#which wouldn't have made sense without this context

[manyegos]

Originally posted on May 3rd, 2023 This movie made me cry. I posted about it before. It really reflected a deep seated pain I had, a trauma I had as a kid. I love that movies and start help us make sense of things that we all go through but no one dares to speak about it. The movie is heavily inspired by the study by Niobe Way on Boys friendships and crisis of connection, titled "Deep Secrets" . . . I happen to have such book next to me. there is this moment in the life of men, when we all stop having such rich incredibly and intense friendships with one another. . . and even with ourselves. This is not an attack to masculinity or a forced advocation for sensitivity and delicate gentleness of males, but rather a conversation of a deep unspoken pain men carry. The movie does have some "imagery" a little over the top given that these are kids and they are boys, but it is not sexual nor it is intended to be this way. However, in context as a boy growing up with straight friends I can tell and I can remember very well how closed and sensitive we all were and little by little that went dying. At some point because of whatever it was, we wouldn't dare to hug, cuddle or have heart to heart conversations (remind you women do this all the time without being lesbians and gay men do this with their friends without engaging in any sort of sexual activity) We as men, and specially straight men carry this heavy burden of not being able to relieve their pain. It is a crisis. We are emotional animals, we need to touch, we need to feel and cry, and we need to be close to one another. Women have (and even used to have way deeper) friendships, stronger at times than their marriages. It enriches their lives. We men do, but something loose and aloof. We live without really living. There have been times I wish I knew how my buddies felt, I have a friend for example who lose his mom at 20, was a virgin and feeling lonely. I wish He had talked more about his feelings to me, how he felt, that He knew we would be there for him. Men only get "touchy" seek affection, connection, closeness, emotional, they get real when they drink. That's why men drink in my opinion which is dissapointing. While very few have the fortunate luck of having a wife that knows their most sensitive vulnerable side, even there is as if they abnegate everyone that can understand aspects of them than even women can't, but designate their poor wives to assume all these roles (not only their mother, but also an equal male buddy... ) Women unfortunale will never understand what is like to go through life as a man, same as us will never understand what is like to go through life as women (not even if we transition) So why do we live limited lives? why we as men have this strange disconnection with ourselves and lack of deep friendships? anyways, I love this film. _______________________________ Funny Story I used to have a best friend around the age of the characters, we were close like this. At some point because my inner fears of my own sexuality, I treated him so bad so I could push him away. He was my best friend from childhood. I destroyed a possible meaningful friendship and life story. I deeply regret of such. It was one of the worse emotional pains I went through and I caused it because I was afraid our closeness was too gay (he was not gay, and I did not have romantic or sexual feelings for him, I was just deeply scared of his closeness and that He found out there was something broken with me) I wish I could take all of that back.

close (2022) + male intimacy

[fractangle]

Meme jacket progress that I completely forgot to post like a month ago:

The Goncharov poster patch is cut out of a t-shirt from @beelzeebub's redbubble, and all the rest are either linocuts I did (top/bottom text, and the shoelaces) or freehand with various levels of planning (most-to-least planned: man door hand hook car door, down with cis bus, "do you like them" text, effervescent snail (yes I'm aware the spiral's backwards)).

As of yet, there are no patches on the front or sleeves, but this will change (ominous).

[weebsinstash]

I wanted to share another piece of American history and also queer history with you guys that I've been thinking about since, what I consider to be the vandalism of "Portrait of Ross in L.A", and also because it is relevant to our current polticial climate, where even the company I currently work for has publicly declared that they will no longer have diversity and inclusion programs

John S. Boskovich was an American homosexual man living in America during the AIDS epidemic of the 80s and 90s. He had a partner, Stephen Earabino. During the epidemic, Earabino contracted AIDS and eventually passed away in 1995.

This was during a time period where the AIDS crisis was being intentionally mismanaged as a direct attempt to "purge" queer people and make them socially unacceptable, and many families often hid the deaths of their queer family members for being AIDS-related out of shame, fear of public ridicule, and/or homophobia. The shifting of the blame of AIDS onto exclusively gay and bisexual men was so intentionally heavily prevalent that it lead to many deaths of heterosexuals, lesbians, and even the creation of a now famous poster by that read "Women Don't Get AIDS: They Just Die From It", which was also created as a plea to the CDC to address the crisis and EVERYONE who faced it

So, in that social and political context, after Stephen passed away, his family came to the flat where their son was living with his lover and completely cleaned out all the belongings in the apartment, erasing any evidence of Earabino and Boskovich's relationship, but also, leaving Boskovich with absolutely no possessions and nothing to remember his lover by except for a single box fan

Boskovich, in his grief, made this single electric box fan an art installation by encasing it in plexiglass with holes cut into it, protecting the fan, lionizing it, with the breeze coming through the gaps meant to symbolize his lover's breath and how this art installation, in a sense, keeps Stephen Earabino's memory alive. The name of the piece is "Electric Fan (Feel It Motherfuckers)" and it has been theorized that the "feel" refers to not only the breeze of the fan symbolizing his lover and memorializing him, in a sense giving him eternal life, but also for the viewer to "feel" the grief and anger of Boskovich losing his lover and the cruel aftermath that followed

Boskovich made this piece of artwork in 1997, and eventually passed away 9 years later in 2006 in his home at 49 years old of causes that were never fully disclosed, some theorizing that he committed suicide. His artwork now sits in the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles.

This is another influential and emotional piece of history that goes to show just how extremely important it is to hang onto the truth that queer people and by extension any marginalized people have a right to exist. It shows the lengths to which lives are destroyed by the hatred and policies of those who revel in intentional cruelty and exerting their own authority for no other reason than hating those that do not share the same views as them. When we do not fight to hold onto our history, those who decide we do not need to be a part of it will fight hard to erase it completely and pretend that we were never even here in the first place, much like Stephen Earabino's family would have completely erased his existence without the voice of John Boskovich, or how Ross Laycroft and his struggle wouldn't have been known without him becoming memorialized by Felix Gonzales-Torres' sculpture intended as an act of love

We are here. We are alive. We will continue to make our voices heard and refuse to die in darkness. I will not be driven from my home country because of what is QUICKLY becoming an American fascist dictatorship.

We are all eternal in the memories of those who lives we touch and change. We are made stronger by the bonds we build with each other and our communities. We must never stop fighting for our right to exist.

We must never make it easier for them to erase us, not just from being alive, but from being recorded in history altogether

[existence-is-a-pain87]

With No Eyes I Weep

Part 3 to With Eyes I See (Part 1) and Without Eyes I'm Blind (Part 2). This a finale to a three part series, and I recommend reading the first two parts if you're new to this if ya would like context. No pressure though. :D

Yandere!Forsaken x Reader

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; dark themes; blood; death; murder; cannibalism; violence; and more. Please read with caution and, if you're a minor, please be extremely cautious.

Note: Nothing to say just yet, teehee. Hope yall enjoy the finale though and I wrap the series up well.

---

@amistakehadhappened

--☆☆☆☆☆--

Your screaming attracted others, naturally. Why wouldn't it?

But it wasn't the survivors you expected. Hell, what you hoped for. What you prayed for. What you wished for.

But your hopes truly went to die when you were approached by John Doe.

You stared up at him as he loomed over you, your screams dying on your tongue as your wings extended to shield you in case he tried to harm you.

You didn't even realize your screen was off.

He just stood over you, staring at your bandaged face and every aspect of your body. Then he crouched down, slowly reaching out to touch one of your wings.

You just panic and shove him away before running, eventually just climbing onto a tree and cowering.

Didn't the Forsaken Killers stay trapped in their own personal limbos? Was this your limbo, being trapped in a clone of the lobby except with Killers rather than Survivors? Why? WHY?!

WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY

You wrap your wings around yourself like you're trapped in a cacoon, desperately trying to figure anything out as you notice the red particles weakly emitting from your body, namely the eyes of your wings.

You stare at it, before hollowing asking. "Did you do this?"

The entity doesn't respond. Well, you suppose you should refer to it what it really is.

The Spectre.

You made a deal with the Spectre to get your sight back.

How didn't you figure this out earlier?! Why did it bring you here? Oh god- OH GOD-

You don't get to stay in the tree for long, though. The bough is easily snapped off by John and you squawk as you come crashing to the ground.

You're too stunned to fight back when he picks you up, placing a hand on your cheek. He hesitates, before whispering your name.

You can't stop yourself from perking up and looking directly at him when he says your name.

"..." You stay silent for a long moment, before booting up your screen. "...I'm sorry."

"...for what?" John asked you, staring at you as if you're beautiful.

"...for all the sins I've done, and for all the sins I have yet to do."

--☆☆☆--

Meeting the other Killers was quite awkward, so say the least. At the very least, less than half of them knew you previously, so perhaps everything would be fine and peaceful.

Oh, how wrong you were.

The moment your name exited your lips, c00lkidd was upon you with a tight hug and sobs of "Mom! Mom!!"

Even if he was now roughly nine feet tall and loomed above you, he was still a child who missed you. You hugged him back, of course. Why wouldn't you?

Jason ignored your existence, which made sense. All they did was nod slightly to acknowledge you.

1x1x1x1 barely spared you any mind. Then again, all you knew was their creator and not them, so it made sense why they barely cared about you.

You didn't notice how they stared at you whenever you weren't paying any attention to them. That hungry, greedy stare.

You tried to ignore Mafioso as his head seemed to snap up at your name, and how they seemed to watch you as you met the other Killers, John hovering around you like a guard dog of sorts.

NOL1 didn't even look up until c00lkidd hugged you, before his eye widened and he started to cat call you.

He ceased after a death glare from John, but you figured it wouldn't be the end of it.

Pr3tyPriincess just said, "Oh thank god, someone else who at least looks like a girl" when she saw you, and Bluudud just wasn't there. Probably off streaming somewhere.

Guest 666 saw you and quite literally sprinted towards you. You were practically tackled in a tight hug, and felt awkward watching as they bickered with John over who you should be around right now. You tried to pay it no mind, hoping they wouldn't be as... obsessive, as before.

You did note they never one apologized or tried to talk about your argument.

You didn't bring it up either.

And you let out a sob of joy when Gubby came bounding towards you and right into your arms.

Everything seemed fine, even if you had to kill people in rounds every couple of days or so. Though you could probably try to avoid harming others as much as possible if your curse still functioned the same.

If only you knew then...

But the moment Azure approached you, all hell broke lose.

Screams ripping from your throat, feathers being wildly sent back as you used your wings to try and keep him away, stumbling back as any human composure you had gave way to animalistic terror.

You didn't dare say what he did to you. Didn't dare let him get close.

But he didn't get too close after that.

It didn't stop him from following you around at a distance, watching over you as their tendrils writhed and twisted when you looked back at them, trying to court you as if they were a bird with impressive displays and such.

As if any of that could mend any of the damage he has done.

--☆☆☆--

This round's Killer is

You took a breath as your name appeared after that text. After your identity was revealed to the Survivors.

This would be fine.

...

You couldn't ignore how your vision was worsening, a clear sign of you needing to eat soon.

But why? You ate recently. Just before coming here, in fact. You should have more time. Far more time.

Was this the Spectre pressuring you into killing? Forcing you due to your desperation to see?

You didn't know. You just hated the uncertainty.

But, you would make do. Eat, while frantically apologizing and hoping they would forgive you upon respawning in the lobby.

Or perhaps they'd hate you. Perhaps that would be better. Because then there would be no more obsession if they didn't like you, right?

At the very least, you could kill Two Time. And you figured you find joy in that. Find glee in the pain on their face.

If that made you a bad person, it was worth it. Worth it to finally get a bit of fucking revenge for what they did to you.

And once you spawned, the hunt was on.

Your abilities were unique as a killer. You had the classic Slash (where you'd use your talons to main a victim slightly). Your passive allowed you to take whatever damage you did to survivors and use it to heal yourself (plus improve your sight) and give you minor boosts in speed and damage when you got a kill.

You had an ability that essentially allowed you to teleport to a survivor you had damaged by flying and crashing down into the ground, something you only could describe as a variation to Jason's Behead that was more of a stunner than a damage dealer, with you inflicting Slow II upon a successful hit, and something that essentially allowed you to reveal all Survivors location on the map by using your magic.

You were, to put it lightly, a LMS nightmare no one would want to deal with.

This was fine, you could make this all work. You always could.

You had a specific target in mind, after all.

You darted about, screen glowing as the dark environment didn't phase you.

It was easy to find the survivors. Hell, most of them seemed to be actively searching for you.

But Two Time wasn't even hidden. And when you loomed above him, he merely looked over at you with a smile.

A smile you despised.

It was maniac, yet adoring. The smile you gave someone you loved, though warped with obsession.

"Hello, little bird." They mused at you, reaching up to touch your cheek, and you flinched at the contact. The lack of any fear in the action sent shivers down your spine. "...you're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"I'm going to devour you while you're still alive." You told them, purposefully trying to scare them. To make them fear you so they'd stop obsessing over you. "I'm going to rip your body apart and eat it. I'm going to leave you alive as long as possible so you suffer."

"I'm honored for the blessing." Two Time told you, looking adoringly at you.

"I'm going to make you feel as much pain as possible."

"Every bit of pain you give me is a gift from you, and I will cherish it." They replied, unphased.

"...you should fight back. Be angry."

"I won't." They told you, "I wouldn't dare harm your beautiful form."

"...I hate you."

They smile. "I know."

--☆☆☆--

Eating Two Time both made you want to throw up and made you feel more glee.

But you felt disgusted by how he relished in you feasting upon him. The pleasure evident on his face as you ripped into his body and devoured, keeping him alive for as long as you could until it sunk in he was... enjoying this.

You then killed him quickly after that and finisned him off, trying to hold in the bile that rose in your throat by his adoration and joy.

At the very least, your eyesight was better afterwards. But...

God you felt starved.

...

Oh god, the Spectre made it so you never felt satisfied after eating so you'd eat more. So you'd kill more.

Even without your eyes, you felt tears sting them. Your bandages got moist with the tears that leaked out of whatever remained.

You almost threw up. You barely held it down.

You just stood up and started to move again. You could hold yourself back, couldn't you? You didn't need to kill. Your eyesight was fine. You could ignore the starvation.

You had to. Right?

You just roamed this map a bit, trying to find a good spot to hole up so you wouldn't have to deal with any other survivors. But they found you.

"Babe? BABE!!" Chance's voice ripped through the air, and you flinched. Your feathers were ruffled as you looked over at Chance speeding towards you, before practically tackling you in a hug.

You let out a squawk as you tumbled to the ground, Chance squeezing you tightly as he talked at a thousand miles an hour. You realized he was both restraining you and hugging you at the same time, and you respected him for it.

"Oh my god- what happened to you?! Why- what did I miss? Who hurt you? Who's responsible for this?!"

"Love," You say, your tail tentatively poking him, "I can't breathe."

"I- I'm sorry. I can't let you go." Chance tells you, grimacing, "Can't risk you... killing me."

"I'm not going to do that..." You remark, "But... I understand. It's okay."

It wasn't hard to tell he barely held himself together. They were not taking you being a Killer well... at all. You didn't blame them. You just tentatively stretched out a wing and wrapped it around them as a hug.

That just made him break down sobbing. You let him cry, giving him a moment of peace before you got punched square in the head.

Letting out a panicked caw as you felt dazed, you immediately fluffed out your wings as Chance let go.

You laid on the ground in a daze as Chance told someone off, before managing to turn your head to stare at Guest 1337 as he argued with Chance about not fighting off the Killer.

You just stand up, feeling pangs of hunger clawing at your stomach, and you feel desperate to not snap and eat one of them. So you dart off, not noticing the miserable look Chance has when you're gone.

You just holed up until the timer ran out and hid in your cabin, not wanting to talk with anyone.

You didn't know how Two Time bragged to the other survivors about how you ate him.

--☆☆☆--

Interacting with Mafioso was... awkward.

He loomed over you, as you shuffled there awkwardly, holding Gubby in your arms.

"I- uh- heard you took care of Gubby before I showed up." You said, avoiding eye contact (mostly since you had none and his were hidden), "Thank you for that."

He just stared down at you, before suddenly saying, "I apologize."

"...wha?" You chirp out, startled, "What'dya mean?"

"My goons went to the wrong house," He tells you, arms crossed, "You weren't the right person we were going after. My boss told me that if I didn't find you and apologize, I was as good as dead. Shame that came to be before I met you."

You stare at him as he finishes, "I just wanted to finally do what I was told."

"...I don't know what to really think about that..." You murmur. What Mafioso's goons did never really was in the front of your mine. Yeah, they hurt you. But... you didn't resent them nearly as much as you did for Azure and Two Time.

You stood there, lost in your thoughts as Mafioso sighed and ruffled the hair on the top of your head. "Your rabbit's cute. Lemme know if you need any help looking after him."

You merely nod, and you both go your separate ways. Though it was the beginning to a friendship of sorts.

...

...

...

There were more friendships among the other Killers. Even if they became unhealthy quick.

--☆☆☆--

You didn't like how often you were chosen as the Killer in rounds. What you enjoyed even less was how more and more people seemed willing to let them eat you the moment they learned you did that to see.

You wanted to put a stop to it. But you didn't. And you didn't know why.

You told yourself it would be fine if they hated you. But all you could do was nervously tell them no.

The moment they learned of your constant hunger and how only eating people helped to satiate it?

Everyone you knew refused to let you take no as an answer.

The only one who really had any semblance of sense was Guest 1337, and that was because he refused to trust you.

At the very least, he'd let you have a short conversation with him as you tried to avoid the others. He made you feel... normal. Or at least, not like you were some being who deserved worship.

He listened to you, and you listened to him and did your best to offer advice. Eventually, he warmed up to you a bit.

You were so relieved you didn't notice he too became obsessed too.

...

You did notice. You just deluded yourself into ignoring it.

You were just so tired...

--☆☆☆--

You hated the obsession. You hated how it just worsened here and now. No one you spoke to was safe.

Even if you still were dating Chance on a technicality, it didn't stop any of the love directed at you. It didn't stop the others from fighting with him.

It made everything a Hell. A Hell you couldn't escape from.

When you broke up with Chance out of fear for his safety, he didn't take it well. And god, it made everything for you so much worse.

You gave up on it all, holing up in your cabin and only really talking to Mafioso, Gubby, and the children.

During rounds, you just slaughtered and tried to end it all as quickly as possible. Though they slowly learned your strategies. They survived and kept trying to speak with you.

Eventually though they'd just started ganging up on you and doing... things.

The things would vary. Usually, they'd just talk to you and get upset when you didn't reply. They would always be one of them who let you eat them, though.

You hated them. You hated them all.

And god, you were so fucking done.

Why the hell did it have to be you? Why did you die and be reborn into this world? Why did you have to be found out? Why did they adore you?

So many whys and no answers. You hated it. You hated it so much.

So you were going to put an end to it, though any means necessary.

"..."

You sat alone in your cabin, having asked Mafioso to look after Gubby for a bit. You stared at your unfurled wings, your screen blank as you breathed. As you shook. As you prepared yourself.

Them you spoke.

"Spectre, I want to make another deal."

...

...

...

...

...

You don't regret what you did.

And you know you never will.

After all, you were never an angel.

You never wanted to be worshipped. You never wanted this attention.

You've dealt with it long enough.

...

...

...

...

...

...

You didn't know the Spectre had the ability to do this. But it felt weird.

Everything was different. But you loved having eyes again. And being an entirely new person was nice.

Of course, it came at a cost. Everything did.

But exchanging dozens of yanderes for one was something you enjoyed much more. Even if that yandere was a humanoid version of the Spectre. It would be fine. You knew it would be.

You just took a breath, staring at the clear blue sky in the living world as you glanced over at it.

"Thank you."

It nodded, content.

You smiled, feeling the wind gently caressing your cheeks. You let out a quiet sigh, feeling bliss for the first time in months. Real, genuine bliss.

And from your eyes came tears of joy.

[andy-wm]

"Who wouldn't want it when he looks like that?"

Yes, Olly Alexander knew exactly how JK felt

I've been absent, I know. Life. But look, one chirp ;) from the lovebirds and I'm back hehehe

With no preamble I'm going to sweep straight past the cute and charming interactions between Jimin & JK on Weverse - always together - and only glance at JK's song recommendations because right now I'm more interested in what came before.

This post by the fabulous @slaaverin, about JK and the song he posted 10 years ago - Memo by Years & Years - hit me so hard in the feels, I had to sit down. Even though I've mostly paid attention to their song recommendations (yes, I know I can do better) this one passed me by completely.

How could I not know that JK posted a song by Years & Years??!

And especially in 2015, when he was really going through it. He had feelings bigger than a house and nowhere to put them.

This for me is a key moment. Watch Gayo 4 and tell me JK wasn't dying of love.

He was - and still is - a boy with big feelings that he doesn't always have words for. His face and body language have told us that he's filled up to the brim but he seems to keep it inside unless he's made up his mind to say something.

Which of course makes the song recommendations in 2015 so significant. We know it wasn't only about the songs - it never is - it's all about how he's feeling at he time. And he picks out the lines so carefully, so precisely, so that they can speak for him.

And if you read the lyrics of all those songs from 2015 and focus on the lines he picked out, there's a clear message.

I'm pretty sure he wasn't looking at Eels cover of Elvis's Can't Help Falling In Love for musical inspiration. And picking out I'll give you my everything - a cheesy love song from the '70s - so he could say I have something to tell you? Neatly in between the 2015 Osaka fan-meet and the notorious RBT concert in Hong Kong?

Smooth...

Very smooth, JK

He was in love. He was in lust. He was probably confused and afraid of the consequences, but he couldn't let it go. I know this has been thoroughly dissected so I won't go down that path.

What I am stuck on here, is Years & Years.

Where some of the lines he posted could be the result of searching for songs with particular words in the lyrics, like I have something to tell you, Memo doesn't hit the same way.

I want more (x4) isn't romantic or emotive like some song lines he chose and also it doesn't convey a specific message like others. Without hearing the rest of the song it feels a little brash but in the context of the rest of the lyrics, and with the gentle melody, it's honestly very soft.

He must have listened to a lot of Years & Years because Memo is a beautiful song but it isn't one of their hits. It vanished into obscurity pretty quickly.

Memo wasn't just an LGBT+ song. Years and Years was a very brazenly LGBT+ group.

Olly is a huge icon.

Gay, out, and unapologetic, Olly was singing pop songs about genuine personal feelings and experiences. The songs explored all the nuanced feelings of lust, yearning, hurt, and uncertainty that come with falling in love. They have authenticity. They're the same type of songs Troye was singing in 2016 but a little more... adult. A little further along the track towards resolution. Olly was living the life of a young gay man and his songs reflect that. The content is pretty direct.

Years & Years weren't huge like The Pet Shop Boys, Depeche Mode, or The Communards, but they were successful and popular especially amongst the lgbt+ community. They did get radio play in the UK too. Outside of that I think the group was relatively niche.

And yet, JK found them.

That he found them, says to me the he was searching for something. Searching for ways to make sense of his feelings in an environment that would be stifling for a young queer boy who was in love with his best friend.

The songs might not have been #1 on Billboard, but what they WERE was authentic and unambiguous.

Maybe I'm making too much of it but it makes me wonder where he would have been without a group like Years and Years.

If he hadn't heard those words in those songs, and felt the connection with the feelings expressed, would he have had certainty that what he felt was honest and real?

If he hadn't listened to someone else articulate emotions he could relate to, would he have had the words to describe his feelings when he finally confessed?

If Years & Years, and particularly Olly Alexander, hadn't been as successful as they were in 2015, would he have had the determination to face up to the company?

Who knows... maybe none of it really mattered and it was just a line from a song that he liked. But knowing - as ARMY - how much music can change your perception and your life, I don't think that's true. I think it meant something.

I'm so glad he found them.

💗💜💗

In case you've never seen him in action, here's Olly with the other members of Y&Y in concert at YES24 Hall in October 2022. He's wearing a yellow body stocking and thigh boots. Absolutely stunning performers.

[respectthepetty]

In the context of Happy of the End's seventh and eighth episode, it makes sense that Chihiro is being lit up by the car's headlights as he awaits whatever punishment Maya has in store for him, but narratively, it's a beautiful reminder that even in the darkest moment, Chihiro is still light.

When he gets out of the situation thanks to some stray, but persistent, observers, he is still bright in the hospital bed although he is bruised, beaten, and rattled.

Because the one who is truly bothered by all of this is Black Brooder Haoran.

He blames himself for what has happened, and no matter how light Chihiro is, Haoran believes that his dark past will hurt Chihiro, and this incident has not only escalated his fears, but proven that the darkness has already gotten to Chihiro.

Chihiro's cracked arm is a constant reminder of this. It's nestled safely in its black sling, but that black is a visual indicator that Haoran's dark life is no longer in the past, but is alive in the present and harming Chihiro.

So while Chihiro stands in the light unaware of what's taking shape in Haoran,

Haoran isolates and moves back into the darkness.

Because to him, Chihiro will always be light.

And he and his dark past are the problem.

Chihiro continues to prove that he has never seen Haoran this way, and even when confronted with Haoran's troubles, time and time again, Chihiro has embraced them with love and light.

So they run away together. They venture around the beach on a sunny day. They align their colors in the best way they know how with Chihiro still light, and Haoran still dark.

But, that's the point. Haoran is still dark. He still thinks he is the problem. He is the one tainting Chihiro. He is the one who brings darkness wherever he goes and Chihiro would be light and bright without him. So he walks into the dark water, yet Chihiro drags him back.

And that's when Haoran makes one final attempt to rid Chihiro of his darkness. It's not that he tells Chihiro to leave him. It's that Haoran tells him that he is turning himself in. Since Chihiro won't stay away from Haoran, Haoran will do what he does best. Isolate, lock himself away, and cage himself up just like he was taught to do with a piece of luggage all those years ago.

Because Chihiro will be much lighter without him. He will be bright and happy. And we see that three years, Haoran was right.

But it's not because Haoran is no longer in Chihiro's life. Haoran is still very much part of Chihiro's life in the friends Chihiro still has and the people who help him. Chihiro never had this before. His family disowned him. He had no friends. But, now, because of Haoran, he has people he can depend on.

When Haoran is released from prison, he is lighter, but immediately walks into the darkness. Unlike the other times, we clearly see the light at the end. He won't stay in this darkness for long.

The black and darkness will always be there, but he will sit in the sun, and he will be lighter.

He will go for walks. He will be the light he needs.

So when he sees Chihiro and breaks down, he will believe the decision he made was right because Chihiro is fulfilling all his dreams without the darkness that was Haoran's life.

Which is why I loved that the shirt Chihiro wears is grey.

Which, once again, shows that Chihiro carries Haoran with him in everything he does.

Chihiro has accomplished his goals, but it's not because he doesn't have Haoran with him. It's because he always has Haoran with him. In the places they have gone together.

And the places they lived together. There are little glimpses of their life together in Chihiro's photography because without Haoran, Chihiro wouldn't be alive. Chihiro wouldn't have a reason to live. Chihiro wouldn't have a life filled with people who care about him and a job he once believed he was never meant for.

So it's important that Haoran comes face-to-(covered) face with himself before he sees Chihiro because it's important that he sees himself in Chihiro's life, and that he sees himself in Chihiro. Because there in the white frame is the light of Chihiro's life.

So even though Chihiro is in a white jacket with a blue shirt,

And Haoran is in black, he proudly wears the blue scarf Chihiro gave him to match him just like their last day together.

And he allows his picture to be taken.

Because Haoran finally understands that he never darkened Chihiro's world, and Chihiro's huge smile when he sees him proves it.

Haoran, even with all his darkness, was the happiest part of Chihiro's miserable existence. Haoran was the bright spot in Chihiro's life when he needed it most. Haoran is light, and when he picked Chihiro out of the trash, he changed Chihiro's entire life.

These color-coded boys in love get a happy ending because they showed that no matter how much darkness exists, there is always light.

And they were each other's light.

[nicxl333]

could you do a part 2 of bllk boys accidentally hurting their partner bu with a good ending please.

My stomach wouldn't be able to handle mor angst(⁠T⁠T⁠)

BABY YOU SOLD ME A DREAM PT.2

thanks for the req anon, i think you’re doing everyone a favour here by asking for this because whew! i was ready to dropkick a mf from writing pt.1 lmao

also if you’re here by chance it’s probably best if you read pt.1 for context before you read pt.2 | :3

characters: isagi yoichi, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, barou shoei, itoshi rin

content: overwhelming fluff, slight angst, major angst (in rin and barou’s part), reader is female coded (the term ‘girlfriend ‘ is used)

tags: @kaiserkisser @silly-ez @scaramouchemyloveee @mariyumemi @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @hsxhype @aquamarine001 @nxgiswife @hanagoromo-roses

☆彡 ISAGI YOICHI

two weeks. two long, monotonous weeks spent without isagi. yes bachira did his very best to make sure you were comfortable with him, but you missed isagi so damn much.

it wasn’t only difficult for you though, bachira was trapped in a bad position. due to him being a friend of both you and isagi, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. while it was evident that isagi had fucked you over badly, being in a team with isagi and having him as a bestfriend didn’t make things better. he couldn’t just pick a side and be done with it.

unbeknownst to you though, isagi asked bachira multiple times each day about how you were doing. after some self reflection, he realised just how wrong he was for treating you that way. especially since people like you nowadays are hard to come by. someone so nurturing, caring and full of love and devotion for their s/o was quite the rarity to find. and to think he nearly lost all of that with just a few words. really opened up his perspective of things. he wanted to do better. for you and himself.

and so, he cut down his training times, making more time for himself to wind down from daily intensive workouts. he thought of words to say to you, to make it known to you that he was aware where he went wrong and was taking responsibility for his actions.

he also went shopping, to buy you a multitude of gifts. clothes, jewellery, trainers and heels, perfumes, trinkets. you name it, he bought it. it all cost him a hand and a foot, but he didn’t mind, he would do it 100 times over for you. (we should remember this man is a professional footballer, he’s got dough.) once home, he placed all the gifts on the coffee table in the living room, having to put some on the floor due to the sheer amount he bought, ready to take them to bachira’s tomorrow.

little did he know he wouldn’t have to make the commute.

you had said your goodbyes to bachira that same day, thanking him for taking you in for so long with a big bear hug, to which he returned with just as much (platonic) love as you had shown him. you placed your bag in the backseat of your car, turning on the ignition and beginning the drive back home.

as the roads whizzed by you on the highway, so did the thoughts in your head. you were very nervous to have to talk to isagi again, to have to recall exactly what happened that night. glancing at the time on the dashboard, you drew the conclusion that isagi should be training right now, which would at least give you time to prepare before he got back.

as you pulled up to the apartment complex, the first thing you noticed was that isagi’s car was there, in his usual spot next to yours.

‘he’s home?’

surely not, maybe he just hitched a ride or something. although that didn’t make any sense whatsoever. there would be no reason why isagi would skip his evening trainings, not that you could think of anyways. even after joint practice with his team he would then further push himself to do his own training, polishing up on his skills. so to think he’s potentially broken that pattern confused you.

after parking your car and collecting your things you made your way to your front door, unlocking it and venturing in. once you placed your keys on the side table and took off your shoes, you walked into the empty living room, ultimately puzzled when you noticed the coffee table filled to the brim with bags from your favourite places.

“yoichi? you there?”

nothing.

you therefore assumed he was out, deciding to take a closer look at the bags. inside, everything you had ever bought for yourself or displayed interest in while out with isagi lay in each bag. even things that you didn’t have, but wanted, were present.

he remembered.

your eyes immediately welled with tears of appreciation, head snapping to your bedroom door when you heard it open, isagi’s figure stepping out. you immediately jolted, not expecting him to actually be here, even though you didn’t actually take the time to look and see properly.

“shit! y/n, you’re back? wait, why’re you crying?”

in an instant he crossed the distance to you, wiping the tears away once he assessed and evaluated that you were not hurt.

“uh— sorry. i should’ve asked you first. is this okay?” he quizzed, holding the sides of your face tenderly. you nodded, leaning into his touch.

“are these for me yoichi?” you looked into his cobalt blue eyes. one hand left your cheek, rubbing at the skin behind his neck, suddenly feeling shy.

“erm…yes. yes they are. i wasn’t expecting you back though, i was gonna surprise you tomorrow. ” he pulled you towards the sofa, sitting you down and looking deep into your (e/c) eyes.

“look y/n, i know materialism doesn’t take away what i did to you, but i want you to know just how sorry i am. you didn’t deserve how i treated you. not two weeks ago or months before. i made you feel lonely, i put football before you. when you needed me, i shut you out. and i take full accountability for that. words couldn’t describe just how badly i’m in love with you and how crazy you make me feel. i couldn’t bear to lose that forever. hell, these two weeks without you have tormented me enough. a lifetime without you would finish me off for good.”

you listened to him speak every word, touched that he would say such soothing words to you. yes, you did expect him to apologise, but not to go above and beyond to show his willingness to change.

your nose started flaring, the sting of your eyes warning that you were about to cry again.

feeling uncomfortable with your silence, isagi pressed you slightly.

“y/n? are you— are you oka-”

you cut him off by pouncing on him, engulfing him in a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him like it was your last.

“i’m yours yoichi. always and forever.”

☆彡 MIKAGE REO

you woke up in the same hotel room you cried yourself to sleep in. throat dry, head pulsating and heart wounded. you needed some form of rejuvenation, but, considering you didn’t have any clothes on you, seemed hard to achieve.

you reached for your phone, shocked when you saw 20 missed calls and 46 messages from the very same person who caused you anguish in the first place. opening the message app you see the most recent messages being sent at around 5am.

“y/n, where are you?”

“y/n please answer the phone!”

“are you safe at least, i’m worried about you.”

“i just wanna know if you’re okay, we need to talk.”

“y/n?”

“y/n please, im starting to worry, just send me a text, or something. let me know you’re okay.”

although you were beyond pissed at the guy, he was concerned for your safety, and to make him worry for you like that shouldn’t have to be something anyone should experience.

you sent him a quick, straightforward response.

“i’m fine, you don’t need to worry.”

the read receipt came as quickly as you sent it, a bubble popping up, signaling that reo was typing. however, after a few moments, it disappeared altogether, leaving your message standing alone.

you sighed, deciding that the least you could do was shower, feeling clammy and, simply put, dirty.

luckily, your job was well paying so you were able to book a lavish en-suite hotel room, although you didn’t pay attention to that much last night, willing to go just about anywhere as long as it weren’t near reo. inside the bathroom lay exquisite amenities, top branded shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, along with oils and different expensive face care products. an unopened toothbrush pack also was present on the bathroom counter, with toothpaste alongside it. and by the full glass shower itself stood a towel and robe on the hanging rack.

it weren’t exactly clothes, but it was a start. better than staying in your dress the whole day. while you waited for the shower water to warm you looked at yourself in the mirror, cringing at how dishevelled your figure was. your cheeks were tear stained, causing your mascara to run, your lips had smeared lipstick still present, and your hair? let’s not even go there. you looked a hot mess, physical evidence of your current mood.

once heated to a substantial temperature you stepped into the shower, revelling at how that warm water melted into your skin. you made good work of scrubbing down your skin, leaving no traces of any events that may have transpired the day before.

soon enough you finished up your shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel round your figure, feeling refreshed, but still incomplete. you brushed your teeth next, trying to avoid letting your thoughts go off topic from the current task at hand.

just as you were walking into the room itself to look for moisturiser, you heard a knock at the door. it confused you to the core. no one actually knew your whereabouts so you couldn’t rack your brain to guess who it could be. you ventured close to the door, looking through the peephole and visibly relaxing once you saw a hotel worker standing, waiting.

“hello?”

“ah, good morning miss y/n, i have a bag here requested to be brought to you.”

if you weren’t confused before, you were bewildered now. this meant that someone hand to have known where’d you were, but how? only one way to find out.

“requested by who, might i ask?”

“mr…mikage reo?”

what the actual hell. you were well and truly silenced by the revelation. more importantly, it’s quite amazing how he managed to find your location with such haste. although it shouldn’t really surprise you so much, considering he probably had connections due to his status. it made you wonder just what exactly he brought to you.

“erm ma’am?”

you cracked the door open, seeing one of reo’s duffel bags stuffed to the brim. the hotel worker held it out for you to take, bowing then turning to leave immediately after. you carried the heavy bag through the room, placing it on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

you stood for a second, debating whether you should open it or not. curiosity got the better of you though, and you unzipped the bag, stalling when you realised it was a bag of clothes for you, as well as the moisturiser you use, some makeup products and your favourite trainers. it’s like he somehow knew you would need clothes, probably since you didn’t return home last night.

taking the clothes from the bag you realised he packed you one of your favourite hoodies, his own hoodie.

after moisturising yourself you started to put the clothes on, feeling slightly better about yourself. you looked into your makeup bag, seeing some of your basic everyday skin and hair products, as well as your everyday perfume, feeling grateful that reo at least paid attention enough to know what you liked and used.

just as you had finished your skincare routine you heard another lock at the door, wondering who it could be at this time. you got up and crossed your way to the door, looking through the peephole and freezing.

your boyfriend, reo stood at the door, looking around nervously.

you gauged your options for a moment, reaching an ultimatum with yourself that you couldn’t avoid him forever. you opened the door fully, stepping to the side for him to walk in, which he did, stepping meticulously and with precaution, while you closed the door behind him.

all was silent for a moment, neither party knowing what to say to the other, a million thoughts rushing through the room. the tension was taut, the air thick, and awkwardness seeping in.

you collected yourself, deciding to start it off.

“thanks for the clothes, i appreciate it.”

“it’s…the least i could do, considering how i treated you.” he said, simultaneously biting down on his lip.

“yeah.”

he moved closer towards you, looking at your expression to see if he was crossing boundaries at any point.

“y/n.” you looked at him with apprehension, worried about what may fly out of his mouth next. “i want you to know that what happened last night, was entirely my fault. i need you to understand that.”

you frowned with sadness displayed on your face. yes he may be owning up to his actions, but that didn’t explain why he said what he said. especially if he could say something of that degree to you with such ease. it sounded like he meant every word.

becoming slightly anxious from your silence, he continued on.

“i made you it sound like you were inadequate or you were lower than me because i have money. i know it sounds bad, but y/n, it’s really the opposite. you don’t look at me for my background, you look at me for who i am as a person. you make me feel normal. make me feel like i can be myself around you. i don’t have to keep myself guarded around you and i appreciate you so much for it. i guess that’s why i spoke out of turn to you like that last night. because you’re probably the only person who can actually knock me down a peg. and having nagi hear that made me scared. scared because i was vulnerable in front of him. of course, i’m not excusing my actions, and i’m not asking for forgiveness, i just want you to know i’m sorry.”

you nodded slowly in understanding, looking at the way he subconsciously tugged on a piece of his violet tresses. he left his hair down today. you loved it when his hair was down. he knew that.

“i hear you reo, but that’s not the only issue. this whole problem stemmed from the fact that you spend too much time with nagi. i don’t wanna be the girlfriend that prohibits you from spending time with your friends, that’s not who i am, but when you’re with nagi so much that it makes you forget important dates, that’s when it becomes a problem. especially when you then make it out to be like i’m the problem. no one is saying you can’t be around him, but have a backbone please. he’s always there reo. sometimes i just want you to myself, is that too much to ask for?”

he realised where he went wrong, casting you aside for the sake of nagi, which wasn’t cool. and he didn’t want to lose you. you were too good to him and he felt so strongly about you. anything you asked for could never be too much, not to him.

and so, he stepped closer to you still, scooping you up in his arms and spinning you around, relishing in the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, both for stabilisation and comfort.

“no baby, it’s never too much. not when it comes to you.”

you squeezed him tighter, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck and smiling.

“i don’t like it when we fight reo, i love you too much for that.”

“i love you too y/n,” he placed you down gently on the bed, laying you back and caging you in with both arms, his hair hanging directly over your face. “so…we’re gonna go back home and i want you to pack your bags. we’re going to mykonos for the week to celebrate our anniversary together.”

you straightened up, wondering where this was all coming from.

“huh? reo, you’re forgetting something? you may be off season right now but i still have work.”

“not for the next two weeks, i pulled some strings so now you have paid time off, which, gives you more time with your favourite man.”

you chuckled at his revelation, knowing he definitely used his power to threaten your manager. reo could be so demanding at times.

“speaking of which, do you know where he is?” his face immediately darkened at that.

“wanna repeat that?”

“nope!”

☆彡 NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi was in a state. it had only been 4 days since you broke up with him, but that was 4 days too long for him. it wasn’t actually until you broke it off with him and it sunk in that you were gone, that it really registered for him.

he missed you.

it made him realise, as much as he hated being bothered…he didn’t mind if it were you. he really did enjoy spending time with you. especially when cuddling. your figure was so soft, a perfect cushion for him to lay on as he slept. you would play with his hair so gently, lulling him to sleep. and you were really pretty.

the apartment just seemed all the more empty without you. yes, he did live alone pre blue lock a few years back, but having you live with him made him get used to having someone around. he grew comfortable and accustomed to it. so much so that it felt lonely when you left.

you had temporarily went back to your parents house while you looked for a new place to live. you had a few items of miscellaneous clothing left behind in your room, but you had ran out, thus needing the majority of your stuff, which you had left back at nagi’s.

you left off, with the promise to your parents that you’d be back soon.

the engine hummed as you drove back, playing your playlist on a high volume, hoping to drown out the thoughts spiralling in your head, although it did little to silence them.

you didn’t plan a time to leave out, but realised that you had coincidentally headed out at the same time nagi would be home, a meeting inevitable. oh well. had to happen at some point. you planned on a quick and brisk pit stop, hoping to minimise interaction with him as much as possible.

you pulled up to the apartment complex, walking through the lobby, swiping your keycard and pressing the lift to go to the penthouse.

in no time you reached the top, the lift doors opening. you stepped out and pushed your key into the lock, opening the door as silently as you could, walking in and shutting it with a click.

yes, you may have been moving around like a teenager after a forbidden night out, but you would much rather that than have to be further insulted by nagi, should he catch you.

alas, things cannot always go smoothly in life, for nagi had heard you, stepping out of the bedroom, shirtless with loosely hanging shorts, evidently having just woken up from a nap.

he instantly stopped, rubbing his eyes to see if he was tweaking or not. yet, you stood there, trying to disappear in that moment.

“y/n…you’re here.”

“only to get my things nagi, i’ll be out of your hair in around half an hour.”

nagi. his own name turned his mood sour. he’d much rather you call him by his actual name, or sei, not his last. and you knew that fact very well, making sure he knew damn well you were serious.

you begun to hurriedly walk towards the bedroom, where he was standing by the door, attempting to walk past him as quickly as possible. he intervened however, stepping about halfway into the door so that you were now directly in front of him and couldn’t get past, unless you spoke to him.

“are you really leaving y/n?”

“it’s l/n to you nagi, and yes. you don’t get to say something like that to me and think we’ll be cool after. it’s fucked up.”

you turned so he couldn’t see you, tears beginning to form at the painful recollection of what occurred a few days ago. you didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, for the fear of bursting into tears held you back.

“please don’t leave me y/n, i can do better, i promise. i regret what i said. really badly. i’m— i’m sorry.”

you knew that nagi didn’t like talking as it is (he referred to it as a hassle), so to have him trying to at least communicate with you did mean something. not enough to satiate you though.

“y/n?”

when you didn’t say anything back he lightly tugged your hand and turned you around, eyes widening once he saw tears streaming down your face.

he attempted to console you, wanting to pull you into a hug, but drawing back when you lightly pushed him off you.

“y/n- what’s wrong?”

“i can’t sei, i’m scared. scared you’ll grow bored of me. i don’t know if i’m bothering you or not and it kills me to think that you’d spend more time on games than with me. you basically told me i’m a hassle. how the hell else am i supposed to take that?”

your tears wouldn’t stop pouring down no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, sniffles loud and clear as day.

something unusual happened to nagi as he watched you cry your eyes out. he felt his heart breaking into tiny shards at your state. more so because he knew it was because of him. he didn’t want to be the cause of your pain. he didn’t want to see you like this, experiencing such distress.

he wrapped his arms around you, one hand shielding your head and pulling your face into his bare chest, where you sobbed some more, letting up all the feelings built up from days prior.

“you’re not a hassle y/n. i said that out of turn. you could never be a hassle to me. while you were gone, i couldn’t even play my games properly. i just slept and trained because i missed you so much and didn’t know what to do without you. i know i’m lazy, and i know i don’t make you feel loved enough, but i do. i love you. i’ll do better for you and i don’t wanna be the reason why you’re upset. so please stop crying, wanna see your pretty face smile for me.”

you smiled into his chest, your sniffles beginning to subside and still.

“thank you sei, i really needed to hear that.”

“i would say it over 100 times for you. it might take a while but i won’t get bored of it. not when it comes to you.”

you wrapped your arms around his broad figure, squeezing tightly.

“will you be my girlfriend again y/n? no one else can reach your level. not now, not ever.”

you let go of his body, instead placing your palms on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

“of course i will seishiro.”

“good, because i wanna cuddle with my girlfriend.”

☆彡 BAROU SHOUEI

it had been 2 months since you broke up with barou and he was miserable. who would’ve thought you leaving would cause such a rift in his life? his performance in matches were shit, he became pissed off at people more easily, and he was benched more often.

due to him not having someone to talk to, he essentially had no form of a wind down from football, something you were able to give him while you were together. something he had come to miss, and wished he appreciated more.

the lack of your items in the house made your departure all the more apparent. your decorations and items around the apartment were what made the house a home.

and you as a person? what wasn’t to like about you? you were a very levelheaded but gentle person, a great contrast to his fiery, angry personality. you catered to his every need, be it mentally, physically or sexually. your voice was what carried him through his day, soothing him to the bone, calming him down when he needed it. the more he thought about it, the more he realised he made a grave mistake pushing you out. the more he realised just how much he was attached to you, he was just unwilling to acknowledge it.

barou was no pussy, and he had enough of living like this, living without you, so he decided to get you back (and not fuck up this time).

he knew you were most likely staying at your childhood friend, chigiri’s house. he knew him very well, having done the blue lock training program with him years back, and played against him in several matches. he knew where he lived, having gone to parties held at his house through mutual connections.

and so, after practice, he grabbed his car keys and set off. he weren’t good with words, so his mind stayed scrambled as he thought of all the things he could say to you. while he couldn’t think of specific sentences to say to you, his goal remained the same.

after some time passed, he pulled up to chigiri’s house, your car the only one on the drive, which meant that only you were home. he switched off the ignition, stepped out of the car and walked up to the door.

with slight hesitancy, he lifted his fist to the door and knocked three times. he listened for any shuffling inside, but heard none. after a moment he turned away to leave, thinking you might’ve not been there after all. it’s possible you might’ve been out with chigiri in his car. yeah, that was probably it.

however.

“what do you want barou? i thought i was ‘making your life too hard’?”

shit, you were home. your voice was muffled, due to you speaking through the door, having seen his figure through the peephole.

“i- i didn’t mean that. not that way.”

you opened the door, allowing him to see a crack of your figure, donned in shorts and a tank top.

“then how did you mean it barou? don’t take me for an idiot, because i’m not one. no one says anything of that depth if you didn’t feel that exact way before. so before you let anymore bullshit spout from your mouth tell me exactly how you meant it, in what context. because i’m tired barou, tired of being in a relationship where i feel like i’m treading on glass around you because you don’t wanna do certain things. it’s not a nice feeling. you may not feel that way, but i do. i’ve felt that way during our whole relationship, but i feel like i can’t tell you shit so i’ve kept. it. in.”

wow. he really didn’t see things from your perspective. once he heard it from you, he realised just how much of a dickhead he sounded like. he couldn’t say anything, how could he explain himself after that?

he didn’t.

and after hearing no refutation or explanation from barou, you simply let go of any hopes of talking this out with him.

“shouei,” his ears perked at you using his first name. “i think…you should go. i don’t wanna have any hard feelings between us but i don’t think we’re right for each other. please understand and respect tha-”

you stopped short of ending your sentence upon seeing barou turn and leave before he could hear you out, getting back into his car and preparing to drive off.

you sighed, shaking your head and closing the door, effectually ending your relationship for good.

he got what he wanted, right?

☆彡 ITOSHI RIN

you woke up in the morning, immediately panning your vision to your left to see if rin had returned to bed. the bed imprints remained the exact same as you had left it when you fell asleep, which lead you to wonder if rin had even returned home.

you slid out of bed, your feet touching the cold wood floor, you trudged your way through the apartment, looking for signs of life, your shoulders falling in disappointment when you realised rin was nowhere to be seen. it was debatable if he even came home or not, the answer you would probably never find out.

you warred with yourself in your head about what to do. considering rin didn’t even try to talk to you to rectify the situation showed he didn’t really give a shit. if he didn’t come home, then he probably didn’t even know if you came home or not, which meant he isn’t worrying about you or where you were.

you weren’t a dickhead, and waiting for someone who evidently didn’t want you seemed like such a desperate action, which you weren’t trying to act like.

and so, calling a few willing friends, shedding some tears here and there, and half a day of hard work, you had effectively moved out of your shared apartment with rin, leaving a half completed home. he didn’t return home the whole day, not that you gave a shit anymore.

imagine rin’s surprise when he returned home from his team practice, expecting to see you moping around somewhere, but instead, nowhere to be found. as a matter of fact, where the fuck was your stuff? the apartment looked very much empty right now. he took at least 15 minutes to look around, analysing his surroundings, the same he would do during a game. any potted plants you bought for the house, specifically for the living room disappeared. your stupid candle ornaments that somehow made the house look better? not a ghost of a trace left behind. your clothes? gone. even from the laundry basket, only his clothes remained.

your products, your favourite sleeping pillow, even your toothbrush was gone. you left no stone unturned, questionable if you ever lived there in the first place.

still slightly puzzled but somewhat aware of the answer behind all of this, he pulled out his phone, clicking immediately on the message app. he sent you a message, heart dropping and suspicions confirmed when his message was not only green, but displayed a ‘not delivered’ message underneath. you had blocked him, and moved out without his knowledge.

he knew you were pissed off from what had transpired, but he didn’t know you would take action this soon. you didn’t even wait to talk to him for the love of god. this wasn’t supposed to happen this way, he was only angry at you because he felt threatened in the moment. but, recalling just exactly what he said to you, maybe it was warranted.

maybe it was for the best. you barely had enough time together as it is, due to unmatchable schedules and rin always being abroad. he was never able to give you enough love. funny, considering he didn’t even make sure to tell you. looking back on it, he realised he was kind of a dickhead to you.

so, he let go of the relationship for good.

—

four months had passed. he’d gotten bigger as a football player after his team winning a multitude of matches had lead to him becoming their star player, constantly getting man of the match achievements. this lead to his popularity increasing, getting more fans and fame as a result. he had been abroad this whole time, focusing on his career.

oh. but don’t think he had escaped you.

he couldn’t get his mind off you.

you tormented his thoughts daily and nightly, his yearning for you and hate for himself flourishing simultaneously as he repeatedly recalled how he fucked up. he wished he could go back to that night, heeding your warnings.

either way, that couldn’t be achieved now, for he didn’t know your whereabouts. he hadn’t known since that night on the pitch.

he tried to move on the best he could, returning back to japan to visit his parents whilst he had time off from football.

it just so happened one day while he popped out to a grocery store to get ingredients for his mother, the he saw the back of a familiar head, whisking away to the next aisle over. piquing his curiosity, he immediately paced to see if it way really who he thought it was.

and yes, the face he thought he’d never see again, the very same person who had been frequenting his mind,

you.

“y/n!” you froze, not expecting to find him here of all places. last time you had seen on tv, he was abroad. he wasn’t supposed to be here. deciding you had to face the music at some point, you turned around, watching as his demeanour melted, at really seeing you again after so long.

“rin…hi.”

all was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say to each other. what does one say in situations such as these? not to worry, rin answered for you.

“how…how’ve you been?”

“good thanks, how about you?”

“i’ve been— alright.”

silence settled again. rin wanted to voice so many things to you, starting with how he wanted you to know how he’s changed. how he’s calmed down in terms of training. how he’d make more time. he wanted you to know he’d do things differently, if you ever took him back. he wanted you to come home… but he didn’t know where to start.

he would have to at some point however, for you wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.

“well…um, it was good seeing yo-”

“wait!” he interjected, panic settling in that you would disappear and he would never get the chance again. “i— i just wanted to tell you tha—”

“y/n baby, i’ve got the washing powder.”

baby? what the fuck?

he looked just past you to see a guy walking up to you, taking the basket from your hands with a peck to your cheek. you smiled at the action, lacing your hand in his hair as he took place behind you. he then noticed rin, standing there with visible shock on his face, confused on what he missed while he was gone.

“who’s this?”

“oh, just an old friend.” a bold faced lie. anyone with two functioning brain cells could feel the history between you two. “i’ve got my stuff so let’s go to the queue. nice seeing you rin…have a good day.” you walked off with your supposed new boyfriend. a boyfriend that wasn’t him.

have a good day? after you just shattered his heart like that?

his throat turned dry, awareness sinking in.

he wanted you to come home…but he was too late.

baby you sold me a dream pt.3

[myfriendpokey]

Talking About Some Horror Comics

(Image: Richard Sala, "The Bloody Cardinal")

On Cohost a while back i wrote a little bit about comicbook inspirations for Anthology Of The Killer - I might repost it when that site goes down at the end of the year, but until then you can read it here: https://cohost.org/thecatamites/post/7154072-i-wanted-to-write-so

For part two I wanted to talk more about horror comics in particular.

I probably wouldn't have gotten into horror at all if it weren't for comics. Horror comics can feel like a "cold" take on a very "warm" genre - indebted to and playing off of a familiar ground of horror films, but without film's tendency towards emotionalism or immediate effects... Working on a far more compressed scale than even the cheapest 80-minute b-movie, amplifying abruptness or abstraction into something dreamlike and strange. And with the great advantage of taking place inside a totally constructed world. It's not strictly a horror comic but something like Jess Johnson's "Nurture The Devil" is unsettling in part because it's hard to place in relation to either a real world or the world of dreams - whether it's a stylised version of some more familiar content or whether the stylisation is a literal depiction of what's happening.

A comic as physical object can also be a relic - not something we experience in one go, rather something to pick up, put down, sift through, read and reread, with new meanings emerging from a mass of material of which the supposed narrative may not be the most important part. The dreadful, knife-wielding maniacs from Al Columbia's Pim & Francie are familiar figures, but seeing their obsessive repetition across the different collected scraps of abandoned or submerged narratives changes them into dream symbols rather than direct threats.

I like a lot of comics that draw on horror imagery - Mark Beyer and Rory Hayes, A. Degen's "Junior Detective Files" and Daria Tessler's "Cult Of The Ibis", Nicole Claveloux and Imiri Sakabashira. But I wanted to try writing here about some comics that made me interested as horror in a genre itself.

Junji Ito: you may not have heard about this guy.... I actually hadn't read any of his work before the Viz edition of Uzumaki a while back, and the sense of being late to the party didn't make it feel less of a revelation. I think part of it was the sense of comics that were totally distinct while at the same time feeling like they were working entirely IN a genre tradition rather than against it; there was a sense of almost impersonal originality in their laconic and assured pacing, the clarity of line and their lack of need to give too much away, which suggested they must be drawing from and distilling a whole surrounding tradition. And this impression persists even when you follow up on other horror manga and the stated influences and find these comics still feel mysterious even in that context. One of his best effects is a willingness to seem more anonymous than he is, or to give the impression even in his most original effects that he's just flatly transcribing a readymade idea or image. And I think this is his biggest influence on internet-era horror, which has tended to disguise itself (even more than is typical for horror) in anonymous and generic forms, a surface impersonality: as if everyone aleady knew about this, except you.

But what I do feel gets underplayed about his work in particular is also how funny it is, and how indebted to comedy timing. Compare the monstrous reveal in an Ito story with one by Umezu (RIP) - in the latter the frame is pushed right in on someone's face, eyes bulging, screaming, the image repeats, gets even closer, we're in that portion of a nightmare where we feel immobilized by horror, stuck in a pit that we can never escape. The same moment in an ito story tends to be one of ironic equipoise - when the horrible thing finally appears it's depicted clearly, powerfully, it's almost this beautiful and static image. The onlookers stand frozen at the edges of the frame, mid movement, eyes wide but expression not yet changed, a single drop of cartoon sweat on the edge of their heads. There's a contrast between the assurance of the thing and the hapless rabbitlike fascination of the character regarding it, who becomes, like us, an aesthetic spectator - for a moment. When the spell breaks, when we see them screaming, running, it's comic because something of that mood of still contemplation that remains intact. Their eyes bulge, their mouths scream, but they're rushing backwards, away from the panel, and we regard their fear with the same attitude of detached interest with which we saw the full outline of the monstrous shape a panel earlier. To me this sense of humour is apiece with the disconcerting flatness of his approach to setting, in which the usual horror sets - gothic, extraordinary places outside the everyday - feel replaced by something anonymous and shabby, a kind of just-expired contemporary. The monsters rarely need to be explained; it's as though our own world has gradually become too worn down to have any purchase or power on these creatures of dreams that walk the landscapes and alleys with impunity.

Richard Sala - sometimes the artists I end up most fascinated by are ones I spend a while bouncing off of first. I read a few Richard Sala stories over the years and for a while I didn't know what to make of them. Great art, stylised and weird, but as narratives they were hard to place - too stylised and exaggerated to feel like straight horror but too obviously serious about and committed to those genre elements to feel like mere parody or pastice. I think I needed to read Uzumaki before I could get what he was doing, because it relies so much on a sense that genre horror was worth taking seriously; seriously enough to treat neither as a punchline or a heritage piece, something you could bring your own offbeat sensibilities and aesthetic to without condescending to the form, because there was something there. In some great interviews he did with the Comics Journal he was explicit about what he valued in the form: the dreamlike and symbolic qualities of b-movies, the ritual and fetishistic nature of repetition, the way pulp artists in an overlooked form could evolve a private vocabulary of forms, structures and images which worked like surrealist procedures to be mined and combined for new discoveries over time.

He was also interesting to me for the way his work changed over time. The shorter early pieces collected in comics like "Thirteen O'Clock" are recognizably art comics using a vocabulary of found horror images: the secret society, the leering face behind a window, are representative symbols of states of mind rather than presences in themselves. But his first longform serial "The Chuckling Whatsit" inverts this. Here the horror elements are given full play - it's a crazed pile up of characters, murder plots, conspiracies, odd locations, dreams, gimmicks, knives and masks, and while none of these feel like straightforward symbols of authorial expression there's obviously still something being worked out underneath that surface narrative, something warping all the pieces into new directions. The scene and the plot seem to abruptly change direction with every page; new characters are introduced and killed off again, constantly; the longest explanation of the plot we get is delivered by a lady with a cartoony moose-end-sqvirrel phonetic accent, but somehow it never loses either a sense of mysterious inner coherence or a sense of dread.

For me his middle period is from "Reflections Of A Glass Scorpion" (reprinted as "Mad Night") to "The Hidden". His art improves and he plays more with colour; the narratives slow down and there's more of a willingness to let them breathe. Characters become more important - my favourite is Judy Drood, the crazed Nancy Drew analogue crashing through a world of horror. Some of the books in this period feel less essential, as though having established what a "Richard Sala" comic would look like he was happy to spend a while doing the Richard Sala version of a vampire story, or an evil clown story, or a YA book. But he kept developing his style and "Delphine", towards the end of this period, is maybe his best single book: spare and serious and strange, as if he had reached a point in his craft where he no longer even needed to resemble himself.

But strangest of all is his late work, which maybe comes closest than most comics careers to the famous "late style" identified by Adorno in his essay. After increasingly subtle and quiet, almost slick, works, there's suddenly a return to the garish - rather than horror the model seems to be sleazy eurospy b-movies, the kind where masked girls in leotards run around machinegunning each other in underground bases. I don't think the biggest Richard Sala fan would think of him as primarily an action cartoonist but that's what we get here - panel after panel of firing handguns wildly into a crowd ("the simplest surrealist act" - andre breton) of milling henchmen, unkillable figures of vengeance running wild. And at the same time, just as startling, there's an abrupt and explicit emphasis on politics - the figures being shot are crowds of ghoulish Bush-era congressmen, executives, cops, sneering militia creeps, guffawing yuppies, movers and shakers. There's a sense of deliriously vindictive wish fulfilment that he's obviously having fun with, and what's not to love about a comic where a masked supervillain named Super-Enigmatix (shortened by the text as "S.Ex") breaks into the chambers of the Supreme Court to shoot the judges with a raygun known only as "the dissolver" in a single panel. But there's also a kind of sadness in the fury with which these characters are obsessively killed and re-killed; the flat, declarative way the political content declares itself has a kind of contempt, as if it weren't worth dressing up any other way. Rather than the politics of horror we have politics as horror, horror as the only form with which politics can adequately be represented.

Sala's last published work was "Poison Flowers & Pandemonium" - a collection of four(!) volumes unpublished at the time of his death, one of which is a collection of cavegirl-themed cheesecake art a character in the book itself winningly describes as "the dumbest thing i've ever read". The first book, a sequel to the late period work "The Bloody Cardinal", is one of his best - tensely paced and cohesive despite swerving crazily across genres, characters and settings (and also involving an evil mummy who exists in two dimensions). But the very last book, Fantomella, haunts me the most. It takes place in a world where the murderers have won - a vaguely futuristic tower in which dumb, bullying assholes, in costumes that are unsettling combinations of paramilitary gear, medieval torturer outfits and old-timey superhero costumes, spend their days in inscrutable violence or tangled, careerist infighting. The heroine, the title character, climbs up the tower level by level and kills absolutely everyone who gets in her way. The guys in the tower bicker and betray each other and bark orders over walkie talkies and then die and die and die; it's as though, having spent the last decade establishing a whole imaginative taxonomy of These Types Of Guy, there were no need for them anymore; they could be erased, one by one, in the perfunctory way of a henchman being offed in the final five minutes of a cheap film. Eventually Fantomella gets to the top of the tower; there's an ending reminiscent of stated lifetime influence Franz Kafka. Did I mention that this book is placed right after the sexy cavegirl story? Art can be powerful, when we let it be.

Mike Mignola, Guy Davis, John Arcudi - yeah, from B.P.R.D. These are spinoffs from Mignola's own Hellboy comics, and as will be the case with spinoffs I think they never quite got the respect of those other books. They're less quiet, less offbeat - they lack the quality in Hellboy of a mysterious folktale logic that we're barely able to glimpse. But that's the thing for me - in Hellboy many characters have some kind of knowledge that they act on, often piecemeal or imperfectly. What makes B.P.R.D. distinct is the sense that nobody knows what's happening at all; not the heroes, not the villains. Stuff just happens and happens and happens and maybe later on some of it is concluded in ways nobody notices because they're dealing with some other shit - the bits of narrative closure we get are as abrupt and unwilled as a long-forgotten gun that suddenly goes off. Maybe someone will accidentally glimpse the resolution of some other thing they had no idea was happening, in the shape of e.g. a nazi millionaire in a homemade skeleton outfit being pulled screaming beneath the earth by a plague of human frogs. Who was that? There's no time to worry about it, because the world is ending.

There's a lot of these comics and I can never keep track of what order they're in, but I want to suggest that one of the deep pleasures of longform serial narrative is reading it out of order and trying to figure out what's going on. You'll see someone pop up for a panel or die or do something of unexplained importance to the rest of the book and then keep going and maybe read an earlier one where you glimpse the setup that you saw finally paying off - if you can still remember. It's maybe an odd one for me to recommend, as someone who aggressively does not care about apocalypse shit, or military shit, or lovecraft shit. But in addition to the fun characters and offbeat storytelling and Guy Davis's typically great art I think what made this stick with me so much was an odd formal parallel, between the slow, shambolic, weirdly believable end of the world it depicts and the nature of serial storytelling itself. Details pile up, beyond our ability to keep track or notice them. The doomed task of remembering, of cultivating the little pile of our perceptions as they spill out and roll away, feels horribly similar to the efforts of the characters to hold a catastrophe in place; a catastrophe that no-one really seems to know the start or meaning of but that we're all stuck living out regardless.

It's a longrunning comic so there are lots of issues. You can try following it from the start and still find after a certain point that you no longer have any idea of what's happening, that "the start" is itself not really the start, just the latest in a series of dubiously reliable origin stories that seem to have no lower bound. You can spend a lot of time on wikis trying to combine the pieces and figure it out, just like the characters in the comic, the ones who inevitably end up going "AIIIEEE!" as they're blown up by a big machine or by some cosmic thingamabob they only realise too late they maybe never really got. Or maybe if you're lucky you can be a bit-part character; here in some pages, missing in others, with fate uncertain, deferred by an error in issue numbering, or a failure of memory.

[fell-e]

June 19th

Happy Birthday to me

I KNOW my birthday was already a few days ago, but the reasons for this delay and the lack of posts in general will be explained in the tags. Feel free to skip it tho!

This entire post is for the (at most: seven) Fayrouz fans whom I've promised to release "canon" lore of😭

Press read more for Fayrouz lore!

Before I infodump on my Turquoise lore, just want to let yall know that Fayrouz has two canons,

Turquoise AU (her actual canon storyline, i'd say)

and NRC AU (game adjacent au which i only made bc i wanted her to interact with the other characters).

Turquoise AU was based on a small animatic concept I made when I i finished Book 4 (around 3 years ago) where I wanted to give Jamil a cute shy girlfriend. Thatse it.... (p.s. i made a small ErosEpel AU and i might revive that too)

This animatic was heavily based on themes and symbolisms, like Turquoise Sky, Scalding Hot Sun, Golden Cage, etc, instead of actual Disney related stuff. And without that context Fayrouz being twisted from the sky wouldn't really make sense😭

In Turquoise AU, Fayrouz is a magicless, lowly servant. I haven't decided if Fayrouz will have parents yet, but even if she does, they're very emotionally abusive. Her perception of herself as disposable and more worthless than a grain of sand is what's relevant here, so either she adopts that mentality from the other servants or from her own parents.

One day, during a party, Fayrouz sees someone pour some suspicious liquid into someone's drink. Before the owner could drink it, she slapped it out of his hand. The person being Kalim. He asks her why she did that, and she tells him. A person put something inside his drink. The crowd erupts into chaos and they're both dragged away before they could say another word (Fayrouz for interrogation, and Kalim for protection)

Kalim (in my barely put together AU) is lowkey kinda lonely?? He has Jamil, sure. His siblings too. But after the first assassination attempt, he was forbidden from interacting with the other servants. even some of his own siblings. He's determined to befriend Fayrouz, because, in his mind, she's *safe*. She saved his life. That's enough proof for him, and apparently for his father, who allowed him to befriend Fayrouz (or try to)

Shenanigans ensue, where Kalim tries to interact with Fayrouz while she tries her best to avoid him. (She's intimidated by the Asim's. Doesn't help that an older servant told her lies that Kalim's dad beheads people to scare her). Kalim defeatedly asks Jamil for help, and talks to Fayrouz in his favour. This marks the prolouge? beginning? I guess? They all become friends.

I haven't really fleshed out the story after this, but I'll note some important info:

• Fayrouz's self esteem is absolutely dogshit. I'm talking down the shitters abysmal. Self-loathing to the absolute MAX. I say this because this is a crucial flaw of Fayrouz which leads to some crucial plot points.

• Fayrouz is immediately enamoured by Jamil. Fayrouz sees herself as clumsy, talentless and pathetic, so seeing someone her age be so talented was enough to envelop her in pure admiration (and jealousy, but it doesn't last long). She asks him to teach her everything he knows. And so, growing up, they did everything together. (I'll make comics exploring their relationship in the future if im able to🫠🫠🫠)

• An important plot point in this AU is Fayrouz going missing. Two years before Jamil and Kalim enter NRC, Fayrouz suddenly disappears.

• Im not sure how exactly they'd meet, but Kalim's relative Jasmir (canon relative. i checked. Not the name though, i made that up) forms a sibling-like bond with Fayrouz. Growing up as an only child, he craved for companionship, and was jealous of Kalim always being surrounded by younger siblings. He found the companionship he wanted in Fayrouz.

• Jasmir has a servant twisted from Rajah called Khan(placeholder name). He isn't important to the plot i just love him.

(Placeholder designs for now, but i love them💕)

[fangsandfeels]

Can anyone explain me what the ever-loving fuck is going on with the Qunari in Veilguard?

When I learned about Treviso occupation, I thought that was the result of Qunari officially being on the warpath. The Trespasser made it clear that the Qunari have been planning their invasion for quite a while - but chose to act covertly at first. Which makes perfect sense for Qunari, this is what they do. That would have also added some delicious moments for Taash and the Vashoth!Rook.

However, in the game we have not Qunari, but the Antaam (military). Which sounds stupid. The "it's not the nation, its it's soldiers doing it" excuse already sounds stupid if you ask me, but in the context of the Qunari lore it sounds even more stupid.

So, according to the accompanying media, Antaam...rebelled and acted without sanction. They have split into groups led by warlords who squabble between themselves and try to dig deep into the land they occupied. Which is bullshit.

The Antaam, meaning "body" in Qunlat, is the military of the Qunari led by the Arishok. Metaphorically, the Antaam are the eyes, ears, legs, arms and hands of the creature, everything that one needs to interact with the world, and so most Qunari encountered by Thedosians belong to the military

Antaam listen to the Arishok and Arishok alone. Qun is built on a system where everyone knows their place - and when they're out of place, they freak the fuck out, the massacre-the-family-because-my-tool-is-lost way. So, the probability of a large group of Qunari, an entire fucking army doing something without a command, and then digging a deeper hole for themselves by warlording is extremely low. Also, by all accounts, they're stop being seen by their kin as Qunari - they are Tal-Vashoth. Because they acted on their own volition, disobeyed the order, disobeyed the Arishok. This is not how the Qun works. No matter what they say, how they call themselves - they are Tal-Vashoth.

Like, there is a reason why Qunari are terrified of not fitting their mold - not only they have no idea of what to do when things don't go as planned, but also they are scared of losing their way and becoming permanently lost. The Iron Bull had that belief that he might lose his mind because he didn't know if he should trust himself without the guidance of Qun - him being a little more flexible due to his work as a spy as well as getting people he grew emotionally attached to helped with overcoming this barrier. But far from all Qunari are that lucky. Sten was so dejected after losing his sword that he let himself be caged - he didn't care about dying or anything anymore. He couldn't go home.

...Alright, where were we?

According to the wikipedia, Rasaan (the emissary of the Triumvirate)...took the control over Antaam? HOW? Qun is extremely rigid and allows no loopholes. For a change this massive there have to be some really, really good reasons - and I don't think the Antaam would have just accepted it. Without high enough approval, Sten only acknowledges Warden as the leader after they beat his ass in a duel.

Alright, let's say Rasaan gaslit the Antaam into believing she channels the way of the Qun and they ate it up. But why do we have warlords now?

Warlords with names, like Butcher? There are no names in the Qun. This is, once again, Tal-Vashoth behavior. But at the same time, they have access to qamek? What? How? Why? How does Par Vollen feel about their entire "body" fucking off? If they didn't sanction it, why aren't they stopping them???

It wouldn't be the first time for Bioware to twist their own lore and canon, but this one is legitimately migraine-inducing. Why not make a full-scale and sanctioned Qunari invasion, Qunari are like this! It's okay to make them the baddies, their ways are fucked up already and some positives don't make up for all the negatives! Don't just slap in a bunch of guys literally called "the army" and say "Nah, not all Qunari guys, these are just military acting on their own despite their lifestyle being all about following the system and doing your strictly established duties"

[fulcrum-fan8018]

I always found Kleya to be one of the most interesting Andor characters. She was always cold and calculating, composed in a way that even Luthen could sometimes not be. Even when he was starting to crack at the seams, she was there to remind him of what was truly important in the fight, and I found that to be such an interesting dynamic since she was clearly younger than him, and he WAS Axis whereas she only served as his right-hand man. In some ways, she was even more ready to sacrifice her morality than he was. And that kind of cold fire isn't something you see in a lot of protagonist characters; it's a far cry from the heart of gold, Luke Skywalker-esque brand of hero that's usually seen in star wars. And I think that's what always drew me in about her character. She clearly cared about what was right. You don't put your life on the line for the rebellion, living right in the middle of the vipers nest, without that kind of empathy. But she was also so unflinching about doing what was right for the greater good, no matter how much blood it put on her hands. She gave herself no room for her own humanity, and because of it, she excelled at being who she needed to be. Not once did the mask slip. No matter how dire the situation, how personal the stakes, how devastating the choice, she remained in control. Not once did she allow her emotions to cloud her judgment. It made her dependable in a way that even Luthen was not. It's a kind of strength of character that almost seems contradictory at times, even though it makes so much sense in the context that Andor laid out.

Which is what made it so heartbreaking to see her mission to kill Luthen. She was still that same calculating woman who burned with a cold fire, but this time, the pawn she was sacrificing for the rebellion was Luthen. It wasn't some random imperial spy. It wasn't a rebel cell that found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was the man she had spent the last ten, fifteen years fighting with. The show leaves some ambiguity about their relationship, but whether he was more of a friend or an ally or a father doesn't matter. He was still the only one who would know the depths of the conflict they had thrown themselves into. They willingly crawled into a hell that anyone else would struggle to understand, but through it all, they still had each other. But now he was captured. They had run out of luck, out of chances. The Empire knew his face and knew how much information he would have about the rebellion. Kleya knew that they would stop at nothing to gain it. And if Luthen spoke, their only chance to warn the galaxy about the Death Star would vanish. And, as pragmatic and intelligent as she was, she knew she couldn't risk trying to save his life. She knew what would happen if Dedra got her hands on him, and she knew the only possible way to stop it.

So she did it. She separated herself from the moment and she used her skills- some of which Luthen may have taught her himself- to sneak into that hospital to end his life. The mask didn't crack. She remained in control. She remained the same Kleya she had always been, the one unflinching in the face of pain or loss, willing to do whatever was necessary to ensure the survival of the rebellion. It couldn't matter to her that this was Luthen she was killing. She couldn't allow it. Because if the mask cracked then, if she allowed her humanity to rear its head, if she let herself be driven by the wild call of despair into believing, against all odds, that she could save his life, they would lose. And Kleya couldn't let that happen. And maybe she called fate cruel for giving her the task to end his life when it could have been given to anyone else. Maybe she cursed it for daring to believe that she would be able to do such a thing, sacrificing until the end. Maybe she cursed it because it was right. She would do it. If it was necessary, she wouldn't hesitate.

And she did do it. She finished the job. And it is only then, in the moments after she did the necessary thing and Luthen dies, in the moments where Kleya desperately tries to make sure that his sacrifice isn't in vain, that she finally cracks.

Man, my heart breaks for her.

[genericpuff]

Not to be nitpicky or anything, but I notice you occasionally critique LO for its lack of Greek culture, but reading Rekindled, Greek culture isn’t very present in it either minus some outfits, which is basically the same case as LO. It seems to also suffer from a lot of Americanized butchering of cultures.

Again so sorry if this is rude but I couldn’t help but notice it

I cricitize LO for its lack of Greek culture because its non-Greek creator claims she's a folklorist and that her knowledge of Greek myth is more advanced than everyone else's.

I myself am also a non-Greek person who is currently creating LO fanfiction with the intent of honoring the original themes of the its source material (especially The Hymn to Demeter) but that requires the additional layer of keeping it within the original restrictions of LO as it was first established back in 2017/2018 (i.e. I can only make so many creative differences without it going against the nature of it being an LO-retelling, so that often means some of the flaws of LO still have to stick around in Rekindled for it to still be an LO rewrite, if that makes sense).

Therein lies the difference, at least in my own humble opinion 💀😆 By all means, I'm not opposed to criticism of Rekindled for not being 1:1 with Greek myth either, but Rekindled wasn't created to be 1:1 with Greek myth, it was created to re-interpret what LO attempted to be while cleaning up the story, making the character designs more consistent, and actually tackling the plotlines that were dropped back in S1. If I wanted to do my own built-from-the-ground-up retelling of Greek myth, I would have, but my goal was more so to retell Lore Olympus in and of itself because that's where my interest lies. And that means working in the same context as LO, keeping what I like and reworking what I didn't like.

There are loads of creators who also do their own Greek myth re-imaginings that aren't 100% accurate to the myths but the works themselves are still incredibly entertaining and worth reading (and even the ones I'm not a diehard fan of I still don't have strong criticisms for). None of those creators claim to be an authority on Greek myth which is what I (and many others) specifically criticize Rachel for.

If LO had remained a fluffy office drama with low stakes, I probably wouldn't have had so many bones to pick with it in the end. It's the fact that its creator has built an audience around herself that treats her as the authority on the subject - which she has even gone out of her way to declare herself as - but then in practice can't even write a coherent story, let alone a coherent retelling based on the myths she claims to be so educated on. That's what made her work so subject to criticism and analysis more so than any other Greek myth retelling on the platform. That's what makes people such as myself expect better of her.

[daresplaining]

Looking for a reality check or something. What they did to Foggy in the new show made me stop watching despite being a long time fan of the old show. I won’t go back unless Foggy comes back somehow because I don’t want to watch a Daredevil show without Foggy. But a lot of fans seem weirdly okay with it, including comic book fans which really surprised me, while to me especially after getting into the comics it seems like an absolutely insane narrative decision that makes the show unwatchable. Is it just me? Is it not as ridiculous as I think it is? And if it is that bad, why do you think so many people seem so okay with it?

I am sending you happy thoughts and good vibes (and have been making an effort to post some of my favorite Foggy panels both here and over at @bookoftheironfist, to hopefully provide some comfort). I'm not sure I can promise you a reality check, and since I haven't seen the episodes myself I don't have the full context to comment on. But I will say this: your reaction is honest and real, regardless of how it compares to what you're seeing from other fans, and it's completely reasonable to feel upset about something that is upsetting.

I'm afraid I can't comment on how other fans are feeling, not being in the business of trying to psychoanalyze strangers on the Internet. I'm also not here to offer judgment. I am sure there are people out there—particularly newer MCU fans, but even some comics fans or fans of the original Netflix show—who just aren't that emotionally invested in Foggy; as someone who is very used to watching people be dismissive of characters I love, I know it hurts and can be hard to fathom, particularly in this case, but that's simply the way these things go. All you can do is love your favorite characters even harder, and also make decisions based on what makes you the most comfortable. I understand not wanting to watch a Foggy-less Daredevil adaptation. I wouldn't want to either (my love for "Trial of the Incredible Hulk" notwithstanding).

I would hazard a guess that a lot of the calmness you see among comics fans is due to the fact that 616 Foggy has had his death faked on two separate occasions, and that they're drawing comfort from the idea that the show may be taking that same route. This makes a lot of sense to me; actually killing Foggy off seems like a nonsensical decision, and while the MCU is fully capable of demonstrating nonsensical decision-making, I do have to wonder if this will turn out to be a fake-out.

In any case, whether you end up watching the rest of the show or not, hang in there! I know a lot of people are feeling the same way that you are right now, and I'm always here if you need someone to vent to. I'll be keeping my fingers and toes crossed that MCU Foggy turns out to be alright. And if not, at the end of the day, there are always the comics.

[sketching-shark]

I am currently reading journey to the west

I got surprised by this,it the Anthony y c. Yu

I have a question in the original mandarin text,does the book have sexist and misogyny in it,I know the one I am reading kinda does,since I know you,you know about the Chinese journey to the West,I hope you can help me understand or that I might be wrong or misunderstanding things.

From a fellow jttw fan

Ah, I wouldn't say that I'm super knowledgeable about Xiyouji @nightmarebunnyking, but I really do appreciate the vote of confidence from another jttw fan! And my mono-linguistic butt has only read Yu's English translation, which does indeed have a number of scenes with misogynistic language and ideas which we can assume are at least pretty decent translations of the original text.

Misogyny and sexism are scourges found the world over, and it's good to make note of how it springs up in even foundational texts and to feel confident in critiquing it. I've also talked before about how JTTW is wild enough of a work that it makes sense for it to be an inspiration for a wildly diverse range of retellings, everything from kid's shows to grimdark novels, and with Sun Wukongs who are everything from genuine heroes to flat-out rapist villains (seriously wish I could erase a couple of retellings I've stumbled across from my memory).

But turning back to the og classic, @here4tripitaka has made a number of posts that go into detail on how they saw it manifest in their own reading journey which I do think are worth looking over if you want another person's thoughts and critiques about it. As for myself, I would say that I am annoyed and disheartened by Xiyouji's moments of misogyny (like how nearly all of the lady yaoguai want to marry Tang Sanzag instead of eating him), though at least for me it isn't anything near the work's most defining feature. And God knows western classics like The Iliad and The Odyssey are rife with sexism as well! That said, this isn't to excuse its presence in any of these classics, but to say that for all that it's a fiction that's near and dear to my heart it's definitely not without its flaws, with sexism and misogyny being a big one. And that the fact these fictions are foundational and inspirational doesn't mean you shouldn't critique them.

My own brief thoughts aside, if memory serves correctly @ryin-silverfish has specifically addressed sexism and misogyny in Journey to the West from a much more knowledgeable standpoint about the history and context of how it manifested in 16th century China and in Xiyouji's original text, so I hope it's okay if I forward this question over to him regarding what the particular cultural and historical context behind JTTW's misogynistic comments and scenes might be.

@journeytothewestresearch might also have more to say on this topic, as he's done a lot of really great research into many different facets of this epic.

And, of course, it can be good to remember that for all the sexist and misogynistic language and scenes that comes up, it's very clear that the journey would have never succeeded without the frequent help of the goddess of mercy and compassion Bodhisattva Guanyin.

[mulletmitsuya]

Sano Groupchat (and closely affiliated)

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, the word necrophilia is mentioned twice, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of drugging, also a "description" of a penis (it's not what it sounds like i swear)

Side note: i've realized that my warnings without context, make me look like a crazy person so please bear with me 😔🙏

Desc: Mikey gets kidnapped by a crazy fan and so forth (i'm so bad at these, might remove them 💀)

Shinichiro: Mikey, we're glad to have you back. i'll release a statement saying you need to recover from the traumatizing situation you've just been through. just rest up okay?

Emma: yeah, we're here if you need anything :((

Izana: you're alive, so

Emma: Izana ☹️

Izana: ...

Izana: we are here to support you through difficult times

Izana: as your "siblings" 🙂

Shinichiro: what are the quotation marks for bud 😞✊?

Izana: my hand slipped

Shinichiro: oh okay then!

Mikey: guys

Shinichiro: Draken, how's the arrest going?

Draken: the girls trial is in a few weeks from now and she can't afford bail so she's locked up

Mikey: guys it's not that deep

Mikey: like, it's not as big of a deal as you're making it out to be

Izana: see? he's fine

Emma: YOU WERE MISSING FOR 2 WEEKS

Emma: YOU WERE LITERALLY KIDNAPPED BY A CRAZY FAN. IT'S A BIG DEAL

Mikey: but they didn't hurt me?? they made all my favourite snacks and food and tucked me into bed every night. which maybe was a little weird but i still liked it. i had a very good time actually. so why are we arresting her? she's chill fr

Draken: that's all she did?

Baji: how do you know she didn't drug you in your sleep and do things to you 🤨

Mikey: bro?

Shinichiro: Keisuke, that's a very sensitive topic for some people, so let's not say it so casually okay?

Baji: what?

Baji: is it a long shot to say Mikey was touched or something?

Baji: i mean, what other motives did she have

Baji: and you guys saw her tweets right? she's obsessed with you

Baji: wasn't she the one who calculated the circumference, length, girth and colour of your penis??

Draken: no that's another one

Baji: nvm

Baji: that was Haruchiyo

Haruchiyo: fuck off

Mikey: Baji we literally go to onsens together with Haruchiyo. you've all seen my penis 😐

Baji: hard and soft are two different things

Baji: you pervert

Haruchiyo: it wasn't me, what the fuck?

Haruchiyo: i'm too famous to be risking my reputation like that

Haruchiyo: i'd need a burner account no one could access, which i don't have

Haruchiyo: so no Baji, i don't have a Mikey fanpage

Haruchiyo: that would be crazy and weird and bordeline insane

Baji: i didn't say any of that?

Baji: and you are all 3 of those things🤨

Mikey: well whatever cause everyone was wrong. it's small

Mikey: you know what it's not even small. it's average for my size, actually

Mikey: i mean i'm 5'3 yk. what did people expect

Mikey: like, it would look weird if i had a big one

Mikey: it would be disproportionate to have a big one

Mikey: i see people saying "i know it's big😍" or stuff like "i wanna gag on it"

Emma: gross

Emma: why are you telling us this 😟

Mikey: which i find really flattering

Draken: flattering isn't the word i'd use

Mikey: yeah thats cause you're a fucking prude, Ken-chin

Draken: it's cause i have a wife, jackass

Emma: 😊❤

Mikey: but seriously it wouldn't make sense for me to have a big penis

Baji: excuses excuses 🙄

Mikey: my penis is fine

Baji: they gave you dick dysmorphia

Mikey: whatever it's not like i'll use it anyway

Baji: bottom?

Mikey: i just don't like sex 😐

Izana: are we here to listen to Mikey talk about his small dick or what

Shinichiro: yeah maybe we should... not

Mikey: well, yours is skinny so whatever

Shinichiro: no it's not 😕

Shinichiro: i've had many people compliment me for my size, actually

Izana: "many"

Izana: "people"

Mikey: we know it's not girls, just say you fuck men (Wakasa) dude

Baji: no girl wants you bro

Baji: (isn't it Takeomi?)

Mikey: (Takeomi is violently homophobic)

Baji: (oh yeah)

Haruchiyo: what are you guys doing

Mikey: (whispering)

Haruchiyo: you guys are texting

Haruchiyo: we can all see this

Haruchiyo: are you fucking dumb

Haruchiyo: not you, Mikey

Mikey: thanks Haru 😋

Baji: he was doing it too???

Baji: i get why Takeomi was homophobic 😒

Baji: (when are you going to address his crush on you, Mikey)

Mikey: (it's not a crush, you ever heard of bff's, Keisuke🙄?)

Baji: (that's like saying me and Kazutora are bff's)

Mikey: (you are?)

Baji: (i'm in love with him)

Mikey: (oh yeah)

Mikey: (but Haru isn't in love with me)

Baji: (he probably creams his pants when you use that nickname)

Haruchiyo: i can see this

Haruchiyo: you aren't "whispering"

Haruchiyo: IT'S A FUCKING GROUPCHAT

Draken: does this matter?

Draken: we were talking about the fact that Mikey was kidnapped

Draken: Baji is right, something really bad could have happened if they have you longer

Draken: along with the statement, we need to talk to your fans man

Draken: this is a line crossed

Baji: no shit

Baji: also, why didn't you, i don't know, fight back and escape or something?

Mikey: i didn't want to hit a girl 😔

Mikey: like i said, i enjoyed my time there

Mikey: knew you guys would find me eventually so it was like, a side quest

Draken: of course you'd call a kidnapping a side quest

Emma: how'd she even kidnap you?

Mikey: she saw me at a convenience store and they'd run out of my favourite sweeties

Mikey: and i was whining about it to the cashier, so i guess she overheard

Mikey: and she said she had some in her car

Mikey: so i go there with her

Mikey: then she asked for an autograph

Mikey: then i'm pretty sure she drugged me with chloroform or something cause i was out

Emma: chloroform isn't like the movies. it takes a while to knock someone out, so that's not really likely unless you stood there and took it

Mikey: ...

Mikey: ok fine, do you want me to say i fell asleep in her car? huh?

Mikey: cause that's what i did

Izana: it's like you *want* to die or something

Izana: nvm

Baji: are you stupid or something

Draken: Mikey

Draken: you are 25 years old

Draken: and you're telling me

Draken: that you fell for the "hi kid, want some candy?" trick

Draken: are you fucking serious

Shinichiro: Mikey...

Shinichiro: you could have gone to another store 🙁

Shinichiro: i almost lost you

Shinichiro: because of jellybeans? really?

Mikey: they're my favourite sweet okay ☹️

Mikey: and i was lazy and tired

Mikey: hence, falling asleep

Baji: he has to have necrophilia or something

Shinichiro: i don't think that's the word buddy

zana: "necrophilia"

Izana: didn't you graduate?

Baji: working on it 💪

Izana: ah alright

Izana: what's your IQ?

Baji: below average

Mikey: Baji, don't tell people that ☠️

Izana: ...

Izana: wow he actually answered me

Emma: *sigh*

Draken: what's the point of tying out your physical actions

Emma: shut up a little babe

Draken: ok

Emma: what Baji meant, was necormancy

Draken: that's incorrect, babe

Emma: omg can we just wrap this up

Izana: both of you are wrong 💀

Izana: what is wrong with you people

Izana: necrophilia= sexual attraction to a dead body

Izana: necormancy= communication with dead people

Izana: narcolepsy= condition characterized by an extreme tendency to sleep

Izana: i'm assuming you guys meant to say the third one, for Mikey

Izana: holy shit

Emma: no need to be mean about it 😒

Baji: i'll add those to my "new words" list

Mikey: maybe i do have that

Mikey: i do fall asleep in very odd places

Emma: you know what we can talk about this tommorow. time out

*only admins can send messages*

[buckysgirl27]

Off To War

Part Two

40s Bucky x Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are married in the 40's. Hydra captures Bucky and commands him to eliminate them. Can he do it? What will happen to future Bucky with this new information.

A/N: Thank you for all the love❤️ ok the context for this chapter. Y’all might not really like it but I’ve decided to make it slightly more comic compliant. In which Bucky meets Steve at the camp. If something doesn't seem like it's something Bucky would do, like how he dropped out of school...it's most likely I got it from the comics ok? This chapter will be mostly comic compliant. It’ll make more sense for the story I promise!

Trigger warnings: semi graphic war conditions, swearing

You remembered his promise vividly.

He loved you. He was coming back to you.

However, he did say he would write you every day and it had been three weeks and you still had not received any word from him.

You knew what he was doing was important. For Queen and country and all that shit. But that was no excuse. You needed to know he was okay. Especially since you had decided to quit fighting your feelings.

You stared at the ceiling of your bedroom from your spot on the bed. The paint was peeling. If you had mentioned it before he left he would have offered to fix it. He was nice like that.

You blew out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and forced yourself off your bed.

It was time to start the day whether you wanted to or not.

~~~~~~~~

Bucky looked at the patches on the walls of his assigned tent. He wished it was the four walls of his home in Brooklyn. The home next to you.

He thought about you a lot and felt guilty he hadn't written you yet. He honestly didn't know what he would tell you. What would he say? Hey beautiful, it's awful here. Food is shit, I haven't slept more than an hour a night in 3 weeks and I think I'm starting to get infections...everywhere from God knows what. But I love you...wait for me?

No. He couldn't say anything like that. You didn't need to know about anything cropping up or how bad living conditions were there.

The thing about the war is that they made it sound great to be a part of.

It's noble. A worthy cause. Fight for your country! Be a part of something that matters! Stop Hitler! Join now! Help Captain America!

But it was shit. You get there and you're packed in a small tent with ten other guys. The smell of shit and piss permeating the air. You're lucky if you're not assigned next to the med tents. The smell of the rotting flesh whenever he walked by made him want to vomit.

Bucky rolled out of his cot, joints cracking as he rose. When he was fully stood he rolled his shoulders back and groaned.

He was trained for undercover work as a teenager. Not this. He was good at what he did. Infiltrate, collect data, and occasionally if necessary, take someone down. He didn’t want to do this.

But when you get a letter of recruitment what other choice do you have but to pack up?

~~~~~~~~~~~

You had made up your mind. If he wasn't going to write to you, you would write to him. You knew where he was stationed, that wasn't the issue. You just wished you didn't have to be the one to instigate it.

You grabbed a pen and a blank piece of paper from a notebook and sat down at the dining room table.

James-

You said you'd write every day. You haven't. I hope you're not dead. I don't think you are though. I'd like to think that you'd have had them send someone here to let me know if you were. If not me then maybe mother. Maybe you wouldn't have though. It's been quiet without you. No one around to smack on the back of the head for eating the last of the bread when I know for a fact that he has his own perfectly good loaf at his own house RIGHT NEXT DOOR! I miss the walks in the park, and the market trips. I still haven't forgiven you for knocking me over James Buchanan Barnes. Don't even try to say it wasn't your fault! You know it was! Anyway. I miss you. Stay safe. Come home soon.

-Your Babydoll

You read over the letter and smirked. You knew for a fact he would be defending himself to the men who would be reading the letter over his shoulder when he started laughing at the quip about the market when you first met.

You slipped a photo of yourself inside the envelope along with the letter so he would have something to remember you by. Just in case he couldn't keep his promise.

You quickly slipped your shoes on and left a note for your mother letting her know you were heading to the post office. After all, James was no longer here to walk with you, who knows what could happen. It'd be better if someone knew where you were.

The thought stopped you in your tracks.

Ha. Propriety. Propriety my ass.

He'd get a smack when he got back for making you think you needed a man just to walk to the post office. Even if it was just a harmless passing thought for a split second.

You walked the now slow walk to the post office, across the street, around the corner, two blocks over. You almost bumped into 3 people. Maybe him knocking you over really was your fault.

Before you knew it you had arrived.

"Hello miss. Watcha sendin' today?"

The attendant looked at you with annoyingly bright and eager eyes. She must be new.

"Just a letter."

"Oh ok. To who?"

She really wanted a conversation? Why couldn't she just read the name on the damn envelope? Oh right, you should probably hand that over.

You passed it to her.

"My boyfriend. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes."

Her eyes dimmed. At least she had the decency to show some respect for men on the lines.

"Oh I'm sorry. I'll get this out right away."

"Thank you. That'd be much appreciated."

~~~~~~~

"Mail Call! Johnson, Campbell, Barnes, Sm-"

Bucky's eyes shot open. Barnes? Did he hear that correctly? He'd been gone over a month. He'd never gotten mail.

"Yeah! Barnes! Over here!"

The mail carrier walked over to him and handed him the small envelope.

Bucky traced over the cursive letters in which you had written your name. He grinned like a little kid on Christmas. He'd seen enough grocery lists to know it was your handwriting.

This was a moment that he was glad he waited until later in high school to drop out.

He ripped open your letter and read it quietly to himself.

Of course you still held a grudge about him knocking you over.

"Barnes? What's got you in such a good mood?"

Bucky looked over to one of the men who he shared the tent with, still grinning like an idiot.

"I got a letter from my girl. AND a picture."

The man wolf whistled.

"What kind of picture?"

Bucky glared at him.

"Not that kind of picture, asshole."

Bucky showed him the picture. It was his favorite one of you. You were wearing your sky blue dress with white polka dots. There wasn't necessarily anything spectacular about the dress itself. It was a normal A-line style that any girl would wear when they went dancing. But it was the dress you wore when he took you dancing for the first time. So he loved it.

"Guess she's alright."

The man shrugged and walked away.

Bucky sighed. He had to write back to you now. He had no choice. He tracked down a piece of paper and a pen and began to write.

Sweetheart-

Thanks for writing. I'm sorry I haven't written you sooner. Honestly I didn't know what to say. I miss our walks as well. More than you know. I love you. If I make it out of this I'm going to ask you to marry me babydoll. You don't have to give me an answer now. Just wait until I get back. But I'm going to ask you. Life's too short. I love you.

-James

He sighed. Signing his name as James felt so official. He didn't like it. But you said his nickname Bucky sounded ridiculous. It made him sound like he was a pet squirrel. So to you he was James. Not Bucky. He saw you actually minutely flinch whenever you heard the nickname used by others. Buck was your least favorite.

He was serious though. He was going to marry you.

~~~~~~~~~

You stared at the letter in your hand. Marriage?! I mean you had expected it eventually. You didn't know when but not this soon. Not in 1 and a half months about.

Well. He'd propose in 1 and a half months. Who knows when the big day would be and who you would invite and what you would wear, where you would have it, who would be invited. Your thoughts swarmed like a tornado in your head and you didn't notice your mother enter the kitchen until the sound of the fridge door shutting shook you from your trance.

You snapped your head back to look at her. She looked at you questioningly.

"Is that from James honey?"

You looked back down at the letter that had fallen from your hand into your lap and then slowly back to her.

"Um, yes. Yes it is."

"You don't look well dear. Are you alright?"

You took a deep breath and shook your head.

"Yes. No. I don't know."

Your mother laughed.

"This isn't funny mother!"

She rested her elbow on the counter and her cheek in her palm.

"He asked you to marry him didn't he?"

You stared at her with your mouth open.

"How? What? How did you know?"

She straightened up and walked over to the table and sat next to you.

"I knew you would end up together from the moment I saw the two of you together. It was only a matter of time honey."

"Mother I hated him."

She laughed at you again.

"Who are you kidding? No you didn't."

You glanced at the letter again but this time you smiled.

"I guess I'm getting married."

Masterlist

Taglist:

@goth1c-pinki3-pi3

@svtbpbts

@homiesexual-or-homosexual

@baw1066

@theflowerswillbloom

@lapii