Fall Unto Me (part three)
Part one, part two
I said I was on break but then a lot of things immediately fell out of my brain cause of stress so now I feel silly... sowweeeeee 🤡 Part four WILL be the last part I swear. If you see more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren from me after that (and da infodump if i get to it) genuinely tell me to shut the FUCK up!!!
yes i am probably writing the NSFW version it'll be in my compendium post if it happens
cw// religious themes
14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI
Your resolve was getting harder to hold on to, but you kept it. This would be the last time. You couldn't part from heaven again after returning. Atonement was waiting for you, eternal devotion to your duty right after.
Another few weeks went by as you stayed with Ren a little longer, the sea of flowers outside your bedroom window changing little by little each day. So many of them were already fully blooming, most of their petals stretched open to show off a myriad of colors while others curled inwards to hide from you. Practically a taunting mockery with how they took their time. As if insulted you would dare leave once they painted the horizon with their beauty.
It made it all the more painful that you'd never see them again. Or the companion that now felt like a piece you'd been missing.
Something about that encroaching deadline had affected the devil, too. Ren was calmer in some ways. They still brought you gifts and knowledge like usual, but he seemed to be taking his time just like the flowers. Simple answers to your curiosities became thorough while he held you close and urged you to ask more questions about whichever object took interest.
He'd offered to revisit trinkets you loved as well. Until you were as familiar with using them as he was. You couldn't understand it.
Your time together was draining away by the second. Didn't they want to make exciting memories? No matter how much you enjoyed it, mastery over human instruments or crafts served no purpose. Heaven wouldn't let you bring those things home, nor could you ask a higher power to recreate them for leisure.
Maybe your love was in denial of your departure. Or maybe spending little mundane, quiet days and nights together like this was their way of coming to terms with it.
Today, you chose to fiddle with one of the oldest gifts while chatting with him. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the room in the faded, flaming gold hue you'd only now gotten used to.
“—Love?” He was calling you, the end of his tail swaying gently in front of your face to get your attention. You’d missed a few words.
“Hm?”
“You've gotten much better at this,” the pink haired devil hummed above you. His chin was resting atop your head as they cradled you in their lap on a frayed rug, his back against the bottom of the couch.
You looked over your work. The woven red string wrapped around and through your fingers took the shape of a pointed star. You knew real stars looked differently, but the human interpretation was interesting.
“Truly, it’s better than before,” you said with wholehearted agreement. The first time you'd tried—only on the third day of your visit to earth—had simply tangled the string to a knotted mess stuck upon your fingers for Ren to deal with while you apologized, embarrassed beyond belief.
The patterns they taught you were almost easy thanks to your afternoon of trying. You unwound the string and painstakingly wound it again into one that often graced your practice: an angel. He'd been particularly smug about teaching you the motions of that one.
“An impressive self portrait,” Ren joked and squeezed you tighter in their embrace. “Although it'll take more than some thread to capture your divine beauty.”
Naturally, you rolled your eyes even though the soul it was meant for couldn't see it. A mortal gesture you'd gotten the hang of quicker than anything, as he so favored innocent teasing before expressing his deepest sincerities.
You untangled the string and tossed it to the side, then turned in their lap to make a face this time for their benefit. “I’ll do a painting, then. I’ve had enough of this toy.”
He relaxed his hold long enough for you to wander across the room in search of new distractions, but innocently called after you, “We’ll have to light quite a few candles for you to see well. Unless you plan to have me mix paints for you in the dark.” A second passed before he spoke again. “It’d be a pleasant surprise, I’m sure.”
“Something else?” you replied, making a swift turn towards the bookshelves. You came back with a couple of novels and sat beside them with your treasure. “Is this really all you want to do? You’ve read every book here before.”
Even the books he’d bought with strange, flimsy paper currency for you, Ren had said so casually, were already familiar territory. Tedium hardly described how boring you thought these weeks must be for him. But he never objected to anything you chose, as long as you both stayed close to home during the day.
And you always kept your wings hidden in case a human roamed nearby. You'd never seen one come close to the cabin, or even the field of flowers, but he insisted your safety—and proximity to them—was of utmost priority. It was hard to remember the last time you let loose your wings at all after walking on the beach with him. They interrupted your thoughts once more.
“My sweet, delicate angel, I’ve had all the time in the world to do anything I want.” Their blue eyes narrowed with a smile as they spoke and you knew more teasing was coming. “We could even sit here in silence all night, if you asked me nicely.”
“How kind of you, my darling demon,” you teased them back.
Another jesting response in his gaze faded to something different as you pulled him down for a kiss, gently at first. The books you’d brought over lay forgotten, soon shoved under the couch in favor of your new activity.
Kissing the demon you called yours felt like second nature now. There was no sting that ever came, no homesick aching in your back anymore. Only the flood of tender emotions he gave you, tainted by your own guilt and fears of parting from him.
You needed more. A stronger distraction. Your hand on his shirt tightened, determined to keep him. To stay in this moment as long as possible.
Ren exhaled, a muttering of blasphemous praise you dare not repeat whispered from his lips to yours, along with one word. A word that sounded odd to your ears.
You'd heard it countless times over the months, but it didn't feel strange until after the first kiss you shared. He must have said it earlier, too, when you were occupied with that damned little red string. Demonic language was much different, it certainly wasn’t that at all. And the sounds of the word did feel similar to mortal languages, but nothing came to mind. So naturally, you could only assume it to be another of their pet names, but…
The thought fell to the side as you focused on him. He was all that needed to matter right now.
Their comforting warmth that called of your sacred home, your nails curling into the bottom of his shirt just to fall lower, an iron, almost nectar-like taste that flowered on your tongue—did you bite him this time? It felt good.
Desperately, you brushed your hand over his thigh, getting dangerously close to where you knew things risked going further. You caught yourself and froze. You wanted him, you’d known since that day in the rain. In every way a being could yearn for another’s love. And of course he felt the same. But could you really go home if it happened?
“Before I…” The words hung in the air and what remained weighed in your throat. Before I leave. Departure was looming on the horizon, sure as the sun would rise tomorrow. You dare not mention it to the one you loved again. You opened your eyes to meet theirs, cautiously as you wondered, “Is this alright?”
“Yes,” they answered, longing clear as the evening sky in his voice. “I couldn’t bear—or ever want—to deny you. Little angel, all you desire of me is yours to take.”
Without another word you did just that. You thought nothing of the faint, staggered line you felt under your fingertips that seemed to start somewhere along his shoulder blade as you lifted the shirt away and pushed him to lay on the rug. Your hands pressed their ink-stained arms flat next to the disheveled mess of pink hair and horns. Ren grinned at your audacity to pin him, but held still for your much needed exploration.
Eyes half lidded with patient lust, mouth parted to show off pointed fangs, the devil looked to be the very picture of your sinful desires.
To be one with them, even just once, was a memory worth making. No matter what punishment waited for you at heaven’s boundary. You skimmed your fingers from the base of his collarbone, down over their stomach, and began to undo the buttons that concealed what you’d been waiting for.
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one of the things that i think we should pay attention to, socially, about the disney v. desantis thing is that it is really highlighting the importance of remembering nuance.
in a purely neutral sense, if you engage in something problematic, that does not mean you are necessarily agreeing with what makes it problematic. and i am worried that we have become... so afraid of any form of nuance.
disney isn't my friend, they're a corporate monopoly that bastardized copyright laws for their own benefit, ruin the environment, and abuse their workers (... and many other things). this isn't a hypothetical for me - i grew up in florida. i also worked for the actual Walt Disney World; like, in the parks. i am keenly aware of the ways they hurt people, because they hurt me. i fully believe that part of the reason florida is so conservative is because it's been an "open secret" for years now that disney lobbies the government to keep minimum wage down, and i know they worked hard to keep the parks unmasked and open during the worst parts of Covid. they purposefully keep their employees in poverty. they are in part responsible for the way the floridian government works.
desantis is still, by a margin that is frankly daunting, way worse. the alternative here isn't just "republicans win", it's actual fascism.
in a case like this, where the alternative is to allow actual fascism into united states legislation - where, if desantis wins, there are huge and legal ramifications - it's tempting to minimize the harm disney is also doing, because... well, it's not fascism. but disney isn't the good guy, either, which means republicans are having a field day asking activists oh, so you think their treatment of their employees is okay?
we have been trained there is a right answer. you're right! you're in the good group, and you're winning at having an opinion.
except i have the Internet Prophecy that in 2-3 months, even left-wing people will be ripping apart activists for having "taken disney's side". aren't i an anti-capitalist? aren't i pro-union? aren't i one of the good ones? removed from context and nuance (that in this particular situation i am forced to side with disney, until an other option reveals itself), my act of being like "i hope they have goofy rip his throat out onstage, shaking his lifeless body like a dog toy" - how quickly does that seem like i actually do support disney?
and what about you! at home, reading this. are you experiencing the Thought Crime of... actually liking some of the things disney has made? your memories of days at the parks, or of good movies, or of your favorite show growing up. maybe you are also evil, if you ever enjoyed anything, ever, at all.
to some degree, the binary idealization/vilification of individual motive and meaning already exists in the desantis case. i have seen people saying not to go to the disney pride events because they're cash grabs (they are). i've seen people saying you have to go because they're a way to protest. there isn't a lot of internet understanding of nuance. instead it's just "good show of support" or "evil bootlicking."
this binary understanding is how you can become radicalized. when we fear nuance and disorder, we're allowing ourselves the safety of assuming that the world must exist in binary - good or bad, problematic or "not" problematic. and unfortunately, bigots want you to see the world in this binary ideal. they want you to get mad at me because "disney is taking a risk for our community but you won't sing their praises" and they want me to get mad at you for not respecting the legit personal trauma that disney forced me through.
in a grander scheme outside of disney: what happens is a horrific splintering within activist groups. we bicker with each other about minimal-harm minimal-impact ideologies, like which depiction of bisexuality is the most-true. we gratuitously analyze the personal lives of activists for any sign they might be "problematic". we get spooked because someone was in a dog collar at pride. we wring our hands about setting an empty shopping mall on fire. we tell each other what words we may identify ourselves by. we get fuckin steven universe disk horse when in reality it is a waste of our collective time.
the bigots want you to spend all your time focusing on how pristine and pretty you and your interests are. they want us at each other's throats instead of hand in hand. they want to say see? nothing is ever fucking good enough for these people.
and they want their followers to think in binary as well - a binary that's much easier to follow. see, in our spaces, we attack each other over "proper" behavior. but in bigoted groups? they attack outwards. they have someone they hate, and it is us. they hate you, specifically, and you are why they have problems - not the other people in their group. and that's a part of how they fucking keep winning.
some of the things that are beloved to you have a backbone in something terrible. the music industry is a wasteland. the publishing industry is a bastion of white supremacy. video games run off of unpaid labor and abuse.
the point of activism was always to bring to light that abuse and try to stop it from happening, not to condemn those who engage in the content that comes from those industries. "there is no ethical consumption under late capitalism" also applies to media. your childhood (and maybe current!) love of the little mermaid isn't something you should now flinch from, worried you'll be a "disney adult". wanting the music industry to change for the better does not require that you reject all popular music until that change occurs. you can acknowledge the harm something might cause - and celebrate the love that it has brought into your life.
we must detach an acknowledgment of nuance from a sense of shame and disgust. we must. punishing individual people for their harmless passions is not doing good work. encouraging more thoughtful, empathetic consumption does not mean people should feel ashamed of their basic human capacities and desires. it should never have even been about the individual when the corporation is so obviously the actual evil. this sense that we must live in shame and dread of our personal nuances - it just makes people bitter and hopeless. do you have any idea how scared i am to post this? to just acknowledge the idea of nuance? that i might like something nuanced, and engage in it joyfully? and, at the same time, that i'm brutally aware of the harm that they're doing?
"so what do i do?" ... well, often there isn't a right answer. i mean in this case, i hope mickey chops off ron's head and then does a little giggle. but truth be told, often our opinions on nuanced subjects will differ. you might be able to engage in things that i can't because the nuance doesn't sit right with me. i might think taylor swift is a great performer and a lot of fun, and you might be like "raquel, the jet fuel emissions". we are both correct; neither of us have any actual sway in this. and i think it's important to remember that - the actual scope of individual responsibility. like, i also love going to the parks. Thunder Mountain is so fun. you (just a person) are not responsible for the harm that Disney (the billion dollar corporation) caused me. i don't know. i think it's possible to both enjoy your memories and interrogate the current state of their employment policies.
there is no right way to interrogate or engage with nuance - i just hope you embrace it readily.
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Hiiiii! So, a few days ago you were talking about the whole thing with Amy, Rory, and River. And when I saw those posts a thought arose in my head and I wish to share it with you.
Since River grew up with Amy and Rory as Mels. And Mels was Amy's best friend do you think that they ever talked about children? Since I know that it can come up when talking with friends, and like... do you think that Amy might've ever expressed whether or not she wanted children?
And if she didn't, that Mels would've had to listen to her mother say that she doesn't want children? The idea is so heartbreaking and sooo interesting.
What do you think about it?
no, no, see, you're so right and this drives me wild.
because, the way i see it, i don't think amy wanted children. she's somewhere on the 'hasn't thought about it' to 'vaguely negative feelings about it happening' range to me, which falls sharply into 'Not Happening Ever Again' post-s6. (specifically, in terms of having a kid herself, even if she could, i really don't think she would. i do love that she and rory end up adopting a kid later, because that does make sense, for amy pond who grew up alone in one universe with her family swallowed by cracks in time before the doctor helped her set it right again, for her to want to make sure another child won't be alone in the world like she was. getting off-track here.)
and that's so. because the first real memory river/mels has of amy is of amy shooting at her. and depending on how well the silence fucked up the rest of her memory, it might be one of the very first memories she has at all. that's how she met her mother, crying for help and getting a bullet instead. her mother tried to kill her, so of course, you have to think. she must have needed to hear that she was wanted, right? even if she was taken away, even if amy shot her, at some point, melody must have been wanted?
river is good at getting people to do what she wants, but she is very, very bad at subtlety. and mels is younger, has less practice, so when she wants to know this, she's just going to ask. blunt and quick, easy enough because amy's used to the way mels will open her mouth and you just have to be ready to roll with what comes out if you want to keep up. it's why they're such good friends (like mother, like daughter.)
they're nine, and mels asks if amy wants kids, and amy wrinkles up her nose and says she won't have time for children, obviously, once her raggedy doctor finally comes back. they're fifteen, and amy and rory dance will they-won't they in a way that makes mels twitchy to watch, and taunting amy about wanting to have rory's babies is a good way to get on her nerves. but amy calls her gross, tells her she's got more life planned than children would leave room for, and besides, imagine her, a mom? it'd be a disaster.
mels does. a lot. she looks at her mother and just sees her best friend instead. she's not even sure what she wishes was there, but. maybe amy's right. and besides. imagine her, a daughter, instead of the ticking time bomb she really is? it'd be a disaster.
they're sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and on. mels stands on the outside of a love story that births a universe. and her. how do you compete with that? not that she would know, not yet, she hasn't been there. but it doesn't make her feel any less alienated when amy and rory talk in whispers about a half-remembered world that's bled through to this life, about roman soldiers and boxes and the big bang of belief.
all these memories, they never mention children. on amy's wedding day, she's different, not like someone remembering a dream but someone who lived it. rory stands straighter, won't leave her side, and they're both so much older than they were yesterday. maybe now, right? a wedding's as good a time as any to decide you want kids.
mels not being at amy & rory's wedding is such an obvious lazy way of them trying to explain why they totally didn't just throw this plot twist together at the last minute that i'm not even going to acknowledge it. of course she was at their wedding. she's their best friend. there's too many people around the doctor, and she wasn't ready today of all days, so despite this horrible burning need under her skin to strike, she stays her hand. doesn't let him dance with her because she might just tear his throat out if he gets too close. stays with amy and rory as the maid of honor should. she must have been there for the awkward questions that always gets asked, 'so, any plans for a baby?' 'when am i getting grandkids?' 'oh, you two are going to have gorgeous children together.' standing a few feet from amy in her wedding dress and watching her mother tense and grit her teeth and brush off the questions. watching her look nervously at rory but never ask if he means it when his mom asks him if he'd prefer a son or a daughter, and rory answers 'either one, some day, not anytime soon.'
god i'm just going on and on, aren't i. but really, what's it like to know that amy never changed her mind. the next time she sees them, she's already been born and stolen. i don't like let's kill hitler for. so many reasons. but there is something compelling about how recklessly river lashes out at the world, at the doctor. even her sacrifice at the end is almost suicidal, throwing all her regenerations into this man without knowing if that will even work or if it might kill her to do it. but it makes more sense in the context of someone who has reached the end of a long, long wait for some kind of indication, any kind, that her mother wanted to have her. and finally been told, no. she didn't choose melody.
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