#we are allowed to grieve while healing

[butchoscar]

Anyway. Here’s your reminder to systems out there that you’re allowed to grieve fusions if an alter that you’ve known and grown close to and relied on for years is no longer who you knew. It’s hard, but it’s worth it to heal. ❤️‍🩹

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Pairing: Mafia Ateez OT8x Reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, poly ateez, violence and weapons, mafia ateez, organized crime, parental death and grieving process, bullying, possessive and controlling behavior,

Summary: When Y/n Ricci is forced to marry Kim Hongjoong—leader of the notorious ATEEZ organization and one of eight men who cruelly abandoned her seven years ago—she finds herself trapped in their heavily guarded compound with the ghosts of her past. As she navigates the dangerous world of mafia politics and her own wounded heart, Y/n discovers that all eight powerful, irresistible men still harbor deep feelings for her, suggesting an unconventional solution to their shared dilemma. But before she can consider forgiving them, let alone loving them again, she must uncover the dark secret that tore them apart—a truth that could either heal their fractured bonds or destroy them all completely.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

18+ only- Minors do not enter

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Masterlist

Chapter 2: The Wolves' Den

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed nine as you returned to the drawing room with Hongjoong. The conversation between the men paused, all eyes turning to assess your expressions, searching for signs of reconciliation or further hostility.

You kept your face carefully blank, taking your seat once more. If they were hoping for a miraculous change of heart during your garden chat, they were about to be sorely disappointed.

"Have you two reached an understanding?" your father asked, his tone suggesting he expected the answer to be yes.

"We understand each other perfectly," you replied coolly, not looking at Hongjoong. "We always have."

Mr. Kim cleared his throat. "Excellent. Then perhaps we can finalize the remaining details."

Your father nodded. "As we discussed, the wedding will take place at the Kim estate. Traditional ceremony, followed by a reception for our closest associates."

"And the honeymoon?" Mr. Kim inquired.

"Two weeks in Sicily," your father replied. "At the family villa."

You bit back a bitter laugh. Of course they'd already planned your honeymoon. Why not your entire future while they were at it?

"And in the meantime," your father continued, his eyes shifting to you, "Y/n will be staying at the Kim estate to become better acquainted with her future husband and his... organization."

The words hit you like a physical blow. "I beg your pardon?"

Your father's expression hardened slightly. "It's been decided, Y/n. You'll be moving to the Kim estate tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" You leaned forward, dropping all pretense of composure. "You're shipping me off to live with strangers for three months?"

"They're hardly strangers," your father countered. "You've known Hongjoong and his associates since childhood."

"Known and been abandoned by," you corrected sharply. "And you expect me to just... what? Pack up and move in with them? Like some sort of trial run before the main event?"

"It's a common practice for arranged marriages in our circles," Seonghwa interjected smoothly. "It allows the bride to acclimate to her new family and household before the wedding."

You turned your glare on him. "Thank you for the cultural lesson, Mr. Park. I'm well aware of our 'traditions.' I'm simply questioning why this particular one is necessary in my case."

"Because," your father said firmly, "the Ricci estate is no longer secure."

That stopped you cold. "What do you mean?"

A look passed between your father and Mr. Kim—a silent communication that sent a chill down your spine.

"The Russo family has been making moves," your father said finally. "We've intercepted information suggesting they may target you to get to me."

"So instead of increasing security here, you're sending me away?" you asked incredulously.

"The ATEEZ compound is the most secure location in the city," Hongjoong said, speaking up for the first time since you'd returned from the garden. "No one gets in or out without our knowledge."

You turned to him slowly. "ATEEZ?"

"Our organization," he replied, a hint of pride coloring his tone. "Separate from our family businesses, though allied. The eight of us formed it five years ago."

"How entrepreneurial of you," you said sarcastically. "And this compound—who exactly will be there?"

Hongjoong met your gaze steadily. "Myself. Seonghwa. Yunho. Yeosang. San. Mingi. Wooyoung. And Jongho."

You couldn't help the sound that escaped you—something between a laugh and a growl. "All eight of you. Together. How convenient."

"Each has their role," Hongjoong continued, undeterred by your reaction. "We've built something... significant."

"I'm sure you have," you said, your voice dripping venom. "One big happy family. And now you want to add me to your collection."

"Y/n," your father warned.

But you were beyond caring about decorum. "So I'm to be a prisoner in a house full of men who couldn't even be bothered to say goodbye seven years ago? Is that it?"

The words hung in the air, and for a split second, you caught something flash across Hongjoong's face—guilt, perhaps, or regret. Seonghwa's expression remained carefully neutral, but you noticed his hand tighten imperceptibly on the arm of his chair.

"You'll be a guest," Seonghwa corrected. "Protected and respected."

"Forgive me if I don't find that particularly reassuring coming from you," you said, Seonghwa's parting words from seven years ago echoing in your mind: "Find some nice civilian boy to marry, Y/n. Someone more... your speed."

"Enough," your father said sharply. "This isn't a negotiation, Y/n. It's been decided. You'll go with Hongjoong tomorrow and stay at the ATEEZ compound until the wedding. End of discussion."

The finality in his tone left no room for argument. You sat back in your chair, fury building inside you like a gathering storm. Trapped. You were going to be trapped with all eight of them, with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the memories and the pain they represented.

"If that's settled," Mr. Kim said, rising to his feet, "we should be going. We have much to prepare for Y/n's arrival."

Your father stood as well, extending his hand. "We'll speak tomorrow before she leaves."

As the men exchanged handshakes and platitudes, you remained seated, your mind racing. Three months in the lions' den—no, the wolves' den. Because that's what they were, weren't they? A pack of wolves who had once welcomed you as one of their own, only to turn on you when it suited them.

"Y/n," your father's voice broke through your thoughts. "Say goodbye to our guests."

You rose mechanically, your smile tight and false. "Mr. Kim, it was a pleasure. Mr. Park, always illuminating. Hongjoong... until tomorrow, I suppose."

Hongjoong inclined his head slightly. "I'll send a car at noon."

"How thoughtful," you replied. "I'll be sure to pack light. Wouldn't want to impose."

His eyes narrowed slightly at your tone, but he said nothing more. As they turned to leave, you caught Seonghwa watching you with an unreadable expression. For a moment, you thought you saw something like regret in his gaze, but it was gone so quickly you might have imagined it.

Once the door closed behind them, you rounded on your father. "How could you do this to me?"

"I'm protecting you," he said firmly. "The ATEEZ compound is a fortress. You'll be safer there than anywhere else."

"With the same men who abandoned me without a word? Who left me wondering for years what I'd done wrong? That's your idea of protection?"

"We felt sorry for you because your mom was sick, but she's gone now. Maybe it's time you learned to be alone." Wooyoung's last words to you floated through your mind, making your chest tighten with renewed pain.

Your father sighed heavily, suddenly looking older than his years. "There are things you don't understand, Y/n."

"Then explain them to me!" you demanded. "Tell me why my best friends disappeared from my life overnight. Tell me why you're suddenly so eager to marry me off to one of them."

A flicker of something—guilt? discomfort?—passed across your father's face before he carefully composed his features again.

He moved to the bar, pouring himself another drink. "Some secrets aren't mine to tell."

"Convenient excuse," you spat. "Everyone has secrets they can't share, decisions they can't explain. Am I the only one expected to accept everything blindly?"

Your father turned to face you, his expression grave. "In our world, ignorance can be a form of protection. Sometimes, not knowing is the safest position to be in."

"I stopped being safe the day I was born a Ricci," you countered. "At least give me the dignity of knowing what I'm walking into."

For a moment, something like indecision flickered across your father's face. Then he downed his drink in one swift motion. "Pack your things, Y/n. The decision is made."

You stared at him in disbelief, then turned on your heel and stormed out of the room. Your heels echoed against the marble floor as you climbed the stairs to your bedroom, each step fueled by rage and frustration.

Once inside, you slammed the door behind you with enough force to rattle the paintings on the walls. For a moment, you stood there, breathing heavily, fighting the urge to scream or break something—or everything.

Instead, you moved to your closet and yanked out a suitcase, throwing it onto the bed with unnecessary force. The thought of living under the same roof as all eight of them—eating breakfast across from Yunho's too-bright smile after he'd once told you to "Stop crying, it's embarrassing," passing San in the hallway who had called you a "lost puppy," hearing Wooyoung's distinctive laugh echoing through the rooms after he'd said you were "exhausting and needy"—it sent a confusing mix of emotions coursing through you. Anger, yes. Resentment, absolutely. But beneath that, something else—a dangerous flutter of anticipation that you refused to acknowledge.

You began throwing clothes into the suitcase haphazardly, muttering curses under your breath. "Stupid, arrogant, presumptuous men, thinking they can just—"

A knock at your door interrupted your tirade. "What?" you snapped.

Paolo's voice came through the door. "Miss Y/n, your father asked me to tell you that security protocols have been updated in light of tomorrow's move. No one leaves the house tonight without an escort."

"Fine," you called back. "Is that all?"

A pause. "He also said to remind you that the ATEEZ organization has a... reputation. They're not the boys you once knew."

You stilled, a silk blouse dangling from your fingers. "What kind of reputation?"

"They're effective," Paolo said simply. "Ruthless when necessary. But fair, by our standards."

Our standards. The standards of a world built on violence and power, where loyalty was currency and betrayal was punishable by death. A world where childhood friends could tell you that you were "not special" and that they'd been "just being polite all these years," then disappear without a trace.

"Thank you, Paolo," you said quietly. "Good night."

"Good night, Miss Y/n."

As his footsteps faded away, you sank onto the edge of your bed, the blouse forgotten in your lap. ATEEZ. You'd heard whispers of the name over the years—a new player in the city's underworld, methodical and disciplined in a way most organizations weren't. You'd never connected it to them, never imagined that the boys who had once sneaked you ice cream past your bedtime were now the men others in your world spoke of with wary respect.

You looked around your bedroom—the space that had been your sanctuary for years, the one place where you could pretend to be normal, where the weight of the Ricci name sometimes felt a little lighter. Tomorrow, you would leave it behind for a house full of ghosts from your past.

With renewed determination, you returned to your packing, this time with more care. If you were walking into the wolves' den, you'd be damned if you'd go unprepared.

As you folded a black evening dress—the kind that could double as armor in the right circumstances—you made yourself a promise. You wouldn't be the victim in this story. Not again. If they thought you were still that same trusting girl they'd left behind, they were about to learn how wrong they were.

The words that had haunted you for seven years—"You talk too much," "It's pathetic," "We've outgrown this phase of our lives," "Find your own life"—you would force them to eat every single one.

Hongjoong Kim might have agreed to marry you, and your father might have agreed to send you away, but that didn't mean you had to make it easy for any of them.

The game had changed, and this time, you would be the one setting the rules.

***

The morning arrived too quickly, sunlight streaming through windows you'd forgotten to close. You'd slept fitfully, dreams filled with shadows and fragments of memories—eight faces, eight voices, eight different kinds of betrayal.

By eleven, your bags were packed and waiting by the door. You'd chosen your outfit with deliberate care—black high-waisted trousers, a crimson silk blouse, and heels that added three dangerous inches to your height. Battle armor of a different kind.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts.

"Come in," you called, expecting your father with one final lecture about behavior and duty.

Instead, Paolo entered, carrying a small wooden box. His weathered face was solemn as he approached, setting the box on your dressing table.

"Your father is on a call," he said. "He asked me to see you off."

You nodded, unsurprised but still disappointed. "Of course he did."

Paolo's gaze softened. "Before you go, I have something for you." He gestured to the box. "It was your mother's."

Curious, you approached the box, running your fingers over the polished wood before lifting the lid. Inside, nestled in dark velvet, lay a pearl-handled pistol and an ornate dagger with an engraved hilt. Your breath caught in your throat.

"My mother's..." you whispered.

Paolo nodded. "The Beretta was a gift from your father on their wedding day. The knife was her grandfather's—Sicilian, from the old country." He reached in, lifting the pistol with careful hands. "She called this her insurance policy. Said a woman in our world should never be without options."

You took the weapon, feeling its weight—surprisingly light, perfectly balanced. Despite its delicate appearance, you knew it was as deadly as any of the more modern firearms in your father's collection.

"It's loaded," Paolo said quietly. "And the knife is sharp enough to slice through silk."

You looked up at him, understanding the message beneath his words. "Thank you, Paolo."

He inclined his head. "Your mother was fierce. You remind me of her more each day." His eyes met yours. "The ATEEZ boys—they're dangerous men now. But they were good boys once. I remember."

"People change," you said, carefully replacing the pistol in the box and closing the lid. Mingi's words echoed in your mind: "We're not the same people we were as kids, and honestly? Neither are you."

"Yes," Paolo agreed. "But not always completely." He lifted the box, handing it to you. "Hide these well. And remember—"

"A woman in our world should never be without options," you finished for him, tucking the box into your handbag.

A sad smile crossed his face. "May God go with you, little one."

You reached up, pressing a kiss to his weathered cheek. "Thank you for everything, Paolo."

He nodded once more, then turned to leave. At the door, he paused. "Your father loves you, Y/n. In his way."

"I know," you said softly. "In his way."

After he was gone, you stood alone in your bedroom for the last time, mentally saying goodbye to the sanctuary it had been. Then, squaring your shoulders, you picked up your handbag—now considerably heavier with your mother's "insurance policy"—and headed downstairs to meet the car that would take you to your new life.

* * *

The ATEEZ estate loomed before you like something from a gothic novel—a sprawling modern mansion of stone and glass, set behind imposing gates and surrounded by meticulously landscaped grounds. Security cameras tracked your arrival, and armed guards stood at strategic points along the perimeter.

As the car pulled up the circular driveway, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. Your mother's pistol and knife, now hidden in strategic places on your person, gave you a small measure of comfort.

The driver—a stoic man who hadn't spoken a word during the thirty-minute drive—opened your door. "Miss Ricci," he said with a slight bow. "Welcome to the ATEEZ compound."

You stepped out, surveying the fortress that would be your home for the next three months. "Charming," you murmured. "Does it come with a dungeon, or is that extra?"

The driver's expression didn't change as he retrieved your luggage from the trunk. "Mr. Kim and the others are waiting for you inside."

Before you could respond, the massive front doors swung open, and there they were—all eight of them, lined up in the entrance hall like a receiving line from your nightmares.

For a moment, you couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think. Seven years collapsed into nothing as you took in their faces—so familiar yet so changed. Boys no longer, but men with edges hardened by whatever lives they'd led since leaving yours.

Hongjoong stood at the center, impeccably dressed in all black, his posture rigid. His last words to you hung in the air between you: "Did you really think this was real, Y/n? We have real futures to build now, and frankly... you don't fit into them."

Beside him, Seonghwa watched you with that same unreadable expression from the night before, the man who once told you to "find some nice civilian boy to marry."

Yunho, taller than you remembered, shifted his weight nervously, the same man who had once said, "Stop crying, Y/n. It's embarrassing."

Yeosang's face remained impassive, but his eyes never left yours—the quiet one who had cruelly told you that you "talk too much" and that they "used to draw straws to see who had to listen to you ramble."

San's lips curved in a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes, the charmer who had dismissed you as "pathetic" and compared you to a "lost puppy."

Mingi stood slightly apart, his gaze so intense it was almost physical—the gentle soul who had become harsh enough to call you "clingy" and "desperate."

Wooyoung fidgeted, barely containing whatever energy coursed through him, the one whose words had cut deepest when he called you "exhausting and needy" and said they only tolerated you because they "felt sorry for you."

And Jongho, the youngest but somehow looking the most formidable, stood with arms crossed—the protector who had told you that you were "embarrassing yourself and your family" and to "have some dignity."

Eight men. Eight ghosts. Eight pieces of your past, standing before you in the flesh.

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words and buried memories.

Then, like a dam breaking, Wooyoung bounded forward with a cry of "Y/n!" before anyone could stop him. He swept you into a crushing hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around just as he had countless times when you were younger.

"You're finally here! I've been counting down the minutes! You look amazing—that red is totally your color—and your hair! I love what you've done with it!" His words tumbled out in a rush, his embrace warm and familiar, smelling of expensive cologne and something uniquely Wooyoung.

For one treacherous moment, you melted into the hug, your body remembering the comfort his arms had once provided. This was Wooyoung, your Wooyoung, who had once held you through the night after your mother's funeral, who had made you laugh even on your darkest days.

Then, just as quickly, another memory surfaced—Wooyoung's face, cold and distant, telling you that you were "exhausting" and that they "used to joke about how suffocating you were." The memory sent a chill through you, hardening your resolve.

You stiffened, planting your hands on his chest and shoving him away with enough force to make him stumble. "Touch me again without permission," you said icily, reaching into your jacket where the knife was hidden, "and I'll shoot you where you stand."

Rather than looking hurt or offended, Wooyoung's face split into a delighted grin. "There she is! Our fierce Y/n!" He turned to the others. "Didn't I tell you guys? Still the same spitfire!"

"Wooyoung," Hongjoong's voice cut through the air, sharp with warning. "Give her space."

Wooyoung pouted but stepped back, still grinning at you like you'd just shared an inside joke instead of threatening his life.

Your eyes swept over the rest of them, cataloging their reactions. Seonghwa's lips had thinned in disapproval—at Wooyoung's behavior or yours, you couldn't tell. Yunho looked caught between amusement and concern. Yeosang's expression hadn't changed, but something in his eyes had softened. San was openly smirking now. Jongho had unfolded his arms, his stance slightly more relaxed.

And Mingi... Mingi was looking at you with such naked longing that it felt like a physical blow. His eyes traced your face as if memorizing every detail, his expression so full of yearning and regret that for a moment, you felt your resolve waver. How could the same man who had called you "clingy" and "desperate" now look at you with such undisguised need?

You tore your gaze away, focusing instead on Hongjoong. "So, my dearly devoted fiancé," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm, "please show me to my cell. And I'd also make sure either the guns or bullets are hidden because if I find both, it will be a long night."

A muscle twitched in Hongjoong's jaw, but his expression remained controlled. "Your room is upstairs. Follow me."

You moved toward the staircase, deliberately brushing past the others without acknowledgment. As you passed Mingi, you felt him inhale sharply, as if capturing your scent.

"I'll have your bags brought up," Seonghwa said, his voice perfectly composed.

"How hospitable," you replied without looking back.

As you ascended the stairs beside Hongjoong, you could hear the murmur of voices below.

"Holy shit," San's voice drifted up. "She's even more beautiful than before."

"And deadlier," came Yeosang's quiet observation.

"That mouth on her though," Yunho added with a low whistle. "She's got more spirit than I remember."

"More sad," Mingi's solemn voice cut through the others. "Didn't you see her eyes? She's carrying ghosts."

There was a pause, then Wooyoung's distinctive laugh. "If she keeps being that mean to me, I might fall in love all over again."

"All of you, shut up," Jongho's deep voice commanded. "She can probably hear you."

You allowed yourself a small, bitter smile as you continued climbing. Let them talk. Let them wonder. Let them feel a fraction of the confusion and pain they'd inflicted on you.

Hongjoong remained silent beside you, leading you down a long hallway lined with modern art and subtle security cameras. Finally, he stopped before a door at the end of the corridor, producing a key.

"This will be your room," he said, unlocking the door and pushing it open. "You have your own bathroom and a small sitting area. The balcony overlooks the garden."

You stepped inside, taking in the spacious room with its elegant furnishings and muted color palette. It was beautiful, tasteful, and completely impersonal—like an upscale hotel suite.

"The key," you said, holding out your hand.

Hongjoong hesitated. "We don't typically lock doors here. The compound itself is secure."

"The key, Hongjoong," you insisted, remembering how he'd once told you that you were just "convenient when we were bored."

After a moment, he placed it in your palm. "Dinner is at seven in the main dining room. Seonghwa will show you the way."

"How thoughtful," you said flatly, closing your fingers around the key. "Anything else I should know about my incarceration?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "This isn't a prison, Y/n."

"No? Then I'm free to leave whenever I choose?"

"You know that's not possible," he said quietly. "Not with the Russo threat."

You laughed without humor. "Of course. Always some convenient reason why I have to do exactly as I'm told." You turned away from him, moving to the window. "You can go now."

You could feel him watching you, could almost hear the words he wasn't saying. Finally, he spoke.

"For what it's worth," he said softly, "this isn't how I imagined seeing you again."

You didn't turn around. "I'm sure it isn't. Your plans probably involved me being much more compliant and much less armed."

"Y/n—"

"Seven o'clock," you cut him off. "I'll be there. Now please leave."

The door closed quietly behind him. Only then did you allow your shoulders to sag, the weight of seeing all of them—of being seen by all of them—suddenly overwhelming.

You moved to the bed, sinking down onto its edge and pulling your mother's pistol from its hiding place. The pearl handle caught the light as you turned it in your hands, cool and solid and real when everything else felt like it was slipping away.

"Insurance policy," you whispered to yourself, echoing Paolo's words. Whatever game they were playing, whatever secrets they were keeping, you wouldn't be defenseless.

You thought of all the cruel words they had hurled at you seven years ago, words that had cut deeper than any knife could reach. Words like "pathetic," "embarrassing," "clingy," "exhausting," words that had made you question your worth, your place, your very self.

But now, sitting in the heart of their domain with your mother's pistol in your hand, you made yourself a new promise: they would never hurt you like that again.

Not this time.

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[hamliet]

Jentry Chau Vs Netflix

So, I watched Jentry Chau Vs. The Underworld.

If you like beautiful (and unique) animation, complex storytelling, themes of coming of age and grief, and references to my favorite band (shout out NCT127), this is a story you should definitely check out. I would recommend it highly, even though I'm going to critique later on in this review.

Complex People and Complex Love

Gugu was a very complex character whom you could both hate as someone who was clearly manipulating Jentry in an almost unforgivable way after doing the unforgivable to her family. And yet, the series opening literally had Gugu sacrificing her life for Jentry, so no matter what was revealed, you always had to handle the uncomfortable reality that Gugu really loved Jentry.

And therein the series explored complexities in love and life, an understanding that comes with growing up and brings on its own grief. The people who raise us, our heroes, turn out to have their own lives and worlds too, their own motivations, that are often not exactly altruistic. We are not at the center of their world as much as we, as children, thought we were.

Jentry's wrestling with her relationship with Gugu was complex and interesting. The handling of Gugu's character was consistently the best in the series, and I loved it even if I'm still not sure I like Gugu. That's a good character--someone you're left pondering the legacy of.

Grief

Jentry working through her grief was a major theme of the series--grief for her parents, and grief for Gugu, not just in terms of her actually dying (which does happen), but in terms of her understanding of who Gugu was and who her parents were.

Jentry's grief journey contrasts with Gugu's grief for Iris and of course Cheng's for Xiao Lan. Which is why Jentry reaching out and healing her inner child through saving Xiao Lan was ultimately a beautiful way of handling her arc. She saw a child who was scared and didn't know what was going on, and destructive in that pain, and saved her.

If you look at the series, Gugu was scared and didn't fully understand the consequences of her actions and destroyed Jentry's family as a result. Kit was scared and didn't understand how to be human and was destructive in that pain.J entry too grieves Kit and projects that fear onto the possibility of losing Michael, which leads to a rift in their relationship. And some of that fear is not understanding who they wanted to be. To quote C.S. Lewis after the death of his wife:

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. 

Grief and fear intertwine in many ways in Jentry Chau, including through Moonie allowing herself to be possessed by the Mogui to get her husband back. This also then leads to Gugu's second death.

Gugu's farewell at the end had me full-on sobbing. In a sense, Jentry's entire arc throughout the story is a symbolic way of working through her grief for Gugu, settling with her accepting via choosing to focus on Gugu's love for her, and carrying her memory on in a literal form (the necklace). After accepting Gugu loved her, Jentry loses her fear of the underworld and her powers, and her fear of losing the people closest to her as well.

A Soul Is What You Choose

Jentry's ultimate power isn't burning, but it's being able to see people for whom they want to be. Kit and being human. Ed and being scary. Michael and joining the band.

In a world where everyone, demon or human, is trying to be what they think they need to be, trying to please others, Jentry asks them to be who they want to be, to live how they want to live.

The Best Character and the Worst Writing: Kit

Kit is by far the most compelling character. He's continually sympathetic (while Gugu is somewhat not), conflicted, and torn between how desperately he wants to be human and the inhuman acts he believes he has to commit to be one. Plus, he doesn't understand what it means to be human, nor the complexities of human relationships.

The scene where he helps Jentry create a skinsuit is really a metaphorical sex scene--like fairly obviously. It isn't subtle.

It starts in a bedroom (and yes, animators know what they're doing when they choose setting and objects).

Then we have talking about looking under layers.

Then we have some yonic symbols and this.

Like. And he uses a knife (a traditionally phallic symbol), and the next thing we see is cloth falling... with literal the next frame being clothes (ie, clothes coming off).

Sticking a brush (another traditional phallic symbol) in a vat of wet paint (yonic).

Kit: I've never done this before. It's strange. Jentry: I stand by what I said in class. You do have a soul, and you're more human than you know.

Also note the hand clasped position.

It ends with them literally "becoming one" in Kit embodying a Jentry skin to help Jentry uncover the truth--in other words, they help each other be human.

Which is why what happens next really doesn't make storytelling sense, and is actually kinda offensive.

Love Triangle: What Not To Write

The love triangle pretty clearly was supposed to represent Jentry's links to the supernatural (via Kit) and her links to the human world (via Michael). Great potential for a love triangle, a trope I generally hate because it's almost never well done.

This was not well done. What makes it even more frustrating is that it had a ton of potential to be well done via the thematic and symbolic potential.

Having Kit suddenly go aggressive ex who can't take "no" for an answer was lazy writing, nonsensical within the characters they'd set up, and offensive. Offensive, primarily, because you absolutely should never introduce a triggering element like, oh, harassment and controlling men if you don't plan on dealing with it in the story. And they didn't. At all.

The only reason that element was there was to resolve the love triangle in a clear way--oh, Jentry should be with Michael because Kit acted threatening, even though he never had before. That's just bad writing, because if there's a clear choice in a love triangle, you gotta actually write it. Make Michael the more compelling love interest. (More on how they didn't do this later.)

The entire sequence with Kit makes no sense. Jentry tells him he's actually "hundreds of years old," parroting Tumblr-esque anti arguments about Twilight and every other paranormal love story ever. Except, the story had always explicitly framed Kit as a child being abused by Cheng and "parented" by puppets. His journey to understand who he was, that he mattered, that he could be a human too, was clearly a coming-of-age story.

You don't tend to end coming-of-age stories with death, but they did, pretty much because after the threatening scene there was no coming back.

Plus, Jentry's treatment of Kit actually was pretty bad. Now, there's never an excuse for a threatening ex, but--Kit was right about her hypocrisy in terms of how she treated demons like Ed and himself, something that Jentry isn't really asked to reckon with.

If they wanted Jentry to end up with Michael, that's fair, but her decision was taken away from her because they just decided to stamp Kit with a lazy and offensive development and then kill him off in a redemptive death that emphasizes everything that can go wrong with that trope.

Michael Deserved Better

I feel like they didn't know entirely what to do with Michael. He started off with a cool arc, torn between his desire to be a band geek and his talent for football. His indecision leading to conflict with Stella and Jentry was also a great flaw, especially given that he also has visions of the future. An indecisive teenager with precognition has a ton of potential.

But, Michael's arc vanishes after the festival. Instead he's just... kinda there. Jentry chooses him because she wants to be a normal, human girl. But this isn't a good reason, because she's not (and arguably, he's not either!). Yet this isn't unpacked--the idea that everyone in this triangle is both human and supernatural, to varying degrees.

One interesting idea I spotted during the scene where Kit (as Jentry) gets asked out by Michael is that--well, it's a romantic-coded scene with two men, even if Kit turns him down for Jentry.

But it also coming on the heels of the metaphorical sex scene kinda seemed to almost hint at a throuple. Plus the scene after Kit's death where Jentry views them as merging, and where Michael expresses that Jentry views them the same. This would have actually been a very interesting turn for the story to take in future seasons, if they get those (especially since Stella x Tokki is apparently a thing?).

Because ultimately:

Netflix: The True Enemy

Honestly, almost all of the writing flaws I've talked about come down to the writers just not having enough time. If they had a guarantee of further seasons, they wouldn't have needed to rush to finish the love triangle. They wouldn't have needed to kill Kit. They wouldn't have needed to abort Michael's arc and conflict with Stella.

And really, Netflix continues to disappoint me in emphasizing just how much they focus on profits and money over art. They prefer fast food over an actual nutritious meal. They give shows like one season to get record ratings and if they don't, they get axed. Of course writers are going to rush to cram their story into a single season, because there's no guarantee of another season. Series aren't given any leeway to explore their interesting elements, or to find their footing. It's bad for art. However, Warner Bros exists so Netflix can't fully win the crown for worst example of capitalistic corporations killing art just yet.

I continue to be disappointed that series with no actual story that the writers want to tell (merely a concept of a plan) get renewed for seven seasons based on the writer's reputations (that they then tank with their terrible non-writing) while interesting stories with beautiful art and animation, complex ideas on grief and growing up, have to scramble to beg for another season.

[nhmkhnh]

the only safe place.

pairings: jinx x fem!reader

preface: you never tried to fix her. you just stayed.

author's note: my baby jinx needs more love!! so here we go! short, ik, but if i don't write down i'm sure as hell that i would forget.

wrn: lowercase.

navigation.

it’s nearly midnight when you hear the tap. jinx—wild hair, shaky hands, eyes too tired—climbs in like she’s done it a thousand times. you don’t ask where she’s been. you just hand her the oversized hoodie she always steals and scoot over. her fingers brush yours under the blanket, hesitant. you grab her hand and squeeze it. “still got a place for me?” she whispers. “always.”

she sits between your legs, surprisingly still for someone who never stops moving. her blue strands are a mess, but you don’t complain. you hum while you braid it, and she leans back into your knees, eyes closed. “no one’s ever touched me like this,” she murmurs. you kiss the top of her head. “you deserve to be touched gently, jinx.” she doesn't say anything, but she holds your ankle like it's the only anchor she's got.

the place is a mess—like her mind. exploded gadgets, half-painted walls, and drawings of you everywhere. you spot one labeled “home?” and feel your chest tighten. “i know it’s crazy,” she mumbles. you step into her chaos, arms wide. “it’s you. i love it.” her laugh is soft, disbelieving, like you just handed her something she forgot she wanted: acceptance.

jinx can’t cook for shit, so she sits on the counter, legs swinging, watching you stir the pot. she asks dumb questions like, “what if soup had teeth?” just to see you laugh. when you hand her the first spoonful, she grins with sauce on her lip. “why does this taste like safety?” you wipe her mouth and say, “because love’s the secret ingredient, dummy.”

she has a flashback. gunshots. fire. screaming. suddenly she’s pushing you away, yelling, “don’t touch me!” you don’t run. you kneel beside her, voice steady. “you’re safe. you’re here. with me.” eventually, her body stops shaking, and she curls into you like a child. “you’re not afraid?” “i’m afraid of a world without you in it.”

you’re both drenched and breathless from running. she looks at you, rain streaking her lashes, and says, “you look beautiful when you're soaking wet and mad at me.” you punch her arm. she laughs. then kisses you—soft, reverent. the sky thunders, but your world is quiet in her arms. for once, she lets herself believe she deserves love.

jinx isn’t used to giving. but she tries—burnt metal, lopsided, a mechanical flower that sort of spins. she hands it to you with an embarrassed grimace. “it’s… whatever.” you cradle it like it’s made of gold. “it’s perfect.” she stares at you like she can’t understand why you’d love something broken—until she realizes you’ve loved her all along.

she’s not good at sleeping. so she watches you instead, counting your breaths, memorizing your face. “you make me feel like i’m not a monster,” she whispers into the dark. you don’t hear it. but when you roll over and curl into her chest, jinx holds you like you’re the only good thing she has left in the world.

she takes you to the place no one else gets to see. there’s no flowers. just silence. “he tried to protect me,” she says, voice raw. “but you… you healed me.” you take her hand, squeeze gently. “he made you survive. but you chose to live.” and jinx leans her head on your shoulder like a child finally allowed to grieve.

after weeks of crashing at your place, she stands by the door one morning, chewing her lip. “if i asked you to… i don’t know. not get tired of me. would you stay?” you step forward, wrap your arms around her waist. “jinx. i never planned on leaving.” her smile is crooked and watery, but it’s real. “okay. then i guess… i’ll try to stay too.”

[libellule-ao3]

Solomon Sallow & his relationship with the Sallow twins

While working on a chapter, I felt the need to organise my thoughts about Solomon Sallow’s role in Sebastian’s downfall, and how his rigid worldview ultimately led them all to tragedy.

⚠️: dysfunctional family, toxic relationships.

Solomon embodies a rigid, disillusioned authority figure, marked by his past. A former Auror, he has been so close to darkness that he became tainted by it, resorting to Dark Arts himself =>"fighting fire with fire". Traumatised and disgusted with what he became, he withdrew to Feldcroft.

After the death of his brother and sister-in-law, Solomon suddenly found himself with two orphans to raise, when he was neither prepared nor emotionally equipped for such a role.

Above all, he lacks the temperament needed to raise a boy like Sebastian: impulsive, curious, and provocative. From the outset, there is a fundamental incompatibility of character, and Solomon shows neither the emotional flexibility nor the maturity to adapt.

In truth, it never even occurs to him to try. Solomon's method of parenting is rooted in prohibition, discipline, and resignation which manifests in:

- A total disregard for Sebastian’s emotions (and Anne’s, too).

- The constant repression of Sebastian’s attempts to heal Anne, which he deems naïve or even dangerous.

- Subtle, yet persistent guilt-tripping, making Sebastian believe his efforts are not only futile but harmful.

There is no physical abuse shown in the game, but we are undeniably looking at a case of psychological violence and emotional neglect.

It’s an oppressive environment, where Sebastian is denied recognition, support, and autonomy, despite being a sensitive boy, driven by emotion, by love and hope, and trapped in an unbearable situation: a twin sister condemned, and drifting away from him.

To this is added a patriarchal model of boyhood, typical of the time: masculinity equated with endurance and blind submission to authority. But Sebastian is suffering and he's not allowed to say so. Nor is he allowed to contradict his uncle, as that would be deemed improper for a well-brought-up young man.

To make matters worse, Solomon projects a deep-rooted resentment onto Sebastian. He recognises in him certain traits inherited from his father —recklessness, stubbornness, and a tendency to drag others along in his passionate pursuits. These are the very traits he holds responsible for the Sallows' tragedy and, by extension, for the fact that he now has two children to raise.

(Note: in the game, Ominis refers to their recklessness, and I’m convinced he’s merely repeating Solomon’s words. Neither Sebastian nor Anne would ever have spoken of their parents in such terms.)

My HC is that Solomon resents his brother all the more because he was secretly in love with his sister-in-law =>a situation not unlike that of Severus Snape, burdened with the duty of protecting the child of the woman he had loved in silence. A woman who died after marrying another.

As a result, Solomon doesn’t see Sebastian as a grieving teenager. He sees him as an extension of the brother he had unfinished business with and he tries to crush him.

This projection renders reconciliation nearly impossible: Sebastian can only fail to be loved by an uncle who, deep down, resents him for being his father’s son.

In contrast, his relationship with Anne appears more peaceful... at least on the surface. Where Sebastian embodies rebellion, Anne embodies submission.

She remains dignified in her suffering, deferential to male authority, quiet and unobtrusive. She endures her curse in silence, never attempting the impossible or challenging her fate. This ‘virtuous’ resignation aligns perfectly with Solomon’s worldview and with societal expectations of women.

But I don’t think he loves her for who she truly is; he loves what she represents: a quiet, obedient, morally irreproachable girl, a flattering reflection of his authority, of the care he believes he provides.

He repeated so often that all he could offer her was the gentlest end possible, that there was no hope of recovery, that she eventually came to accept it as truth. And since the Dark Arts are unthinkable to her, she gradually surrendered to that imposed vision —a vision carefully sustained by the isolation Solomon maintains, all in the name of protecting her. But honestly, it’s just another form of toxic behaviour.

One thing must be acknowledged, however: for all his bitterness and severity, Solomon never abandoned his responsibilities. When the twins’ parents died, he could have sent them to an orphanage, and some might argue that would have been kinder, but he chose to keep them. He gave them a home and an education, despite being wholly unprepared. It even appears he continued to tutor Anne, as her magical skill suggests.

Finally, by destroying the relic, Solomon didn’t just destroy an object. He destroyed Sebastian’s last hope. The fragile thread to which he clung in order to save his sister. For Solomon, it was an act of authority, but for Sebastian, it was above all a denial of his suffering, his efforts, his belief, and his love. That's cruel!

Cornered, consumed by grief and rage, Sebastian lashed out. There were no words left. And so he brought a brutal end to years of tension and misunderstanding. But that act, far from freeing him, sealed his downfall.

🙏Thank you for forgiving any possible grammatical errors. ESL writer.

[sennerixx]

What bugs me most is when people say Stolas is "falling out of love with Blitz" just because he's not smooching Blitz to death or reciprocating the affection Blitz is giving to him in the final two eps. No.

Love doesn't magically cure depression, no matter how much love someone can be given, unfortunately.

His life before "MASTERMIND" was already a shit hole, in the throes of losing Blitz and the Stella scenario, the only good thing that ever happened to him was his daughter, Via. He says in "SINMAS", "You have always been the only good thing in my life," he's desperate at this point, desperate not to lose something so precious to him and a reminder he's probably not taken his medication since he was "exiled" so he's probably already "unstable" in the sense he's not what Via is used to.

After the scene with Via and Stolas, Stolas is most likely dead set on thinking Via hates him. He's crushed and is blaming himself for everything, especially after not being able to explain. He feels that he's completely lost his daughter, forever (while I'm hoping this isn't the case) at this moment it feels like it.

Perhaps it might've gone better if Stella allowed the phone call (though we all know that was never going to happen) and Stolas had a chance to explain himself.

While yes, it was his choice to save Blitz and take the blame. Stolas didn't do it to get away from her, he didn't even know how she'd act to it, it was an in-the-moment choice that Stolas didn't get time to think through and bear in mind, Stolas went to save Blitz with the idea that this was it, he was going to die to save Blitz, he wouldn't even be around to apologize to Via.

Going back to my first point, love doesn't magically cure depression, it takes a lot of time and can be very draining to deal with. Throughout the episode, we can see how exhausted Stolas is.

As a person who's suffered with this myself, depression is different for every person but I do know it won't magically go away just because you're in a relationship. While it can make you feel better, it's not a miracle cure.

Depression is something that lingers and takes patience, time, and a lot of gooddamn resilience to conquer, and even then, people still have their shitty days, who doesn't?

It annoys me when people have such black-and-white views on things or only see what they want to see, if some people took a moment to take a step back and actually reevaluate the situation, they'll find what I'm saying.

I'm not surprised Stolas didn't return the hug at the end because he's still grieving the loss of his daughter and Vias grieving the apparent loss of her father, he's still feeling like the shittest person in hell, still processing all these feelings and everything that's happened all while dealing with depression and an already serious shitty lack of self esteem, motivation and confidence in himself.

What im trying to say, Stolas isn't falling out of love with Blitz, he just needs time to heal, recover, and readjust to the new lifestyle he's been thrown into.

And with fingers crossed, work things out with Octavia in the next season.

[needtobehisprettyboy]

I hate the CaitVi Sex scene

Everytime I see someone thirsting after the scene and gushing about how it's so hot, I feel so disgusted and ticked cause of how the scene came about and where it's located.

Before we get onto my rant about the scene itself, I want to mention the CaitVi scene that happened before that.

"She saved your life!"

"If you will just calm down for on-"

If you will just calm down for once? Hypocrite. Caitlyn's allowed to be pissy, allowed to call Zaunites animals (oh, "except" Vi though) and then fight like an animal by biting Sevika—

Sidenote:

That's also another scene I don't find hot at all. Any time I see it, I can't focus on how attractive Sevika is when she's smug (even though she totes is). All I can focus on is how Caitlyn bit Sevika. I don't remember who pointed it out, if it was on Tumblr or TikTok which I have promptly deleted since the ban, but someone pointed out that Caitlyn is fighting dirty—like a Zaunite. Caitlyn was backed into a corner, so she fought like an animal.

Fuck her.

I guess now she can somewhat understand why Zaunites fight the way they do. When you're backed into a corner, feeling helpless, feeling desperate, you fight like it and she did the same exact same thing she judged them for.

Bastard.

Lol can you tell I'm feeling bitter over her character?

Back to OG rant

—biting Sevika, gas the undercity and harshly interrogate someone who was a victim of Jinx's shenanigans, hit Vi for trying to calm her down from her grief driven rage, but oh, no Vi must calm down even though she's barely angry compared to when Caitlyn's angry. Not to mention that Caitlyn throws a tantrum herself and throws the tiny figure in her hand to the ground.

"—since you don't trust her enough not to shove her in a box."

Can we please take note of the tremble in Vi's voice when she says that? 'Oh, Jinx brought back her trauma from being in Stillwater!1!2!1' First of all, shut up. Second of all, yeah. . . So did Caitlyn?? Caitlyn may not have known what to do with Jinx, but the option for her to let Jinx go to prison was there and Vi hated it.

"Cait, she's changed."

"We can't erase our mistakes. None of us."

All the while not doing any time of her own for the crimes she committed—and no, I'm not talking about her gassing the undercity. What she did as a dictator, letting Noxians take over, and hardly doing anything afterwards even though she caused so much pain and misery to both Piltovians and Zaunites goes unpunished. Her losing an eye is nothing compared to the fear many people will feel while living under a dictatorship.

Get the guillotine!!

"Who decides who gets a second chance?"

Exactly. Caitlyn did no better than Jinx. She knows it too. It tears her up inside—as it should!!! Besides, did she think Jinx wasn't going to eventually get out of Stillwater? Or was one of her options to let Jinx rot there until she died? Yeah, I'm sure your girlfriend would love that.

Now, let's get to the scene itself!

But first let me talk about what happened right before that—

Vi tries to get Jinx on her side, Jinx rejects her, and Vi watches her sister leave while being told by her that Vi "deserves to be happy" and not to "worry about her anymore".

Yikes.

People say that what happened next with Caitlyn was Vi "finally being selfish", but it just feels wrong to me. Don't get me wrong, Vi deserves to enjoy herself after everything that's been done to her; however, you aren't going to have normal, healthy, healing sex right after seeing a loved one leave you for good.

Trust me lol I've had enough grieving/traumatic experience to know that you can feel upset for hours and won't immediately be able to get into a happy mindset even if you find something to entertain yourself with. You can have people try to cheer you up and you feel a bit better, but you still feel that lingering horrible feeling inside that will eat at you for who knows how long. You could give me Steb wearing the cutest little red panties I have ever seen in my life and I'd still be sad while trying to eat him out. You need to give me that like a day or so AFTER my little breakdown cause I won't enjoy it right after crying about losing my sis.

Sidenote:

Someone please remind me to draw that.

It would take at least an hour for Vi to get back to normal with the way she was reacting. At least. Vi was in that cell for who knows how long, but she was still upset and rather vulnerable when Caitlyn found her. No doubt she needed more time to get herself together.

Okay, now, let's get to the scene itself!!!

Bro, don't fuck me while I'm crying unless I'm crying cause I'm laughing too hard or because of sexy overstimulation. Fuck me? Nah, fuck you.

"I choose wrong every time—and because of it. . . I've lost everyone."

"Did you really think I needed all the guards at the HexGates?"

SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT AWWWWWUUUPPPPPPP—anyway,

Your girl is clearly upset, grieving her lost relationship with her sister (and likely other loved ones shes lost like Vander/Warwick), feeling guilty, and clearly not in any type of good mood yet your first reaction is to smirk???? You think this is funny?? Now is not the time to tease, Ms. Dumbass.

Vi needs compassion and reassurance not. . . Whatever that was. Yes, showing that you knew all along and didn't do anything to stop her shows that you do care for her, but it also isn't what she needs. Caitlyn did not reassure her that Vi wasn't going to lose her so easily.

Mainly because if she did, that'd be a lie, but that's neither here nor there.

"Sorry to say, you've grown a bit predictable."

Girl, you are not sorry. Quit lying. I can smell the smoke coming off your pants, but I'm not getting the fire extinguisher.

Again, this isn't what Vi needs. Any therapist would be able to tell you that you should seek healthier coping mechanisms other than sex. Does cuddling not exist? Does making out and then putting a stop to it because you realize your girl is not in the right state of mind for this exist??? Seeking sex after feeling so vulnerable and horrible about yourself is in no way, shape, or form okay. Shit isn't cute.

Caitlyn, you are more of an animal than you realize.

"Listen! While you were gone, I. . . Saw someone."

All of a sudden you realize that you should stop things because you feel guilty, but that guilt isn't over letting your girl go down on you after being upset and grieving, but about. . . Having another girl while she was gone???? Girl, seriously, your priorities are wack.

She does hesitate for a moment once she sees VI's injury (I can't remember where the injury came from. I stg if it came from Caitlyn or whatever Caitlyn ordered her to do. . .) yet she continues on. There are multiple reasons why they shouldn't do it right then and there, but Caitlyn is so horny she lets Vi pleasure her.

The reasons:

1. Vi is not in the right place of mind, she just lost her sister. Please let her grieve.

2. That is a jail cell. After what happened to her, their first time should be somewhere comfortable. Vi deserves comfort. She deserves to be spoiled. You're in Piltover, Caitlyn has a mansion with a really good bed, but your first fuck is in a dirty jail cell??

3. That is a jail cell that contained her sister. Vi can't reclaim shit about having sex in a jail cell if it's a cell that contained her sister. If there was better writing, she'd feel guilty over having sex in the cell she lost her sister. Her guilt isn't going to immediately go away because of one fuck. That's not how it works. Wish it was, but it's not.

Can I also note that Vi is the one pleasuring Caitlyn and not the other way around? Maybe Vi prefers to eat out rather than be eaten, but I think it just speaks more to her always servicing others rather than servicing herself or being serviced. If the sex scene was gonna happen, at least show Vi being completely selfish and enjoying herself by showing Cait be the one to kiss her down to her coochie. Maybe she's a stone top, but she gives off switch vibes to me.

Fuck you, Cait. Always wanting things to benefit you.

(If it was me, I'd eat Vi out, but, again, that's neither here nor there. . . She's not even in my top favs. I just want the best for her cause I hate Caitlyn lol.)

"I'm feeling fantastic."

FUCK YOUUUU

Okay *drops mic* , rant over

[eatmangoesnekkid]

Much of society is not embodied, not-living-in-our-bodies, and when we are not embodied, we’re not only more controllable, we won't be capable of making the best decisions in life. And when a woman is not embodied, it can be easy for her to get caught up in addictions, obsessions, eating disorders, and limerences that can take a toll on her mental health. Quiet as it is kept, many women and femme people have a feminine urge to be a dancer, to live the life of a dancer. I think inherently we know that the alchemy of dance brings us back home to our bodies and lights up our fire which we can use to clear out the chaos and stagnation in our nervous systems, leading to breakthroughs. Dance is also where we can heal the disconnect from our bodies and build up our confidence, life force, and connection to ourselves (our cells). The power of dance, taking dance classes and learning new body skills, is that it can be a great healing modality for trauma, whether mental health, depression, anxiety, etc. Dance also teaches us more about our bodies and how they uniquely NEED to move. It is starting to make sense to me why so many women are attracted to dance, to arching our backs, pointing our toes, shaking our asses and hips, wearing beautiful dance attire, and integrating all that deep cellular intelligence. Dance creates coherence between our heart, soul and spirit. Women are taught to talk all the time, process everything through the mind, and force things. But we don’t always need to explain or use the mind or words to express or process. And certainly we don’t have to force anything. When we dance, we can allow our dance to communicate on our behalf, unwind and move energy and process information. We feel more focused, free and alive, out of our heads and inside our bodies, lighting up the world with our shining auras. But we don’t have to wait until we are signed up for dance classes. We can dance right here and right now and begin the journey of moving out old energy and setting our tissues free. You can dance with a large mirror, fans, or colorful veils and fabric to activate different chakra points. You can infuse affirmations or spells into your dance and solar plexus. You can dance with the elements— wind, rain, sun, waves, stars, etc. and co-regulate the root issues of different illnesses. Dance is a primary nutrient in deeply woven within the psyche of female physiology from ancient times. We danced to celebrate, to connect to spirit, to grieve, to release emotion, to activate dormant parts of our DNA, to connect with different parts of the body like the heart or kidneys, or to benevolently seduce and draw in. But we also knew that in order to properly seduce, we had to be so in love with our body, with how it looked, how it felt, how it uniquely moved. And we dance to show our love, even while on our hands and knees cleaning floors or other chores. Beneath the dance has always been the art of self-love and self-worth.— India Ame'ye, Author, Mentor, Pole Dancer, Belly Dancer, and Aerialist

[stormhearty]

Pairings: Former Rhysand x Reader, Feysand, Tarquin x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Triggers: mentions of depression, relapse, attempts at suicide

Summary: It has been two decades since you left Night Court, leaving the life you had always known. It had been five years since you were in Dawn Court, slowly healing with the help of its High Lord. Now, you had resided in Summer Court, Tarquin by your side through your healing process. But when a mating bond snaps between the two of you when your health turns for the worse, how would you process something that you never thought would happen in your immortal life? And when you decide to confront your former family, would you forgive them for their past discretions? The story of the aftermath of your broken heart of glass.

Note: From this request! Thank you so much for wanting a second part to “Breaking Like Glass”!! I love that everyone enjoyed that fic’s immense angst, so I will gladly give you guys the fluff, romance, and healing the reader needs. And I do hope this isn’t cheesy. I struggled a bit on writing this, whether to debate to make it angsty, but I feel like, it has enough of the balance. Please do enjoy!

Breaking Like Glass | Masterlist

“You know, my stardust, you don't have to do this… We can have our mating ceremony with our family. We don't have to invite Night Court…”

You let out a thoughtful hum as you lounged in one of the lounging chairs in Tarquin’s office, book in hand. You placed a finger on your page before looking over your shoulder at the High Lord of Summer, who looked at you with concern etched on his beautiful features.

After centuries of being with Rhysand, you had always thought that you would be content in not finding your mate. You had thought, and wished, that you would have eternity with the High Lord of Night Court. However, with the fiasco two decades ago, all you wanted to do was heal — fix your broken heart and mind from your torture from Under the Mountain, to fix your broken soul from being ripped apart by your family. You did not want to fall in love — you didn’t want to give your taped-up heart to someone and be worried about having it torn apart again.

You had safe-guarded your heart behind high, metal walls with a fog of darkness to protect it — to protect you from breaking all over again, and losing yourself once more.

But what you had never dreamed of was a mating bond to snap.

And you never thought it would be with another High Lord.

The very moment you had stepped into Summer soil, Tarquin had been nothing but kind and gentle, helping you through your decade of healing. He allowed you to take your time — he allowed you to wallow, he allowed you to be silent, he allowed you to grieve, something that you never were able to do while you were in Valeris. He allowed you to cry in anguish, he allowed you to cry in pain — he allowed the forty-nine years of suffering to seep out of your aching body. And he was silently there, beside you, watching over you… to ensure you were safe and well cared for while you did.

And that was all you could have wished for while you were healing. You didn’t need words, you didn’t need condolences… Tarquin allowed you to heal in the way that your heart and mind needed.

All the while Tarquin healed your broken soul that came upon the betrayal from Night Court, you would be sent back to Dawn Court to mend your mind and body from the tortures of the Attor. The two High Lords worked in tandem with one another… all for you. Both Tarquin and Thesan realized your worth, both realized your importance and believed it was worth their power and time to heal you.

It had been five years since you came from Dawn Court when the mating bond snapped between you and Tarquin.

It was when your nightmares had resurrected themselves from the grave, haunting you thoroughly to the point you had relapsed back from your progress.

You had screamed and clawed against everything that had neared you, your eyes frantic at the absolute fear and dread of returning to that moment in your life — the pain of the Attor and betrayal of your husband, that still lurked in the darkness of your fear. You had hurt yourself, multiple times during that relapse — skin broken with knives, daggers, broken glass — anything that your hands got to… hoping for the pain to seep out of your skin.

But Tarquin was there through all of that — grabbing and hiding everything that you could try to hurt yourself with. He fought tooth and nail to get to you, whispering sweet nothings — that you were worth it, you were worth the pain and anguish, that you were worth everything. And that you would get through the pain — and that he’d be right beside you through it.

You couldn’t feel it, the glow of the mating bond between the two of you — for you were too shrouded in your fear to notice.

All the while, Tarquin felt every emotion you had felt — the despair, the anguish, the pain that wracked your body. He fought back all the tears as he held you against him, pouring as much care and love through the newly found bond.

The relapse had taken an immense hit on your health — you were sick for weeks on end, going in and out of consciousness barely able to make out who had been taking care of you.

When you had been well enough, you had learned that Tarquin, himself, had been the one to care for you during your illness. And you, though you shouldn’t have been, was surprised at that fact. The High Lord of Summer Court took time away from his busy schedule to tend to you. He had owed you nothing… and yet he had taken time to care for you.

“Why did you do that…?” you had asked, storming into his office, pausing mid-step when you had seen Thesan and the Captain in the room. It seemed that you had interrupted an important meeting between the two High Lords — possibly about your condition.

Tarquin looked at you for a moment, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as he looked at Thesan and gave him an apologetic nod of his head. Thesan glanced between the two of you before standing up from his seat on the plush couch and heading your way. The High Lord of Dawn smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss onto the crown of your head, “Hello, my child… be nice to him…”

The request was confusing to you as you allowed the High Lord and Captain to step out of the room, the click of the door resonating behind you — leaving you and Tarquin alone in that grand room. The atmosphere grew awkward and you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip, you glanced everywhere besides the High Lord, and you heard him let out a chuckle.

You frowned, glaring at him slightly before watching him stand up and walk towards you, reaching out a hand for you to hold, “We have much to talk about, (Y/N)…” he murmured.

You stared at his hand, sighing softly before reaching over to place you had on top of his. His had always radiated warmth that you seemed to want to grasp onto often — it was warm and inviting, much like the summer sun he had ruled over. You followed him further into his office, walking past his desk and onto the large balcony overviewing his Court. There was a large settee that Tarquin led you to, sitting you down before he sat next to you, leaving a gap between both of you.

“Now… What was it you were saying, (Y/N)? About why I did that?” he questioned, turquoise hues staring at the massive land of his Court, allowing the summer breeze to greet the two of you.

Relaxing against the settee, you remained quiet for a few moments, eyes fluttering close at the breeze that tickled your skin. When you opened your eyes once more and turned your attention to the High Lord, you were slightly startled when you noticed he was staring at you — something in his eyes sparkling that you were unsure of… or slightly denied.

“…Why did you take care of me when I was ill?” you asked him, not bothering to beat around the bush, “You didn’t owe me anything, this… arrangement between us is only until I get better and can move on from my nightmares—”

“When did I say that this… arrangement is only until you get better?” he interrupted you with a raised brow, “I did not say anything like that. I am allowing you to stay until you want to leave… I’m giving you the choice to stay and to heal the way you need, unlike your time in Night Court. And, I took care of you because I wanted to, (Y/N). I couldn’t let you hurt yourself like you did, to be so haunted by your nightmares every waking second… I couldn’t let you suffer the way Rhysand let you for all those months…”

You flinched at the name of your former husband. It still ached — no matter how long it had been, it still ached hearing his name. Usually, Tarquin and Thesan avoided saying his name around you, both afraid of a possible relapse. You let out a shaky breath, as your eyes stared at something beyond him, a distant stare — feeling yourself move out of your body, a sensation that had started to become normal for you ever since you were in Dawn Court.

Feeling Tarquin’s warmth again, you blinked twice before focusing on him again a small smile tugged on your lips, and shook your head, “…I’m fine…” you whispered, head tilting down to look at your intertwined hands. You took deep breaths, something that Thesan had taught you after your moments of distance.

Tug, tug… you felt something in your chest. Your head tilted in confusion until you felt it again — tug, tug… You lifted your head and looked at the High Lord once more. You saw a twinkle in those turquoise hues, a hopeful look hidden within those depths.

“…What…” you muttered in disbelief, and you felt another tug in your chest.

“You felt it, did you not, (Y/N)?” Tarquin questioned, leaning forward slightly, warm hands gently gripping yours — as if preventing you from running away.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded your head, too scared for any words to escape you.

How could a mating bond happen? After everything that happened to you, your mind and body were broken, being held together by pieces of tape held together by Tarquin and Thesan — you could barely hold yourself together. Your healing process for the past fifteen years was slow, and there were many times when you believed you would never be okay again. How can someone like you be mated to another High Lord? How can someone as broken as you be another leader of a Court?

Thoughts of insecurities passed through your mind, unknowingly sending them down the newly formed bond. You were startled out of your thought by Tarquin’s hand gently caressing your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“You do not have to accept the mating bond, as of yet, (Y/N)… I will wait, you can heal. Just know that I accept you, even if you are broken and torn. You still have years of healing to do, but I will be by your side — always.”

Tears ran down your cheeks as he shifted closer, pressing his hands on your cheeks to wipe them away. All you can do is nod. Allowing the love and warmth of the bond to slowly heal you.

It had been another five years since then. A little over two decades after you left Night Court to accept the bond. For five years, Tarquin had courted you, cared for you… loved you the way you needed. He did not force anything onto you and allowed you to fall in love with him in such a natural way that it felt second nature to you.

“…(Y/N)…” your mate called out to you, snapping out of your trance.

You blinked and refocused on the present, eyes focusing on Tarquin who had moved from his spot at his desk to you, hands rubbing your shoulders. Tilting your head back, you gave him a smile, reaching up with your free hand to reach up to run your fingers against his cheek as he looked down at you.

“No… I would like to invite them. I think… I need closure from my time there. And…” there was hesitance in your voice at the next words, “I do miss them. I lived with them for centuries, and all of a sudden I cut them off my life for a good reason… there are times when I missed them.”

Tarquin hummed understandingly as he squeezed your shoulders, “Understandable. We will invite them… But I worry��-”

“—- I won’t relapse. I promise…” you moved from your lounging position to sitting up, shifting so you were on your knees, at eye level with him. You felt him wrap his arm around your waist so you were steady as your hands placed themselves on his biceps, playing around with the fabric of his outfit, “I’m better — well, as best I can be — but I know you’ll be there… I will be fine.”

There was reluctance in his features, those turquoise hues trying to find any lie in your words before he gave you a nod.

“I concede…” he murmured and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the hesitancy in his words. Pressing a gentle kiss on the High Lord’s cheek, murmuring a thank you before moving back to your position on the lounge chair, picking up your book once more.

You looked back up to just miss the shake of his head, before he wrapped a hand around your neck, tilting your head up so he could lean down to press a kiss on your lips, “After our mating ceremony, I wish for you to initiate our kisses, my stardust…”

Feeling the warmth of your cheeks you stared up at him, “If that is the wish of my High Lord, then it shall happen…”

He let out a low chuckle before pressing another kiss on your lips, your book forgotten on your lap.

The ceremony venue was extravagant, to say the least — Tarquin, as well as Thesan from what you had gathered, pulled all the stops. The throne room of Summer Court was flourishing with flowers and the summer sun radiating down through all the large windows.

You were a nervous mess sitting in your room. It was still several hours before the ceremony, that you weren’t too nervous for; it was the fact that you were going to meet your old family once more.

The Captain of Dawn, your dear friend, had informed you that the Inner Circle just arrived at the outskirts of Summer Court. And that set off your nerves completely.

You had requested, when you had sent the letter to Night Court, to meet with them before your ceremony — to officially close the wounds between all of you.

And so when a knock startled you out of your worries, you turned around in your chair from your vanity where you were getting ready. Watching those doors open to reveal your old family.

There stood Rhysand, in his Night Court attire along with Feyre, who was at his side. There was a pang in your chest, the pain of their betrayal somehow festering its way back into your heart. But it was slowly soothed out by the warmth of the mating bond that Tarquin seemed to have sent your way. The doors closed behind the Inner Circle, and you noticed the Captain of Dawn stationed at the door.

Thesan’s lover is quite a busybody isn’t he…? You had sent down the bond to your mate. And all you felt was Tarquin’s chuckle as you focused back on the now.

You slowly stood up, a small smile on your features before you watched from the corner of your eye Mor heading to a sprint and giving you the biggest hug.

“… I’m so sorry, (Y/N)…” she apologized, the words repeating on her lips as she squeezed you, burying her head into your neck.

Tears pricked the edge of your eyes as your arms wrapped around her and you buried your head to the crook of her neck, letting the blond curls tickle your face.

“… Mor…” you whined her name.

A sob wracked through the blonde’s body, “I’m just glad you’re okay. That you’re better…” she whispered before pulling back and staring at you, “I’m glad you found your mate. I’m glad that he’s making you happy — that you deserve happiness — after all the shit you went through and everything we had put you under…”

You smiled at her as you felt her cup your cheeks, nodding your head, “… — Thank you, Mor. I’m glad to see you again, truly. I missed you so much…”

A smile tugged on Mor’s features, “We will see each other more… if you let us.”

You nodded your head as she stepped away, allowing the rest of the Inner Court to greet you — hugging you and whispering their utmost apologies and congratulations.

Cassian had lifted you into his arms, something he used to do often when you were his Lady still, giving you a spin, “You will always be my Lady, (Y/N)…” he whispered into your ears, pressing a kiss against your cheek before literally handing you off to Azriel.

A giggle escaped your lips as you hugged the Spymaster as he pressed a kiss on your opposite cheek, “We will forever live with the regret of losing you…” Azriel hummed out, “We had and always will love you… But I wish for nothing but happiness for you…”

Your heart flourished at the words of your former family — the words that you had wished to hear two decades ago — slowly piecing your heart and soul back together. You had known, while you were healing, that they had always cared for you and that never meant to put so much pressure on you, unknowing of your nightmares and struggles after being Under the Mountain.

When you were settled back onto your feet, you turned to face Rhysand. The tension between the two of you was still high and you fought back all the urge to just run away from this confrontation between the two of you. You gave him a small smile before focusing your attention on Feyre who stepped up, reaching out to hold your hands.

“I am truly sorry…” she whispered, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours.

You understood why Rhysand fell in love with Feyre. You had heard of the great deeds she had done for Night Court, for Prythian… she was something you could never have been next to Rhysand. The true High Lady of Night Court.

And somehow, you were okay with it.

Shaking your head, you looked at the High Lady, “…You were just following the feeling of the mating bond. Like I said that night, I cannot fault you for choosing your mate. I cannot fault you for following the tug… I — I would like to extend my congratulations —-”

Feyre shook her head, brows knitting at your words, “Do not, please. I will not accept that not when I have unknowingly broken you along with the rest of your family. ”

You looked at her, nodding your head as you felt her step back and the familiar scent and presence of your former husband taking her place. You lifted your eyes to look into violet ones — ones that sparkled with regret, ones that you were in love with for so long.

Even if it was two decades that passed, you felt like you were still in sync with him, knowing what he wanted. Turning onto your heels, you made your way to one of the furthest balconies, Rhysand following your steps. The large window doors closed behind you, leaving both of you in a pocket of privacy away from prying ears. You could see, from the corner of your eye, the Captain making his way closer to the doors and all you could do was hold a hand up — signaling that you were fine and safe.

Turning back around, you focused on Rhysand who’s eyes were solely on you. Stepping past him, you made your way to the railing, pressing your hands on the warm marble, as you basked in the summer sun.

“(Y/N)…” Rhysand whispered one that was so quiet that the wind barely was able to carry it to your sensitive ears.

“I… I cannot forgive you, Rhysand…” you declared, eyes still closed as you let the warmth of your new home wash over you, to comfort you as you confront your past, “I cannot and do not fault you for choosing her. I can see why you had fallen for her — she’s beautiful, both inside and out. But I cannot forgive you for it. You had broken me so much, that there were many times during my healing that I wondered why I wasn’t enough for you to choose me. Wondering what I have done to make you choose someone else other than your wife who stood next to you for centuries.”

You could hear the shaky breath that Rhysand exhaled as you felt him stand next to you on the balcony.

You couldn’t look at him, every fiber in your body shaking to break again if you looked at him. You needed to be strong — for yourself and for the people around you who worried immensely for your health.

“I know… I know you would never forgive me, (Y/N). I have accepted that truth… I just wish things ended differently, you know? I wanted to let you know, that there was not a moment in our centuries together as husband and wife that I wished you were my mate… that there was not a moment that I did not love you…”

A broken laugh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes and looked up at him once more, seeing those unshed tears in violet hues.

“… And there was not a time where I wished you were my mate… But it seems that Mother had a different path for both of us. One that led us away from each other.”

You reached up, with shaky hands, and attempted to touch him; however, your body paused, and with furrowed brows, you dropped your hand back onto your side. You could see Rhysand’s body slouched slightly as if missing your touch. A forced smile tugged onto your lips as you stepped back, creating a significant distance between the two of you, “… I hope you enjoy the ceremony, Rhysand…”

He knew when he was dismissed and he smiled at you before stepping out of the balcony. You watched with longing and pain as he and the Inner Court stepped out of your room.

“… Probably it wasn’t such a good idea to have the two of you alone together…” The Captain commented, stepping onto the balcony, worry in his tone.

“I’m fine… just give me a moment…” you whispered, pressing a hand against your chest, to calm down your heart. You slouched against the railing for a few minutes, feeling the bond in your chest to help your racing heart.

“…Do you need me—-”

“No… I don’t need Tarquin or Thesan right now. They’re in their own state of panic already…”

The Captain let out a chuckle, “That is true… They have set their mind to ensure that this ceremony would be perfect…”

After calming your heart, you straightened up and gave the Captain a light smirk, “…Busybodies the lot of them…” You stepped back into your room, allowing yourself to fix yourself up before the ceremony, the Captain following your trail.

You stood on the dias of the throne room, Tarquin by your side as the priestess started the ceremony. Your gown was a lovely mixture of blue, much like the oceans that crashed below the castle. The priestess’ words had gone deaf in your ears as all you could do was stare up at the High Lord of Summer, love and affection in your features as well as through the bond.

When the priestess had asked for the two of you to exchange vows, Tarquin looked at you with the same look as you did to him, a soft smile on his features.

“Never in my life, I would have thought to find my mate. I had thought that I would rule my Court without a High Lady by my side. But that fateful day I had whisked you away from Thesan and Dawn Court, all I had wished was for you to be mine.

“My stardust…” the nickname always made your heart skip in your chest, “I had fallen in love with you… despite your broken soul and heart. I was honored that you had trusted me enough to help mend your soul from the nightmares that haunted you, and that still haunt you till this day. But I couldn’t let you know of my affections, not when you had set yourself into healing. So I waited, waited for years and when that mating bond snapped, I knew I couldn’t hold out for much longer. I needed you in my arms, I needed to have your eyes set on me — rather than looking into your past. And when you had your relapse… I had to let you know. I had to let you know that you have someone, your mate, to be with you every step of your healing process.”

You felt tears trickle down your cheeks as Tarquin wiped them away, “You deserve this bond after everything that you have been through… the Mother has gifted you this bond. And I am honored to be at the end of that string.”

A sob escaped your lips and you couldn’t even find the words for your own vows. All you could mutter to him as he pressed his forehead against yours, “Thank you… I love you, I thank you, and I am also honored and blessed by the Cauldron to have you as my mate. Thank you for mending my heart. I am glad to give it to you, and not worry about it breaking…”

You watched through a tearful gaze, Tarquin giving you a radiant smile before leaning down to press a kiss on your lips, “And I would never break it… not your heart that is precious like gemstones…”

You laughed as applause reached your ears, leaning up once more to kiss your mate.

Your heart was safe — mended together once more — and you knew it would never break again.

Tagging list: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @abysshaven @prythianpages @leahoneil @rachelnicolee

[mjbarrosart]

My Dragon Prince Boards season 7, episode 702

The time has finally come for me to talk about my boards for the last season of the Dragon Prince! Wow, time flies!

To be honest season 7 was such a hard season to make. Telling a good story is always a challenge, but ending one, oof! that is an herculean job!

I remeber everyone being super stressed during the production of this season, because time was always in short supply, and it is really hard to produce great art with little time, haha.

Also, I think that after a year and a half working non stop doing boards for the show, most of us where starting to feel exhausted, and you can see it on my boards, they are much less polished than usual.

But, no matter the context and circumstances, we always try to deliver the best we can and tell the ending of this arc in the most satisfactory way possible.

Lets start with my sequences. First one is the one with Ezran's council in the Banther Lodge.

This one starts with the little exchange between Soren and Corvus, I really like these two. I think they grew on me as a duo during my time in the show. Soren was already one of my favorites, but by the end of season 7, Corvus and Soren was a top pair for me, too.

I think that, whatever you think their relationship is, physical touch is a thing between this two, they are always touching each other, there is some vulnerability that they allow with each other that is endearing.

If you read my comments about my boards in season 6, one of the things I was talking about is how sometimes the expressions we draw in boards don't translate that well to the final animation (This happens in a lot of shows, and it's because of limitation on the face rig of the characters, nothing related to the talent of our crew, because they are all super talented) This little shot is another case, I wanted Callum to feel like "Oh boy, shit is hitting the fan!"

I think this scene is mostly about the conflict between points of view, Callum and Rayla wanting for Ezran to free (and forgive) Runaan as soon as possible, while Ezran is struggling with his emotions. It's a hard one.

To be honest I understand Ezran 100% and I know that the right thing for him would be eventually to forgive Runaan, but is not something that could happen inmediatly. Grieve and angry are feelings that can get poisonus really easily, and they need time to heal and allow perspective.

I think Ralyla made the wrong choice bringing Runaan to Katolis.

Anyway, I wanted to play this sequence (and the next one) a little as a power play between the brothers. There are two forces pulling Callum rigth now, and the tension is growing because of it. I like this shot, I think, is cool.

My next sequence is the continuation of the Banther Lodge Council scene. Rayla is out of the building right now, and Callum is deeply distracted.

But we start with a little coment of comedy with Soren "testing" the bread. This shot ended flipped, but the idea is still the same, I am glad the keept the moment of Soren putting the bread on his mouth, haha.

Again this scene mix two trains of though or conflicts together, in one hand you have Ezran trying to figure out how to lead his people in a way that makes sure a tragedy like the burning of Katolis doesn't happen again. And in the other hand the struggle between Callum loyalties, and his inhability to be what Ezran needs him to be right now.

This is not hate to Callum, I think that his desicions are pretty ok taking in consideration that is he still a teeneager. But I feel that he gets tunnel vision when things are related to Rayla, and he failed miserably as a brother and member of the council during this time.

While I think Callum is right, Ezran should forgive Runaan, he should be there to provide love and support to his brother, and advice and perspective to his king. Space for Ezran to come to the conclusion that forgivenes is the right path.

Anyway, I had this gesture boarded with Ezran hitting the air, but they ended adding the cup there for him to toss. I don't know how I feel about it, It's fine (specially if you talke into consideration that the Anya pick up the cup and give it back to Ezran) but feels a little off to me. Not sure why, tho.

I like Anya and Ezran relationship. I think I would appreciate it if she also took the place that Callum was failing to fulfill and gave some space to Ezran to grieve and process his sadness in a more intimate level. Like as friends more than as "heads of state". But anyway, she is cool, I am glad Ezran had someone as his side during this time.

I remember that one of the instructions I got for this sequence was to make sure that Ezran feels like a mob boss. Hahaha. Funny, tho. But besides that, I think that something that I was glad to see and board was Ezran taking more action and having more agency.

Maybe we can disagree with his point of view, but it was great to finally see him taking the reins of the kingdom, being active and assertive with his actions.

My last two sequences in this episode were the talk of Callum and Ezran close to the fireplace. I think this was an instance of Callum trying to be Ezran brother, giving him support and love and helping him to see the erron of his ways.

BUT, and this is a big but, I feel that all of this feels empty and, from Ezran point of view, manipulative; because after this talk Callum right away decides not only to "betray" Ezran but also to leave him alone. And that was not pretty wise of him, imo.

It is always a pleasure to draw any character making a suspicious face, hahaha "I don't trust you":

I think during the first part of the talk, the sibilings are on pretty opposite sides, there is a rift between them, and it is hard to close. But then there is more space for vulnerability and trust.

I think a really significant momen is for Ezran to remove his crown. "I am not talking as the king, but as your brother" kind of moment. Humanizes him a lot and shows the sincerity of his words.

He is confesing here, how he is tired, how this dury felt on his shoulders even when he was not ready for it, and how much he is trying to carry the burden, but oh boy, how heavy is the crown!

And I feel that this is the part when Callum made a mistake. Instead of listen to him, to recognize his pain, to offer his aid and support, some kind of "you don't need to do this alone" kind of thing, he brings the topic back to Runaan.

And then he shots the shot: "You forgave Zubeia" And ouch! I mean, he is right, that is something that Ezran did, but I don't think this is the moment to bring it. But again, the conflict here is that none of them can see the other right now. Callum is too worried about Rayla and Runaan, and Ezran is too hurt and overwheelmed.

And I wanted to make the shift clear, so Callum literally points fingers at Ezran. He demands action, he expect his brother to do what he wants him to do, not what Ezran needs to do. In an ideal world there would be a trial for Runaan, one where we can hear both parties, where Ezran can express his feelings his doubts and grieve, that could end in him finding forgivenes in his heart.

But it is not an ideal world. Things are falling apart, and the struggles between the needs and wants of characters are in conflict. So, people make bad decisions. That is good writing if you ask me.

Then Zym intervines, he wants Ezran to forgive Runaan, not for the same reasons than Callum, tho.

I think in Zym's mind is more an attempt to get "the old Ezran back". So Callum and Zym try to make their point together. I wanted to paint it as if Zym has this naive approach to the stituation, while Callum is a little more manipulative (I don't think that on porpouse) being like "look, even Zym agrees" failing to see why Zym is agreeing. I think the sin of Callum in all this episode is blindness (or tunel vision as we said before)

And kinda works. Not because Ezran is ready to forgive, but because I feel that there is something inside Ezran that thinks like Zym too. That maybe there is a way to go back to be like he was before.

And that is the thing, pain and grieve change you, and accept that change is part of growing up. Aaravos talk about that a lot this season. So there is a little truce, a moment of "maybe" from Ezran. I really like to draw this two together.

Sadly this moment gets interrupted by Soren asking for help. And from here is downhill. I think Callum's actions after this point did not help at all to Ezran to heal or change his mind.

The fact that Callum decided to leave probably made Ezran wound worst, and any hope that this conversation could bring for the brothes to get back together gets shattered.

Great setting up of their conflict for this season, imo.

Well that was my work for 702. Thanks for reading this brickwall of text! Hope you like this! And feel free to ask if you have questions about the storyboard process!

See you for 705 boards soon!

[king-manta-ray]

we all know and love sunflower toshi, but what about dandelion toshi?

I'm a fool for never considering this- allow me to redeem myself.

Dandelion : a small yellow flower which represents healing, resilience, and hope

// xReader Oneshot starts below; extra doodles at the bottom//

————————————————————————

“Look, Toshi, dandelions!”

Bright yellow met his gaze as Yagi shook himself out of his thoughts, the voice chirping from beside him drawing his attention to the wild patches of weeds sprouting out across the courtyard. You had insisted that the two of you go out for some fresh air, once he was discharged from the hospital, practically guiding him alongside you to a small path leading to various places in nearby nature.

It had been a week sitting up in a hospital bed while doctors and nurses tended to his broken limbs, his shattered arm still bound even now, useless against him in its sling. While police spoke to him about the League and their next actions – his next actions. You had been beside him the whole time, holding his less mangled hand in yours, wiping tears with the other that first night – when he had his final fight… when he was forced to retire.

His thoughts were so heavy, uneasy with this newfound idleness. He was slipping into the dark recesses of his mind; stuck on all the things he could no longer do. No longer be.

But you were there, guiding him back to the light with gentle hands and promises of a new future – different, but bright.

You were smiling, kneeling before the bundle of yellow dandelions that were smiling wide up at the sun, having not yet entered the stage of fuzzy white heads, so full of wishes. Small resilient things they were, growing up throughout field and concrete and between gaps in busy city spaces. Always eager to be in places people would think impossible, popping up out of the hard-caked earth with an ‘Aha! Here I am!’ to those who found them.

Gentle fingers picked a flower off the stem, careful not to split the delicate skin of the plant more than necessary. Your thumb rolling the leftover stem against the pads of your index and middle finger. Then you looked up at him, a cheeky smile on your face as you held it up to him – squinting.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“It looks like you.”

He blinked, still standing beside you as you compared him to the little weed in your hand. He had been crestfallen ever since the doctor told him the news, news he knew already, that All Might was gone. It hurt, and in some instances, knowing that he was finished and done – hurt more than when the man who did this put a hole in him. So, it was unsurprising when he caught you drawing his attention elsewhere, desperate to cheer him up even just a little.

You were afraid he would drown otherwise, too lost in a society that no longer had a pillar of light.

So, you were staying positive, determined to be his beacon through his time of grieving, if he would allow you. Besides, as you tilted your head this way and that dramatically – you saw a flicker of a grin spread across his exhausted face.

Then he laughed.

“I’m a weed?”

“No! You’re a dandelion! Your hair – it looks just like the petals.”

It was true, all spread out in the sun, gold and wild. He chuckled, a tired rough sound. “I suppose it does.”

“It’s pretty like you, too.”

His face warmed under your observations, using his still bandaged but movable arm to rub at his neck. The flower remained in your hand as you lowered it, grinning up at him sweetly.

“oh.”

“And strong, resilient, these little guys could grow anywhere if you let them. I think we should take this as a sign!”

As you rose to walk back to him, flower in hand, you reached to slip it in his. Yagi wasn’t big on superstitions, or luck for that matter, but as you brushed strands of blonde out of his eyes, flower held in the cage of your hands, he felt the overwhelming feeling of being the luckiest man in the world – even just for a moment. A flicker of light through his dark times.

“Why is that?”

“Dandelions can mean many things; joy, healing, strength, transformations, but they’re also a symbol of hope!” You softened, leaning into him. “Just like you.”

His smile flattened ever so slightly, yours following suit after a beat of silence, as a sudden sadness overtook both of you—

Because that wasn’t how it was anymore.

His hand squeezed yours, little weed in the palm of his hand.

And that was ok.

————————————————————————

Bonus doodle I made while thinking of this lol (my camera is fucked forgive the quality)

[lets-try-some-writing]

Finally bunkering down to get into the TF1 fic department. I've got a nice simple one shot I'm cooking up for all of you to ease into this new continuity. No promises on when it will be done considering I've got irl crap to deal with, but here's the title and a snippet.

Sometimes Apologizing Is Enough

“Why can’t I go instead? I can do it. I can land the killing blow.” Bee, in all his eternal empathy, stepped up to Prowl and gestured to where Optimus was already strapped down. Optimus wished he could confidently dismiss the unspoken fears of those present. He wished he did not still have an aching pit in his spark where youthful yearnings urged him to use this chance for selfish reasons. Yet, he knew what his wistful dreams desired. He was going to struggle with what was to come during his final act as Prime.

“No, I will not have you do this, Bee. If I kill D-16, it will look like a crime of passion. While Orion Pax will grieve, it will pass as all things do.” Optimus could only shake his helm from his place hooked up to countless wires he was unable to trace or identify. Bee went quiet at his gentle retort, his friend’s optics widening in disbelief as Optimus continued.

“But if you do it. If you strike him down on my behalf… Orion will never let you escape. It is very possible that he- I could become just as great of a threat if pushed to act.” Bee winced, a fact Optimus noted with a soft sigh. It was distant history for him, but once he was rambunctious, eager and filled with passion. If Bee went back and did what had to be done, there was a very good chance Orion Pax could take up the mantle Megatron held in their current reality.

It could not be allowed.

“I’m willing to die if it means my friends will live.” Bee’s retort was faint, filled with static from old injuries poorly healed. Optimus’s gaze softened seeing the distress on his friend’s face. Bee was always nobler than him when it came to sacrifice. Where his dear friend was willing to offer everything for the sake of their freedom, Optimus was unable to let go of one mech who was, for all intents and purposes, long dead.

“That is noble, but the point remains. It must be me, or else my younger counterpart is bound to react unpredictably, whereas you and Elita are unlikely to lose yourselves if the crime appears to be accidental.” Again, he restated his point. He tried to smile to ease Bee’s concerns, but it did little. The former scout looked a moment away from breaking down as he pressed a servo to the glass separating them, his expression pulled taut in grief.

“Can you really do it though? You’ve always had a soft spot for Dee, even though we all know what he is now.” Optimus could not help the pang of guilt that flooded his processor at the critique, but he took it in stride. There was no point lying now.

“There is nothing I can say to ease your worries entirely, my friend. I am incapable of denying the lingering attachment to the one I once called brother.” Optimus’s voice rose above the faint hum of the machinery around him, hopefully reaching the audials of all those present to witness his last march.

“However, I promise you that I will do everything in my power to ensure this reality does not repeat itself a second time.” The promise came easily, and unlike the countless others made during their long war, this one did not burden him with guilt. It was an oath he’d taken long ago, in the silence of his quarters when the plan to change history was presented. To utter it aloud merely made it tangible, like a brand on his spark.

“Good. Or else I’m going back next time and I’ll beat both you and Dee up.” Bee, bless his spark, tried to lighten the mood with a weak chuckle. Optimus returned the gesture, despite being well aware it was a useless effort.

“I look forward to a future free of your wrath.” His faint jest was drowned out by the sound of the machine growing louder, a sign of impending activation. Optimus tried his very best to relax against the freezing surface of the berth he was strapped to. The cords and wires itched, but he dared not so much as squirm, much less consider just how badly this could go as he gave his confirmation.

[thenationofzaun]

A Dark Vi in Season 2:

I'm hoping for a darker take on Vi in season 2. Imagine if Vi takes up a bitter attitude towards Jinx that's similar to Ekko's before the bridge fight - "Powder's gone, all that's left is Jinx." I say before the bridge fight because I think Ekko had a moment of growth there in his view of Jinx, where he was forced to confront the truth that Powder and Jinx are the same person, no matter how much he tries to divorce them to make it easier to kill Jinx.

Back to Vi, it's possible that in response to Jinx's rebuff of her, she bitterly disowns Jinx right back. Not immediately, no. I think Vi in the immediate aftermath of the finale would still be self-blaming, devastated, and confused. But after a while, when Jinx continues to demonstrate her disinterest in reconciling with Vi and her zeal in warring with Piltover of her own accord, even in the absence of Silco, Vi's view of her sister would have to change. I could see anger and resentment creeping in after a while. Vi would have to accept that her sister willingly rebuffed her and chose Silco, willingly ditched Vander's side. Vi might give in to that petty, indignant anger of a child upset with her sibling - "she left me, she is not my sister anymore!"

I can imagine her taking up an attitude like "I don't have a sister. My sister died a long time ago." Kind of like Ekko including Powder on his "wall of the dead" mural. It'd be growth for Vi, just not a positive one. She'd finally accept that there's no "bringing the old Powder back", but she'd pivot all the way to the other end of the spectrum with "you know what, fuck Jinx, the Powder I loved is dead and gone." This would be doubly sad and ironic considering her words in episode 9 - "Are we still sisters?" "Nothing is ever going to change that."

Imagine her telling Ekko "you were right" as she finally agrees with what he said to her in episode 7, but Ekko just has mixed feelings because he himself has since realized he was wrong in saying that. The Powder they loved is not dead, has never been dead. She's still here. She just made choices they disagreed with. She chose to join their enemy. And that's a much harder truth to live with than simply insisting she died and calling it a day.

Vi's view of her sister perfectly parallels her view of the undercity. In season 1 it was horror to find that the old version, the one under Vander, has changed so much in the time she was locked up. It was a refusal to accept this change, an insistence that the old home/sister can still be brought back, all she had to do was remove Silco's rule/influence and she'd restore her home/sister to the way it used to be.

They could continue this parallel in season 2. Vi could give in to anger and disown them both. Begin grieving Vander's undercity and Powder in tandem, while scorning Silco's Zaun and Jinx. She could fall out with Ekko due to this. Where he still wants to live in and help heal the undercity, Vi wants to leave it and turn against it. Vi could blame the undercity for allowing Silco's takeover and "not lifting a finger to stop him". She could take on a harsh view of her people, the Lanes in particular - "They betrayed Vander, they allowed the rise of Chembarons, did nothing to avenge my family in my absence. They're weak." She'd butt heads with Ekko over this, straining their relationship.

It would push her further into the arms of Caitlyn (and Piltover). She'd bury her pain in rage against all of "Silco's ilk". She'd want to wipe out all his loyalists and the Chembarons, since she couldn't fulfill her vengeance on him specifically. She'd think the best way to accomplish this goal is through tougher enforcement and punitive measures from the enforcers/Council. Basically the same thing she did in episode 8 but on steroids, eventually leading to her joining the enforcers. Imagine Ekko's reaction. He has spent the last 7-8 years feeling betrayed by Jinx for joining his enemy. Now Vi returns to him from the dead, and even she betrays him by joining another of his enemies? While the sisters are so preoccupied with feeling abandoned by each other, Ekko feels abandoned by them both. The game has Ekko admonishing Vi as a traitor so I'm excited to see it in the show.

But of course, Vi's elaborate talk of "Powder is dead and only Jinx remains" would just be her way of coping and rationalizing her sister's betrayal. Just like Ekko, it'd be her way of convincing herself she can fight and kill Jinx. But when it comes down to it, she wouldn't actually want Jinx dead. The conflict this would cause with Caitlyn and Piltover... imagine Vi is fighting Jinx and at the last moment, she can't bring herself to deliver the final blow. Jinx gets away and now Vi is disgraced by topsiders, who question her loyalty to them. "Of course we shouldn't have trusted a trencher on the force." Now she is rejected by both cities. Hated by Piltover for bigoted reasons and for her relation to Jinx, hated by Zaunites for being a class traitor.

She'd be a complete outcast, and from here, there could be a lot of character growth. Sometimes you need to hit rock bottom before finding your way back up. Maybe she could dig into Vander's past and find out about his falling out with Silco. Uncovering the past of her beloved mentor whom she idolized, she'd begin to see him for the flawed man he actually was. Realize that he'd have never wanted her to give in to rage. Never wanted her to help bring Piltover's wrath down on Zaun. She'd begin to understand not just Vander, but Silco too, and Jinx's love for him. Not be happy with it of course, just understanding. That's what I'm hoping for in the end - not a reconciliation between the sisters, just a bittersweet understanding. Accepting of each others' choices even if they disagree with them. Anyway, I'm interested to see what they do with Vi's character in Season 2, since I found her to be underwritten in Season 1.

TLDR: A darker, angrier take on Vi in Season 2 could lead to some very interesting places.

[butterflydm]

more thoughts on 3x05 & the 3x06 sneak peek

I have a messy collection of thoughts about Moiraine after seeing the sneak peek. I'm going to stop cleaning them up and just let them be messy.

While I do understand Moiraine needed a night off her duties to grieve for herself... the narrative is really going to punish her for it.

For twenty years, she's chosen duty over everything. For this one night, she chooses her personal life instead, and that happens to be the same night when Lanfear's manipulations are able to tip Rand over far enough to kiss her -- in part because of the truths that Moiraine has withheld from Rand about how far Lanfear (and Moiraine) was willing to go to try to force Rand to follow the path that Lanfear (and Moiraine) wanted him to follow.

In the sneak peek, Lanfear says that Moiraine has been avoiding her since Rhuidean (keeping herself awake with the One Power, maybe?) and pokes Moiraine about how she is failing to keep their deal, because Moiraine is meant to help keep Egwene away from Rand.

That puts Moiraine's concern over Egwene's bruises in 3x02 in a different light. Even at the time, it seemed a bit strange that even as she was urging Rand to channel, she was telling Egwene how the OP was going to make Rand dangerous and warning her about watching out for the signs of his madness -- now, it seems that she was following Lanfear's playbook. It's nothing untrue, because Moiraine can't lie, but leaning on the fact of channeling leading to madness now seems like a clear attempt to try to urge Egwene away from Rand, as requested by Lanfear.

This appears to be an additional deal that Moiraine and Lanfear have made, beyond what we saw them make in 3x01. They've had more conversations since then. Conversations, perhaps, that Moiraine left Lan out of. Deals made in dreams.

And what Lanfear does here is meant both to further implicate Moiraine in Lanfear's actions against Rand, and also as a test to see if Moiraine will dare to act against her and tell Rand (I'm guessing).

So... in 3x01, Moiraine allowed Rand and his friends to be attacked by Lanfear (which almost resulted in Nynaeve's death), but I think Moiraine likely believed that her deal with Lanfear was successful in splitting up the group (because she wasn't privy to their private discussions). She thinks it worked.

Now, Lanfear has given Moiraine notice of another "surprise" for Rand. And Moiraine has to make a choice. Does she tell Rand or does she allow Lanfear free rein?

The thing that Moiraine has never been willing to understand about Rand is that being honest and open with him would have gotten her so much further than all this manipulation and deception. Say it plain, so that I know it's true. That's what Rand wants, and he has told her that very clearly. But manipulation is what Moiraine understands, and it's what she genuinely believes works (I think the events of 3x01 only made her believe more strongly that manipulation was the path with Rand, unfortunately).

She's already lost one chance to be honest with Rand post-Rhuidean, prioritizing her personal goodbye with Siuan over revealing the truth about Lanfear. If she'd told Rand about what she saw in the rings -- and if she'd told Rand that Lanfear was behind the attack in the inn, that Lanfear was the reason that Egwene, Perrin, and Nynaeve were all gravely injured and needed healing... he would not have kissed Lanfear in his dream that night. Zero percent chance.

An understandable decision on Moiraine's part. She's been selfless for so long. It's very understandable that she wanted one night to be selfish.

But it has already had consequences.

I hope Moiraine takes the chance to be honest with Rand before it's too late, and before Rand finds out the truth from someone else. Before more people get hurt because of Lanfear, and because Moiraine stood aside and allowed Lanfear to act.

[redcamellia13]

Mitsukou Analysis: Alteration Arc

(I should really get to organizing all my analyses)

The end times have come. I must analyze the most heart breaking moment of JSHk, and this is also where these analyses come rot an end, at least until an entire new arc finishes up. However, there will be a part two (mostly because I don't have the emotional strength to cover chapter 120)

Without further ado, let’s go…! (Forced enthusiasm)

My overly Korean grandma bows for everything, and I think that rubbed off on me, because that bow Kou just did is something I have to refrain from doing every time I'm sorry/thankful (just picture me doing this at least 5 times whenever I say "I'm so, sincerely sorry!" or "Oh my goodness, thank you so, so much!")

Anywayyyyssss... I'm glad to see how Mitsuba and Kou are still friends, and best at that. Which is kind of an... odd decision to make, on Aidairo's part.

Given that in all Twitter AUs as well as bonus art Mitsuba and Kou are always good friends, and they’re so close in the New Timeline- it’s almost as though Aidairo’s trying to say no matter what, Kou and Mitsuba are always friends.

You know what that reminds me of? The red string of fate (aka the mermaid scale) binding Hanako and Nene across time and space. And we all know Hanako and Nene are infamous for being friends, just friends, nothing more, purely platonic friends

Then again, Kou’s special relationship with Mitsuba might not be so special after all, since he gave Nene that ticket without remembering the old world.

It’s a bit… I don’t know, concerning that we don’t see any tears from Teru or Kou about their mother being alive in this timeline/their mother being dead in the last one.

I get it was a long time ago, and both Minamotos have been shown to have healed since then. Teru is sorta desensitized to death, and to Kou, it’s just a fact of life he has to get over.

But come on, this was Kou’s number one wish! I expected a little stronger reaction!

Something I was wondering was, why did Kou and Sousuke (since Mitsuba in this timeline seems a lot closer to Sousuke than No. 3) forget things, while the people involved with the clockkeeper’s trial kept their memories?

You might be thinking, “well duh Camellia, you just said it, it’s because they were involved in the trial.”

But the thing is, there is no established reason why participants in the trial retained their memories, or at least recovered them faster, over the non participants.

Honestly, it would be counter intuitive for Kako and Mirai (let’s be honest Akane couldn’t do shit to stop them) to allow the participants to keep memories of the old world, considering our most powerful character is in that party: Teru. I’m really hoping it’s not just a plot hole Aidairo forgot to patch, and that it actually means something

Also, why haven’t we gotten a Minamoto dad reveal yet? Is Aidairo saving it for a future plot twist?

I wasn’t going to include this panel until I took a closer look at the background, where Sousuke’s mom is black out drunk.

I’m sorry, what?! Sousuke’s mom, in the old timeline, is a sweet, sincere, still grieving woman who cared deeply for her late son. Never are we shown signs of her being an alcoholic.

I can’t tell if it affects Mitsuba’s quality of living, or if this is a one time thing. Does this mean if Mitsuba were alive she would be a worse person?

This is quite a calculated move on Mitsuba’s part. Just as Kou said, he’s a scaredy-cat who would never willingly come to the school at night, so something had to have changed.

It’s… probably not his underclassmen. Mitsuba has never been shown to be social, other than joining the photography club and even then when Kou visited them to investigate Sousuke's grave they told him he was never really close to other members.

So, it's either one of the following:

He wanted to talk to Kou about the "dream"

He had some weird sense it was related to Tsukasa

Oh so they dream about each other now (see After School Hanako-kun)

This has nothing to do with their relationship I just wanted to say that (Aidairo probably didn't mean it like that but I'm taking the win regardless)

Kou has been actively avoiding discussing Mitsuba's death with him, and that is completely understandable: the dude his 90% of his trauma for heaven's sake!

However, Mitsuba isn't shying away from the topic at all, consistently approaching Kou about it.

And this is weird as hell.

Mitsuba's situation in the new timeline is arguably worse than any other character since both iterations live inside of him which must be such an unpleasant feeling, and on top of that, the guy that would bring up the worst memories is now his best friend (okay I take it back things could be worse *ahem ahem YUGI TWINS*)

God, this is heart breaking to read...

RUN, RUN LITTLE MITSUKOU BEFORE ITS TOO LATEEEEE

Desperate attempts to save my children aside, apparently the Red House can just randomly change paperwork to draw victims in.

I'm quite confused as to how it does this, and doubly confused when it comes to the photo Sousuke took that suddenly developed into a pic of the Red House.

It's most likely due to Amane using the powers he got from the hole god, but we don't know what he really is.

The science prep room Nene stumbled into was so long ago it was since converted into a storage room. But in the photos inside the photo album are of modern-looking astronomy technology. If Amane was born in 1955, and we can estimate adult Amane to be ~20 years old, these pictures were taken in the '70s.

If he isn't born in 1955, then could that be the change Kako and MIrai made? But it doesn't cause that powerful ripple effect required...

Now, I am no expert in telescopes, but these do not look like they were made in 1970.

Also. Teru mentions no rumors surround the Red House, which either means it's reality warping effect has gotten much stronger or the house has gotten weaker. Given that Aidairo likes to make things ten times worse, it's most likely the latter, so does this mean the Red House only draws in people connected to the old timeline/those with spiritual energy?

[glitter-stained]

I'm always thinking about Jason because fixation so my judgement is biaised because every song I listen to makes me think about at least one of my Jasons, but here are some songs though were definitely written for and about canon Jason Todd, and I will take no criticism (but you are definitely welcome to add your own songs):

-Take me To War, by The Crane Wives

>"But I keep snapping at Goliath hands with all of my tiny might"/ "All of the fire I swallowed, all of the sparks that went down in my guts, I am always burning out"/ "I'll be the sweetest thing to ever scare you"

The Robin -> Red Hood transition is so seamless

-Little Soldiers by the Crane Wives

> "On the broken back of all the words we spared, Like little soldiers in the trenches; It was a march we made towards ruin and despair, But we held hands all the while"

I always rant about how how Jason's character and story is centered around love, this is the song that plays in my head while I'm yapping

-Blue Lips by Regina Spektor

> "He took a step but then felt tired, He said I'll rest a little while; but when he tried to walk again, he wasn't a child"

If you ever wanna be sad about Jason's resurrection, catatonia and stolen childhood, this is the song to listen to

-The Horrors and The Wild by The Amazing Devil

"Think of all the horrors that I promised I'd bring, I promise they'll sing of every Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child, Witness me old man I am the Wild"

> If Under The Red Hood has one song it's this one

-The Old Witch Sleep and The Good Man Grace by The Amazing Devil

"There's a fire burning/And I'm learning to be/So much more than my tiredness/ So much more than that old witch sleep wishes/ She kisses my eyelids, and I/Breathe"

> If Red Hood: Lost Days (minus the gross bits) has one song it's this one

-Elsa's song by The Amazing Devil

>"And you'll throw some sage and lillies/ And roses where I'll rot/ Of all the flowers you picked/I knew you would forget/ Forget-me-nots"

idk who Elsa is this is about how Jason was grieved but he wasn't remembered

(Yeah I'm pretty convinced that at least either Madeline Hyland or Joey Batey read Under the Red Hood so many of their songs fit so well I restrained myself to three but there are so many)

-A Burning Hill by Mitski

>"I'm tired of wanting more, I think I'm finally worn/ For you have a way of promising things/ And I've been a forest fire"

Jason admitting loss and giving up on begging Bruce is something that can be so personal actually

-Heaven Knows by The Pretty Reckless

>"Now you're on your knees with your head hung low/ Big Man tell you where to go/ Tell them it's good, tell them okay/Don't do a goddamn thing they say"

Crime Alley united!!! Also, "tell the big guy I said hello" :))) (the God/Batman amalgam in Death in the Family is such an incredible one-liner and works so well for Jason omg)

-For the Departed by Shayfer James

>"Now I must finished what I started/I'll write a symphony for the departed/And I have no time for second chances/ So I survive on bourbon blood and backward glances"

The amount of angst, dramatics and intense devotion to his cause at the cost of his life, the literature references, everything about this song? Jason at his angstiest for sure

-Goodbye by Bo Burnham

> "If I wake up in a house that's full of smoke I'll panic/So call me up and tell me a joke/ When I'm fully irrelevant and totally broken dammit/ Call me up and tell me a joke /Oh shit/ You're really joking at a time like this"

exploded warehouse parallel aside, this song feels like not being able to heal because you're not capable of asking for what you really need, wanting to come back but feeling like you aren't allowed to because it would ruin you or the you that was shaped by other's perception of you and most importantly, begging to matter and to have mattered. So. Jason.