#(because it was still selfish regardless of how you spin it)

[miquella-everywhere]

Miquella and Griffith: Why the comparisons make no damn sense

So instead of me screaming to the sky, "Waah Miquella is Griffith theories make me so mad grrrr I hate them so much" I've decided that I'm going to do an analysis between the two characters and dissect why the comparisons and Giffiths influence on Miquella makes absolutely no damn sense.

So first and foremost, warning: I will be talking about and spoiling Berserk, so if you wanna read it for yourself then steer clear of this analysis

So to start off let's discuss Griffith and his character/motivations in Berserks story: Griffiths whole goal from childhood was to establish his own country, his own paradise and to achieve that goal he first established his own mercenary group The Band of the Hawk. Griffith was beautiful and charismatic and the people who were apart of his band all looked up to Griffith and admired him, placing all of their hopes and faith into him and his dream.

But as the story goes on Griffith hits an all time low point, and after essentially being tortured for a year, which makes him emaciated, weak and practically crippled for life, all of Griffiths dreams seem like an utter impossibility as he is left as nothing more than a shadow of his former self.

That is until he decides to cast everything aside to become a God.

And by cast everything aside I mean that he betrays his companions, his Band of the Hawk, and sacrifices their lives to untold evils in what is absolutely the most genuinely horrific and unsettling imagery I have ever seen from a work of fiction in my entire life.

(Going off topic but I cannot stress this enough that if you decide to read Berserk understand that the violence shown pulls no punches with its depictions and involves both heavy gore and sexual violence. Especially the sexual violence)

Anyway, what makes the Band of the Hawks sacrifice so jarring is that these people all loved Griffith. They adored him. Backed him every step of the way and were the ones to go and rescue him as he was being tortured, and they all mourned the pitiful state that he was in when they found him. But regardless they STILL tried to be hopeful for Griffiths sake.

The Band of the Hawk loved Griffith and that is why Griffiths betrayal of them hits so hard and is why Griffith is known as one of the most evil characters in fiction.

And all of these reasons are precisely why Griffith is such a good and compelling character.

From the beginning of Griffiths introduction you could tell that something was... off about him. But at the same time his charisma and big ambitions painted him in a sympathetic light and you rooted for Griffith. But as the story went on you could see how Griffith was going deeper and deeper into the darkness and, quite frankly, his subsequent torture is entirely his own fault because he made several stupid and completely avoidable choices.

And it's all because Griffith at his core is selfish.

And it's for exactly these reasons why it's so baffling to me that so many people believe that Miquella is going to be just as evil, or worse, than Griffith.

Because in truth unlike Griffith, Miquella is not selfish.

The main problem that I have with the Miquella is Griffith comparisons is that all of those theories hinge entirely on the Bewitching Branch item description, and so many people have gone out of their way to spin Miquellas ability to compel affection as definitive proof that he is manipulative and evil, meanwhile conveniently ignoring everything else that Miquella has done in the lore.

So for a single moment, let's pretend that the Bewitching Branch does not exist and take a look at all the other lore that surrounds Miquella:

Miquella has dedicated most of his life to curing Malenia, his twin sister, of her crippling disease, and has even crafted prosthetics for her as well as an entirely new type of God Repellent Metal, which can halt the effects of said disease

He was a Golden Order Fundamentalist but ultimately abandoned it because it could not cure Malenias sickness

He created a Haven for those who are outcasts in the eyes of the most dominating and repressive Order in the Lands Between

He watered said Haven/the Haligtree with his own blood so it could grow into something that could rival the Erdtree

He used his identity as St. Trina to sing to and ease those who have been afflicted by the Frenzied Flame

There are several statues that depict Miquella and Malenia embracing eachother, 1 in Altus in an area dubbed Miquellas Hideaway and several all over the Haligtree. The fact that this statue is the dominant imagery found at the Haligtree really hammers in the fact that the twins love eachother, and that the Haligtree isn't just Miquella's, but Malenias home as well

He also has a clear affection/love for his brother Godwyn as the statue at the Haligtree depicts him embracing his siblings and even created a sword to commemorate Godwyns death and prayed for him to Die a True Death.

The soldiers of the Haligtree came across a bitter revelation as they await Miquella(presumably they feel immense guilt for being unable to protect their Lord) and explode with light, which they hope will guide Miquellas return and no Miquella did not put the light in them to make them explode there is absolutely zero proof of that, looking at you vaati

And now to be fair, lets get into the comparisons that are shared between the Griffith and Miquella:

Both are highly charismatic and beautiful individuals to the point where both Griffith and Miquella are mistaken for being girls.

The Eclispe imagery. For Griffith the Eclipse is what allows him to ascend to Godhood(after sacrificing the people who love him) and for Miquella the Eclipse is presumably how they are trying to resurrect Godwyn (Miquellas plans for the Eclipse are mostly unknown/vague at this point)

The Egg. Griffith and Miquella both go through a type of metamorphosis involving being encased in a cocoon/egg.

And honestly that's kinda it. The straight comparisons between the two are highly lacking and purely thematic in my opinion, especially when you consider everything else going on between their respective characters.

So to summarize, the good things that Miquella has done outweighs the bad and that is why Miquella is, in actuality, the exact opposite of Griffith. Unlike Griffith who is selfish, Elden Ring canon points to Miquella being a compassionate and loving individual, and if anything, he is a complete inversion to Griffiths character.

With the points listed above a majority of the in game text highly suggests that Miquella is kind and altruistic, and with the newest text regarding Miquella in the DLC:

Points to Miquella potentially being selfless and self-sacrificial.

And also, I've seen several people argue that Miquella wants to become a God so he can create his own utopia/Falconia like Griffith did. And I'm like.... Uuuum okay well, there is a big problem with that argument along with an elephant in the room that's being completely ignored, and that is the fact that Miquella has already created his utopia/Falconia with the Haligtree and Elphael.

So as of this moment Miquellas exact goals are completely unknown, what he is doing in the World of Shadow cannot be determined until the DLC arrives. But my point remains that so many people seem to think that Miquella will be evil based off of, in my opinion, evidence that is completely lacking in substance, along with the pervasive belief that since Elden Ring has drawn inspiration from Berserk/Griffith it means that Miquella will end up as a similar type of evil character as Griffith, all while ignoring the things that Miquella has done in canon that sets him apart as his own character.

So I've said my piece and what I believe in, so I'm just going to leave this analysis with this last statement:

The good that Miquella has done and committed himself too in the Lands Between completely outweighs the singular implied evil of the Bewitching Branch.

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN]

[2.2k] summer nights, muggle gadgets and lovesick boy who just wants to see his girl again.

based off: “i want you...here...right now” + this request 

.

“How’s summer with the Addams family?” 

You rolled your eyes, even if the action was done out of fondness. “You watched one muggle show and now you’re obsessed.” 

“Your family are a bunch of loonies, sweetheart, sorry to break it to you.”

Once upon a time, summer was a time to longed for. When the winter days were short, cold and miserable and when spring didn’t seem to hit the spark of sunshine and warm days you needed, it was summer where you found happiness and contentment. It was summer where those long days were spent basking in whatever sun the English weather gave you, fingers sticky with the juice of the ice lollies you’d fight your brothers for and hiding in secret nooks of the house when Walburga would stand by the staircase, red faced and angry at the trails of mud staining the expensive carpets. 

But when you enrolled in Hogwarts, you realised that summer held much more than warm weather and grass-stained knees. 

Because Hogwarts was a taste of freedom, a taste of the world beyond the walls of the Black household where everything was simple, quiet and nice. It was so fucking nice and it was easy to get drunk off the independence, to get lost in it before you realised it was quickly being ripped away from you. 

Because that’s what summer had become. It had gone from being your salvation to your prison in mere years, and now summer was a time you despised. 

Summer dragged you away from your friends. Summer threw you under the roof of your overbearing parents. Summer jammed a wedge between you and your brothers as you played the games and politics that came with living in the Black household. 

Summer kept you away from James—the dirty little secret you had been keeping for the world because you were young and selfish and you loved having him to yourself, even when you weren’t really supposed to have him. 

“I can’t disagree with that,” you muttered out, a huff of amusement leaving your lips as you remembered the dinner from the night before. In all honesty, you were surprised the house was still in one piece after the fights and arguments that broke out last night. Then again, it wouldn’t surprise you to find out that wards had been put in place to keep the place standing for as long as Black blood lived under the roof. 

“No one’s giving you too much grief, are they?” 

That was the thing about James Potter, you just weren’t sure he was actually real. Growing up with the Black surname, you had been surrounded by pureblooded wizards and witches from the moment you were born. You had dined with them, you had conversed with them and danced with them over the years. You knew what pureblooded children were brought up to be, what they were brought up to think like. 

And yet, James was the living anomaly of the next generation of purebloods. 

Though he was loud and arrogant and a little too up himself for his own good, he was kind and smart and managed to make you feel like the most important person in the world, regardless of who you were. James Potter cared like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and had to act on their behalf. He cared like nobody else you had ever met, and you didn’t know if that made your heart swoon or your head spin because it was just never something you had ever seen in your life. 

Men like James Potter were one in a million and you had somehow managed to catch the eye of the formidable wizard.

It had been his idea to use the muggle telephones. Just weeks before you had to break for the summer holidays, he had dragged you into a broom closet with a bright smile on his face, almost rolling back on the heels of his feet. He explained everything, from the device to how it worked to how he had convinced Lily to retrieve the items so it wouldn’t be traced back to either of you. 

He scribbled down his number and shoved it into your pocket, kissing you quickly goodbye before he raced off to quidditch practice, leaving you flustered and bamboozled of the man James Potter just kept proving himself to be. 

Because he knew what your family was like. And he knew that you hated going home for the summer. And he knew that with your family watching your every move and magic being a hopeless endeavour because of the Ministry rules for underaged witches and wizards using magic that using muggle telephones might just be the only option you have left to talk to each other. 

And he had taken that step, because he wanted you just as much as you wanted him and it made your heart swell. 

“Nothing new,” you told him, fingers wrapped around the cord of the phone as you laid back on your bed, window open as the summer heat engulfed your room. 

“I don’t like leaving you alone there.” 

“I have Sirius and Reg,” you told him, but a part of you wanted to say you didn’t like him leaving you too. 

“Sirius fucks off to the muggle world and Regulus doesn’t have a backbone yet.” 

“James,” you scolded softly, though you knew he was right. You loved your brothers, loved them in the unconditional way siblings loved each other. But it was an ‘every man for themself’ situation whenever you three returned home for holidays. 

Sirius would run off, not ashamed to dish out the same horrid words back to your parents when they yelled and belittled him. He would sneak off into muggle London, spends days there and would come back with treats as a form of apology for leaving you alone. 

Regulus was a little different. He still held your parents in high regard, he still wanted to make them proud. He tried to be the son they wanted, tried to live up to the expectations they held for a pureblood son from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. He would never intervene when either you or Sirius were getting scolded. 

It meant a lot of the time you were left on your own during the holidays. It meant that you spent days craving to have the warmth and familiarity of the family and friends you made in Hogwarts. You were left craving the life of freedom and independence you had there. 

“I’m just being honest, sweetheart. You know I mean good. I just wish I could have you here, ya know? With me.” 

You smiled softly at the idea, a warm feeling settling contentedly in the bottom of your stomach. “Yeah, me too, Jaime.” 

“It would be fun, don’t ya think? I could take you riding out back near the lake Mum always yells at me to stay away from. We could take a picnic, maybe steal a bottle of fire whiskey…could even watch the sunset from there.” 

“Sunset, huh?” you mused, entertaining the conversation even if it stung a little, the jealousy of a reality you wish was your own. “And what about when it gets dark, Mr Potter? You gonna protect me from the monsters?” 

“Maybe I have other plans when the sun goes down.” 

And despite yourself, you feel your cheeks flushing at the insinuation. “Like?” 

“You’re really making it difficult to be a gentleman over the phone, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna talk to a gentleman,” you retorted, biting back the grin that was threatening to break out on your face. 

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re killing me.” 

“I miss you, Jaime,” you sighed, hand resting on your stomach whilst the other clutched the phone. 

“Not been taking care of yourself?” 

“It’s not the same.” 

You listened to the boy let out soft curses on the other side of the phone, followed by the sound of shuffling sheets and a soft thud that you could have sworn was followed by an ‘ow’.

“It doesn’t feel as good, James,” you continued as you let out a long sigh. “I miss your hands…the way you touch me…the way your mouth feels on me…the way your dick—” 

“Fuck, baby, please. I want you…here…right now.”

“‘s not possible,” you murmured in response, shuffling a little to sit up against your headboard, your thighs clenched together. It was fun teasing him, getting him all worked up and bothered. But it sucked when you were left sitting there, memories of just how good he could make you feel left playing on repeat in your head.

“Maybe it is,” James countered, something quite like desire and hope lacing his words. “What if you floo’d here?” 

You paused. “James, my parents—”

“—will never know,” he finished for you. “Your mum will be doing her own head in with that dinner she’s planning, and I know Sirius is away somewhere in London for the next few days. Regulus won’t even know you’ve left. You could stay here for a few days, get a break from everyone…stay with me for a bit.”

You pondered his words. “And your parents?” 

“Mum loves you,” he snorted. “And Dad would probably adopt you in the drop of a hat.”

“I knew Monty had a soft spot for me,” you retorted, a small smile growing on your face as something quite like anticipation sent a thrill down your spine. Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you were grabbing a backpack and half-hazardly shoving what you needed for the sudden trip into the bag.

“You’re a weakness for all Potter men, baby. It’s all a part of your charm.”

The buzz in your veins felt like the nights you’d sneak out of your room, James’ invisibility cloak covering you as you snuck through the corridors of the school after curfew to go meet him by the Whomping Willow. The nights where you would sneak around just to spend a few hours with him, and even the nights where you would join your brother and his friends in their marauders shenanigans.

You peeked your head out the door, glancing down the hallways and straining your ears to hear if anybody was wandering the house this late at night. Less than thirty seconds later, you were bustling down the staircase and making your way towards the fireplace before any of the house-elves saw you. 

“Potter Manor!”

The world swirled around you in blues and greens and reds and pinks, pulling and tugging at your limbs in every direction and making your head spin before you felt solid ground beneath your feet. You blinked, a little disoriented and the grip on your bag ironclad as you took a moment to breathe.

But before you could even step out of the fireplace, a pair of arms were wrapped around you and tugging you into a large, warm chest and something inside your heart finally settled for the first time in weeks since the holidays had started. 

“I fucking missed you so much,” James’ muffled voice muttered against the top of your head, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of your head and pressing it against his chest where you could hear his heart thundering away. His other hand was already reaching for your bag, taking it out of your grasp so you could wrap both arms around him. 

“You’re warm,” you murmured, enjoying the sound of your boy’s soft chuckles as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“That’s all you gotta say?” 

“Gotta keep you humble where I can, Potter.”

The boy pulled back, enough for you to look up at him and see the grin split across his face before he leaned down, kissing you senseless like you weren’t standing in the middle of his living room where either of his parents could find you. When he pulled away, he looked down at the dazed look on your face and his smile only widened. 

“C’mon,” he murmured and nodded his head towards the staircase. “Need to hide you away before Mum hogs you to herself.” 

“Maybe I came here for her,” you retorted, enjoying the feeling of James taking his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and squeezing softly as though to reassure himself you were really there.

“Don’t go breaking my heart now, baby, I’ve just planned the perfect weekend for us,” James mused playfully, glancing over his shoulder to flash you a wink before he pulled you into his room, locking his door behind him and dropping your bag on the floor.

“Hey—”

“Yell at me later,” he murmured as his arm wrapped around your waist, practically tugging your body onto the bed until you fell on his chest with a soft oomph.

“I forgot how needy you were,” you joked lightly, shuffling until you were comfortably tucked against his side. 

“Just want my girl,” he grumbled, tilting your head up so he could lean down to peck your lips. “Is that such a crime?” 

“Maybe to my brothers,” you countered and watched him roll his eyes.

“Please don’t bring up your brothers when I’m trying to seduce you, sweetheart,” James groaned, his arm around your body tightening.

You snickered. “I think you are wearing too many clothes to be seducing me, Potter.”

He raised his brows. “Is that a preference?”

“I would say more of a demand.” 

“Well, who am I to deny my pretty girl?” 

.

[mxtxfanatic]

Jc stans are getting more insufferable day by day I just saw a post that said that Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian were crazy for core transfer cuz it was unethical medical practice and jc didn't consent and other such shit and it had nearly 200 notes like people in this fandom totally missed the point.

Also his stans also say jc antis media illiterate, like who is actually lacking reading comprehension here?! It's so unnerving and also funny that jc stans be calling everyone names while supporting the most terrible loser and calling him king lol.

Sorry for the rant but can you debunk the whole core transfer discourse cuz I don't think my English and essay skills are good enough to word it out myself.

Thank you💗

I know you were probably looking for a personal response, but @jiangwanyinscatmom just reblogged this and it pretty much sums up my thoughts. The only things I would add are 1) the golden core transfer is not a matter of medicine or medical ethics so this discourse is irrelevant, 2) if it was, Wei Wuxian would be entitled to anonymity seeing as he is the donor, meaning Jiang Cheng would still not be entitled to know where his new golden core came from, 3) Jiang Cheng, himself, stopped asking questions because he wanted a golden core regardless of how he got it, and 4) there’s no way to spin this ultimate act of selflessness where the recipient only benefited and continues to benefit with no wish to reject or return the sacrifice as one of selfishness because the recipient is mad about who his donor was. Jiang Cheng and his stans, both, are terrible people, perfectly matched.

[mari-lair]

Ohhh your actually dead Akane theory makes me wonder how the other characters would react to learning that, especially Teru given that Akane is his first friend! Like ever! And he's already walking on a thin line because Akane's a half supernatural, but then he's actually dead? And he has to deal with the fact that he would lose the first person to see him for himself? Heartbreaking.

If we pretend my Akane is already dead theory is right, I think it would be revealed when he dies, and there are two alternatives: He could lose all connections to supernaturals when he dies and become a normal spirit or he is already intertwined with the clock keepers and will immediately be a full supernatural.

If his contract does force him to be a full supernatural when he dies, or if he chose to linger of his own accord after death, he will go against the natural order of the dead and cease to be the ‘person’ we know.

We can’t say how much Akane would change as a supernatural, but I personally believe he would have a big denial stage, convinced that he is not like other supernaturals, his soul is still human, since delusions and arrogance is something that don’t seem to be altered too much from their human self. They may even became stronger in the years and years supernaturals spend refusing to change their core beliefs.

I can picture Aoi trying to delude herself that “Akane is still around” if he became a supernatural, cause his apparence likely won’t change much, and she isn’t very familiar with this fantastical world. She was herself on the far shore (when ‘dead’) so Akane would be himself too, right? Ideally to me, they would cling to denial, mutually hurting each other out of love and a selfish insistence to not let go.

And if he just moves on, I can imagine Aoi locking herself in her room, trying to detach herself from it all but breaking down at a seemingly random moment because they were so ingrained in each other's life, everything must remind her of him.

Nene wasn’t as close to Akane as Aoi or Teru, but his death could be her wake up call. We are shown many times that Nene doesn’t want to think about death, doing her very best to put an optimistic spin on things and push any thoughts that make her uncomfortable away. Because of it, she ends up self-sabotaging herself and does not fully understand the gravity of losing a life. Be it her own, or of other people.

I can see his death being used similarly to Sumire's soul being eaten: Something that forces her to face loss head-on, but worst than Sumire because her ghost was of a different time, and as depressing as it sounds, no one Nene knows cares about Sumire, she will not be missed, but Akane dying would affect everyone. People will feel his loss and react to it, be it by her close friends joining in on her depressive mood (which makes it harder to push her negative feelings aside) or by her classmates not remembering him. Which is a good pipeline to what she doesn’t want to see but needs to face it “The one dead could have been you. This is you. You’re a walking corpse too.” route. There are just a lot of cool possibilities.

Kou would be shattered, take it as another failure. Even if it is completely out of his hands. Cause they weren't very close, but he trusted Akane.

As for Teru!

I believe Teru doesn’t care that Akane is half supernatural, he sees him as a normal human with supernatural powers, so Akane becoming a full supernatural would fuck Teru up a lot. There is no space for denial with Teru, he knows how the world works: Regardless if Akane moves on or if he becomes a supernatural with memories, the person Teru could comfortably call a friend will be gone.

Is very hard to know how Teru would act. On one hand, the people he gets attached to are irreplaceable to him. He treasures them dearly, and I doubt he can comfort himself with the knowledge that this is Akane's fate and there is nothing he can do to change it, like he did with Nene's situation.

Teru could try to be close to this new Akane (cause he always prioritizes the people he loves over his exorcism job: stealing from the shrine he works for to save Aoi, not exorcising Hanako cause Kou might hate him, tolerating all the mokkes cause ‘tiara like them’, using being a ‘cool big bro’ as his main motivation for working hard as an exorcist, and so on), but Teru is awful at handling change. He will make a mistake at some point. Or ‘Akane’ will say something that is far too disconnected from his human self to keep the illusion that “not much changed”. This approach would end badly, it's only a matter of time.

On another hand. Teru can stay level-headed about anything related to the supernatural, and he is used to death and radical situation. If he knows Akane is beyond saving and trying anything would do more harm than good, he may as well... Not do it.

When his mom died, it must have greatly affected him, and he was far far younger than now, but we never got any hint he obsessed over it. He was just... forced to accept it. To move on.

Loss is a part of life. And Teru knows that well.

If Akane became a supernatural that can hardly be called Akane anymore. I can imagine Teru visiting Akane’s grave more than “the keeper of the present”

[wyrdle]

Big Sho Minazuki fan here, I think it's a shame that Ikutsuki wasn't fleshed out any further. Like he's exposed as a bad guy and then immediately just... falls off.

YEAH. it's such a shame, when he's like the perfect foil character to MC lmao. One gains strength from bonds, the other has none/is incapable of it and thus sees no meaning in living. I'd have loved for his social link to be one which stays permanently at 1, regardless of what you do with him, as an illustration of this. And instead of SLs talking at you about things, he becomes your confidant and you reveal more about yourself and your friends lol. Throughout this there's the risk of revealing Pharos sealed within you, thus links to Aigis' shutdown etc, as well as an undercurrent of "This man is not normal" beyond his puns lol. I'd have loved to see the puns taken further as a masking tactic, one that whilst he personally enjoys, is still cover up lol. Maybe nearing November, as his excitement to finally die grows, you learn more about him as a person finally. idk lol I'm doing Atlus' job in making the earlier parts of the game fun and intriguing to carry you through the months.

ANYWAY. his relationship to Sho is so fascinating to me, because it's wild that Sho is even left alive tbh. For a guy who views death as deliverance/freedom from suffering+ his saviour complex with SEES, you'd think he'd pull life support off Sho and recollect the plume of dusk from his dead body. So there's plenty reason to kill Sho if he were just any experiment, and start over, even wipe a potential loose end to his research with Kirijo group. But he doesn't, and even leaves Sho with an inheritance I assume is hefty enough to last him his lifetime. So yeah, I feel like there was some twisted care and affection for Sho as a son, coming from the guy who, if set up properly next to P3 MC, whose nihlism is born from lack of bonds combined with who knows what he went through.

@ponderousorb has likened him to a real life saint called Thérèse of Lisieux, who was chronically ill and eventually developed "chosen one" or other strange beliefs as a coping mechanism whilst living. Basically whatever the pun guy went through in his life twisted him into viewing everything so bleakly and his "selfish" desire to be a Prince a coping mechanism. Dude's depressed and suicidal at his core, and of course combined with being embroiled into a death cult... well. Can't be a good parent lol.

Of course, all of the above is just my input/perspective/spin on his character. The games seem happy to leave him as a madman without elaboration about his brand of nihlism. I think if they did, Sho's story wouldn't have changed, but at the moments where Shadow Shuji popped up, stuff would've been more layered beyond whump for Sho. (Potentially flashbacks of interactions between them that leave Sho so pitifully confused and torn... ooft ouch).

It's a fun time to ponder how Shuji and Sho might've been like, if neither had been part of Kirijo Group. I like thinking Shuji might've at least tried to be there for Sho, if he wasn't off feeling like a miserable waste of space. Still not a good parent and neglectful, but I prefer thinking Shuji didn't find pleasure in causing him pain lol. Maybe it started off as clinical then eventual caring, but unfortunately he's deluded himself so hard he might've even thought he was doing Sho good by making him jacked lol. Whatever momentary guilt that'd surface, would be shrouded by his delusions. Idk, he offered SEES a "place by his side" for judgement day since they played such a large part, I can imagine he wished for Sho to reap the "benefits" too.

TLDR man's fucked in the head truly, but narrative (and most persona fans lol, not their fault tbh) never expands on it to investigate the tragedy of nihlism this way. It's such a big plunder on their end tbh, would've made him more interesting as a an antagonist, and certainly bolstered the game's core themes. Like. Why DOES this guy and old Kirijo group want death so badly lmao. The other guys are dead, Shuji is the only remaining mouthpiece for it... and we get absolutely nothing. If we knew his story, we could piece together the sort of underlying motivations of Kirijo group lol.

But anyway. Yeah. Lots of fun stuff, left unexplored! Apologies for the ramble I'm speed running my thesis on Shuji Ikutsuki 🤣

[saintrocklee]

🌸 flower shop AU part three 🌸

masterlist

itachi stands precariously outside, hands in his pockets to hopefully hide the way his pulse fluttered just under the skin of his wrist. the door to the tattoo shop is shut and the sign is still flipped to close, but there are lights on and your car is in the parking lot, three spaces away from his.

it’d been three days since you’d given him the koi fish drawing and in those three days he’s somehow not seen you. regardless, you now invaded his thought process daily, something that was troublesome and a little annoying, but itachi finds himself unable to get rid of the drawing. in between business calls, placing orders, and further remodeling of his newly acquired space, itachi spent time wondering what to say when he saw you next. which was strange and out of character because… well…

he barely knew you.

before itachi can further overthink the decision he made last night he knocks, rapping his knuckles against the glass window. the door rattles and he sees shadows moving before your face comes into view, eyebrows creased in confusion. the expression fades from your face when you see it’s him and the bright, happy look that replaces it makes him pause. you unlock the door with a click and open it with a smile.

“hi there.” you breathe and itachi inclines his head.

“pardon the intrusion,” he begins, but you interrupt him with a nonchalant wave and step to the side, inviting him in.

“oh no, don’t worry about it! what’s up?”

itachi enters and takes in the space around him, eyes roving over the equipment and drawings. the shop was covered, wall to ceiling, with pictures and sketches of tattoos. he’s pleasantly surprised to see how clean the place is, and the smell of incense wafts over him as a breeze comes through the still open door. you close it behind him before gesturing to a chair at one of the stations. he makes his way over, hands leaving his pockets at he sits.

“i have a request of sorts.”

you furrow your brow at him and take a seat on a worn stool across from him. it’s on wheels, spotlessly clean like everything else, but fraying at the edges.

“oh?”

you’re fighting a smile, eyes dancing happily and itachi finds himself struggling not to match your energy. he wonders if it was because of him, or if you were usually this excitable.

something selfish in him hopes it’s solely because of him.

“my brother’s birthday is coming up. he seems to like this sort of thing and i thought,” itachi trails off and your mouth forms a small ‘o’ in realization.

“you want to buy him a tattoo?”

itachi nods and your smile stretches to show teeth, scrunching up the corners of your eyes just so. it’s endearing and comforting and itachi finds himself fighting a smile in return.

“okay! let’s see.” you spin in your wheel to face the computer sitting on your right and the break of eye contact has itachi scanning around the room again. he realizes then that it must be your station he’s sitting at, eyes taking in all the detail that he can. he’d been so distracted when he’d came in that he didn’t notice the flowers he’d left for you sitting on the table.

or the note he left, taped to the wall behind it.

your area was tidy but cluttered with personal items itachi can only describe as knick knacks. everything was a little mismatched, but somehow you, and he finds himself drawn a small clay sculpture of a cat curled up. it was clearly handmade and painted with an unsteady hand, but still clearly a cat sleeping. you start talking again, unaware of his perusal, and itachi turns his attention back to you.

“we don’t do gift cards, but i can create a certificate? or, like, a coupon? you’d just need to pick an amount and i can ring you up for it ahead of time. all i’d need to know is the approximate size and detail of what he’s wanting. we charge based off time here, but since you’re in the strip with us there’s a discount.”

you’re rambling, talking fast, and itachi can tell you’re excited. he clears this throat and you turn your head back to look at him.

“i’m afraid i’m not sure what he’d want.”

you hum for a moment, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth in thought. itachi glances at the way you hold your lip for a moment, only to look away when you blink as another idea hits you.

“how about this? i can print something off for you to give him, and then you come with him to the appointment. by then he’d be able to let whoever’s doing the tattoo know what he wants and how big, so we’d have a price for it.”

itachi hums in agreement and catches your eye.

“i’d like you to do it.”

your lips part in surprise and the movement once again draws him in. there’s a shift in the air around you, or maybe it’s just him, and you nod in agreement.

“okay, yeah. here,” you roll yourself to a shelf and open it, pulling out a book. it was covered in stickers and the bind was coming apart, but you held it with such fragility that itachi is sure it’s a prized possession.

“these are some of my favorites i’ve done. feel free to, uh, look at them. take pictures even, so he can see if he likes my style. i’ll get a certificate printed.”

itachi takes the book gently and rests it in his lap. he opens it carefully and is met with a collage. every page is covered, whether it was a polaroid picture of a fresh tattoo on a client or just a sketch. some were colorful and bold, while others were just black. itachi senses a pattern in your design almost immediately, the same eye for detail that he saw with the koi fish in his office is apparent in every tattoo. it was obvious you were an expert in your craft and took your time with each one, much like itachi did with his arrangements. some designs weren’t his cup of tea, but he finds himself pausing at the floral sketches you’d done. at a glance some even looked real, and itachi knows he doesn’t need to take any pictures to show his brother. you interrupt his thoughts with a cough and quirk your lips when he looks up.

“what’s your brother’s name?”

itachi tells you, and then spells it, watching you type out SASUKE UCHIHA on the computer screen. you then zoom out to show him the final product and itachi hums his approval. it looked like any other certificate he’d ever seen, just with the tattoo shop’s logo on it. you press the print button and reach back into the shelf to pull out a small card.

“here’s my business card. it’s got my email and cellphone number on it, so he can text or email me his ideas and i can send him sketches for approval.”

itachi takes the thicker piece of paper from you and glances down at it. he flips it over, feeling the raised texture of writing on the pads of his fingers, and lets out an honest chuckle at what it said.

what a godless place! zero out of five stars!

you notice what he was looking at and snort, meeting his eyes with a lopsided grin and helpless shrug.

“our first bad review. tsunade has it framed in her office.”

itachi finds himself more amused than he should be and stands, pocketing your card carefully. you walk to the printer near the front of the shop and pull out sasuke’s certificate. he takes it from you and neatly folds it in half, then again. itachi planned on sticking it in sasuke’s card, knowing that his brother was always weird about gifts so sneaking it into his card was his best option. he couldn’t wait to watch this younger man scoff and roll his eyes at the show of affection.

itachi always prided himself on getting under his brother’s skin.

“you’re all set! anything else i can do for you?”

itachi considers you for a moment, the card holding your contact info burning a hole in his pocket. he wants to ask you something but he’s not sure what, his intentions not even fully formed. itachi was not spontaneous, he did not succumb to whims or fleeting thoughts, so he bites his tongue and shakes his head. you scrunch your nose in response and hold out your hand. he takes it, making sure to keep his grip firm while he shakes it, and then slides his fingers across the inside of your palm. something in your gaze flickers and itachi feels a sense of triumph.

“see you later.” you say, your voice wavering just barely and itachi nods once before turning to leave, sliding his hand into his pocket to fiddle with your business card. he pauses at the door, holding it open before cocking his head back.

“thank you, by the way. for the drawing.”

you visibly brighten, once again letting a wide grin stretch across your face, and itachi leaves, feeling a tad bit more full of himself than he did before.

[itsclydebitches]

Young girls and women who had the Maiden powers cannonball into their souls WITHOUT CONSENT or KNOWLEDGE and were then told by a stranger that the only way to get rid of them is for them to be killed AND that there are people out there who want to do that AND that they have to leave whatever life and family they had behind and never see them again, watching Ruby complain about her "burden": 😐🙄🙁😒🤨🙃

You know, that adds an interesting spin to the age-old Pyrrha debate that I'd never considered. Fans have long dragged Ozpin for (supposedly) manipulating her into taking the powers, citing everything from someone her age being unable to make an informed choice (despite everyone else her age being an adult capable of leading this war), to the lack of information negating any true ability to judge the decision (but information isn't necessary for other characters, like Ironwood). As my asides showcase, I've always felt that this is hypocritical nonsense and does a huge disservice to Pyrrha, both in terms of acknowledging what a hard choice that was and taking into account her own, fatal flaw of feeling like she has to be the hero. (If anything, Pyrrha should have gotten a "Being a leader is so hard and I'm crumbling under the pressure" arc, not Ruby.)

But all that aside, you raise a good point about how terrifyingly passive most Maidens are in this process, with the exception of those who steal the powers (Raven) or are in a highly coincidental position to willingly accept the powers right when a Maiden is dying (Penny). The fandom tried to paint Ironwood as "forcing" the powers on Winter, manipulating her into becoming a tool, but no one wants to acknowledge that Penny would have then done the same thing? At least Ironwood asked Winter, whereas Penny decided on her own who could safely wield the power, giving that to Winter whether she still wanted it or not. The fact that the story frames this as the correct decision by having Winter currently need the power to save herself from Ironwood doesn't erase the fact that she still wasn't given a choice during the actual transfer. Hope you're happy being responsible for the entirety of your Kingdom now, Winter, because you're literally the only one with the power to protect them from the grimm army your friends dropped them into.

Based on the historical implications, most Maidens have not chosen this, have been forced to grapple with all the horrors you've laid out, which puts things like the otherwise morally ambiguous aura machine into a new light. Yes, it still goes against the "natural" state of things according to Remnant culture and yes, Pyrrha was not given a perfect segue into this choice (for various reasons), but at least it was a choice. Regardless of what you think of how Ozpin went about it, that's MORE of a choice than most other Maidens get. Do you want to be somewhat prepped beforehand, given time to decide, have a support system in place to help guide and protect you... or do you want to have these powers slam into you one day with no context? Hell, if we go by what we know about the Maidens as a whole, Pyrrha was the best candidate according to the Inner Circle and the magic itself. It things had gone differently with Amber and Cinder's bug theft, the power might well have gone to Pyrrha anyway, simply by virtue of her being a young, powerful, heroic woman with a Fall-like aesthetic.

Then yeeeeaaah. Look, Ruby has been through it. I'm not denying that. But the show really failed imo to both highlight the appropriate tragedies and allow her to navigate that grief in a way that didn't come across as incredibly selfish. Her actively striving for authority since Volume 4, becoming arrogant in her abilities, losing things and people due in large part to her own stupid mistakes (you kept the Lamp out, Ruby, you lied to Ironwood, you had the bright idea to turn Penny human and therefore vulnerable), the fact that she's surrounded by cursed Maidens and cursed immortals and cursed hosts and cursed aged-up allies and an entire dead village... and then the breakdown is, 'Woe is me, cheering people up is so hard'? Not that the story would ever go there, but I WISH Oscar had been in that scene, just so he could side-eye the hell out of her. "I'm sorry, which of us has been forced to participate in this war and burdened with the responsibility of leadership? Who is slowly losing themselves in the process, to the point where they're no longer recognizable from who they once were? You? Are you sure, Ruby?"

The writers really aren't aware of how that comes across in a story with so much horror going on, or they do and they just didn't bother to acknowledge and grapple with that limited, child-like perspective. We could have simply gotten an arc where Ruby is grieving Penny and, as a result, thinking on all the other people she's lost/how she might have failed those of Atlas and Mantle. Introducing these failures through the lens of her leadership really muddled things though. You chose this. You've supposedly been making decisions as a group. There's too many inconsistencies and retcons attached to Ruby's leadership - and too many other characters going through Objectively Horrific Things - to write the breakdown that way without Ruby coming across as completely oblivious to anyone else around her. And yes, I say that for a character who has been ignored by her team all Volume. She's also ignoring Jaune understandably grieving a whole village of people! All of them are awful nowadays! I miss when the group was actually kind and considerate and fun to watch lol

[batsplat]

A sentence in Casey’s book impressed me, even though he didn't name anyone explicitly

“Maybe someone who could put on the charm when they need it regardless of sincerity could have turned the situation around but I don’t have that skill.”

He totally gets that Valentino has endless charm, lol. I’m sure he felt it too when they hung out

yes!! this was about casey and his relationship to the fans wasn't it, and in a section of the book where he was talking about his rivalry with valentino, so hardly a stretch to say it was deliberately alluding to him. and of course casey talking about valentino's charm is not unrelated to how casey did seem to like valentino perfectly fine back in the day... how he said back in 2007 that he liked talking to valentino, that they generally talked about stuff other than racing, how valentino gets on with most guys in the paddock... though it's interesting (if not particularly surprising) how by the time the autobiography is written, casey portrays the early dynamic between the pair of them pretty dispassionately. just from the book you'd get the sense of someone who was coolly respectful of valentino until valentino started pissing him off, rather than someone who was... y'know, also a bit of a fan. somebody who got the valentino rossi appeal, shall we say. we all have our crosses to bear

which, I don't even think it was just about the racing. I doubt he ever wanted to emulate valentino in the same way jorge or marc might have wanted to do off the track, but stuff like calling him a "great competitor and a great sportsman"... that for years he'd been "dreaming to be like him"... that valentino and doohan were "the sort of people I wanted to become like"... I reckon that's a little more than simply respect for him as a rider, and I don't think casey back then would have said that stuff just because he knew it'll play well with the public. he found valentino exciting, like so many before and since have done - and still did so for the entirety of 2006 (he said more recently that he was even more impressed by valentino after that season, which is kinda noteworthy given that's the year valentino did, you know, lose the title). but then they became direct rivals, and. well

of course the "regardless of sincerity" in the quote is pretty pointed lol, like he does clearly see valentino as very two-faced and willing to spin a line regardless of whether it's true or not and also as someone happy to deceive others for his own gains. and his rhetoric has also changed just a wee bit since he published the autobiography on that count, where he more recently does stress how... well, he did learn from how valentino played the media! he learned how to get friendly with journalists! he learned how to play that game, of trying to win the public discourse! he might never have liked it, and he still probably would say like in the autobiography that this "charm" "regardless of sincerity" isn't something that he'll ever be as good at as valentino was. but he did dabble in the dark arts just a touch... I think one of the most interesting tensions of that rivalry is to what extent valentino forced casey out of his comfort zone both on- and off-track and ended up making casey adopt behaviours and attitudes he continued to find reprehensible. casey considers valentino 'selfish' both on- and off-track but to fight him both on- and off-track he became more selfish in turn... very dramatically compelling

anyway, here's casey chatting to fellow aussie jb when he's come to watch the podium celebrations after one of valentino's 2005 wins:

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter IX: In The Morning You’ll Be Gone

masterlist | playlist | chapter viii

summary: Friends is a heavy word for you and eddie. things are off to a weird start as you spend some time reconnecting after your show in vegas.

tags/warnings: slow burn, rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader, gn!reader, angst is slightly lighter this time, but obviously still there!! these two are horrible at feelings btw if that wasn’t obvious.

a/n: let me know what you think! i have a loooot of ideas swimming around right now, but i wanna hear ur input! love u guys sm, thank u for reading! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

——

September 1987

“Honey, I’m home!” Eddie kicks the door to your shared apartment open, the old wood creaking under his heavy boots.

The ruckus summons you to the entryway. You speed walk from your master bedroom, where you’ve been spending your nights without your boyfriend. The house already feels warmer with him inside. “Hi, baby!” You squeal, running into his arms. He lifts you into the air, spinning you around like a husband home from war.

When he places you back in front of him, you refuse to let go. You lock your hands around his neck, and pull his face into yours to connect your lips. He relaxes against your touch, finally settling the yearning in his stomach. It’s been two long months of Eddie on tour, and you had refused to come because you didn’t want to be his “groupie.” You still haven’t told him how stupid that decision was. Regardless, it doesn’t matter now. He’s home, and he’s in your arms, exactly where he’s supposed to be.

“How are you, love of mine?”

“Never better, now that you’re home.”

—

Eddie’s POV

It’s probably the best he's ever performed, much to his own surprise. He's played Las Vegas before, but something about his own energy has brought the best out of the crowd. By the end of the set, Eddie’s shirtless, drenched in sweat, and practically deaf, but the excitement roaring through him makes it all worth it. He’d caught you watching too, standing on the side of the stage right up against the barricade like you’d used to when you were dating. He couldn’t help stealing glances throughout the show, catching you singing and dancing along like you were still his biggest fan.

Back in the band’s dressing room, Corroded Coffin light cigarettes and joints while beer bottles are cracked open, an atmosphere of relaxation settling in after what feels like years of being on edge. Much of that probably has to do with their frontman being in a good mood. Eddie sips his beer as he chats with Gareth, who’s puffing on a joint dangerously close to frying his hair.

“What’s gotten into you tonight, huh?” Gareth jokes, nudging Eddie’s shoulder with his own. “You finally get laid or something?” Eddie snorts in response, ignoring the question. “C’mon, you gotta let me know what’s got you performing like that again. I haven’t seen you this in-the-zone since— “ Gareth stops himself, but Eddie knows where he’s going. He hasn’t performed like that since you broke up with him. Gareth doesn’t push him, but his eyes communicate his question.

“We aren’t back together, don’t freak out like that.” Eddie answers the unspoken inquiry, indulging his friend. “But we talked. Amicably, even. We decided we’re gonna try the whole friend thing. For real, this time.”

“And you’re okay with that? Just being friends?” Gareth’s concern is written on his face, and for good reason. You and Eddie tried being friends after breaking up, but it was always falling apart, probably due to not giving yourselves time to heal.

Eddie nods. “I am. It’s bound to be better than not having them in my life at all. I know it’s gonna be difficult, but I’m selfish. I don’t wanna be without them again.”

Gareth nods, taking another swig of his beer. “Good luck, man. Seriously. They were so good for you, I just hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

He has, he’s almost sure of it. If given the chance, Eddie’s gonna show you just how grateful he is for you, just how much he cherishes you. He fucked up, badly, when you were together, but now that he knows what life without you is like, he’s sure he never wants to experience it again.

He's pulled from his thoughts when the dressing room door opens, and you enter with Steve and your band, dressed down from your set. You’re wearing sweatpants and, what Eddie is almost sure, is his old Metallica t-shirt. It’s faded, worn beyond recognition even when he had possession of it, but you still look incredible. Your hair is piled on top of your head, with little stray pieces hanging in front of your face. You catch him looking at you, and give him the smallest of smiles. He returns it with a gleaming grin, one that makes his cheeks ache, but he doesn’t care. You’re here, willingly, in his dressing room, hanging out with him and his band. Almost like nothing has changed in the last two years, even though you’re on your way to being one of the biggest bands in the world. Bigger than CC, even.

You shuffle further into the crowded room while Steve corrals the stragglers standing out in the hall. He’s about to give another rousing Manager Speech, so Eddie kicks his feet up on the small table in front of the couch as you place yourself on the arm closest to him. Your bandmates make themselves comfortable, and he dares to look at Robin, who lets a smile slip from her lips, and it’s like the weight of the world lifts from his shoulders. You must have filled her in by now. Maybe he has a chance to get all of his friends back.

Steve finally approaches the rest of you, standing in the middle of the room while the excitement dies down. “Alright!” He claps his hands together, summoning everyone’s attention finally. “We’re hitting the road for Oregon shortly, I need everyone back on their bus by 2AM. You guys were incredible tonight, I’m so proud of all of you.” Steve looks to Eddie, then you as he says this, his praise directly targeted at his front people. “Til then, do as you please, and call me if things get out of hand. Thank you!” The room erupts in chatter as Steve approaches the couch, followed closely by Robin. “I would love an explanation for this, by the way.” Steve wags his finger between you two, still sitting close enough to touch, without actually touching. “Whenever you feel like telling me.” He looks to Eddie, who bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing. He almost breaks until he feels a hand on him. Your hand, gentle and warm, rests atop his bare shoulder, like the most casual thing in the world, and he can’t bring himself to move, worrying the moment would be broken.

“Don’t worry about us, Stevie. We’re being good.” Your voice is teasing, and clearly worn from your set. Eddie fights the urge to look up at you, knowing one glance will break his fragile composure. Your fingers tap against his clavicle, sticking to him slightly due to the sweat. He clears his throat as quietly as he can, trying his best not to let your touch send him into a spiral.

Steve shrugs. “Alright! Be back by two, please.” With that, Steve leaves the dressing room.

—

Your POV

By now the room is empty, save for you, Eddie, and Robin. You desperately hope they can’t see through your confident facade. Inside, you’re shaking, having felt Eddie’s skin on yours for the second time today. Everything is confusing, you have no idea where the two of you are headed. It feels new and exciting now, getting Eddie back, but it also feels fragile. One wrong move will send you back to square one, and you’re not willing to start over again.

It’s Robin who breaks the silence first. “So, we goin’ out tonight? Or do you two forget how to party together?”

You squint your eyes at her joke, and turn to finally look at Eddie. “You wanna party?” You hope desperately that this isn’t the worst idea ever.

Eddie nods, beaming. You get off the arm of the couch, stumbling less than gracefully to your feet. “Awesome. I’m gonna go change, meet us in the back in like, twenty minutes!” You and Robin scurry out of the dressing room, giggling to yourselves.

“So,” Robin starts as you rush to your dressing room, where Sylvie and Lilith sit chatting on the couch, the small TV providing background noise. “You gonna tell Steve about you and Ed?” Her question silences the rest of the band.

“You better tell us first!” Sylvie shrieks, getting to their feet. “What the hell was all that, even?”

Lilith joins them, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yeah, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you two were almost being friendly in there.”

You lift your, well Eddie’s, t-shirt over your head, swapping it for a tighter, smaller black one, and change out of your sweats and into some light wash, baggy jeans. “There’s nothing to explain, really.” You turn to face your friends. “We talked about what he said. He apologized, and we’re trying the friend thing.” Lilith rolls her eyes, and Sylvie shakes their head. “What?” you ask, exasperated.

Robin speaks for them. “We just know how that’s gonna go, babes. One of you is gonna… I dunno, slip up? Like last time?” When you don’t offer her an answer, Robin continues, pouring both of you a pre game drink. “You guys just aren’t meant to be friends. You’d tear each other apart before you could get to genuine, platonic friendship. You’re not, well, Steve and I.” The last bit is meant as a joke, you know, but it stings a little. You hope they’re not right, that you can be friends with Eddie without destroying you both.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.” You shrug, and yank your boots on. “For now, I just wanna drink.” You take your vodka soda from Robin and throw it down your throat, as if to emphasize your desperation.

—

You, Robin, Eddie, and Steve pile into the back of a cab, all of you already tipsy. Steve’s decided to chaperone, and you can’t really argue considering the circumstances. He sits between you and Eddie, a knee against one of each of yours. The four of you are in casual attire, on your way to a club on the Strip you’ve never heard of. It feels like high school, almost, minus the whole “being in a band touring with a household name” thing. It feels comfortable, sitting between Steve and Robin, with Eddie on Steve’s other side, on your way to get drinks and finally just hang out. No drama, no worries, no screaming fans. A break.

When the car pulls up, Robin climbs out and holds the door for the rest of you. You link your arm through hers, and she links her other arm with Steve. You look at Eddie, standing next to you with his arms firmly at his sides, and offer your free arm. His lips split into a smile, and he links his arm with yours, causing your heart to surge. Friends.

There’s some truth to Robin’s words. You know you’ll probably love Eddie forever, way more than you just would a friend, but you can’t force yourself back into that relationship. You don’t know what your feelings for him are anymore, you just know you have them. And having them is dangerous, especially now that you’re both terribly successful and there’s no way you two could ever work it out.

—

Eddie’s POV

All he’s aware of is your shoulder against his as the four of you squeeze through the dark nightclub. The music is deafening, Jump Around by House of Pain shaking the whole building. He wants a drink. Really, he wants to leave, and go watch a bad movie on the bus, or reread The Hobbit for the fifth time this year. But those things don’t have you in a really tight t-shirt, so instead he’s waddling uncomfortably between sweaty bodies, following closely behind you as you make your way to the bar.

“What’re you having?” He reads your lips more than hears you, squinting to make out what you’re saying in the dark room.

“I’ll take a beer, whatever they have.” Eddie feels his voice rasp as he shouts over the music, but you nod like you’ve heard him anyway. He watches as you order, leaning on the bar so the tender; a good looking dude with salt and pepper hair, a good body, and tight fitting clothes, can hear you over the ruckus. You flirt with your posture, twisting a strand of hair around your finger as you lean in to speak to him. He nods, winking at you before walking away to retrieve your drinks. Eddie can't help the burning in his chest as he watches the interaction, fighting every urge to jump over the counter and beat the guy senseless. Not that he’d be able to, the dude is jacked.

It takes almost no time for you to turn around, coming face to face with Eddie, your nose far too close to his chest. “Here,” you hand him his bottle, and he reads the label.

“They had Red Stripe?” Still his favorite, and only ever found in the crevices of the dingiest liquor stores.

You shrug. “Vegas has everything! C’mon, let’s go find the others.” You take his hand, and Eddie looks at it, a fraction of a second too long before taking it.Despite his hesitation, holding your hand still feels right.

The two of you finally find Robin and Steve, drunkenly grooving on the dance floor, both with a drink in hand. Eddie scoffs at their shamelessness, and looks at you. He’s on edge, unsure of what your next suggestion will be.

“You wanna dance?” Is the last thing he’s expecting.

—

Your POV

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, but it doesn’t deter you from slapping a hand over your mouth.

Eddie’s head whips in your direction, like you’ve startled him. “What?” This is your chance, your way out. Say something else, say anything else. “Do you wanna dance?” Shit! You watch as a smile threatens his tight lipped expression, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards despite his hold on them.

“Sure.” Sure?! Guess we’re doing this! You realize neither of you have let go of the other’s hand. You look from your clasped fingers, to his face, and back again before exhaling, and dragging your ex boyfriend to the dance floor. Robin and Steve see you and wave you over. The walk to them is dreadfully long, your hand sticking to Eddie’s with your sweat. Gross.

“Look who decided to join us!” Steve slurs as he twirls Robin under his arm.

“Steve, I thought you were chaperoning?” You tease, rolling your eyes as you feel Eddie’s fingers let go of yours. Your hand feels cold again.

“Chaperones can have fun too, y’know!” He pokes your arm jokingly, like he’s trying to tip you over. “And if chaperones can’t have fun, so can the, uh,”

“Chaperonees!” Robin interrupts, helpfully.

“Yeah, yeah. Chaperonees! Now, would ya not look so miserable? You know I worry!” Steve drapes an arm around your shoulder as you laugh, enjoying his mood.

“I am having fun!” You exclaim, taking another gulp of your cocktail.

Eddie sips his beer, as if in solidarity. “C’mon, let these two dorks compete to see who can be the worst dancer here.” He takes your hand in his again, this time without the weird tiptoeing around it, and you turn to face him. The song has changed to Def Leppard’s Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad, drastically changing the vibe. Robin and Steve continue to spin and jive aimlessly, but they blur in comparison to Eddie, standing right in front of you.

The drinks flowing through you do their job, lowering your inhibitions and giving you courage. You gently rest your arms around Eddie’s neck, and feel him tense at your touch before fully relaxing. His hands are still by his sides though, so you look from his eyes, to where they hang uselessly. “You’re not gonna melt, y’know.” You joke, but Eddie doesn’t laugh.

“Honestly, I might.” The words shoot through you, and you can feel your cheeks blush. It seems to rouse him from his anxiety, though, as he slowly lifts his arms to rest a hand on either side of your waist. Maybe he won’t melt, but you’re almost sure you will.

—

Eddie’s POV

There is no way he’s surviving tonight. He is one hundred percent certain you will be his cause of death, and that it will be painful, unbearable even. He lets himself look into your eyes, just for a second. They shine as you look back into his, narrowing the way they do when you smile. Eddie hasn’t received a smile from you like that in what feels like a lifetime.

As he’s losing himself in the way your hands rest around him, clasped together at the nape of his neck, he’s brought back down to earth. A bright, sudden light comes from behind him, illuminating your features for a split second. Your eyes widen, and your arms fall back to your sides.

“Eddie! Y/n! Over here!” Eddie whips his head around in time to catch a second flash, temporarily blinding him. He recognizes the culprit, a local paparazzo hell bent on torturing the members of the metal scene.

“Gale,” Eddie tries to remain calm, his heart rate skyrocketing as worst case scenarios flip through his head. “You can’t sell that.”

“I can do whatever I please, Munson!” Gale is slimy, never once giving his subjects a break. Because “he has to eat too.”

Your voice startles Eddie as you speak. “What do you plan on doing with that?”

Gale shrugs, “Sell it, make a quick buck. If I’m lucky, they’ll use it when they speculate on your love life.” He chuckles to himself, waggling his eyebrows. Before anyone can stop him, Gale lifts the camera a third time. “Smile big!” Flash.

Regardless of how badly Eddie wants to rip that camera out of his hands and throw it across the club, he doesn’t. That look doesn’t suit him, especially in front of you, and he’s not in the mood to catch a charge. Instead he pivots back to you. “What do you wanna do about this?”

You don’t seem bothered, in fact you’re uncharacteristically calm about the situation. “Whatever you want, it doesn’t bother me that much. There are worse rumors that could spread. Plus, you and I know the truth, right?”

Eddie only blinks, hoping his thoughts will catch up with his mouth. “Are you sure? Because I can call a guy. Get that picture wiped off the face of the earth.”

“If you want. Don’t stress on my account, though.” You go so far as to replace your hands around him, and Eddie’s breath catches, holding it for a millisecond too long. “It isn’t the end of the world.”

Eddie gingerly places his hands back on your waist, but neither of you dance as the song is replaced with Metallica’s Don’t Tread On Me. His brain is sprinting, trying to catch up with what’s happening.

“You’re not embarrassed?”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. I mean, not by you, but-“ He stops himself. But what? You’re waiting for him to continue, staring at him unblinkingly. “I asked you first.”

You look at your feet, concentrating on the ground between you two. Eddie’s heart sinks, of course you’re embarrassed. There’s a reason you’re not together anymore. “I mean, this is what fame is, right? Rumors being spread about you? Untrue things being said? It’s not really any different than high school.” You laugh sadly, still not meeting his gaze.

“That doesn’t mean you have to like it.” Eddie lowers his voice, leaning to speak into your ear. He thinks he catches you stiffen, startled by his sudden closeness.

Finally, you shake your head. “I’m not. You don’t embarrass me, Eddie. Not lately, anyway.” This time your chuckle sounds more like you, and Eddie lets one slip through his own teeth.

“Alright. I’ll leave it, then.”

“So you’re not-“

“No, I’m not fuckin’ embarrassed. I'd tell everyone that rumor if I could.” He catches himself by surprise with his answer, but he doesn’t backpedal.

You look at him, finally. “What?”

Eddie shrugs. “Worse things have been said than that I’m dating my cowork— I mean, my friend.” He shows his teeth despite his nerves, trying to reassure you that this won’t be a big deal. “Even if that does happen, by the way, no one’s gonna believe it. You’re too good for that.”

—

Your POV

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re quickly interrupted. “We need to go. Now.” Steve and Robin are stumbling all over each other as they approach you, their fingers interlaced as if holding onto dumb or dumber will somehow save them from tripping.

“What? Why?” Your voice breaks with panic, whether from this current event or the one shortly before, you’re not sure.

“We kind of uh, knocked an entire tray of booze over while we were dancing.” Robin can’t get her sentence out without giggling hysterically.

“Turns out some big wig is here, and he’s pissed.” Steve adds, snickering between shallow breaths. “Guy’s a douche anyway, but he wants us gone. Security’s lookin’ for us.”

“For once, I'm not the one to get us kicked out!” Eddie cheers, and grabs your hand. “Let’s go!” The four of you haul ass through the club. You don’t know how drastic the measures are, but your heart still races. The night air hits you as the club door swings open, your ride already idling against the curb. The four of you pile in, borderline maniacal laughter erupting from each of you.

“You fucking assholes!” You shriek, but your tone remains playful. “I was having a good time!”

Eddie looks to you then, and you share a quiet acknowledgement with him. You aren’t lying, you were having fun. By the looks of if, he was too.

“Well, we’re sorry. We have three whole months of fun ahead of us. I’m sure you’ll make up for this time.” Steve lets his head fall onto your shoulder, and You pat his cheek with your free hand. The other still hangs onto Eddie’s, his thumb stroking the top of it idly.

“I forgive you, Stevie.”

—

Eddie’s POV

It takes less than 24 hours for the story to break. He’s on the bus, half asleep as his bandmates circle his tiny bed the best they can. “What the hell?” He sits up, rubbing his eyes as the men before him come into focus. “What’s going on?”

“You tell us, player.” Jeff tosses something onto Eddie’s stomach, and it lands with a slap against his bare skin. He grabs it, and investigates the cover of what looks like a knock off National Inquirer. The headline reads, in big obnoxious font, MUNSON’S NEW BOO? Underneath the text is the picture from last night. His back is to the photographer, but you can still tell it’s him. He’s wearing a denim vest and black jeans, his hair sticking up like it tends to do. Over his shoulder, he can make out your features. Your sparkly eyes, freckled cheeks, and pouty lips. You’re looking at him like you love him, your hands around his neck, his resting on your hips.

“This is not what it looks like.” His voice doesn’t waver. Eddie thinks about what you said. You’re not embarrassed by him, so why would he be embarrassed by you?

Gareth shrugs. “It’s okay if it is, y’know. As long as you’re gonna do it right this time.” Jeff nods in agreement.

“Nothing is going on! We’re friends!”

“Right, right. Because that totally just looks like two friends.”

Eddie looks at the picture again. It’s a good picture of you, and he selfishly wants to tear it out of the magazine and stuff it into his wallet. He wants to keep it close to him. Gareth is right, but that doesn’t change the facts. Friends are all you are.

“Does Y/N know?” Jeff interrupts Eddie’s train of thought.

“I mean, I just found out.”

“Yes, but you sleep like the dead. We’ve been in Portland for three hours.”

“They know the picture was taken. I’m sure they’re expecting this.”

“Alright, man. Now get your ass up, soundcheck in an hour.”

—

Your POV

You read the words over and over again, begging them to make sense. “Eddie Munson, frontman of Corroded Coffin, spotted snuggling up to Death Dance Approximately vocalist Y/n L/n. The two are currently on a cross country tour together, playing clubs and amphitheaters in North America.”

“What are you gonna do?” Lilith sticks another home fry in her mouth, keeping her eyes on you.

You shrug, tossing the magazine back onto the table. “Nothing I can really do about it now, I'm not too concerned.”

“They’re not concerned because they wish it was true!” Robin interjects, sliding into the booth next to you, a fresh coffee in her hands.

“Excuse you?”

“Please, since the day I met you, Eddie Munson has been the only guy for you. Ever. Don’t tell me that’s changed now.” You don’t look at her, and that gives her your answer. “So, we leave it, and we make sure it’s a prophecy we can fulfill!” She slurps a sip of her drink, and you scoff.

“We just got to friends. Give it a rest!”

“Okay!” Robin throws up her hands. “But I’m calling it now, you’ll be in his pants before we hit the east coast.”

You roll your eyes, and turn back to your breakfast. “Whatever.”

—

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @littlepotatobeansworld @poisonedluv | send a message to be added🫶

[doctorguilty]

Therapy log

I did a therapy session yesterday in which I did an exercise pretending to be on a sinking boat and choosing who gets to get on the life boat as like a follow up to the thing going over my patterns of like, being unable to distinguish my own feelings from others, which is exactly what ended up happening after assessing my choices and notes on what I was saying at the end and I was nxjdjjdkkd hm. And she was also like "it also took you until the ..2nd to last person to choose to save yourself" and I'm already thinking like yeah it's literally embarrassing I actually said I wanted to live and get on the boat like, I know I'm selfish for that, And she's like "it's very rare for anyone ever to not almost immediately say they're getting on the life boat" and I'm like, wait what ,,,,, 😶 and I like argued this (lightheartedly) I was like no surely even people who don't actally mean it would just lie anyway to seem righteous like in a performative right? And she's like no at this point in therapy it's like an established space where essentially they're not performing anything to me they're being honest and candid.

And like I guess the point I'm about to make here is not encouraging any kind of like discussion whether or not I think it Is right or wrong to save oneself I think for the purpose of like, therapy, and exposing the pattern that I, as an individual, am so utterly incapable of thinking of myself as a person worthy of life, it feels BAD in a fictional not real circumstance to even consider myself equally worthy of life to any other human being on the planet, and that's my problem that's like going back to my other post where i don't even know what my own feelings are, most of my existence seems to be this vicarious emotional weave that I feel threatened when someone tries to unravel because I have no idea how to be my own person without it, I don't know how to exist for myself and not others. Think I've make progress from where I USED to be, I think when I eventually unbox more abusive relationship lore to my therapist she's gonna be like holy hell, because it took a lot to cut what felt like, just, full on cordyceps flowing all through my body (if I were an ant or perhaps a spider) because that's how far I was like serving the demands of others and erasing myself

And actually that wasn't the point I was going to make here the point I wanted to make was it occurs to me this website is SO FUCKING unhealthy like I mean I knew it to all sorts of degrees but it's definitely making me worse than I even realize like, the way the user base here approaches like suffering and (VERY PERFORMATIVELY IN PLENTY OF CASES) puts all this shit out there like, if you even think of your own well being when other people are suffering you're evil for real, like you know how we keep saying "this site is a saw trap for people with moral OCD", I like recognize things in a 3rd person pov with like other traits I'm familiar with but I have to wonder if nearly every time I eat food or spend money or anything, I cannot stop thinking "someone else needs/deserves this more and I'm selfish for experiencing it instead" and it's an active battle every bite of a sandwich to tell myself these are most definitely disordered thoughts there's no way that's normal. Ignore it. Don't break down into tears (I lose sometimes), just have to wonder of that's moral OCD too (i defs have OCD symptoms in general just other types I am more sure of), though regardless it surely must be something

The way I cope with it tends to be like a telling myself I have to secure my life mask before securing others kind of thing, and also like the world NEEDS to keep spinning, contrary to the beliefs of people chronically online who's politics are like, "I don't vote I don't participate in anything I make transgressvie posts online and await the glorious revolution from my gamer chair" like the person who's income is like making non essential goods still needs to put food on their table and stuff like we can't just cancel everything and live on bread and cheese and wear rags until the world heals because that will kill everyone who's jobs aren't making bread or cheese or rags or delivering them, do you get me

But then you log into this site and get a barrage of like reinforcement of disordered thoughts about morality like actually you are in fact a horrible person for buying a $6 fancy beverage instead of donating that money to charity and my brain is like oh God oh my God oh crap, like this Can't be good for me and how DEEP my hole is, you know, like I'm not just some guy addicted to treating myself and not knowing when someone else should get a slice of my pie I'm in a PIT so deep every time I take a shower I feel guilty for wasting clean water on myself someone else could drink that I have NO WAY of giving to anyone I can't even if I wanted to like 😐

Anyway it's not to say I want to like Quit social media necessarily I'm just kinda in my initial realization phase that it's like worse than I thought, and like I'm sure it's not all done by people making a performance of their armchair activism but I think what they're doing is like throwing fuel into an echo chamber of like, other people like experiencing these things as disordered thoughts but aren't recognizing them as such so instead and posing them as like true ethical Facts and shipping it off to the disordered echo chamber of it.

Idk like I think it might be kinda Messed Up, like, recently I saw this one post where someone like like aggressively ripping some other person apart for saying like "it's not normal for the human mind to comprehend so much suffering" re: current event and being like AND THATS WHY YOU SHOULD CARE YOU SELFISH IGNORAMUS (paraphrasing idk) and it's like, you're putting words in mouths man like who's saying no one should care, it's not an unreasonable statement to simply say this is not normal and is surely psychologically overwhelming for people, to deny even just the very recognition of that, imo, is exactly the kind of shit that makes this site a saw trap for people with moral ocd like why are you trying to be the worst psychologist on earth on Tumblr

Anyway so. Idk. Much to think about 😔 i suppose

[miquella-everywhere]

Long time lurker, new time actually posting online because social anxiety but I love your blog and I've been heartbroken about Miquella and how the DLC absolutely brutalized his character. I wanted to say one of the weirdest and biggest retcons for me was... Why did Mohg pull Miquella from the tree? Miquella put himself there to try and cure his curse of eternal childhood. So why did Mohg make his way through all of the Haligtree and get to the roots to rip him out MID TRANSFORMATION as we can clearly see from the opening, Miquella is covered in fibers and has wings that aren't fully formed and looks absolutely malnourished and toted him all the way to the Mohgwyn Palace where he placed him in a cacoon like... Why do any of that? Why wouldn't we have just fought Mohg in the Haligtree if all Miquella was waiting for was for him to be killed to use his body for you know what? Why bother with any of that? Why not send Malenia to kill Mohg instead of Radahn? Why would Miquella charm this dude to have him drag his half-formed body clear across the map just to be like lol kill him here I guess??? Anyway, the DLC murdered my boy and I'll never shut up about it.

I.

DONT.

KNOW.

You get this whole nonsense in the DLC about how Miquella manipulated Mohg so he could shove Radahns soul into his body so he could resurrect him after we kill him during the Festival just to make his his Consort, and it's just like... really? REALLY?

REALLY????

THIS. Is what you decide to do with Miquella's character. After you had the whole base game building up his and Godwyns relationship, how he prayed for his truth death, how he made a sword of unalloyed gold to commemorate his death, how he created the Mausoleums to grant him a true death, THE STATUE IN THE HALIGTREE, and just NOPE

N O P E

GODWYN ISNT EVEN ANYTHING IN THE DLC. MIQUELLA LOVED RADAHN. RADAHN IS THE PROMISED CONSORT.

EVEN THOUGH IN THE BASE-GAME THERE IS NOTHING LINKING MIQUELLA AND RADAHN TOGETHER

NOT EVEN A SINGLE HINT OF A RELATIONSHIP

okay. okay. sure.

sure.

SURE.

whatever you fucking say.

AND MOHG.

GOD

I. Absolutely hate how the DLC has managed pull shit out of its ass to transform him into a victim. LIKE GOD. WHAT IS WRONG WITH HAVING FUCKED UP VILLIANS. THATS WHY I LIKED MOHG IN THE BASE GAME. THE FACT THAT HE WAS THIS FUCKED UP DUDE KIDNAPPING HIS HALF BROTHER TO BRING ABOUT HIS OWN DYNASTY WITH WEIRD INCESTUOUS UNDERTONES, ALL BECAUSE HE IS A MAD MAN AND SELFISH.

I

LOVE THAT.

THAT IS A VILLAIN RIGHT THERE. AND I MEAN NO OFFENSE, BUT HE SHOULDVE BEEN A ONE-NOTE VILLAIN LIKE GODRICK. HE SHOULDVE STAYED AS HE IS. AS A FUCKED UP, VILE VILLAIN AND I LOVED IT.

and now with the DLC you want me to believe that Mohg has actually been a victim, a fucking v i c t i m the entire time? the bastard who, regardless of miquella's influence, is the leader of a blood cult, kidnaps albinaurics, tortures his own nobles, and is the avatar of an outer god who craves wounds????

FIRST OF ALL. even if you do spin it as Miquella manipulating Mohg to kidnap him IT STILL MAKES NO SENSE!!!! LIKE YOU SAID. WHY WOULD MIQUELLA BOTHER EMBEDDING HIMSELF INTO THE HALIGTREE IF HE WANTED MOHG TO BECOME RADAHNS SOUL-SHOVED-INTO-BODY TO BEGIN WITH????

WHAT WAS EVEN THE POINT

WHAT WAS EVEN THE POINT OF THE HALIGTREE IF THAT WAS TRULY MIQUELLAS END GAME

and now fromsoft really wants me to be behind the idea of shoving all those weird incestous undertones onto Miquella; completely disregarding the base lore that he created a haven for the outcasts, tried everything to cure his sister, wanted to free Godwyn from his cursed powers existence, created unalloyed gold that can repeal the Outer Gods and their meddling, how he and radahn never even interacted

all to make him the big bad guy villain all because he loved radahn?

[trickstarbrave]

You said in an earlier post that Lorkhan is more like Jesus than the Demiurge or something like that? Could you explain it?

anon i love you thank you for letting me elaborate. i cannot promise i will be entirely coherent but

first off there are dozens upon dozens of gnostic traditions. this shit is kinda old and there are different spins on it. so this isnt true for all of them.

the demiurge is a flawed divine being who wanted to make its own world so it made ours and trapped us all in through trickery. this seems a lot like lorkhan on the surface, but its important to understand in the elder scrolls people were already trapped. everything is a dream made up by anu. even though the spirits in TES are immortal beings they still experience things like war and suffering, everything is just happening all at once an there are less impermanent things. but they are still trapped not realizing they are in a dream

lorkhan realized this was a dream. that none of it was real. but decided he existed anyways and wanted to surpass this fucked up trauma dream, he just didnt have the ability to do so. he wanted others to achieve this apotheosis and realize this is a dream and then surpass it, freeing everyone in it. he made the world and mortality because without understanding death and loss and overcoming it, you cannot escape the dream. it wasn't just so people could worship him, he didn't necessarily need or want worship.

in gnostic view of our world (or some of them), the demiurge got irritated people werent worshiping it and weren't worshiping it right. so he wanted to send down a mortal born messiah who would tell everyone how to worship it and make the world more how the demiurge wants it. the supreme being who made everything in the larger cosmos (including the cringe failson demiurge) saw this and intervened, instead sending a guy to teach the real way to surpass the demiurge's fucked up flawed world. that guy was jesus. in some he is the supreme being incarnated, in others he achieved enlightenment through gnosticism and saw the truth, theres more variations but you get the gist.

anyways after preaching his teachings jesus knew the demiurge would want him fucking dead and have him executed. like he knew this wasnt gonna fly and made peace with his death. in some stories he knew this and told judas, his most faithful disciple to rat him out to the government (sent by the demiurge to kill him) because in his death he would transcend. in others its the standard jesus gets betrayed and dies. regardless, in most gnostic stories like this jesus knows hes going to die and that was part of his plan with his teachings. much like how lorkhan knew he would be killed for making nirn and binding the aedra to it.

so i think just saying "lorkhan is the demiurge" is an oversimplification. in standard gnosticism most people dont acknowledge the demiurge for what it is and the demiurge is a fucked up weird, flawed being who made a fucked up flawed world because thats kind of the best it could do. and it wants ppl to worship it for selfish reasons. lorkhan made the world, yes, but its more of a trial to surpass the larger dream theyre all trapped in. and he knew people would hate him and order him killed. namely auriel/akatosh, the one with the strongest connection to anu, who is (likely) the dreamer.

so if you really wanna go this route anu is more so the demiurge who is having a weird fucked up trauma dream and lorkhan is jesus trying to teach people how to surpass the dream and be free

[kendrixtermina]

More thoughts on the Flake thing

I know everyone's jaded from how the Till thing turned out to be largely crying wolf when ppl were much more open-minded/critical at the beginning but pls try to look at it neutrally, imagine it was your least favorite politician.

Let us please consider that "several witnesses said she spoke about it at the time, including therapists (not family members who might conceivably lie)" is the highest standard of proof you can realistically get with rape. They convicted Trump recently on the same level of proof.

If that's not enough, then all rapists would get off scott free unless they did it in public or in front of a camera.

Besides, ppl making it up is rare, because it's serious and gets your targetted. Rare does NOT mean zero but in those Amber Heard, Evan Rachel Woods type cases there is usually a proveable track record of the person having a personal vendetta and being demonstrably unhinged, or being pressed into it by threats of judgement (lying to protect yourself from conservative parents etc) - ppl don't just get up an day & decide to lie, it happens but it's usually a demonstrably crazy person.

What's more likely, a full blown conspiracy, or that a person who described himself in his book as having been sexually irresponsible back when he had a drinking problem was extremly careless in a way that caused someone serious trauma & harm?

is ridiculous to cry conspiracy on this. its just sobering & dissapointing to see, those responses alone kinda make me wanna quit the fandom completely and stop caring

Yes, we have to consider & feature in as a mitigating factor that people were not yet sensibilized for/ taught about freeze responses & hence expect that if someone didn't like it they would say so, but no matter how you spin it, starting to touch someone out of nowhere when they've laid down in bed after drinking too much (especially when they're younger & trust you) would have been considered taking advantage even then & regardless of the norms at the time it's not something I would want happening to me.

It's not the same degree of severity as if you're actively holding someone down or a someone who strategically looks for perving opportunities, but there's no way to spin this as consensual.

He fucked up bigtime, with very serious consequences.

I'm not calling for cancellation, demonization, torches & pitchforks or even telling anyone to stop listening to the music, but the behavior was unwanted, hurtful, and something we as a society should discourage and can't just brush under the table, even if we happen to like & sympathize with the person that did it.

I’m frustrated that this apparently still has to be explained to people, but it’s suuuper common for people to take a long time to process trauma before coming out.  

It’s as airtight as can reasonably be. That 100% happened. 

I don’t think it’s automatically rape because she was 17, but if it’s her first time getting shitfaced and/or having sex - or just as the host while someone else is a guest at your house - you have an extra responsibility to make sure she has a good time & it shows a distinct selfishness & disregard to be so casual about it. 

This person had a traumatic experience that she went to therapy for that could have been completely avoided by just simply asking “Hey, you ok?” instead of starting to touch her just like that. Or simply letting her be if she’s already gone to bed due to feeling sick from too much booze, for crying out loud. 

I hardly think that’s too much to ask to avoid someone having a traumatic experience.

I can imagine that it must be hellish for him to think he had managed to turn his life around & get over that but then find that he still did some pretty irreversible fuckup. 

But we gotta consider that he had much more of a choice in crating the situation than the girl who lived with the consequences/trauma in the years after, even if we don’t know her or the details of how it impacted & stunted her life

The ppl it happened to should be allowed to say it so that people (especially thosewho in theory care of they traumatize someone) are sensibilized for the importance of enthusiastic consent because freeze responses are a thing.

I’m not saying Flake should be roasted on a pike by the mob; Rather he is a person who had a problem with alcohol and made impulsive decisions that hurt others as a result.

But there is just no way under the sun to spin that story as consensual or no big deal. 

its frustrating that the mob understandings nothing short of either complete demonization/ostracism or exonoration, but the victim isnt wrong from coming out & saying what her experience of it was; Saying the truth is ever wrong

...i really wonder how the others are going to react now that its a different person being accused and some extent of undeniable wrongdoing.   

I just wish that instead of this for or against circus we could be having an awareness about freeze responses & the need for enthusiastic consent and WHY people “dont just say something” 

[bridgertonbabe]

You know I’ve gotta ask…

Bridgerton brothers… how does Ben’s chat go? Does it work??

How do they get together in the end???

Benedict goes looking for Sophie and when he bumps into some members of the orchestra he asks if they've seen her but they tell him they haven't. Then just as he's walking away he overhears one of them muttering to the others, "he's probably hoping she'll suck him off before the show"; and immediately he spins back round, utterly incensed by the disparaging remark. He tells the guy off for insinuating such a thing about Sophie and demands to know why he would even think that, to which the orchestra member straight up replies that it was obvious he had been hooking up with Sophie throughout the tour. Stunned, Benedict sets him straight and informs the gathered group that nothing has ever happened between him and Sophie, that they're simply good friends and he doesn't want any of them to be whispering about Sophie behind her back about things that aren't even true. They do apologise but still Benedict is wound up by the comments - and then it occurs to him that maybe that's the reason why Sophie turned him down, if people had made any previous remarks to her about the nature of her relationship with him.

When he managed to find her and pull her aside he explained that he understood if the other orchestra members comments were the reason behind her turning him down - however, this is news to Sophie and she's left unsettled when Benedict tells her about his earlier interaction with some of her colleagues. Nobody had ever actually said anything to her directly and she hadn't heard anyone say anything on the subject, but of course now that she knows that's what people are speculating on, it only makes her want to keep her distance from him.

She uses the new excuse to rebuff Benedict once again and even when he tries to tell her just how much she means to him she begs him to stop. Because now that he's professing his feelings and she can see the sincerity shining so brightly in his eyes, she knows what she feels for him is reciprocated; but she can't let her feelings take over regardless if Benedict returns them in abundance. She still has Araminta's voice in her head accusing her of using those around her for her own selfish gain - and even though that isn't true, even though Sophie has worked hard and gotten to where she is on her own merit, she still refuses to put herself into any situation where anyone might think otherwise. Now that she knows that her own peers on the tour have the potential to perceive her relationship with Benedict to be gossip-worthy and potentially think her capable of sleeping with him to get a step up in the industry, she sees no other choice then to deny herself from being with the very person who means the most to her.

Benedict battles in vain to get her to hear him out, swearing he's never felt like this for anyone else before, and that she means everything to him. They end up arguing, growing more and more frustrated with one another before Sophie storms away, wiping away tears of regret for what might have been if she simply didn't let Araminta's shame-filled (and utterly hypocritical) words get to her.

They avoid each other for several weeks and Benedict's brothers grow concerned with his melancholy mood and how he's drinking to excess most nights. Kate fills them in on Benedict's heartache and Anthony and Colin console him, telling him they're sorry things didn't work out but that he can't continue like this and if he does they won't hesitate to put him on a mandatory break until he sorts himself out. Benedict miserably agrees to go easy on the drinking but tells them the self-pitying isn't going to end anytime soon.

To take his mind off of it, they decide to throw a party in their hotel suite to at least surround Benedict with people in order to help him forget about his troubles. They invite people from the orchestra - but neither Anthony or Colin is aware that the blonde violinist is the very woman who's left their brother heartbroken. Sophie's dragged along by the rest of the string section and though she and Benedict briefly lock eyes, they spend the first couple of hours trying to avoid each other. It's not until they bump into each and Benedict immediately turns to walk away that guilt creeps up on Sophie and she apologises for hurting him. She admits she's really missed him these last few weeks and doesn't want to lose him from her life and hesitantly asks he could consider them just being friends. For a minute Sophie doesn't think he's going to offer her any response until he reluctantly confesses that he's missed her as well and that he'd like them to still be friends.

They spend the rest of the evening chatting away to each other, almost like it's old times again, but there's still that underlying yearning that they can both feel and are trying to ignore. As the evening winds down and everyone heads off to bed they realise they're the only ones left in the hotel room, which confuses Sophie since the suite belongs to Colin. Benedict tells her that his brother left a while ago to talk to his friend Penelope on the phone, briefly giving her a summary of his brother's faux pas with their close family friend when he said he'd never date her without realising she was right behind him. He says his brother's desperate to make amends with her since she's been ghosting him ever since and laughs at how big an idiot Colin is for not realising he's in love with his best friend, before Benedict carelessly says, "at least when I fall in love with my best friend I'm aware of it."

Suddenly he realises what he's let slip and turns to Sophie, whose eyes have grown very wide as she processes what he's just said. Something had shifted in the air between them, neither one willing to break their gaze away from the other - and then Benedict throws caution to the wind and surges forward to kiss her.

Sophie immediately kisses him back, her hands cupping his face as he wraps his arms around her to pull her close to him, and they're locked in the passionate embrace until Sophie suddenly comes to her senses and pulls away until she's up and out his reach. She apologises, saying this shouldn't have happened and before he can say anything she flees the room.

Colin rejoins his brother, having seen Sophie in the hallway, and casually remarks to Benedict that he seemed to be getting on really well with the pretty violinist and maybe there could be something there with her - which caused Benedict to promptly burst into tears. Initially Colin thought that while he and Anthony had allowed Benedict to indulge in a couple of drinks that night, perhaps he had surpassed the amount they told him he could have and that he was just being an emotional drunk. It was only when Benedict began pouring his heart out to his brother that Colin realised that actually Benedict was devastated over Sophie and that she was the one who had rejected him.

After Colin texted Anthony for an emergency brotherly meeting, they consoled him as best they could, telling him the tour was almost over and that he wouldn't have to see her again and thus be able to get over her without being in such close proximity to her. Benedict shook his head, insisting he was irrevocably in love with Sophie and that it didn't matter if they never saw each other again because he'd still love her always. His brothers tried their best to comfort him but for that evening at least nothing they could say could cure Benedict of his heartache.

The following day Anthony and Colin decided to have a word with Sophie, essentially to express their resentment towards her for messing Benedict around and leaving him heartbroken. However they couldn't find her and when they enquired with their stage manager they discovered the reason why. They went to Benedict and told him he wouldn't have to worry about Sophie any more since she had left the tour early. Far from what they had hoped would be relief from their brother, Benedict flew into a full blown panic, demanding to know why she had left and how management had allowed her to get out of her contract early. His brothers tried calming him down when they realised he was stressing that his falling out with Sophie had led to her decision to leave. They assured him that what had happened between him and the violinist had nothing to do with her reasons for leaving and explained that she had left early because of a bereavement in the family. However this did nothing to placate Benedict and he immediately sought out the other members of the sting section to find out if they knew who Sophie had lost. They revealed to him that she had received news in the middle of the night of her grandmother's death and that she had left right away to return home.

Benedict's heart panged for Sophie, knowing just how much she adored her grandmother. She had previously opened up to him about her, how despite the dementia her grandmother suffered from that Sophie visited her whenever she could just to sit and be with her. On occasion she was lucky if her grandmother experienced moments of lucidity and it was these small glimmers that Sophie clung onto. She would also bring her violin to her grandmother's nursing home and play not just for her but for the other residents in the day room, playing older tunes that the elders might connect with and bring back some nostalgia. It was insights like that into Sophie's character that only made Benedict fall for her more, and as he reflected on it all he knew no matter what, no matter how many times Sophie pushed him away that he wouldn't stop loving her. He also knew he couldn't bear the thought of her suffering through her grief and wanted to be there for her and he would move heaven and earth to do that.

It was due to this innate devotion that led to Benedict waiting in a chapel a week and a half later with a handful of other mourners. He stood up when the coffin was brought in and his tender gaze landed on Sophie as she tearfully followed after, accompanied with a woman her age and an older man. Benedict barely paid them any attention as his sole focus was on Sophie throughout the service, his heart going out to her every time he observed her dabbing at her eye with a tissue. He wanted nothing more then to move to the front pew, sit beside her and wrap his arms around her, and it was near agony having to restrain himself from doing just that.

The minister then announced that Sophie would be performing her grandmother's favourite song and Benedict watched as she got to her feet and stood at the front with her violin in hand. The woman next to her had squeezed her hand before she got up and Benedict was sure it must have been her stepsister, Posy, who Sophie had mentioned during their many conversations. As Sophie got into position Benedict then glanced at the man who was sat up front with her - and he had to do a double take to make sure the middle aged man was who Benedict thought he was; Richard Gunningworth.

Benedict was baffled - why was the very famous and critically acclaimed film director attending the service of Sophie's grandmother? Why had he accompanied Sophie into the chapel and sat alongside her at the front?

Before Benedict could think any further on the matter, Sophie began to play the first few notes of Think of Me; and instantly a memory burst back to life in Benedict's head, a memory that had laid dormant in the recesses of his mind for many years.

When he was about ten years old he and his brothers had gone with their parents to a party held by Richard Gunningworth to celebrate his recent Oscar win. It was a quite a laid-back affair and generously open for anyone to join which was why a good number of the guests had brought partners, parents, and children along. Guests (most of them performers who had previously worked for the host) had been taking it in turns to perform songs for the room after someone had taken up the piano and encouraged others to sing while he accompanied them. Richard had been badgering Violet to sing a song and it was during this interaction that Benedict decided to go for a wander, having grown bored of trailing after his parents all evening as they rubbed shoulders with friends and peers.

He had been eyeing up some art pieces that hung about Richard Gunningworth's home when something caught his eye - or rather someone. Out of sight from the rest of the party and peering through the wooden bannister of the staircase was a young girl. Even up there in the dark Benedict could see her eyes sparkling as she surveyed the party carrying on down below. Curious, Benedict slipped his way through the room and without anyone noticing him he reached the bottom of the stairs. Looking straight up the flight of stairs he first locked eyes with the little girl. She was dressed for bed, wrapped up in a fluffy dressing gown and clutching a toy dog in her hands. He offered her a little wave and she shyly returned his greeting. After glancing about to make sure no one had noticed him, he then quietly ascended the stairs until he came to a stop on the step just before the girl.

She was quite bewildered he had approached her and nevertheless returned his verbal greeting and then smiled when she shook the hand he had offered out to her. Before he could ask her anything about herself the piano started up and he heard his mother singing a song from Phantom of the Opera. The little girl let out a gasp beside him and said it was her favourite song and watched in awe as Benedict's mother gave a pitch perfect rendition of Think of Me. Though the girl was captivated by Violet's singing, Benedict was more fascinated by the little girl's awe and wonder and he admired just how delighted she was to hear the live version of her favourite song. When he asked why it was her favourite song the girl replied that it was her grandmother's favourite song and it had been her mother's as well and that her mother had once performed the song herself in a theatre. Benedict smiled softly as the girl remained fixated on Violet, her green eyes shining with reverence. Clearly the song had a lot of sentimentality and as Benedict properly listened to the lyrics he acknowledged that there was a beautiful poignancy to the words.

When the song came to an end and the rest of the party clapped, so did the little girl and she remarked on how the lady who had just sung had such a pretty voice. Benedict suggested she come down with him and they could ask his mother to sing again, at which point the little girl startled and shook her head. She said she wasn't supposed to be up and she wasn't allowed downstairs but before Benedict could ask any more she had quickly retreated up into the shadows of the first floor and he heard a door close seconds after.

He then returned to the party, finding his brothers and parents with the host and immediately he was faced with his mother demanding to know where he had gotten to. Benedict said he had talked to a girl and when he glanced at Richard and took into account his blond hair and green eyes, the same as the little girl's as well as the fact that obviously she was dressed for bed and had been given rules to adhere to, he naturally put the pieces together that she was his daughter - and he mentioned it was his daughter he had met. Richard appeared dumbstruck but then Edmund swiftly informed his son that Richard didn't have a daughter, much to Benedict's confusion. Perhaps she was a niece staying over the night or something and Benedict shrugged his assumption off before Richard then pulled Edmund aside and offered the singer turned actor the role he was in contention for in Richard's upcoming film right then and there, much to Edmund's surprise.

Benedict had nearly forgotten all about that night, though from time to time he recalled the heart-filled twinkle in that little girl's eyes as she watched his mother perform, and any time in his life someone spoke words of remembrance or whenever Eloise plucked forget-me-nots his mind would flash back to the elation on the girl's face as she peered through the railings on the bannister.

It then completely dawned on Benedict that there had been an underlying reason behind Richard hiring his father for a role that even Edmund openly admitted he was shocked to receive - because Benedict had been right; he had met Richard Gunningworth's daughter on the stairs that night; and as he now looked from the older man watching on fondly as Sophie performed, the pair sharing the same fair locks and green eyes, Benedict had the startling realisation that he had already met Sophie years and years before their paths crossed on tour with his brothers.

His mouth was hanging open as Sophie's perfectly performed song finished and as she looked up she caught sight of him and looked just as bewildered as he did - though to be fair, her confusion was due to him having never told her he would be attending the funeral. They stared at each other for several long seconds before the minister cleared his throat and Sophie remembered herself and quickly returned to her seat. Benedict then watched as Richard leaned in and kissed his daughter on the cheek for a job well done and then for the rest of the service Benedict couldn't look away from them.

He couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that Sophie was Richard Gunningworth's daughter. Obviously they didn't share the same surname but when Benedict came to think of it, he was sure Sophie had never once mentioned her father to him. As baffling as it was, he also mused on the fact that Richard Gunningworth didn't have any children of his own. Following that first film they had worked on, Edmund had become Richard's go-to actor for several of his projects and the pair had built up enough of a rapport and friendship for Benedict to be well aware that Richard didn't have children aside for two stepdaughters from his regretful marriage to the detestable Araminta - though it just now hit Benedict that one of those daughters was called Posy, who was sat next to Sophie and was her stepsister...

It was still a lot to get his head around and by the time the curtain was swept around the coffin Benedict had no idea how he would proceed going ahead. He was just considering stepping outside to call his father and ask if he had any idea that his friend actually had a biological daughter when Richard, Posy, and an apprehensive Sophie approached him now that the service had come to an end. Richard greeted him, saying it was a surprise to see him but that he was thankful for him for attending. Benedict waved it off, saying he wanted to be there in solidarity with Sophie, who blushed and gazed at him in awe - almost in the exact same way she had as a little girl sat on that staircase. Richard turned to Sophie, remarking that he didn't know she and Benedict were so close and after a beat Sophie informed her father she and Benedict were the best of friends, a sentiment which Benedict knew ran deeper from the way Sophie's eyes shone at him with complete affection.

Posy then turned to Sophie and asked if she wanted a lift home but Benedict quickly spoke up, offering to take Sophie instead and lying on the spot that he lived close by to Sophie anyway. He really hoped he hadn't got his hopes up too high from just one look but then Sophie thanked Posy for the offer and said she'd get a lift with him instead.

They got into the car but before Benedict could start Sophie requested he waited until Posy and Richard had driven off. Once they had gone Sophie then turned to him and noted that she expected he wanted to know why Richard Gunningworth was with her at her grandmother's funeral, but Benedict beat her to it by stating the fact of the matter; that she was his daughter. Sophie supposed he had simply put two and two together but then Benedict provided her with the flashback he had just had, noting how they had actually met once before as kids. Sophie gasped in shock when she realised he had been the boy who spotted her and made contact with her, remembering it so vividly as it was the only time anyone had ever caught her up out of bed at the top of the stairs spying on one of her father's gatherings.

Sophie then explained the ins and outs of her life story, how she was born from a fling between her father and her mother, Maria Beckett (who had been a West End chorus girl but for one glorious night got to step in for the main actress and perform as Christine in Phantom). When Richard took her in following her grandmother's dementia diagnosis he kept her existence secret to protect her from becoming gossip fodder as his lovechild. She told him about Araminta and how she made Sophie feel ashamed that her own dad wanted to get her into a music academy, claiming she was a nepo baby and that no one would ever take her seriously. She further explained it was Araminta's words that kept her from being with him as she admitted she didn't want to give her stepmother any ammunition; and if she were to go out with him then Araminta would have a field day and paint her out to be a fame-chaser and only dating Benedict to advance her career.

Now with a newfound understanding of exactly where Sophie was coming from and why her rejecting him seemed to be decided by her head rather than her heart when he knew she felt just as strongly for him, Benedict assured her that she didn't have to apologise for turning him down - though she should definitely pay no mind to Araminta since her stepmother was well known in the industry for befriending anyone and everyone and sucking up to them just to keep herself relevant. Though he had told her not to apologise, Sophie tearfully did yet again for hurting him and once again he told her it wasn't necessary before driving her home after the emotionally draining day she had had. As he drove her back he squeezed her hand and kept it clasped the entire drive back. After pulling up at her flat he was taken aback when she asked if he wanted to come up for a drink or anything.

He accepted the offer and they spent the evening just talking as he prompted answers from her about her fond memories of her grandmother. By the time it was getting late Benedict got to his feet, preparing to leave to allow her to rest; but then Sophie asked him if he had to go. She didn't say it but he knew she didn't want to be alone and he kindly offered to stay if she so wanted.

He spent the night with Sophie - but simply holding her close as they slept soundly in her bed. He was blissfully content to have her in his arms, to be able to take care of her, to love her through and through and bring her some sort of peace in spite of the emotional turmoil she had recently suffered from. Early the next morning they both stirred awake at the same time though they stayed in each other's hold, with Benedict idly stroking her hair and Sophie moving her hand to rest over his heart and feel his heartbeat. As they lay there in comfortable companionship, Sophie broke the tranquility by declaring her love for him, how she was so deeply in love with him and that she was tired of cowering away from something she was sure would bring her every happiness. It was all Benedict had wanted to hear and then Sophie kissed him and he tenderly kissed her back. Their kisses became deeper and slowly they began to strip each other of their clothes, taking their time as they languidly explored each other's bodies, trailing kisses all over until they made love and brought each other to mind-blowing ecstasy at the same time. In the afterglow Benedict reaffirmed his love for her, professing his surety that she was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Much to his dismay Benedict had to get up and out in order to catch a flight back to Australia where he had travelled from in order to attend the funeral. Fortunately the service hadn't overlapped with any tour dates but he would have to catch this flight in order to make it back in time for the next concert. He told Sophie that in spite of that he could simply tell management he wouldn't be able to get back and stay with her instead, but Sophie insisted she go; no way was she going to be the cause of hundreds of fans upset from Benedict being a no-show. Before he left he wanted to make it very clear that he now considered himself as her boyfriend, something that pleased Sophie as she replied that she had also now considered herself as his girlfriend, and they celebrated their new relationship status with a passionate kiss before Benedict left with the biggest smile on his face.

[leofrith]

i'm sorry i can't hold it in anymore. darby's explanation for the sages is so painfully fuuuuucking boring. something something the sages are reincarnations, so they aren't really battling with a separate malicious entity but rather experiencing an internal struggle between their current self and their past self. something something it's actually far more interesting for it to be an internal conflict between a sage's current and past lives versus it being a battle between good and evil.

like to a certain degree... yes. but regardless of how you want to spin it, there is something so entitled and yes, evil, about the norse isu drinking the yygdrasil kool aid and expecting some poor unsuspecting human 20something thousand years in the future to be totally down to embrace their memories and allow them to live what is essentially their second life as they see fit. that whole idea is, at the very least, so undeniably selfish regardless of their intentions. and if your way of showing this conflict in the narrative has always been either 1) the sage goes completely insane or 2) the sage embraces those memories at the cost of their self, then how the hell else are people supposed to interpret it other than it being a battle with something malignant, regardless of whether it's a separate entity entirely or something more akin to a mental illness?

like sure. eivor is literally a reincarnation of odin. fine, ok, whatever. but there is an eivor who formed her own distinct personality separate from odin during the first nine years of her life before the memories started seeping in, and even further still during the 22 or so years between her beginning to remember her past life and her "banishing" odin in the yygdrasil simulation. when the choices here are either "surrender" or "be slowly driven mad by the memories imposed on you by an ancient being" then why the hell shouldn't i interpret the isu as parasites that slowly destroy their hosts?

my whole point being: it's less interesting to YOU maybe. but me? i'm over here thinking about the battle of wills between eivor and the hostile ancient being who lives in her head. the battle she thinks she can never possibly win because as far as she knows, this is the all father, the king of the gods, the high one himself. but then against all odds she is able to keep her head, with her family and her community being the things that keep her grounded and anchored in reality.

i'm over here thinking about basim slowly becoming a different person and hytham standing by as an outside observer and watching his father figure become ever more distant. hytham who becomes increasingly reckless in an effort to regain the favour of his mentor because he is convinced that he did something to trigger this change in their relationship, and that recklessness culminating in his failed assassination attempt on kjotve. hytham nearly dying to regain that connection with his mentor, with his father figure while basim, now loki, has already written him off.

i'm over here thinking about sigurd, who definitely has the most... agreeable of those three gods living in his head, but nonetheless becomes a raging tyrant who alienates everyone who loves him because he cannot reconcile these new memories with what he knows, cannot reconcile the fact that he is a god reborn with the fact that he had his crown stolen out from under him and that nobody else can see what he sees in himself.

i just fail to understand what's supposedly so uninteresting about digging into the inherent horror of having your own mind and your sense of self superseded by thoughts and feelings and memories that don't belong to you, but to an ancient being that might as well be an alien to you.

the writers will talk about wanting to keep things "grounded" while working within a universe that includes an ancient race of godlike beings, two shadow organizations constantly at war with each other throughout history while most people are none the wiser to the conflict, and a device that allows people to relive the memories of long dead people through fucking dna. please be serious.

[good-beanswrites]

So, uh, may I request a director's commentary on your attack against me?

Why do you do this to meeee (and masterminding everyone else!!) Lol, well thank you for the ask regardless -- drabble is under the cut with my little commentary in pink!

“Amane, you must – please – !” Shidou’s voice changed from pleading to an icy calmness. “Kazui, hold her still.” 

So uhh I made myself sad realizing that no one would speak respectfully to Amane in this state -- Shidou would either use a placating kid-voice or a completely detached doctor voice. Kazui and Mahiru would also be tempted to use a protective kiddy voice, or they just talk amongst themselves and not directly to her...

Amane struggled from his grasp, but there was no hope of success. Even if her little form stood a chance against Kazui’s strength, even if her uniform wasn’t locking her arms in place, she knew she would not manage to draw up any power with all this pain rocking through her body. Her chest stung so that she could hardly breathe. The throbbing from her right eye made her dizzy.

I'm pretty sure the pain would be so overwhelming that it would stop her on its own, but I wanted to point out that she has so many obstacles in her way -- it really does feel like everything in the universe is against her. I wanted to do a lot more with her relationship with her god in this piece (feeling like he isn't there because everything is against her) but it kept sounding detached from the action. I ended up focusing on her tangible relationships rather than spiritual ones

Through her spinning vision, she could see Fuuta nearby. She was struck with the selfish thought that she wished she couldn't. He looked awful. Shidou had rolled him over so he wasn’t lying facedown in blood, but it still clumped in his hair and over his eyes. His arm was stuck at an odd angle. 

RIP FUUTA SORRY I INCLUDED HIM DIEDED 😭 Though I did include it to drive home the fact that at this point, even though we the audience knows he makes it, Amane is convinced this is the end for him.

“No,” she gasped. “Stop…” 

It was unclear who she was commanding. Shidou? Fuuta? God? Maybe all at once. 

She doesn't blame Fuuta per se, but this and a later line hint that she sees him in control of his fate. She was taught that life or death has nothing to do with medicine -- it's willpower and spirit -- so she's urging him to live as if it's something he can control for her sake. Similarly, she's feeling like she can control her own safety, as long as she makes god happy in these moments (which she currently thinks she's failing at by "letting" Shidou do his work)

The room wobbled as a wave of pain washed over her. Shidou’s hands were around her face. Though seeking her eye, he may as well have been covering her mouth with how suffocating it felt. Amane shook her head violently back and forth in an attempt to stop him.

I love Shidou but he definitely needed to be painted very villainous in this. Amane isn't one of his typical patients, and what would be really comforting to anyone else (speaking with calm precision, having strong and unshakable movements, reassuring hands offering care) is really traumatizing to someone who sees it as condemnation to hell :(

There was the ceiling – then Shidou’s face, far too close – a blood-spattered wall – Fuuta’s ginger hair caked in blood – the ceiling – intense gray eyes – the wall – a broken arm – ceiling – scowling lips – wall – ginger fur caked in blood – ceiling – a screaming mouth – blood-spattered floor – a paw bent the wrong way – ceiling – green eyes filled with fire – 

Crazy about the cat parallels!!! She is reliving her dooming moment over and over again! She cannot escape her "mistake"!! She will forever be haunted by that day, and it's repeating itself a little too perfectly for her liking!! Oh hey do we know what color Ms Momose's eyes are? I figured green was a safe bet

A hand clamped down on her head to keep her still. Her vision swam. She released a cry of anguish. The others probably thought it was from the pain, but she knew how to bite her tongue through pain. No, this was utter frustration.

Obligatory reminder that she's used to physical abuse because I hate myself apparently. I also wanted to highlight that there's a big gap of understanding between her thoughts and everyone else's

Then came a glimmer of hope. An angel.

Mahiru stood over her. Amane only had so many people left in this world who treated her kindly, didn't lead her towards sinfulness... and weren’t beaten to death. With the recent turn of events, Mahiru may be the only one left. 

Between the cat, her mother, and Fuuta, this girl has witness a lot of bloody beatings :( It's impressive she still likes cute things and has fun, colorful dreamscapes seeing how dark things have been to this point in her life

There was some arguing as Mahiru was told to leave, but she convinced the others to let her stay by Amane’s side. She smiled, though tears streaked down both her cheeks.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

That was it. Mahiru had been sent to save her. Everything would be alright.

Shidou’s tone was as cold as the disinfectant he was applying. “Tell her to hold still.”

Mahiru gave her a gentle nod. “Please, you have to listen to him.”

And just like that, the breath was knocked from her lungs. As quickly as her savior had come, she disappeared. Mahiru had turned against her, for the sake of that damned doctor.

Now Amane had nobody left in the world.

I'm still not sure if this part hit the way I wanted to, but at least writing it, I was struck with that gut-wrenching shock of betrayal. Mahiru, who always let other people stick to their beliefs and codes, is turning against her in her darkest moment.

She lashed out one last time before her injuries overtook her completely. Her adrenaline was receding.

“This is for your own good.”

It wasn’t. 

She’d experienced things for her own good. When her mother punished her, she’d repeat the reason for it over and over. When her father brought down his wrath, Amane knew exactly why he was doing so. Her teachers would ask her, when they’d finished giving out their discipline, if she’d learned her lesson. It made sense. It was fair.

Trying to build up a painful dissonance between making the reader think "yeah, this isn't for her own good!! Please, stop doing this to her!! She's right!!" and being plagued with "oh god that wasn't for her own good either... oh... she's not right about that..."

There was no lesson here. 

I was tempted to go into detail that technically Kotoko tried to offer a lesson, and drag the reader through all the awful things Kotoko told her while beating her up, but Amane wouldn't see that as a lesson, either, thinking she and Es are mislead. Including all that for no reason would have just ruined the flow of these paragraphs, but I was sad thinking of what she must have been yelling at Amane, much like her abusers...

One must work towards holiness. Amane had been working her whole life. She’d fought to learn from each punishment. She tried so hard to be good. But now, there was nothing to learn, nothing to strive for. There was nothing at all. Yuzuriha Kotoko was killing her, Kajiyama Fuuta was leaving her, Kirisaki Shidou was dooming her, Shiina Mahiru was betraying her, and there was absolutely nothing she could do. 

Hopelessness was a trial all on its own.

This last line read "Unfairness" until literally two minutes before I posted asdfsd. I was worried it was too melodramatic to say hopelessness, but unfairness kept bugging me since it was SUCH an understatement 😭I figured it was better to lean into the drama than not do her pain justice. I was already drilling it in with that last paragraph summary, so I wanted to keep saying things exactly as they were.