not just any poisoning, however. a poison that kills naturally; something that'll make his death appear natural.

suguru's always been a healthy man, using an excuse such as "he fell ill," won't work. he doesn't have much enemies. his peers loved him. a death by food poisoning seems much more acceptable. food poisoning occurs in many ways: for example, if the food has been left out for too long, boom, food poisoning. it's not unusual for one to die by it, so the plan sets sail.

──

one: errands.

as usual, your role of playing the forgotten wife will remain the same. running your ‘errands’ will be as easy as flipping a page, suguru pays you no attention. today it'll be the same. the only obstacle would be to find the energy to arise off of the bed.

the subtle sunlight grants the room a warming aura, giving the perfect contrast together with the air conditioner. like always, suguru's gone. the only trace of him being here would be your memory of him sneaking in last night. at least he has enough manners to not wake you.

same old, same old. you'll only waste your energy worrying about him, let's just finish the morning routine.

"morning," out of habit, you greet the empty house. coming out of slumber to be greeted by an empty home used to do numbers to you. now, it doesn't. its merely a house cosplaying as a home.

the oh-so fluttering dreams of a married life with suguru have dusted away. if only you can go back in time and stop your lovesick self. whatever, no use dwelling on it now. there's a plan to layout.

a single toasted slice of bread, your bottle of water, a handbag, and the car keys are all you took out the door with you. the house keys are attached together with the car keys so it's not a worry. not like you'll be back before suguru anyway.

the drive feels silent. although the radio's on, it feels empty. maybe it's the effects of your clouded mind, or maybe it's you attempting to clear your mind. either way, it's nothing but trivial matters. at this very moment you most likely have to stitch up a lie believable enough to obtain the poison.

chilly, is what you think. you're at the destination; it's an apartment complex that was in the makings but was abandoned. it's dirty, puddles of water decorate the floor, and its filled with dealers and criminals alike. can't blame them, it's the perfect place for a hideout. coming here alone as a woman is something you'd never do... without a weapon that is. you don't own a gun, but you do own a pocket knife.

"psst," someone calls out. they must be calling another person. let's just continue walking.

"you, woman," they call again. surely it's not you. let's just speed up the pace.

"oi, rude bitch 'm talking to you," they specify and surely enough they aren't calling you a bitch, right?

"you're not talking to me with that attitude," you turn around, raising an eyebrow at the man — or lady, you don't know. their face is covered and their clothes are baggy.

the stranger walks you to, and you walk backwards. okay, it's kinda getting creepy.

"any — any reason why you're coming to me?" you questioned, trying to mask your obvious worries.

"aren't you the one who's here for the poison, missy?" they stop walking, reaching into their pockets before bringing a small, white tube in view.

oops, you're caught off guard. if this is who you agreed to meet with you only hope they don't run with the poison.

"oh — yes, that's me! how'd you know?"

"have my ways. ain't a dealer if i don't know my clients — even if they're a one timer," they speak, handing you the tube. "name's siren. just an alias, don't question it."

you carefully take the tube, in return you quickly place the envelope in their hand. ready to get out of there, you ramble out your words, "okay, thank you! the money is in there, bye! see you never!"

siren watches your frame scatter away from them, the sounds of your low heels clicking the floor making them chuckle. crazy woman, they think, returning their focus back on the money.

you're back in the car safe and sound. you know what, it's time to go back. you lock your doors, hide the tube in your handbag, and turn up the radio. now that the errand's over, you probably won't go outside for two days.

ah, home. nothing beats being home. except suguru's car is parked so that means he's here. the home is now back to the house. inhaling a deep breath, you mentally prepare yourself to have any interaction with him. you have your doubts but something inside you screams that he's going to talk.

"where have you been?"

well, that was quick. you only managed to take your heels off. talk about an impatient man.

"out for a breather, why?" you return the question, walking into the living room without glancing at him.

"all right," he says, not continuing the conversation.

ladies and gentlemen, never get married. suguru no longer cares to hold conversations. you can tell the ugliest lies to him and he wouldn't care. as long as you're back, it's okay. you're used to it, yet a silent voice in you wished that he would've asked more questions.

you continue on without glancing at him, making your way to the shared bedroom. it's a little after noon, you'll take this time to relax.

──

two: weird individual(s).

it's hot — you feel hot. a burning sensation engulfs your head. this wasn't supposed to happen. you were making dinner, casually sipping on your glass of wine as you go along. suguru, for some reason, finally showed himself for the day. without a word, he seated himself near the counter, pouring himself a glass of wine and keeping his eyes on you.

to say you're not uncomfortable would be a severe understatement. his eyes create holes in your back — it's annoying. say something if you want to, asshole, you complained in your mind but truly, you yourself weren't going to say anything.

and so, you carried on. dinner being cooked and suguru being weird. it got even more weird when he stood up. you're at the sink, cleaning as you go along. suguru's finished with his glass, so it's not out of the ordinary for him to stand behind you, trapping you with both arms as he washes his glass, right? yeah, it's pretty weird.

"uh, do you mind?" you softly spoke, which was also weird. why is everything just weird tonight?

suguru stays in that position, humming to a tune you're not familiar with.

"is it wrong to be near my wife?"

oh, now i'm his wife.

"not at all, suguru. it's just that i'm busy at the moment," you told half the truth. you are busy, but you don't want him near you.

"is that so?" he spoke, removing one hand only to place it on your hip. slowly, he begins to squeeze the flesh, lowering his head into the junction of your neck and shoulder. his voice, though muffled, can be heard with a low, seductive tone, "missed you all day, why not busy yourself with me?"

bullshit, but it's not bad. you can do with some physical destressing.

"not in the kitchen."

"sure."

and that's how you found yourself tangled on top of him on the sofa. sloppily making out with him, hands found freedom in his hair, and his hands found home on your hips. it's a hot mess, and you're kind of liking it. suguru may be a bitch, but he sure knows your body. it's been five years, after all.

"wait—" you broke the kiss, placing your hands on his chest. "let's st—stop," you spoke, stuttering as suguru leans his head to bite your neck.

"why?" he asks, curious at your sudden choice. you never stopped him before.

"i.. don't feel good, sorry suguru," you lied again. suguru isn't and is the problem. you'd love to go deeper with him but the realization that he's touched another woman like this disgusts you. it's no wonder you plan on killing him.

suguru doesn't speak. instead, he moves you off of him. "it's okay," he says, leaning in to give you a kiss on the cheek. it doesn't take long for him to leave you alone again. now you're feeling a pinch of guilt. i'm not wrong, right? he's the one who abandoned me.

you sigh, lifting yourself off the sofa. there's a dinner to indulge in and trust, you will enjoy it. you made it with your blood, sweat, tears, and some wine.

──

three: poison attempt day.

surprisingly, you felt energized today. as if someone charged six-hundred volts of energy to a dead battery. today's the day, hopefully. the man who cosplays himself as a husband is absent per usual. it's up to you to cook lunch.

you're already preparing; there's no time to waste. every minute needs your utmost attention — the kind of attention a predator gives its prey before hunting them. the one downside to this would be the poison's taste. it's not an overwhelming one, but it's there. anything with a strong scent comes with a strong taste, they say. you haven't put it to the test — no way, you're not suicidal — but the safer side's always better.

ginger, you think, ginger and onions overpower everything. bingo. a minute¹ change to the recipe's ingredients but it's nothing to fret over. trivial matters again. within an hour, lunch was finished with a cherry on top — except the cherry holds the uneven balance between suguru's life and death.

you removed your apron, flicked off the water from your hands after you washed it, and then threw yourself face-first onto the longer sofa. exhaustion massages your body, encouraging you to fall into its depths. its opponent, emotional drain, creeps up. your body's the platform, and they're the contestants. a battle of who will dominate you begins; a useless battle for the woman whose tears dried up long ago.

a heavy sigh escapes, i'm tired, you think. sliding your hands under your head, you use it to cushion the side of your face. it's quiet like always but you're left to your thoughts this time. it may just crown itself for being the first time you gave yourself leeway to part and understand your tangled emotions. it's like a ball of tangled wires: scattered yet neat. roads to untangle it are visible, yet its many wires frighten the person.

what you feel is nothing short of some doll who replaces her face to satisfy the owner. the marionette you once were and refuse to be again. she who shows you, you who show yourself, who is the real you? perhaps, it's all. everything is you, everything has become you. many versions of yourself dance around the stage, all moving towards to same goal: killing the one who drained them.

the clock ticks, each sounded second rips your skin apart. it's torturous, but soon it'll all be over. i think i need a nap, your last voice echoes away in your mind as you succumb to exhaustion. who knew planning a murder against your once beloved could've been this draining.

─

suguru lazily enters, slackening his tie. his eyes focus on the lunch decorating the dining table. soon, his eyes travel to your resting figure. after all, you're in his usual position. she's sleeping, he thinks of the obvious, deciding to keep a low profile as to not wake you.

however, being a man means that you're prone to making mistakes... especially loud ones. from the cup connecting with the floor to the fork clanging as it fell, it's been a rather loud attempt at serving himself some lunch.

he's sure that you're awake. well, not entirely awake, but conscious enough to hear everything around you. the blame is his to own, again.

"it's untouched..." suguru whispers, confused at the perfectly untouched food that lies before his eyes. maybe you got a change of eating routine.

lies, of course. you'd be nothing but a joker if you were to consume the same food you poisoned. suguru doesn't know this, however. he's picked his path and the path hides its true face; wicked and heartless, like a haunted house pretending to be a normal house to lure in its victims.

it's been a few minutes later and you're now fully awake. you haven't moved an inch to expose yourself — just mindlessly gazing into the void of your shared house. you're aware that he's home, aware that he's found himself lunch, and aware that the clock's ticking sound has gotten louder. almost as if it knows its counting down someone's death day.

"is he eating?" you whispered, peeking from the sofa's backrest. "oh, he is."

suguru's at the dining table, scrolling on his phone as he shoves a vegetable in his mouth. his actions fill you with guilt, excitement, and fear. for a reason only god knows, you don't want him eating anymore. may it be due to loving him half of your life, or may it be due to the guilt of killing someone who mattered to others. whatever, who cares. no one — no one will, you chant in your mind, attempting to convince yourself.

"wait, suguru—" you acted out of your own will, cutting your speech short when you regained yourself. what the fuck? you're leaning over the sofa's backrest, reaching an arm out to suguru. eyes wide open, you try to piece together a reasonable follow-up response.

"hm? something wrong?" suguru asks, mouth filled with food. he places his phone face down and tilts his head. he looks innocent, as if he's not a cheating, neglecting bastard of a husband. well, that's the way life goes. the evil masks themselves as the innocent, basking in those who are more innocent than themselves, slowly consuming their energy for their own. selfish, selfish people.

"ah," you begin, awkwardly lowering your hand. "is the food okay? i tried a new recipe."

i don't want to kill him.

"yeah, it's good," he responds, taking a sip of whatever he's drinking.

he's wronged me.

you walk towards the dining table, pulling out a chair to seat yourself in front of him. "i see... how was your morning?" you questioned, swallowing hard. your legs are shaking, you don't know why. your heart races, you can't answer why.

"boring, same old stuff. i met with my client though, she's fun to be around," suguru tells, poking the food with his fork to get a good bite.

i fucking hate him.

you don't speak after that. instead, you bite at the skin of your lower lip. your emotions try to join together, yet they won't. it's like a lava lamp, they'll never truly connect. every time you're away from suguru, your hatred tames. every time he's back, it heightens. it doesn't take much more than his voice to fuel your restless anger. you observe him, watching the way his throat bobs each swallow. something feels off.

the two of you continue in silence, simply observing each other. suguru takes it upon himself to do the dishes, you remain put in the chair. his phone remained with you, face down yet dings with notifications. you've always wondered what it's like to have him text you every day. once it was a memory of the teenage years... now it's a sour dream.

──

four: night, night.

it's the same night, you're in bed with suguru. both of you are under the same covers, yet you're both at the extreme ends of the bed. a large, empty space separates you two. neither are asleep nor do they wish to be awake. a heavy feeling rains over their shared room. the tension's strong enough to break the strongest thread.

suguru's the first to turn, rolling himself over to you. he extends an arm to secure over your waist; this brings you skin-to-skin with his torso and your back. his head lowers to yours, resting his chin on your head. you give no reaction except stiffing your body. what's he up to?

his extended arm caresses you lightly, mimicking patterns on your delicate skin. he takes a deep breath before exhaling.

"my love, i know you're planning to kill me," he softly speaks, waiting for you to respond.

your heart drops. what? he knows? it's probably a bluff. you opt for remaining the way you currently are. if you continue pretending, he'll most likely continue speaking the truth.

"i've been watching you. i don't blame you, dear. i've neglected you for quite some time. i've cheated on you with someone temporary. if i were you, i would've killed me sooner. however, i won't lie and say i'm not hurt. if my wife were to kill me, i'd prefer it to be in an easy, quick way. you've chosen your part and i can't change that, but promise me: on my deathbed, you'll be there. it's not a request to mock you, but a request of seeing you one last time," suguru empties himself out, pouring onto you a bucket of words that hold the truth. the ugly truth you've avoided.

literally fuck off. it means nothing now, you think, judging suguru's words.

"i've been horrible and nothing can change that. i will not beg for forgiveness, nor will i beg for your love. it's already been done. but please, my dear... let me say sorry," his voice quiets to the end and the caressing stops. his hand remains firm, waiting for you to come out of your fake shell. "i know you're not asleep. answer me, please."

caught red-handed.

"i don't care for your fucking apology. it's a bit too late," you spit your venom out, thanking the gods that your back is what's facing him. "matter of fact, i hope you die soon. do as you wish, though. your time is limited."

suguru doesn't answer yet. his arm around you tightens. his breathing's getting uneven — you can hear it. it's shaking, the same way your eyes are shaking to prevent any tears — or as you call it, the pity tears.

he takes in a deep breathe, verbally exhaling a shaky one in return, "then, i'll apologize. i'm sorry."

that's it, huh, you think, almost voicing out your thoughts.

"it means nothing to apologize for actions i could've prevented a long time ago. so, i'm sorry. sorry that i've wronged you to the point you plot my death," he finishes, not having any more to say.

you wriggle out of his grasp, turning to face him. it's dark yet you can see his sadness. isn't that just too bad? the bar of the love you still feel for suguru exists, yet its overpowered by the hatred you've accumulated for him. it stings that he's going like this, but you rather it be by your own arms instead of another's.

"i don't have anything to say," you quietly speak, looking at suguru in the eyes. "if it doesn't work, then i hope you recover in the worst way. if it works and you die, i'll kiss you a merciful death."

the conversation ends. what's left are two adults staring into each other's eyes. there's nothing but empty voids facing each other. voids they once filled, voids they once created. it's too late; too late for anything. suguru's a petty liar if he says he's not afraid. who isn't afraid of death? he doesn't want to die, but what's done cannot be undone. he cannot turn the clock anti-clockwise and fix his actions. you won't be switching lanes, and it's set what the outcome will be.

minute¹ — pronounced my·new·tuh. meaning: extremely small. two synonyms: tiny, little.

[datura-tea]

The thing is, Moz hates the Divide. Every damned inch of it. Putang ina ng lugar na ‘to, is a thought she had constantly during the first time she went there. It's a thought that she has had each time she’s gone back. She’s been going back to the hellhole every weekend for close to four months now, even though she has other duties to the desert she won independence for.  

I can’t believe I’m doing all this for a man, Moz thinks as she trudges up to the overlook where she and Ulysses rendezvous. She catches a glimpse of him sitting where he usually does, and her heart flutters. But, god, what a man.

There’s just something about him that Moz finds so deeply captivating, something that compels her to return to a place she despises just for a few moments with him. She’s acutely aware that she has developed a crush, but tries not to make it too obvious.

“Back again, Courier,” Ulysses says, his back still to her. Moz stops walking a step shy from where he’s sitting.

“You always know it’s me without looking,” she notes. “How?”

“Know the tread of your feet,” he says, finally turning to her. “You carry the Mojave with every step.” 

Moz nods. “You’re saying I have a heavy walk?”

“Take it that way, if you like. Meant only that your footsteps are distinct to me.” He takes off his mask, showing his handsome face, and nods towards the fire. There's a pot hanging on top of it, full of something happily simmering away. “Have a stew going for you.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Moz’s face heats up in a blush. She puts an insulated bag down in front of the fire and opens it to reveal several packages of food. “I brought you the usual, plus some special sourdough doughnuts and doughnut holes from my niece.”

Ulysses hums and inspects the food. He’s always drawn to the sweet treats, Moz has noticed; he immediately takes a doughnut hole and pops it into his mouth. She watches him as he snacks, a slight smile on his face. Suppressing a grin, she checks on the stew – it’s a little watery, but that’s nothing that another ten minutes on the fire couldn’t fix.

By the time the stew is done, Ulysses has served up the food Moz has brought him: freshly cooked ulam (this week it’s firegecko adobo, her older brother’s specialty, and some lumpia) and rice, some bread, the doughnuts, pickled vegetables, a small jar of citrus jam – all homemade from her family’s kitchen. Moz wonders what he thinks of it, her bringing him food every weekend, but she notes that she never sees leftovers, and whenever she does, they’ve been remade into another meal, like the stew she’s been minding. That might be a sign… 

A sign of what? Of him liking me? Moz wonders. He probably just likes that I feed him.

“Thank you for the food,” Ulysses says, fixing himself a plate from the spread in front of him. He takes a bite of the lumpia and makes an appreciative noise. “Did your brother make this?”

“I did, actually,” Moz admits. “It’s my great grandmother’s recipe.”

Ulysses nods. He takes another bite. “Keeping your family’s delicious traditions alive, Courier.”

“Thanks.” The compliment makes her smile, even if the way he has been addressing her has been bothering her for a while now. “Can you stop calling me ‘Courier’ though? I’m not a courier anymore. I haven’t taken an official courier job since Benny shot me.”

“Hm.” Ulysses thinks on it. 

“How about you call me by my name?”

“Your name...”

“Yes, my name. You know it.”

“Of course. Moz.” he says. There’s a curious glint in his eye. He looks at her expectantly. “The name your mother gave you?”

“My initials,” Moz replies. “Marahan Ortiz-Zepeda. M-O-Z. Moz is just easier to say.” She almost never used her full name since people kept saying it wrong.

Telling him feels intimate, somehow; as if she’d undressed in front of him. Hell, she wishes she was actually physically undressed in front of him. Being naked would feel less like she’d shown him a secret part of herself. 

“Marahan,” he repeats slowly, as if savoring the feel of her name on his tongue. It sends a thrill through her. He even said it right, copying her cadence, emphasizing the second syllable properly. Ma-rah-han. She wants to kiss him for it. She stops herself.

“Yeah, Marahan. It means ‘gentle’ in my language.”

“Beautiful name. Suits you.” Ulysses pauses, considering something. He studies her face. “Marahan, Moz – both define who you are,” he says eventually. “Which would you rather I use?”

Any, Moz thinks, as long as you’re saying my name. “Moz is fine,” she says instead. “Marahan is too long.”

“Moz, then,” he says definitively, smiling at her. She matches it with her own. 

As they tuck into their meal, they catch each other up on the past week. Moz rants about the minutiae of running the Mojave, all the logistics she has to keep in mind, the petty and not-so-petty disagreements between the faction leaders she had convinced to ally with each other. Ulysses listens intently, offering sympathies and advice at all the right moments. He almost never has anything as intriguing to report to her — his watch over the Divide is largely unremarkable, save for her visits and the occasional combat — but Moz hangs on to his every word.

They eat their fill, managing to polish off the stew that Ulysses made. He starts to clean up while Moz packs the leftovers into its respective containers and puts it all in her insulated bag. 

“Should we bring these along with us?” she wonders aloud. “Could get hungry after dealing with the tunnelers nest.”

Ulysses considers it. “Extra weight might slow us down. Clearing the nest won’t take long.”

“Right.” Moz sees him eyeing the doughnuts though, and she takes them out of the insulated bag and into her backpack. “I’ll just bring these. As a snack for after.” 

He nods, looking pleased. “Good idea.”

They finish cleaning up their camp and head towards the nest. It’s the third one they’ve spotted, a few miles past the Cave of the Abaddon — not the biggest one they’ve seen but sizable enough for concern. Since Moz had killed the tunneler queen and they’ve been targeting nests, there are markedly fewer tunnelers running around. Still, they’re a problem that needs to be solved, and sooner rather than later.

The nest is underground, down a crack in the road between two crumbling buildings. They’ve been there before; they've already scouted where to enter and exit to be as out of sight as possible. Ulysses slips into a split in the concrete. “Careful here,” he says. “There’s unstable ground below.”

He drops down easily and turns to help her, reaching out his hands for her to hold. Moz gratefully takes them – she’s not as tall as he is, and the gap from where they enter and the platform where Ulysses stands would be quite the jump for her. She lands with a silent thud, almost falling into his arms.

Even though Moz is already safe on the platform with him, Ulysses doesn’t let go of her hands. His touch lingers, almost as if waiting for something to happen.

Moz wants so badly to see where the moment is leading, but they are about to attack a tunneler nest. This is just not the time. She pointedly clears her throat, slightly raising their clasped hands; he gives her a look she can’t quite decipher in the dark, then squeezes her hands, once, before reluctantly letting them go.

He points at a far corner, not-so-subtly shifting his focus back to the task at hand. “Saw a few tunnelers over there,” he says quietly. “Farther away than we'd planned. Was thinking we could use flares again, lure them to the nest.”

“Then blow it up, yeah.” It was their go-to strategy and it had worked pretty well the last two times. Moz takes out her flare gun. “You ready?” 

He nods at her, and they descend the platform as carefully and quietly as they can. There’s a spot a little ways below them that makes for the perfect vantage point. As soon as they reach it, they get into position immediately, almost instinctively; by now they’ve fought tunnelers, Marked Men, and deathclaws together more than enough times to know how the other works.

Ulysses readies his rifle while Moz aims the flare gun. He gives her the signal. She shoots – the flare arcs through the darkness like a comet, and hits the swarm of tunnelers dead center. 

The creatures flee their spot, some of them on fire, panicked and surprised by the attack. Ulysses opens fire on the rush, targeting the ones not ablaze; they drop one by one. Moz shoots another flare to guide the tunnelers to their nest. 

The nest itself is just an arm’s throw away from them, and is crawling with the tunnelers’ young. Some of the attacked ones congregate there, which is perfect – Moz takes out grenades and gives a couple to Ulysses. Out of the two of them, he’s the one with more experience with explosives, so he throws the first grenade. It lands on the edge of the nest.

The blast takes out most of the tunnelers. The remaining ones go into a frenzy again, running wildly across the cracked earth. Moz throws her grenade into the horde and it explodes a good portion of them.

She’s about to throw another when she hears a loud groaning from above. Looking up, she sees something shift – before she even knows what’s happening, loose earth and debris are raining down on them. Moz warns Ulysses and moves out of the way, a little too late; a slab of concrete lands right by them, surrounding them in clouds of dirt. The collision breaks off parts of it, and chunks of concrete fly into the air and right at Moz.

The impact is enough to knock her down. When the dust settles and the world comes back into focus, the first thing she sees is Ulysses’s face. Above the mask, his eyes show concern and alarm so intense, it flusters her a bit.

“Moz,” he says, distress clear in his voice. “Marahan. Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” she says, her own voice raspy. She’s fairly sure something hit her head because it aches, and when she touches her forehead, her fingers come away wet with blood. Other than that, though, she feels fine. “I’m okay, I think.”

“You’re bleeding.” Ulysses gently helps her lean against the slab of concrete. He holds up three fingers. “How many?”

Moz huffs. “Three. See? I’m fine."

Ulysses ignores her claim and looks her over, making sure the rest of her is intact and unharmed. He checks the cut on her forehead and mutters to himself. Moz watches him fuss over her – a part of her is touched by this, but another part just wants to take a nap. 

“I want to lie down,” she tells him, and he shakes his head. He holds her steady, stopping her from sliding down the wall. 

“Might be concussed,” he says, stern. “Need to stay awake, Moz. Stay with me.” 

“Okay,” she says simply, too achy to continue disputing her injury. Ulysses reaches into his bag for a clean cloth bandage, then folds it into a thick square and puts it to her bleeding forehead. 

“Apply some pressure,” he tells her. She holds the bandage to her head while he bends down to lift her up in his arms. He carries her with ease, like she weighs nothing; Moz loops her free arm around his shoulders and Ulysses starts walking to their exit. Thank god they don’t have to climb to get out of here. Moz isn’t sure if she could manage it.

“Going to the nearest safehouse,” Ulysses says matter-of-factly. “Remember where it is?”

“Mhm.” Moz knows he’s trying to keep her from falling asleep, but it’s so comfortable to be in his arms. “It’s a couple blocks over,” she answers obediently. “Blue graffitti over a grey door."

“Correct. Which way?” 

They’re at the exit now, and the sudden flood of bright light makes her head hurt a little more. She turns her face away from the light, burying it into the shoulder of his duster. “Just go forward from here,” she says, voice muffled by fabric. “Then turn left at the end of the road.”

Moz expects him to put her down once they’re on steadier ground, but he doesn’t; instead, Ulysses holds her tighter to him, stepping carefully over the cracks and exposed beams blocking his way. He makes small conversation as he carries her all the way to the safehouse. 

It’s on the second floor of a tucked away building, just a small one-bedroom unit with an attached bathroom. There’s nothing much there: a bed, a table, a kitchenette. Once inside, he gently places her on the bed. He takes their bags and puts them at the foot of it before removing his mask.

“Don’t lie down yet,” he says before she could even think of doing it. “Need to check your wound.”

Moz nods. She takes the soaked bandage off her forehead. Ulysses brushes her hair from her face and examines the cut, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Is it bad?” she asks, if only to fill the silence.

“A shallow cut. Better, now – no longer bleeding. Still, need to clean it, bandage it.” Ulysses looks her in the eye. “How is your head?”

“I’ve been hit worse. I’ll live.” 

“Hm. No dizziness, nausea?” 

“Nope. I told you, I’m fine.”

He visibly relaxes. “Good.” He gets first aid supplies from his pack, then goes to the nearby bathroom sink to wet a new square of cloth. He returns to her with the supplies and a small basin of water. 

With the damp cloth, he lightly cleans the blood from her forehead, his touch soft and tender. The cut is less alarming without all the blood; Ulysses checks it a final time before applying an antiseptic and a couple of butterfly bandages down the length of it.

He examines his handiwork. “Should be enough,” he tells her. Their faces are only a whisper away from each other – it would be so easy to bridge the gap and kiss him as thanks.

“Thank you, Ulysses,” Moz says instead, giving him a small smile.

“Had me worried,” he admits, smiling back. “Should rest here for the night – don’t want to overexert you.” 

“Alright.” Just the thought of walking back to the overlook is enough to make her tired. She takes her shoes off and scoots over to the far end of the bed, where it’s flush against the wall. There are no pillows on it, and it’s not the softest mattress in the world, but it’s a welcome comfort. She pats the empty space next to her. “Join me on the bed?” 

Ulysses drops the cloth into the basin and neatly puts it and the first aid supplies out of the way. He unlaces his boots and kicks them off as he makes his way to where she’s sitting.

Moz smiles at him once he settles beside her, so close that their sides are touching. “You think we got all of the tunnelers?"

“Not all,” he answers. “Some stragglers left – but don’t think of them now. Rest.”

Moz hums in agreement. Her head does feel a little heavy. She unconsciously rests it on Ulysses’s shoulder – he’s tense, but soon relaxes, leaning towards her so that she’s more comfortable. His hand is within reach, so she takes it in both of her own before she could stop herself. 

She idly turns his hand this way and that, tracing the lines and scars and calluses with her fingers. He lets her draw patterns on his palm, even splaying his fingers obligingly so that she can twine theirs together. Despite the dull pain in her head, Moz soaks in the moment – a small pocket of calm in the middle of the chaos surrounding them.

“You have really nice hands,” she says. “Strong, capable. Gentle when you want them to be. I like them a lot.”

“Could say the same for yours,” he replies, voice low and amused. He slowly rubs the back of her hand with his thumb and lays his cheek on top of her head. He gets comfortable, his leg softly pressing into hers as he cuddles her. “Falling asleep?”

“Maybe.” She wants nothing more than to stay like this with him – but maybe somewhere nicer, far away from the wreck and ruin of the Divide. Somewhere she can show him just how much she likes him, as loudly as she wants, without the threat of enemies hearing them... God, her head aches. “Actually, can we lie down for a bit?”

“Only if you stay awake for me, just for a while longer,” Ulysses says, adjusting his weight. Moz nods a little, lifts her head from his shoulder, and moves to the middle of the bed. She lies down on her back, trying to get comfortable on the thin mattress.

Meanwhile, Ulysses goes to the foot of the bed to grab Moz’s bag. He takes the small blanket that he knows she carries for emergencies, as well as the last of the doughnuts they had earlier, and goes back to her. He folds the blanket into a makeshift pillow.

“Lay on this,” he tells her, before placing the blanket pillow under her head. He settles next to her, doughnuts in hand; Moz sees them and giggles.

“Good thing I brought those, no?” she says playfully. She turns to her side to look at Ulysses. “I knew we’d get hungry.”

Ulysses smiles down at her. “You were right,” he just says, splitting one doughnut into two. He offers half to her; she props herself up on an elbow and accepts it. They eat their respective halves wordlessly, their mouths too full of the pastry to talk. Moz finishes hers first – she didn’t realize how hungry she had gotten – and notices Ulysses watching her.

“What?” 

“Have sugar on you,” he says, gesturing at the side of her face. She brushes her cheek, but he shakes his head. “Still there…” He bends down and softly sweeps sugar from the corner of her mouth. He cups her cheek, caressing the soft skin there. Moz is pretty sure the sugar is gone, but he doesn’t stop, and she doesn’t want him to. She presses her face to his palm.

“I think you got it,” she says eventually, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes. Her lips part slightly, and Ulysses’s breath hitches. 

“Moz,” he whispers, but then he forgoes his words and simply leans forward, closing the gap between them. Their lips meet, so tender and sweet and lovely that Moz is dizzy with it… but then it’s over before she could get too deep into the kiss.

Ulysses begins to move away. She whines at the loss of his lips on hers, and, her head spinning, she surges forward. Surprised by the movement, he catches her, his arms instinctively wrapping around her middle, and holds her close – so close that, when he falls on his back from the impact of her body on his, she falls on top of him.

Ulysses starts to say something, but all Moz wants to do is kiss him again, so she does, more eagerly than before. His hands are warm on her back as he matches her intensity; when she moans into his mouth, he takes the chance to slide his tongue against hers.

Moz has kissed many people before, but none of those past experiences could compare to how it feels to kiss Ulysses. He kisses her so intently, so engrossed in the act – every touch and movement emanating an emotion so fierce that she can feel it in her bones. 

There’s no denying it, now, that there’s something unspoken between them, and that whatever it is, it’s mutual. Moz had thought it was just her feeling it, that she was just assigning meaning into every lingering touch, every heated gaze. She’s never been so glad to be proven wrong.

He shifts underneath her, breaking off their kiss to take a breath. Their exhalations mingle in the shared air between them. She brushes her lips against his, loving the electric feel of it, the thrill of being able to kiss him at last. Ulysses tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, the look in his eyes impossibly fond.

“Moz…” he says again, full of wonder. She waits for him to say something else, but he trails off, apparently speechless, distractedly tracing her spine with the tips of his fingers.

She kisses him once more, then rests her chin on his chest. She’s satisfied – for now, at least – though she does want to kiss him until the sun sets, then rises, then sets again. Still, the initial rush has died down, and the disregarded aching in her head makes itself known. Forcefully.

Moz groans. She rolls off of Ulysses’s chest reluctantly and sits up, rubbing her temples. He rises with her, concerned. 

“Something wrong?” he asks. He rubs her back in soothing circles, and it helps a little.

“My head hurts,” Moz says miserably. “I guess I got too excited.”

“Got carried away as well,” Ulysses mutters. “Knew you were hurt – should’ve taken it more slowly.”

“No, it was perfect.” She turns to grin at him. “I would’ve gotten excited regardless. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while.”

“Feel the same as you,” he confides, a small smile on his lips. He pauses, looking as if he wants to say more, but thinks better of it. “But now, it’s time for you to rest.”

“I thought I needed to stay awake?” she jokes weakly, doing her best to keep her eyes open, to continue drinking in the loving way he’s looking at her. She lies down on her side, resting her head on his lap. 

Ulysses moves, changing the way he sits so she could lie more comfortably on him. “No – you can sleep. Don’t think you’re concussed.” He lightly strokes her cheek. “Just have to avoid excitement and physical activity for now.” 

“Damn,” she says sleepily, finally letting her eyes close. “I love excitement and physical activity.”

Ulysses laughs. “Could have physical activity later,” she hears him say. She chuckles at that, delighted at the promise in it; she wonders if he'd kiss her again if she asked, but before she could, he starts to gently run his fingers through her hair. The motion is enough to lull her to sleep.

Maybe I don’t hate the Divide after all, she thinks, before finally drifting off.

[miasmaghoul]

happy wip wednesday, so says @belle--ofthebrawl; here's a lil chunk of an absolute beast of a fic i've been chipping away at for months now bc its gonna have a little bit of everything:

mountain's in rut, and hes gonna need lots of help - and a muzzle >:)

(this one's for @forlorn-crows ♡)

[honeyywoods]

IT’S HERE!!!!!!!!!!! THE FLOWER LANGUAGE FIC IS DONE AT LAST!!!!!!!!! I’m treating this as sort of a draft-but-not-draft before I upload this to Ao3 so if u have any criticism/comments PLEASE share!! I really appreciate it :)

some part of me came alive (the first time that you called me baby)

Davey loves flower language. Jack loves Davey.

(title from First Time by Hozier)

———————————

Davey loved flowers.

Well, Jack wasn’t so sure it was the flowers themselves. What he did know, however, was based on an experience he’d had a couple weeks back while selling with Davey in the flower district.

It was late May, the weather finally warming to bring the leaves onto the trees. A Saturday, when Davey was free from school and could sell the morning edition. He’d suggested that they sell in the flower district on West 28th - citing something about the nicer weather and incoming summer leading people to want to look at the blooms - and Jack had agreed without thought or complaint, because he’s pathetically easy when it comes to Davey.

So the pair embarked, discussing weekend plans and Davey’s homework and Jack’s newest painting project at Medda’s.

It was fine. It was normal. Except for the fact that Jack couldn’t force his eyes away from Davey - shining eyes, freckles beginning to show from their winter hiding, mouth moving a mile a minute as he regaled Jack with the newest book he’d been reading and hands moving everywhere from his tote strap to his hair to the air in front of him. It was incredibly endearing, albeit extremely distracting to Jack.

“-Are you even listening?” Suddenly jerked Jack out of his reverie, and he nodded a bit mechanically before he registered that he, in fact, had not heard a word Davey had said for at least the past minute. “‘Course, Dave, sounds real swell.”

Davey narrowed his eyes suspiciously, giving Jack a once-over, but then continued talking. Though it was exceptionally difficult to focus when Davey was next to him, Jack attempted to keep up with the conversation and even respond a few times.

His degrees of success were varying, and several times Jack caught his gaze drifting back to Davey’s lips, felt his brain starting to disengage in Davey’s words in favor of thinking about how gorgeous the other boy was.

This was very much not fine or normal, Jack decided. This was torture at the highest level. He found himself practically sighing with relief as they approached West 28th Street.

Davey’s idea for the morning was right, as always. The place was packed with people - vendors selling all sorts of flowers in colors and shapes Jack hadn’t even known existed, people lazily perusing the stands, commuters bustling to and fro. Jack was, in all honesty, surprised that nobody had thought to sell here before. It looked like something out of a painting, and suddenly Jack’s fingers itched for a canvas, a sketchbook, anything to capture the scene before him.

“Oh, this is amazing!” Davey exclaimed immediately, his eyes alight with an almost childlike wonder. “Look at this! They have everything!” A grin spread across Davey’s face as he took in the sights of the market. Despite his initial enchantment with the place, Jack quickly becomes more enthralled by Davey himself, his excitement leading a smile onto Jack’s face as well.

It wasn’t often that Davey allowed himself to get excited about things given his constant responsibilities, so Jack was grateful any time he got to see Davey let loose and be so authentically happy. Jack knew it was sappy, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

They continue into the market, passing several stands with blooms everywhere; erupting from the sides of carts, packed on shelves, or in pots lining the street. “All flowers have meanings, you know.” Davey mentioned, and by the way he was fidgeting with his bag strap Jack could tell he was eager to talk about it.

“Yeah?” Jack responded, his interest piqued. Davey hummed an affirmative ‘mm-hmm’, his grin widening. “Yeah! You can send ‘em to different people depending on what they mean. It’s real fascinating.”

Jack nodded along, intrigued, and a smile works onto his own face as he listens and watches. “Well, I know about roses. You give ‘em to your sweetheart.” Jack can’t help the smirk that works onto his lips, eyeing Davey carefully. The other boy chuckled, scanning over the roses they were passing thoughtfully.

“Not necessarily. Yellow roses are actually just about the worst thing to give your sweetheart,” Davey explained in that tone that Jack has learned to mean he’s very enthusiastic about something “they mean friendship. And black ones mean death, as you could probably guess. Pink or red, though, are fair game for lovers. They can mean a lot of things, but usually love and passion are among them. There are loads of other flowers you could use, though, and I think roses are sort of cliché anyways.”

Jack snorted a laugh, unbelievably fond of Davey’s rambling. “What, did the flowers tell you that themselves?” He teased, entirely joking and if anything just to get a rise out of Davey - which it did. A flush not unlike the ruddy roses around them appeared on Davey’s cheeks, starting high and sweeping down his face. “It’s flower language! It’s a little older, from the beginning of the century, and it’s..it’s like saying things without actually saying them.” He explained, bumping Jack’s shoulder in feigned frustration.

“Sounds like you know your way around these here flowers.” Jack raised his brows, impressed, and Davey had just shrugged. “I read about it a lot. There are more books than you’d think on it, and lots of artwork to go with the flowers. I think you’d like some of them.” He suggested, and Jack’s heart started doing a funny little skip. God, what was wrong with him?

“Alright,” Davey’s voice continued, “We should split up for now so that we’ll have better odds of selling. Meet back…” He trailed off, narrowing his hazel-green eyes to a squint as he scanned for a landmark, and the way they shone in the morning sun reminded Jack of sunlight dancing on water. Then, Davey seemed to get an idea, eyebrows raising and eyes widening as he pointed to a statue of a man on a horse. “By that statue at eleven.”

“Gotcha. See you then, Dave. Stay safe.” Jack responded with a nod, turning to take a few steps. “And if anythin’ happens, you come find me, okay?” He added reflexively, even though he probably didn’t need to. Davey scoffed, and Jack was reminded that he was somehow a completely different guy than when they’d met, and yet somehow still the same. “Jack, you know I can fend for myself.” He insisted, and Jack turned back to face him, a slightly pleading expression working onto his face. “Please, Dave, I just…I just wanna know you’re safe.” He implored, and though Davey sighed he was smiling softly.

“Of course you do. I’ll be fine, Jackie, but if anything happens you’ll be the first to know.” Davey agreed, looking at Jack with those goddamn green eyes, bright and kind and perfect. Jack just nodded, not trusting that his voice wouldn’t crack with Davey looking at him like that.

The two went their separate ways, Jack heading to the opposite side of the street and walking up farther so that most of the foot traffic would be coming in Davey’s direction. That being said, there were a fair number of people on both sides of the street, and Jack imagined he could finish selling quickly enough.

Jack isn’t sure how much time had passed, but by the time he spots Davey again he’d sold near half of his papes. Which is fortunate, given that he was now thoroughly distracted.

He was fully aware that he’d had a bag full of newspapers that need to be sold, aware that he was gawking like an idiot in the middle of the street, but none of that was important. Nothing was more important than the sight in front of him.

Davey seemed to have taken a break from selling, his hat in one hand as he stooped slightly to look at one of the flowers in front of him. And, oh, god save Jack’s soul because his dark curls were mussed and fluffy from his hat and he had that smile on his face, that barely-perceptible-to-anyone-else upward turn at the corners of his mouth, eyes soft and curious. His fingers lightly brushed the petals of one of the blooms, and then he jumped with a start and turned to the seller, who seemed to have started talking to him, no doubt putting on his best schoolboy manners.

Just then, Jack became aware of a man walking towards him with purpose, clearly intending to buy from him. He was neat and clean, with a trimmed mustache and beard, the kind that indicated that he had somewhere to be. Of course someone like this would be trying to buy from him when Jack was most likely to make a complete fool of himself.

Bumbling through the sale, Jack managed to intrigue the man enough to buy a pape from him by what could only be a miracle. At least twice he caught himself looking over the man’s shoulder, watching Davey who’s now engaged in an animated conversation with the clerk. Against his efforts, he’s unable to keep his expression from melting into something soft and fond.

“Dame caught your eye, there, lad?” The man asks, his voice teasing, and Jack curses himself for his blatant behavior.

“Something like that,” he mumbles back absentmindedly, just as Davey tips his head back in laughter, the smile on his face all the light Jack could ever need.

And it’s then that Jack knows, without a doubt, that he is well and truly fucked.

That night, he’d gone to Medda’s with his inspiration at a high and the sole intent of finding out anything and everything that she knew about this ‘flower language’ of Davey’s - which was, evidently, quite a bit, as Medda seemed to know at least something about everything - and he’d been given a hard-covered book filled with intricate black-and-white sketches of flowers alongside their supposed meanings.

“Why the sudden interest?” Medda asked with a curious raise of her brow, even though her mouth is turned up in a knowing half-smile. Jack tried desperately to keep himself from blushing. “Just, ah- got some inspiration for a new piece. On the side.” His hands ran over the spine of the book distractedly, and he barely registered Medda’s unconvinced ‘mm-hmm.’ “Really, ma, it’s nothin’.”

When Jack looks back at her, Medda had this look in her eyes, the kind that he knows sees right through him. “Well, whatever it is, I hope David likes it.” She said casually, and it may as well have been a smack in the face.

“That ain’t- aw, hell, d’you think he will?” Jack didn’t have the capacity to pretend to Medda, so he gave in, shrinking in on himself nervously.

“I think,” Medda started, a warm smile on her face, “That you could win anyone over like that. Not that you need to, not with him.” She’d chuckled, even as Jack dismissed the implication.

Jack had taken the book and spent the majority of his (albeit limited) free time over the next few days. Using old newspaper scraps, he’d scribbled out sketches of the flowers he wanted to use, studying their shapes and colors as he went.

He remembered Davey saying that roses were cliché, so Jack avoided them entirely. Instead, he gathered a hand-sketched bouquet of all colors - blues and purples and reds and pinks.

As he searched, Jack became amazed by the sheer array of meanings that people had come up with for some flowers. Seriously, ‘a foe is near’? If Jack had to warn someone about a foe being near, he sure as hell wouldn’t use flowers to do it.

In the end, Jack had practically a whole garden to choose from. After cleverly asking Les to ask his brother about his favorite flowers - as well as from a firsthand conversation with Davey - Jack had learned that irises were Davey’s favorite, and that a man named Oscar Wilde within the last few years had popularized green carnations as a sort of code for men who courted other men.

The last fact was a particularly heavy one. Jack, of course, knew that he was queer, but that didn’t make it easy. It seemed to be the same way for Davey, who had spilled everything one night when Jack had made some stupid joke about girls. Jack had assured him that it was alright, of course, that his secret was safe and that nearly all of the newsies didn’t have enough time to care about that sort of thing.

From there, it became one of those things that neither of them mentioned, but it wasn’t a bad thing. To Jack, at least, it seemed less like a weight and more like a comfort - to know that someone else was going through something similar alongside him.

Somehow, even though he knew it was risky and dangerous, Jack had wanted to include their experiences in the painting somehow, and Davey’s explanation about the green carnations was perfect. The artistic vision was officially complete, if only in his own head.

Canvas was all but unobtainable, so Jack opted instead to use the thick, quality paper from one of his sketchbooks to ensure that the piece would last. He’d headed back to Medda’s with his paper tote full of the flower scraps, and spent the entirety of the next Sunday painting away.

In the end, the painting was covered in an array of flowers and assorted flora: little bluebells, ferns, orchids, and more, with a couple of irises as a centerpiece.

The green carnations ended up sneaking onto the painting as well, tiny and unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking for them.

Then, all that was left was to give it to him. Unfortunately, this proved to be a much harder task than Jack had initially thought. After putting in all of the work that he had, he was beginning to have second thoughts.

Well, perhaps ‘second thoughts’ wasn’t the right term. Rather, Jack started to worry that Davey wouldn’t even like the painting, or that the point would fly over his head, or a million other ways that it could go wrong.

Jack spent several days fretting and nights staring at the painting while on the rooftop before Crutchie had eloquently told him to ‘man up, get over himself, and tell Davey that he’s criminally obsessed with him before he beat him.’

The next day, Jack had caught Davey on his way to school and asked if he could come to the lodging house that evening (“not for long,” Jack had added to assuage Davey’s worries about being out late on a school night).

Which was how Jack came to be standing on the rooftop of the lodging house with one David Jacobs. Jack asks about school that day, Davey asks about selling, and it flows so naturally that Jack almost forgets what he’s here to do.

Almost.

“Hey, I gots something I wanna show you.” Jack eventually manages to say, beckoning Davey over to his bedroll and retrieving the painting tucked underneath his pillow.

“Remember a couple’a weeks ago when we were in the flower district?” Jack starts, wringing his hands together in uncharacteristic nervousness. “You, uh, you told me all about flower-speak - that’s what it’s called, right?”

Davey half-nods, half-shrugs, tilting his head inquisitively. “Flower language, yeah. And yes, I do, why do you ask?” He asks, stepping closer but stopping as Jack holds the piece of paper protectively to his chest.

“Well, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it, and you’d said them flowers could say anything, so I asked Medda about it. She gave me this book with all sorts’a flowers an’ what they mean. So, uh, long story short, I made ya this.” Jack rambles, his face becoming gradually warmer as he speaks. He can feel his heart pounding in his throat, his ears, everywhere through his body.

Here goes nothing.

Jack finally turns the painting around, holding it out for Davey to take. He might imagine it, but he swears he hears Davey gasp, a tiny hitch in his breathing before he reaches out to take the painting. Davey holds it gently, fingers curled delicately around the edges as if he were holding a famed masterpiece. Swallowing his nerves, Jack opts to continue.

“I figured it’s like you said. ‘Sayin’ things without actually sayin’ them.’” Jack quotes, thinking back to what Davey had said that first day. “And I, well, I thought I’d tell ya..some stuff.” Jack’s hands can’t seem to settle, moving restlessly from rubbing the back of his neck to running through his hair to picking the hem of his shirt. He can’t bring himself to look up at Davey.

Davey doesn’t say a thing. He’s alarmingly still and quiet, and Jack is about to comment on it when he finally looks up and sees tears falling from Davey’s eyes.

Jack swears he feels his heart plummet into his stomach. Had he gotten it wrong? Did those flowers mean something else, something awful? Or was Davey really just that upset by the thought of-

His spiral is cut off by the sudden press of lips against his own, by a long, elegant hand gripping his jaw. Jack can’t help but gasp into it, before closing his eyes and responding in earnest. Davey’s lips are salty and wet with tears, and he’s sniffling and gasping himself every so often, but Jack doesn’t think he’s ever had a better kiss, simply because it’s Davey.

When they separate, Davey is looking down at him, his eyes teary and red but just as gorgeous as always. He seems to find his voice after a second, though it still quivers noticeably.

“Jack,” He murmurs, soft and rough - Jack would crawl through hell itself just to hear Davey say his name like that again - “This is…the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Yeah, well,” Jack shrugs, looking away as he feels his face heat up. “I jus’ wanted you to see yourself…the way I do.”

Davey sits with the words for a moment. “And this is…” He trails off, pinning Jack with a soul-baring stare, his eyes vulnerable yet somehow still so piercing, “This is really what…?” Jack almost has to laugh at the thought of it: Davey, of all people, lost for words. The world may as well have been turned on its head.

“What, Mouth, cat got your tongue?” Jack can’t help but tease, preening to himself when Davey’s face goes delightfully redder.

“No,” Davey looks at him with a flustered little frown, “You do.” He swallows, appearing to steel his nerves, then, ��You really…think all of this?” He asks, running a hand reverently over his painting. His tone is unsure, like he doesn’t believe him, and it baffles Jack more than anything. “‘Course I do,” He responds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Dunno if you’ve picked it up or not, Dave, but I’m kinda head over heels for you.”

Davey blinks at him uncomprehendingly. “What?” He asks, genuinely baffled. “I mean, I..I kind of guessed from the flowers, but…what?” Jack groans quietly, tipping his head briefly towards the sky and whatever was watching down on him from up there. The flowers. Damn him to hell, and damn Jack right with him. It never failed to astound him how oblivious Davey was, despite being probably the smartest person Jack knows. “Dave,” he starts as he looks back at Davey pleadingly, his voice just that side of exasperated, “Don’t yank my chain here.” Davey just looks at him in confusion, brows furrowing as his brain works. “Jack, I don’t even- what are you talking about?” He asks, as if he really, truly doesn’t know.

As if he doesn’t know that he’s the light of Jack’s fucking life. Doesn’t know that Jack would move Heaven and earth to see him smile and hear him laugh, or that Jack would gladly listen to his voice for hours on end, talking about anything because he was instantly captured by Davey’s words.

It’s a combination of months of frustration and yearning that forces Jack to fist his hands tightly in Davey’s shirt collar, pulling him down hard enough that the other boy stumbles slightly, hands flying to Jack’s waist to steady himself as he makes a small noise of surprise.

Contrary to their first kiss, this one is harsh mostly on Jack’s part. He’s pressing up into Davey like he has something to prove, parting his lips and tilting his head eagerly. Much to his relief, Davey responds in kind, his grip moving down to Jack’s hips before his arms snake around Jack’s back.

This time, when the two separate, they remain just inches apart, caught in each other’s orbit. “I don’t know how ya don’t see it. I mean, I seem to make a fool of myself whenever you’re around. Can’t string two words together ‘cause I’m too busy lookin’ at you. Everyone who’s anyone was bettin’ on whether or not I’d die before I told ya.” Jack chuckles mirthlessly, scrubbing a hand over his face. He takes a deep breath, then looks back at Davey.

“But what I mean to say is I’m stupidly in love with you. Head over heels don’t even cut it.” Jack’s heart pounds rapidly, waiting for a response. Davey’s face is nothing short of awestruck.

“Me too. I didn’t even- I didn’t think you would ever feel the same way.“ The admission has Davey playing with the corner of the painting, his face still pink. “I meant what I said, too. Nobody has ever done something so thoughtful and sweet for me before.” He continues, leveling Jack with a half-lidded gaze. “You’re a real charmer, Jackie.” Davey murmurs, his voice low and soft.

Jack’s brain sputters and stalls - it’s criminally unfair how easily Davey can do that to him - and it takes a minute for him to recover from Davey’s whole everything. “Oh. Y-yeah?”

Davey giggles, honest-to-god giggles, and Jack thinks he might drop dead right then and there. “Well, not everybody would research flower language for the person they’re sweet on, much less paint something so stunning for them.” He points out, one hand leaving Jack’s waist to hold the painting out once more. “I’m absolutely gonna get you back for this, by the way. You aren’t the only one who gets to be sweet to his partner.” There’s a sureness in his voice, the kind that makes Jack’s heart swell with the implication that Davey wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with Davey.

Jack takes Davey’s other hand from his hip, lacing their fingers together. “That a promise, sweetheart?” He asks, but it’s more of a genuine question than a tease.

A squeeze of Jack’s hand, and a gentle smile from Davey. “It’s a promise, darling.”

[hatsukeii]

chat! what if i told you! i’m gonna write the most painful, disgustingly sad smut as a debut into the world of nsfw! i’m not even gonna make it pleasurable or horny! just sad and really fucking melancholic but beautiful!

[oldjewelryfeed]

Rare Antique Gilt Bronze Miniature Screen Desk Clock Memento Mori Skull Doctor's

[pastel-starr-bitch]

I literally fucking hate it here!

[callmehere-iwillappear]

[fortjester]

maaaaaaaaaan. come ON

[crookedghosts]

preview of the challengers AU: do we think Leo's referring to competition for the singles title? competition as his doubles partner? is he referring to them competing to be Piper's? them competing for her heart? her and him competing for Leo's? the layers... the answer is probably all of the above

[specific-dreamer]

🪲

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

i added way more than 50 but here’s my favorite 50 from what i did add ! under the cut ofc any potential readers don’t want spoilers

the fic is the one where johnny and pony run to darry instead of dally. darry centered of course

They aren’t rich by any means, so their curtains are plastic and thin enough that it barely hides anything. Which would mean he’d be able to see the kid’s shadow moving.

“Ponyboy Michael, I swear if I open that curtain and you’re standing in the corner dry as a fucking chinchilla.”

[vilnmelling]

My self-appointed reputation that no one else can see is that I say I'm gonna write an NPMD fanfic about a specific thing, then I go and write 3.5k words before I even get to the point

[vultursvolans]

my fics are on the shorter side so i get a lil nervy when something that i’m writing becomes longer than usual