#But they play off each other and fit together like two halves of a whole

[iamnmbr3]

I can't stop thinking about how Harry says to Ginny 'i need to break up with you for your own good so i can go off and fight Voldemort alone' and she's just like 'lol ok.'

He says something similar to Ron and Hermione. Because that's who Harry is. Self-sacrificing to a fault. But the two of them have enough sense to say 'not so fast mf we're coming with u so u don't die.' But not Ginny. Because to her Harry's more of an action hero who she looks up to in awe but doesn't really see as a person.

She just does whatever he wants. Like in book 7 we learn that she was devastated by the breakup but she never shares that with Harry or cries in front of him. Because they don't have that closeness.

I'd also like to note that this is a huge divergence from book 5 where Ginny actually does stand up to Harry and won't just let him run off into danger alone. But then suddenly book 6 Ginny has a different personality and has reverted to worshipping the idea of Harry rather than being attracted to him as a person. She even says part of why she likes him is that he would never be "happy" if he wasn't off fighting Voldemort even though that isn't who he is at all.

[samkerrworshipper]

long distance | mapi leon x reader x ingrid engen

inspired by a prompt i got a while ago asking for a touch starved and anxious reader who’s been away from mapi and ingrid for a while and needs a reminder just how much the love her

no warnings just fluff n angst

There were a lot of pros of being a professional athlete. There were also a lot of negatives. Travelling fits into both categories, a lot of people would argue that travelling as a part of your job is awesome, especially when you're getting paid to. You agreed, travelling across the world to play soccer was pretty fucking awesome, getting to experience new cultures and different cuisine was one of your favourite parts of your job.

But being in a different country to your girlfriend for half of the year was pretty hard. Especially when you were a whole ocean away from each other.

Normally, you managed just fine, sure it messed with you a little bit but you managed, normally you’d get to see them every month or so with international breaks and weekends off, but it had been two months since you’d seen your other halves, and it had been starting to get to you.

A month was typically your threshold, so a two month stretch was a lot for you, especially with the busy Arsenal schedule that had you playing sometimes two games a week and training every other day you were being laid out thin, and it was starting to get to you. You started to get needy in the absence of Mapi and Ingrid, a weird mixture of distanced but also uncharacteristically clingy. You were grumpy, your typically never ending patience finding the end of its fuse.

Specifically you wouldn’t let Kim or Katie out of your sight, constantly attached at the hip to your teammates. You were aware it was annoying, and particularly problematic when you were a mixture of tired, hungry and touch deprived, that was when you were at your crabbiest.

You suspected someone had told on you, considering the rather lengthy text messages you’d been receiving from both Ingrid and Mapi expressing their worries about you, and letting you know that it was okay to feel a bit alone and that if you ever needed anything they were there. Not to say that you didn’t already know that, you trusted your girlfriends more than anybody, but it seemed that the longer you were away from them the more you seemed to feel like you were a burden to your girlfriends.

It was really fucking hard being the one who was always away, because you felt like you were always compensating for lost time. Mapi and Ingrid were always together, whereas you didn’t have that, you didn’t have the connection that they had on a daily basis, so every time you returned home to Barca, you felt like you had to strengthen that bond, that you had to work harder to make up for the lost time.

When the time finally did come around where there was an International break period you were a mixture of ecstatic and anxious. The final week in England had been a major struggle for you, to the point where Katie had to stay the week at your apartment because everyone was worried about you. You weren’t sleeping, or really taking care of yourself, too consumed by the ticking down days that were slowly getting you closer to the day of seeing your significant others.

You’d been dodging their calls as much as you could, you weren’t quite sure why but everything seemed harder when you were away from them, and seeing their faces was just the cherry on top.

It’s like when you get in the shower and you think the water is too hot but for some reason you don’t feel it. You just see the steam rising from your red skin and subconsciously you realise that it’s hurting you more to look at, so you take your eyes away and focus on the steam on the window and just go about your shower like nothings wrong.

Or at least that was what it felt like for you, like the more you saw and thought about Ingrid being together the more it actually hurt you, so you pushed it away for as long as your body could manage it.

When the day ticked over for Kim to take you to Heathrow you were at the end of your manageable threshold. You were tired and so deprived of everything that your whole life felt like an anxiously numb cloud that you were slowly drifting away on. Kim tried to talk to you, she even walked through the security with you and took you all the way to the gate like a six year old, you didn’t have to in you to protest and you got the vibe that if you did you would just end up with a really long and intricate lecture from Kim, which you couldn’t be bothered with, you were tired enough as it was.

You were just glad that the flights to Barcelona weren’t too long, so you could put on whatever shitty movie that had just come out and sit back and relax and ignore the fact that you were three hours away from being face to face with your girlfriends.

All you wanted to do was get there and makeup for lost time, go out to dinner, or do something that was the norm. You needed something normal, something just to make you feel like you weren’t a burden or a problem for your lovers.

When the plane did touch down you felt a surge of anxiety course through your veins, your body was too tired to even really feel it though, you could feel yourself forcing your body through the motions, picking up your bag from the luggage claim and the walking out into the Barca sun, trying to find a cab to take you to Ingrid and Mapi’s apartment.

You knew you could have asked them to pick you up from the airport, but you felt so wrong in doing so, like it was even more trouble to ask them to go out of their way to come and collect you. So you sat in the back of an uber, your knee anxiously jumping up and down as the car slowly winded through the different Barcelona streets, with every single kilometre driven slowly reeling you in closer to your final destination.

You’d never missed anybody more in your life than you had them. When you were away, there was an empty, Mapi and Ingrid shaped hole in your heart. Nothing or nobody would ever come close to filling it, and when you were away you were certain that it might never feel whole again. You felt like you were going to be sick, like everything was riding on you being okay and this interaction being okay. What if they thought you’d changed? Two months was a long time, and sure, the three of you had been dating for nearly two years, but that didn’t make it any easier. Your hands were absentmindedly toying with the rings on your fingers, silently twisting them as you pondered what your next interaction was doing to look like.

You were so busy thinking and playing with your rings that you didn’t even realise the car had pulled up to the front of the complex, until the uber driver was turning back to look at you and signalling for you to leave his car, so you did, you picked up your bag and your stomach, which you felt was about to fall out of your mouth and walked forwards into the lobby of the apartments and straight towards the elevator. You were genuinely worried about throwing up your stomach, it felt like all of your internal organs were crammed in your throat and it was seriously affecting your brain's ability to think and your ability to breathe.

You managed to make your way to the doorstep of the apartment, and managed to raise your fist high enough to knock on the door. You had a key, but you didn’t want to break in, not without warning.

You waited a few seconds, before you were rewarded with the sight of Mapi opening the door, her eyebrows shooting up as soon as she realised that you were standing in front of her.

“Princesse, come in!”

Mapi’s face lit up immediately, and it did wonders in easing your stomach and easing up the deep frown that had become so familiar to your face recently.

You allowed Mapi to usher you into the apartment, into the kitchen where Ingrid was sitting, her eyes lighting up similarly to Mapi’s when she noticed who had entered the apartment.

“Elskling! You’re here?”

You’d thought that you’d texted one of the women to let them know about your flights, but you weren’t sure, in hindsight you probably should have looked into that.

“Yeah I’m here, sorry if I’m disturbing anything, I thought I texted one of you.”

Ingrid stood up from her spot sitting at the island bench, a bright smile on her face as she got closer to you.

“Not at all, we were just about to head out and get lunch and maybe go to the beach for some recovery, but spending the rest of the day with you sounds like a pretty good plan to me, Maria min?”

You felt your throat close up, you were stepping on their plans, something that you most definitely didn’t want to do.

“If you had plans then we can do them, I’ve had a coffee so I’m feeling great and i don’t want to ruin your plans.”

Ingrid just shook her head at you.

“Nonsense, we’ll stay in for the day.”

It sat wrong with you, knowing that you were potentially wrecking their planned day.

“No, I seriously don’t want to wreck any plans, I feel up to it.”

Ingrid’s big smile turned into a little frown, as she finally broke the barrier between the three of you, her hand reaching out to your flustered face and brushing a piece of hair out of your eyes.

“Elskling, in the nicest way possible, you look wrecked, how about we get into some pjs and hop into bed? You look like you're due to catch up on some sleep.”

There was little fight left in your body to disagree with Ingrid, the Norwegians' deep frown of concern working wonders at bringing down your barriers.

“Ingrid I feel fine, I seriously don’t want to ruin your guys’ plans or be a burden, let’s just do whatever y’all had planned, I feel fine.”

Ingrid let go of a deep exhale, her lungs deflating as she looked you up and down, Mapi mirroring her concerned look from behind you.

“Bebita, Kim told us that you haven’t been sleeping, that you’ve been struggling, let’s just go to bed, yeah?”

You noticed the way that Ingrid’s hand snaked it’s way down from your face to your waist, pulling your body closer to her own, craving the contact that she was providing, and the skin on skin slowly pulling the refusal out from your body. You felt yourself flinch away from Ingrid’s touch slightly, your body so shocked by the unfamiliar contact.

“Baby?”

You could hear the hesitance in Ingrid’s voice.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m just not used to this, it’s been a long time, I forgot what it felt like to be in your arms.”

As soon as the words were leaving your mouth Ingrid’s arms secured around you tightly, like she was never going to let go. You could feel tears pooling in your eyes, the strength that you’d been holding up for so long just by the feeling of Ingrid’s thumb massaging against your hip bone.

“Never apologise Elskling, let’s get you to bed, hm?”

You didn’t even try to protest as Ingrid led you towards the bedroom, Mapi already in the bed waiting for you. Ingrid helped you onto the bed, before handing you over into Mapi’s arms, your body falling limp against hers as it absorbed the touch it had been desperate for.

“Hiya hermosa, it’s okay, we’ve got you, you're safe here.”

You felt the pooled up tears start to fall down your face, the warm water leaking down your face like a dripping faucet, steadily creating a little reservoir of water at the base of your chin.

“Oh bebita, it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’m here, what’s wrong?”

For you it felt like the whole world was wrong, like it was upside down and topsy turvy.

“You guys just love me too much, I’m so much trouble and you never get to see me and every time I am here I’m tired and a burden.”

Your speech was like word vomit, all of your insecurities just coming out in one go.

“Oh elskling, you’re not trouble at all. There is nothing Ingrid and I would rather do than sit around and look after you. God knows you need it after being in London for so long, you should have told us you were struggling, we would have come and visited you, even if it was just for a day. It’s human for you to need this, to need us. We love you whether you're tired or not, we couldn’t care less if our time together is spent going out or sitting in bed all day, as long as it’s with you elskling then that’s what matters the most.”

Mapi’s words only spurred your tears on, sending them ricocheting down your face.

“Oh bebita, it’s okay, Ingrid and I are here now, you're back where you should be.”

Mapi’s arms tightened around your body, bringing your head into her chest. Ingrid slid into the bed beside the two of you, a drink bottle and some paracetamol.

“Hey bebita, can you just drink some of this for me before you rest please, we don’t want you getting dehydrated.”

You didn’t want to, but you also didn’t have the energy to push it, so you took the bottle from Ingrid and took a tentative sip.

“More please elskling, at least a few more sips.”

You pulled your head from Mapi’s head, taking the offered pain relief and downing it with the sips that you took from the bottle. After downing a decent amount of the fluids you handed the bottle back to Ingrid, who placed it down on the bedside table before wrapping her own arms around you and embracing both Mapi and yourself.

You felt so safe with them, so secure, like every single insecurity or problem that you’d been dealing with in the last two months didn’t matter now, because you were in their arms, you were with them.

As you slowly drifted off to sleep you felt more at peace then you ever had, or more at peace then you’d ever felt in London, for whatever reason, when you were with the Spaniard and Norwegian every single external noise just went quiet, the world was peaceful, and they were the reason why.

Your happiness, your positive feelings all revolved around them, they were the sun and you were earth, just orbiting them and bathing in whatever sunlight that you could find.

[kylieswift31]

The mirrorball

"I want you to know I'm a mirrorball I can change everything about me to fit in"

Museless

I wanted to make a seperate post to provide a little more clarity on my museless stance, but also to invite others to try it out too.

It is not my intention to sound superior because I don't have a preferred muse, but the truth is that I just never felt invested in a specific muse because I didn't live through it as it unfolded. Instead I've chosen to focus on seeing Taylor as her own muse because at the end of the day, wanting Taylor to be happy is the one thing that we all have in common.

The two Taylors

Throughout Taylor's music videos we see many different variants of Taylor. It's difficult to keep track of all these variations, so I tend to simplify it by talking about the queer version of Taylor and the pop star version of Taylor.

Inner = queer Taylor wearing a mask to hide in plain sight

Outer = pop star Taylor as a facade to protect what lies beneath

These two halves of Taylor both represent her as a whole, but highlight the inner turmoil she's experienced from being closeted throughout her career. In both her music and music videos, Taylor's co-stars typically represent the inner version of herself.

The true man

To understand how Taylor has layered these versions of herself throughout her work we need to refer back to Truman's story. The Truman show starts off with interviews with the cast as we learn about his life. From the director's perspective, Truman Burbank is the most true and real person alive because he was raised on the set of Seahaven under his supervision and guidance. But at the very end Truman reveals that he had been aware that he was living his life in the spotlight and was putting on a show for the audience from the vey beginning.

Every aspect of Truman's life was scripted for him, and his name is no different. If we break it down Truman becomes true man. Burbank is the city where Seahaven was constructed near the Hollywood sign. Truman was the director's manuscript, or the man you script. If we put this all together it becomes 'the man you script is the true man in Hollywood'. Every one around Truman was an actor, but to the directors surprise Truman had been acting too. That means that the true man lies.

So now we have the inner version of Truman who wanted to leave Seahaven, the outer version of Truman that was performing for the audience and the director that was shaping Truman's experience from an outsiders perspective.

The many Taylors

Taylor has told us that she lies too. Just like the director scripted Truman, Taylor has been scripting herself. The anti hero music video is a great place to start to begin understanding the concept of there being multiple versions of Taylor. There's the regular Taylor stuck at home, the pop star Taylor wreaking havoc, the giant Taylor (the elephant in the room 🌈) that crashes the party and the dying Taylor in the casket. The only problem with having this many versions of Taylor is that it's easy to lose sight of the bigger picture.

Instead, we can consider that each version of Taylor represents a layer of who Taylor is as a whole. Some versions of Taylor may be exiled or hidden away like a horcrux, but they've been hidden away inside of Taylor.

This concept is akin to a set of nesting dolls.

The red herrings

Every layer acts as both a mask for the inner layers to wear and as a facade concealing the layers within. This concept of a facade is what Taylor is describing in the song 'mirrorball'. She's reflecting back what you're willing to see and the version of Taylor you see therefore depends on how deep you're willing to look. This is because the pop star Taylor is the facade for the regular Taylor and so on. This pattern continues until you reach the giant Taylor. And then from the inside out the regular Taylor is the mask for the giant Taylor and so on. This pattern continues until you reach the pop star Taylor again.

"No one wanted to play with me as a little kid So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since To make them love me and make it seem effortless This this the first time I've felt the need to confess And I swear I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian 'cause I care"

However, the secret to seeing the inner Taylor is to understand that the director Taylor exists too. This is integral because the director is scripting or creating the layers to protect the inner Taylor. And no matter which two layers you look at, they're both acting as a mask and facade for the inner and outer layers. All of these versions of Taylor exist because the director Taylor is also the mastermind.

It's evident Taylor is incredibly skilled at creating these layers through the way she has been able to weave multiple muse references into her songs. There's something there for everyone. The general listeners who relate the story to their own lives, the swifties who find connections to Taylor's male muses and the gaylors who find connections to Taylor's female muses. But underneath all that is the complexity of the inner Taylor.

Comparing this concept of layers to the eras tour setlist is intriguing, as they each represent a layer of the mask she has added to over the years. The show starts with the lover house facade, moves into the love story of fearless, goes deeper with the feminine rage in TTPD and ends with the midnights set. Debut being left off the setlist implies that debut Taylor's version is the inner most layer of Taylor's discography. Everything Taylor is working towards is so that she can drop the mask and return home to herself.

The best friend

Being museless is a way to see Taylor as her own muse, but that doesn't mean that she's doing all of this alone. Truman was able to secretly communicate with his best friend Marlon without being detected through the subtle changes in the way they spoke to each other. The same has been happening with Taylor's allies. It's just subtle enough that it would seem like a coincidence to anyone else, but those who can see the deeper layers have been able to pick up on the patterns. The chaos that has been building up will be easier to navigate if you're can see that Taylor's muses, friends and allies are all working together to support Taylor. And that together, they're all working towards creating changes within the industry that will benefit everyone.

"Karma takes all my friends to the summit"

A tortured poet,

Kylie x

P.S. I've lost count of how many times I've written Taylor in this post! haha

P.P.S. Tay liar + swift af boi = Taylor Swift

[morrisonrs]

The World's Calling Prologue: Any Idea is A Good Idea.

It is a well-known fact that the best projects are based on an offhand idea. The errant spark of creativity that comes to lead an artist on the path of creation. The perfect words to express emotions closest to something indescribable within the act of poetry, simply made up of a half-baked response. Ideas written off as nothing come back in the strangest of ways and in certain cases, can come back as the savior to a seemingly unsolvable dilemma. While most may disregard the ideological bottom of the barrel, more often than not, there is still something of note to be found. Whether or not the idea is good is a different matter. When all other ideas have been exhausted and the great thinkers are out of commission, there is nothing better than a bad idea. It is one such bad idea that brings us to the focus of this Paragraph. It is this bottom of the barrel, out of left field thinking that leads to the creator of the most influential bad idea of recent history. Rory Chase.

As a human member of the Runner's Union, the species brought to the table something the organization sorely lacked. The unnatural override of self-preservation that is found in all Human Beings. Such a startling lack of awareness for safety allowed humankind to pave the way for beings on the planet known as Mash-Al. Truly, Rory was one of the many specks to find themselves on the planet like the Mechs before him, the Mirepods before that, and the animal-kin at the origin. It was that fact that allowed him to maintain a position of influence within the organization. Though a non-significant amount of this luck could be attributed to repeated "disappearances' ' of higher-ranking officials who didn't play along with local customs within the smaller towns. There were also those who had gotten a subtle warning from management about their activities under the table, most of which came to a head with a pink slip and ended with a dirt nap. For whatever the reason, the right dominos had fallen to land Rory a bottom tier seat as one of the Human Representatives of the Runner's Union. A dirty blond boy whose ancestors came from the remnants of what was Wyoming was now sitting in an office space with some of the most powerful semi-political figures on Mash-Al. To put it lightly, he was out of his league.

In an office meeting room that had a singular plant on the singular long table, there sat a creature with an aged shell of gray and scars of conflicts long since finished and long since forgotten. With weary eyes and a tired mind, she sat there befuddled in front of a nameplate labeled Ivy.

On her left was a humanoid figure of metal. Its head was best described as a black orb attached to a neck stump, with two halves of the orb shifting hues as it sat there in silence. The body was much more humanoid with the whole kit. A strong torso, arms with silver streaks running through a gray base and legs to match. The chair it sat on was brought from its home city and instead used the office provided chair to hold its secondary and third units, each about double the size of a hockey puck in a pile with a nameplate labeled Reimos.

On the right of the Tortoise was a globular being of a light green. Its make-up was gelatinous, and any sign of humanoid features was found in its see-through body, with something resembling the brain surrounded by bone matter that didn't seem to naturally fit together. The chair it laid upon was covered in plastic wrap but with the way the goo shluped its way across the lining, it was better to say that it wasn't keeping it clean as much as it was trying to keep it from infecting it. What was not covered in goop revealed the nameplate of Mince.

Finally, there was Rory's boss. A thirty-something woman who wore a suit that was stitched with the desperation of a tailor doing their best with squares of fabric that were starting to lose their ability to match the overall blue. Her hair was black, short and most recently messy, as any hairstyle would lose its muster after a full hour of deliberations with nothing to show for it. Her head in her hands, a glass of water next to her as well as a nameplate reading Frida Reed.

The whole point of this stressful affair of a meeting was to hire a group of people to do the job of "Record Keeper." People to take note of important and unimportant goings on in the world and report back to the Runner's Union with their findings. A deep sigh came from Frida as a long sip from her "water" glass followed. No one within the Union was going to take that job and it was getting to be a pain in the ass. For years, Frida had power hungry goons gunning for her job, her career, her standing. Yet she offers them a job on a silver platter and now they decide to puss out? Hypocrites. Another swig from her glass. By the looks of the old Tortoise, they were starting to realize that the water wasn't water. It was time for her to call it off.

"Look, we're not getting anywhere here," Reed said, her voice frustrated. "None of us are gonna do it, no one in the Union's gonna do it and our respective patrons are sure as hell not gonna start volunteering names."

The metallic android emitted a dull bass from its sphere. As the sound lowered, a voice efficient and heavy began to speak. "This meeting wouldn't have been necessary if we had canceled the prior Expedition. 10 years of prep and investment just to barely get to the border of what we are generously assuming is near the North Pole. 30 Mechanoid units lost, almost a hundred organic units dead, valuable vehicles and supplies gone in the snow. For some fundraiser that your associates..." The android put extra stress on the grouping and on the Tortoise. "-seem set on going back on. Now we're facing a deficit and employment shortage because your community leaders aren't going to start throwing qualified names!"

The Goop formed something resembling a melting head in name only and began to voice its own opinion. "Are we certain they are gone? Truly, a few of my kind can survive a bit of cold. Could be that they're just stuck in the snow metabolically. Though if we go off to melt them, there is a chance a few of the corpses would get devoured, what with them starving and all. Though that might already be the case." It seemed to find humor in the idea as it laughed in the same way a crow mimics the sound.

A hefty sigh came from the Ancient Tortoise, her voice grounded down by age and years of stress. "There will be no rescue mission for them. We cannot afford to retrieve them, even if we knew exactly where they were. With the amount of time, it took to even get to that point, we wouldn't be able to justify it to them." She pushed her face into her three-pronged hands. "If there are no other suggestions, we will need to draw this meeting to a close."

Then, from the back of a beanbag chair that the others put there as a vague attempt at entertainment, came the farmer's boy dialect from a mess of hair. "How bout we put up some fliers?"

.

.

.

Within the room there was a consideration as they desperately tried to either refute him, offer a better plan or just remember who the hell he was but all attempts failed.

The Tortoise, in a moment of resignation, simply asked.

"Any opposition?"

[sodamnbored]

I really wish that we didn’t know who Ethan Nakamura was.

Don’t get me wrong: I love Ethan. I just wish they hadn’t told us they’d known him from Camp Half-Blood. There was so much missed potential if there’d been a little mystery.

Ethan could have been a Roman demigod defector.

Percy and Annabeth could have just thought he was one of those demigods that never made it to Camp and had been surviving by himself when Luke recruited him. Ethan was relatively quiet and didn’t say a lot about himself for the most part as far as I remember. So it would fit and they’d let everyone believe that he had just been a random straggler.

But look, the Titans - like the gods - would have been aware of both camps. The war was being fought on two fronts. You have to assume Camp Jupiter would have had its share of defectors as well. From the Titans point of view, why not combine their forces into one big army?

Every time we saw the Titan army, Percy was always stunned by how many demigods had joined Luke. And it’s been a while since I read it, but I’m sure there was some suggestion of Luke recruiting kids off the street that had never gone to Camp right? Plenty of the army Percy and the others didn’t recognise. Some of them might have been taken off the street. But some of them could have been Romans and they just let them make their assumptions.

Because Luke and Ethan and the Titans may have combined their two halves into a whole, but they would definitely be keen to keep each camp a secret from the other, to avoid a potential alliance and risk having the camps outnumber them again.

Ethan could have been heading up the rebellion as far as Camp Jupiter was aware. If they ever heard about or caught sight of Luke they could’ve assumed he’d just been surviving by himself out in the world and was Ethan’s number two. Just like to the Greeks, Ethan was Luke’s number two.

I just really love the idea of the two sides of the war overlapping. I want to know more about the Roman side and it’s defectors, and I think Ethan would have been a really interesting bridge for that.

Also because the war was still a big deal for the Romans. And if they did have defectors, you’d think a leader would have been appointed as well. Would’ve been weird and less appealing to join if it was just a ragtag bunch of demigods floating around an army of monsters and Titans. Like, who was recruiting them? A friendly recognisable demigod face would garner more support than good ol’ Uncle Krios asking them to join his army and die for him.

But I think it downplays it a little bit if it’s just someone only doing the Roman side of things. Luke was aware of everything, including the Throne in Roman territory. Percy and the Greek war effort went there to tackle that side of the war too. So you’d think as huge and widespread as the war was for the Greeks, that the Romans would’ve had the same. It would sort of suck if they only ever stayed in their camp and only went to the mountain next door for battles. Massively downsizes the issue. But if you combine the Titan armies and have the Greek and Roman demigod defector leaders working together, it gives more wiggle room for both sides to have been fighting all over and fighting the complete army, albeit at different times with different tasks.

I just enjoy the idea of Ethan being a secret leader and Luke on occasion being forced to play second fiddle, even though they both know he’s Kronos’ chosen one and it’s only for show in front of Jason and Reyna. I think that’s a good dynamic for these evil husbands.

[nebulablakemurphy]

The Red Room

Summary: Meeting Yelena in the red room is the best and worse thing that’s ever happened to you. Warning: romantic Yelena x Fem!reader pairing and depictions of violence.

Those first weeks in the red room pass in a blur. You have one room. Just you. Meals are delivered like clockwork; no one speaks to you. Your only company being the television set that plays the same clips; morning, noon and night.

Until one day the lights flip on brightly above you and a woman enters. You squint up at her, “hello?”

“Hello.” She replies, “are you ready to get out of here?”

“Where will I go?” You wonder.

“Wherever I tell you.”

That is your first encounter with Madame B. When you were younger you thought her something of a savior. You know better now. Still when she calls for you, there’s no choice but to go.

You make your way down the long hall, florescent lights humming above you. Finally reaching the room you’ve been assigned; you grasp the door knob. Feeling the weight of the cool metal against your palm, with a steadying breath you turn it.

Inside is only Madame B and a girl. One you’ve only seen in passing, one of Dreykov’s favorites.

“Y/N, meet Yelena. She will be your partner from now on.” Madame B leads the introduction.

“Did something happened to Oksana?” Your brows pull together, voice small. Afraid to cross an unspoken boundary. She’s always been your partner.

“Oksana is no longer your concern.” The woman bites out. “Shake hands and prepare for your lesson.”

You nod, biting your tongue.

Lesson…

Sparring.

Dancing.

Captive simulations.

What will it be this time?

“Oksana is ok.” Yelena tells you, once the trainer is out of earshot.

“Good,” you whisper, holding your hand out to shake without another word.

“Is that why they kept you locked up so long? You don’t play well with others?” The blonde takes your hand, eyes narrowed into slits.

“I don’t play at all.” You inform her. Pleasing these people is your ticket out of here, and you will get out.

“Everybody plays, whether you want to or not.” Yelena tells you, letting your fingers slip from hers. “Just don’t get in my way.”

——————————————————————-

You don’t get in each other’s way. Somehow having Yelena as a combat partner is a lot less annoying than you anticipated.

Oksana is a better friend, but you aren’t here to make friends. You’re here to kill. Topple regimes from the inside out, Yelena helps you do that.

Your training with Yelena is different. Chipping away parts of you until you fit together seamlessly. From trust falls to synchronized attack plans, you name it you do it. Sometimes until you bleed.

One of your trainers, Ivan, has taken a liking to blind folded direction. Outside of captive simulations it is your least favorite team building activity.

You remind yourself to focus and breathe. In some ways guiding is worse than being guided. “Veer slightly to your right.”

Yelena lifts one bare foot, holding it airborne, allowing you to assess the placement of her next step. “Here?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, as she clears the bit of shattered glass. “That’s perfect.”

———————————————————————

Your first real assignment comes on Monday, June second.

“Come in, Miss American Pie. I have eyes on the target.” Yelena informs you through the ear piece.

“That’s still not my name, over. Stay high, I’m going down.” You reply, deploying your rope and riding it to the ground.

“Five ticks northwest and the package is yours.”

“Copy.” You follow her instruction, ducking away as a bullet shatters the window beside you. “Easy.” You chastise, in a hushed whisper.

“Sorry,” she apologizes half heartedly. The kill was necessary and she had a clean shot.

You spot your target, ready to turn onto the main street from the alleyway. You wrestle him to the ground, he puts up a good fight. Not good enough.

You wipe the blood from your hands before removing the usb drive from his breast coat pocket. “Just admit it,” you taunt, turning to the building Yelena is scoping from, “you’re proud of me.”

“Y/N!” Her tone is not playful at all.

What’s wrong? Before you get a chance to ask the man you’d assumed dead has his knife buried in your thigh.

You crumple to the ground as he prepares to strike again. In the time it takes to unholster your weapon a silent bullet reaches his temple from the sky.

You squint up at Yelena, watching her ride her teether down to the ground beside you. “Thanks.” You pant, inspecting the damage.

“That was sloppy,” she frowns, searching her pack for the midkit, then tearing open a package of gauze. “You always check the body, confirm the kill.”

“I know, I was stupid.” You gasp, feeling Yelena apply an obscene amount of pressure to your wound.

“We need to move to the extraction point, they can deal with you in medical.” Yelena rises, tossing your arm over her shoulder for support.

“It won’t happen again.” You promise, leaning heavily against her side.

“You’re right, it won’t. I have no idea what happens to me if you die.” She grumbles, somewhat bitterly.

———————————————————————

Interactions with Yelena are sparse after that. She doesn’t trust you. Only showing up for your lessons and leaving the moment they’re finished. You understand why she’s angry, you would be too.

According to your weekly rotation, today should be live target practice, however you are directed to a different room.

Once inside your eyes find the chair. You hate that chair. You hate this room. Nothing good ever happens here.

Slowly you move toward Yelena at the far wall.

“A little birdie told me that you’ve been holding back in combat lessons.” Ivan says, tapping a finger to his chin. “Why is that?”

You bite anxiously at the inside of your cheek.

“I said why is that?!”

You notice Yelena flinch from the corner of your eye. “It’s my fault,” you hold up a hand. “I took a hit on our last mission and my partner was being mindful of my injuries.”

“Oh I see.” He smirks, condescendingly. “You don’t want to hurt each other.”

“It would be counter productive to harm my partner.” Yelena points out. The red room drilled that into you.

“That is true.” His eyes dart between you. “But we can’t have you afraid of sparring together. Now can we?”

Your jaw ticks, awaiting the consequence.

“When’s the last time you girls ran a captive simulation?”

“Two weeks ago.” Yelena presents her left index finger to him for inspection. The nail just beginning to grow back.

Ivan hums, “When’s the last time you ran a captive simulation on each other?”

Your heart drops, all the blood running out of your face. Not for months.

“Hmm,” he wets his lips. “Who gets to play the captor first?”

Neither one of you volunteer.

“Belova,” he purrs. “Come choose your tools while Y/L/N straps herself into the chair.”

You don’t hesitate, it’ll be worse if you do. Tuning out his incessant chatter you find your seat. The metal chair sends a chill up your spine. Bending at the waist, you strap each ankle into a leather restraint, then your non dominant hand. Free hand waiting, curled around the arm rest.

Yelena kneels before you, her selections resting at your feet as she closes the final strap around your wrist. Your breath quickens.

“Fifteen minutes on the clock then you’ll switch.” Your spectator announces. “Make them count or we’ll start over.”

On autopilot Yelena reaches for the scalpel.

You don’t mean to scream…but eventually you do. You always do.

———————————————————————

Yelena knows your weaknesses and regularly exploits them to leave you face up on the floor during hand to hand combat sessions.

You used to resent her for it, but it made you strong. Stronger than you’ve ever been or hoped to be. The day you finally best her the room is filled with hushed whispers. Now you are ready.

You learn to move in harmony. The trainers ease up a bit and the other girls line up to watch you like an exhibit. You are two halves of a more perfect whole.

“Madame B, can I ask you something?” You say, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Of course.” The older woman replies. “What is it?”

“Why was my training so different with Oksana?”

She leans in. “You were not brought here to be a partner to Oksana. She was standing in until we could be sure you were ready for a partner. Nothing more.”

“Was I brought here to be Yelena’s partner?” The question burns at the back of your throat.

“I understand the desire to seek meaning in these things. You hope to find your place in the world.”

You nod.

“But you have no place in the world,” the words cut like a knife. “What you do have is an opportunity to prove that you are not a waste of space, time, or resources. Come, let’s sit for debriefing.”

You wait in silence for Yelena to arrive, finally she does. Taking the seat beside you in the meeting room.

“In two days you will undergo the graduation ceremony, after which you are granted up to three days recovery time before you will be deployed to Moscow.” Madame B reviews the information, handing you each a folder of details.

“Enclosed you will find your identification cards and aliases. I suggest you take this time to familiarize yourselves. Tomorrow we will begin shooting photographs for the past two years of your lives. Report with several changes of clothing. Congratulations on this assignmet. It is a great honor.” Madame B dismisses you.

You open the file. ‘Katherine and Irena Reiner.’

“We’re sisters?” Yelena guesses.

Worse. “We’re married.”

“Even better.” She says under her breath, rising from the chair.

———————————————————————

Life in Moscow is different. Good. The neighbors are easy enough to convince. You play your parts to perfection.

The company you work for being the main focus. They have access to some sort of programming that Dreykov is desperate to get his hands on. You know better than to ask why.

Most mornings you get ready together, discussing the events of the previous day to prepare for the next.

“How come you only speak English?” Yelena wonders, turning off the steady spray of water from her shower and reaching out to grab a towel.

“I have a theory,” you reply, spitting excess toothpaste into the sink. “I think keeping me dependent on translation had more pros than cons.”

“They taught me.” She says, stepping onto the bath mat. “But I guess that’s different.”

You were brought in much older a majority of the other girls.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, seeing each other as if for the first time.

“I could teach you.” She offers, breaking the connection as she turns away.

“Yeah?” You pass the brush through your hair.

Yelena shrugs, “I have nothing better to do.”

“Just don’t teach me the wrong words to make me look stupid.” You arch a brow.

“It would be counter productive to harm my partner.”

Hours turn into days. Days into weeks and suddenly you stand on a blurred line. How much is she pretending? How much are you?

The two of you rest on opposite ends of the couch. Enjoying another round of prime time television.

“Yesterday I was talking to that girl in accounting.” Yelena pulls your attention from the picture.

“The blonde one?” You ask, tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

She attempts to catch it in her mouth. Having had more than a few drinks her coordination is lacking.

You smirk, when it falls into her lap.

“No Maggie.” She corrects you, finding the wayward piece and biting into it.

“Mmm.” You hum.

“Mmm? What do you mean, ‘mmm?’” Yelena’s brows pull together.

“Nothing,” you insist. “I was just acknowledging what you said.”

“You didn’t sound very happy about it. Did she do something to you?” Yelena demands, straightening her posture.

“No, she didn’t do anything. Anyway tell me what happened.”

“She’s worked there for a long time. I think she knows more than she says she does.”

“So are you gonna talk to her again? See if she’ll open up?” Yelena has that effect on people.

“I am married.” She rolls her eyes, flipping her left ring finger in place of the middle.

“Shut up.” You chuckle.

“I’m crazy about you, know you. Ever since we met in high school. You didn’t like me at first but you came around.” Yelena elaborates.

“I don’t remember seeing all that in our cover story.” You cock your head to the side.

“That was a shit story, I’m rewriting it.” She waves a hand.

“Tell me more.” Tell me everything.

———————————————————————

“Did you get milk?” You shout, peeking into the nearest paper bag.

“Was it on the list?” Yelena hollers back, from the front door, kicking it shut. Her arms full of groceries.

“I don’t remember,” you say, unpacking the head of lettuce and eggs.

“You made the list.” She scoffs, setting the rest of the haul on the floor.

A knock pulls your attention away from the food.

“Who is it?” You wonder.

“It’s me, George. From next door.” Your neighbor answers.

Yelena rolls her eyes, waving you out of the kitchen. It’s your turn to make small talk.

You step carefully around the produce to the main entrance. “Hey George.” You smile, swinging open the door, “what’s up?”

“Katherine!” He greets you. “Could I borrow Irena for a minute?”

“Is that lawnmower giving you trouble again?” You guess, leaning against the door frame.

“It’s running great actually. There’s something else I’m curious about though.”

“I can send her over after dinner.” You attempt to dismiss him.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” George moves his foot to prevent the door from closing, producing a pistol from his waistband.

“George!” Yelena waves, clearly oblivious.

“Irena,” he looks down at the gun, pointed at your chest, “we have much to discuss.”

“Clearly.” Yelena agrees, coming to join you on the threshold. “Are you going to tell me why you have my wife at gunpoint?”

“We should take this inside.”

“I’m good here.”

He presses the barrel against your skin through the fabric of your shirt. “You sure about that?”

“On second thought, I could go for a drink. Do you like scotch?” Yelena takes a step back, leaving room for him to enter the house.

“Who sent you?” George demands, guiding you into the kitchen.

“We also have brandy.” She says, expression unreadable.

“Who are you working for?” He asks a second time, adjusting his grip on the gun. “First one goes in her leg.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Yelena drawls. “But I’m going to warn you, if you hurt her, you die.”

“You have three seconds to give me a better answer,” the nuzzle of the gun sits flush against you upper thigh. “One, two-“

Yelena lunges, the gun firing into the floor when he’s knocked off balance.

George tosses her off as if she weighs nothing. You rush him, knocking the fire arm to the other side of the room. Your arms locked around his neck, flush to his back. He rams you back first into the china cabinet.

You fall away with a grunt.

“Now,” the man rights himself. Wiping away the blood from his split bottom lip with the back of his hand. “We’re going to have fun.”

Taking a fist full of your hair he begins pulling you toward the center of the room. You grab for a large shard of glass, slicing it over the back of this knee. He releases you, doubling over.

“I warned you.” Yelena snarls, stabbing her knife into his belly, making a straight line up to his sternum. “You thought you could use her to break me? They used to make me torture her! They used to make me-“ she breaks off, withdrawing her knife. Only to ram it in again and again.

George, if that was his real name, is long dead. A crimson puddle blooming on the floor. It doesn’t stop Yelena, hot, angry tears rolling past her cheeks.

“Yelena.” You say softly.

“They used to make me do it.” She repeats, the weight of the words crushing down on her.

Your arms envelope her from behind.

“No.” She sobs when she feels you there, holding exactly where it hurts.

“It’s ok.” You whisper against her ear.

The blood stained blade clatters to the ground. Her breathing ragged as both her hands find yours, squeezing tightly. Don’t let go.

“It’s ok.”

“No it’s not.” She cries, frantically shaking her head.

“I did it too.” As if she needs reminding. “They made me do it too.”

She allows you to stay curled around her, desperately trying to absorb some of that pain.

———————————————————————

Yelena’s drug of choice is alcohol, the spirits burn their way into her blood stream. Erasing all that she’s done.

“You want a glass?” She offers, setting the bottle of clear liquor down on the coffee table.

“No thanks.” You shake your head, hair still damp from the shower.

“Don’t be a hero,” she rolls her eyes as she takes a seat. The water had washed away any trace of George.

“Fine,” you take a long swig from the bottle in question.

“You’ll thank me later.” She tosses back a shot, sliding the strap of your pajama top down to assess the damage to your left shoulder. “It’s deep, going to need stitches. This is why we don’t go through china cabinets.” Yelena chastises, moving for the first aid kit.

“Yeah, not my finest moment.” You peek at her. “But it worked.”

“Mmm,” she hums, returning to her spot. Flipping open the white box and removing what she needs to stitch you up.

First she hits you with the antiseptic “сука!” Bitch.

“See,” you can hear the smile in her voice, “you are learning.”

You let out a pained laugh, “I guess I am. We need to call someone to clean this up.”

“Here,” she hands you her phone, blowing gently over you wound. “You take care of that, I take care of you.”

Your heart clenches at her words. But Yelena is your partner. That is all.

“Belova, do you have a status update?” A familiar voice answers after the first ring.

“Yeah, we need a cleanup.” You say matter of factly.

“Agent Y/L/N.” He greets you. “How many?”

“One.”

“For now,” The man remarks.

“You didn’t tell us we weren’t alone in this pursuit.” You purse your lips.

“There’s a reason we sent the best. I’ll put in for a clean up crew in the morning.”

“Let them know the body is in the bathtub.”

The goes dead.

The conversation distracts you well enough from the dull ache of the needle poking and pulling at your shoulder.

Carefully Yelena bandages the abused skin. Her finger tips running along the back of your arm.

“Thank you.” You whisper, relaxing into her touch.

Her lips ghost over your skin. “You’re welcome.”

Oh.

Slowly you turn, as if not to startle her. Yelena’s eyes find yours.

You move closer, tracing the line of her jaw. “Thank you,” you repeat.

She nods, still unsure.

“Of all the people I could’ve been stuck here with…I’m glad it was you.”

“You don’t have to say that.” She pulls your hand away gently.

“You’re right. I don’t have to say anything.“ You murmur, “But I want to… and it would be counter productive to harm my partner.”

“We can’t.” She knows it. You know it. “It will get in the way. They’ll kill us.”

“No.” You chuckle bitterly. “They’ll make us kill each other.”

“I wouldn’t do it,” Yelena insists.

“You won’t have a choice.” You point out. “Didn’t you hear about that stuff they started pumping into people?”

“Mind control.” Yelena replies in Russian.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

“Maybe we get out.”

“Maybe,” you smile sadly, “maybe we find each other.” In another life.

———————————————————————

Three days later Yelena comes home late. During your day off you were tasked with the more mundane tasks of running a household, but you suppose there are worse things. She finds you in the laundry room, drink already in hand. Her mouth set in a frown.

“What’s wrong?” You drop the piece of clothing back into the basket.

“I have it.” Yelena confesses.

You press your lips together, you knew this was coming. That information is the only reason you are here. “Did you contact them?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you going to?”

“You say that like I have a choice.” She stares down at her drink.

“I just meant-“

“I know what you meant.” Yelena knows you, better than anyone. The red room saw to that. “Do you want to stay one more night?”

“Do you?” You wonder.

“When I was a little girl…I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.”

“In the morning,” you offer. Any longer and the risk will be too great. “We’ll go in the morning.”

She nods, taking in the room around her. “I wanted it to be real.”

“It was.” You choke down the lump in your throat.

———————————————————————

Your return to the red room is swift. No pat on the back or celebration to be had. Just two pawns, returning to their places on the board.

You’re separated from Yelena. Because your loyalties are to each other and that poses a threat. But what did they expect? They made you this way.

You are alone. Perhaps the most alone you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’d just forgotten that you could feel things. You remember now and wish you didn’t.

Like it or not she changed you. Knowing her had changed you, for better or for worse. After Yelena you were never the same.

Word of Oksana’s escape only fuels the need to chemically alter the minds of all agents. Beginning in order of importance.

Finding Yelena seated on the bench outside the physician’s office steals the breath from your lungs. To see her now is blatantly cruel and calculated.

Still you sit in the empty space beside her.

“Do you know where your orders are?” She asks.

“Yeah,” you nod, “Budapest. You?”

“Back to Moscow.” Yelena informs you.

You swallow hard, your pinkies skating past each other.

“Agent Y/L/N,” the doctor opens his door. You watch as another widow exits, she doesn’t look any different. Maybe the mind control drugs aren’t affective.

You steal one last glance at Yelena. Her eyes are desperate, ‘don’t go.’ Both of you knowing you can’t stay.

“Enjoy Moscow.” You whisper, moving reluctantly to your feet.

She tears her gaze away, unable to watch you leave. “I hear Budapest is beautiful.”

You hope so.

Wanna know what happens next? Check out chapter one of Miss American Pie! 💜

Yelena Belova Taglist: @captainwonderwidow

[skullstarz]

their love is...

-> bakusquad + jiro x gn!reader (separately).

this either gon flop or its gonna pop off as a sexy hot post would..... idk mane.

warnings: mild language, brief mention of a blunt in sero's, very vague brief mention of throwing up bcos of a stomach virus in kiri's.

word count: 207 (mina), 204 (denki), 208 (kirishima), 209 (sero), 206 (bakugo), 205 (jiro).

alternative title: im falling in luv <//3

check out my masterlist for more of my works !!

mina’s love is… joyful. hyper bunches of pecks all over your face, late night nail painting and face masks. watching terrible rom coms and laughing together, the night ending with a light hearted make out session, only pausing to giggle and look at each other fondly. shopping sprees where you two spend hours trying out clothing, even sporting the ugliest shirts you could find for each other as you two held a fashion show.

helping her find better products and better routines for wash day, going on full on spa days and chatting all day long as you get your mani pedis by actual professionals, relaxing together. online window shopping together, your feet up, kicking the air, bumping against and tangling with hers as you two added shirt after shirt into your cart. secretly adding gifts into the cart while she’s in the bathroom as a surprise for her when the package comes.

buying her skin care and spa day supplies because you know how much she loves taking care of her physical appearance, because it gives her confidence. seeing the way she both literally and figuratively glows after a self care day with you, your arms never failing to find their way around each other again.

denki’s love is… chaotic. sneaking out late at night to skateboard in a dark, unkempt park. scurrying off and finding cover when a random drunk starts incoherently babbling at you two. desperately holding in fits of laughter in the middle of the night, him accidentally farting from straining too hard. playing video games together when you should be studying, taste testing every flavor that monster energy drinks come in and deliberating where it should rank between other flavors, from best to worst.

placing bets and waxing him when he loses, slapping a hand over his mouth nervously whenever he lets out a blood curdling scream at the pain of the waxing process. tip toeing into the kitchen when everyone else is asleep and stealing snacks like the kitchen gremlins you are, before him slipping and falling over. getting zapped lightly whenever you creep up behind him, making him electrocute a chair whenever mineta says something outta pocket, so you can go “electric chair” and point to it.

holding burping contests, being tired of each others’ bs whenever one of you starts acting hyper. saying “that’s kinda gay” every time one of you says something overly cheesy, yet loving whenever you’re sappy with each other.

kirishima’s love is… strong. unwavering and loyal no matter what. being by your side during playful tickle fights, painful situations, and everything in between. piggy back rides and ice cream clinging to the tip of his nose after he steals a lick of your ice cream cone. holding every door open for you, pulling out every chair, and never failing to support you even during the most off putting scenarios.

holding back your hair as you suffer from a stomach virus, rubbing your back after a night terror. being an indestructible pillar of support to you when everything comes rushing back to you, a sturdy net to catch you when you find yourself falling. being there for him when he becomes overwhelmed, reminding him he is forever the strongest, best hero in your eyes. unspoken words reaching each other through muffled sniffles and tight grasps. dyeing each others’ roots and confiding in each other when it comes to secrets no one else knows.

being confident in your love for each other and vice versa, not hesitating to open up and be vulnerable about past pains. reassuring each other of how important you two are to one another, mumbling reminders of your love to each other throughout the day.

sero’s love is… calm. dancing slowly to kali uchis, doing everything together as if you’re attached by the hip. him introducing you to indie latinx music as you sit back and unwind from a long, long day. him giving you massages as you fall asleep because of the ministrations of his hands against your tired back. respecting boundaries and never pressuring you into things you’re uncomfortable with, not taking advantage of you or turning a helpful act like undoing your buttons or pulling down your zipper into something sexual unless you give clear consent.

understanding each other with the subtlest looks, getting each other just by seeing body language. mutually coming to each others’ aid in uncomfortable situations, a relationship built on complete trust and love- being able to stand on your own but preferring to lean on each other. not two halves of one whole, but two wholes coming together as one.

sharing his blunts and feather light pecks turning into hungry kisses. eating half of your meal at a restaurant and then switching plates and finishing each others’ food. light hearted banter, hardly ever fighting because of his relaxed nature, soothing your irritation. late night romantic speeches, professing your undying love to one another before falling asleep.

bakugo’s love is… surprising. it starts off as nothing special, the same relationship with a different label. aggressively negating that he enjoys the way your hands linger on his, hidden blushes followed by soft pops coming from his palms in embarrassment. over time, his reaction to your hand lingering on his becomes him softly grabbing your hand, squeezing it tenderly.

his hidden blushes becoming yours, and what once were stiff hugs becomes warm cuddles, his hand drifting slowly on your lower back, and you can swear his index finger is dragging against your skin more than the others, lightly etching a pattern that feels like a lopsided heart on your skin. cooking your favorite foods for you, getting special treatment from him even when you join in with the others’ antics.

soft expressions just for you, the way his brows unfurrow at the sight of your smile, the way his shoulders become less tense when he wraps his arms around your body, feeling every curve and point there is to feel. sweet kisses never to be expected from such a hot headed boy. a new side, all to you. a whole new world, all for you to enjoy, and love, just as you are all his.

jiro’s love is… musical. mixtapes filled with songs to make you smile and to make you cry. songs to fill your heart with sheer happiness to have met someone like her. joyfully playing the guitar and singing together, and going to music stores to look through all the cds and vinyls.

love songs filling the air and finding songs to softly kiss her to, holding her face in your hands as you tearfully sing a heartwarming love song. “the only exception” being your song, a song that always reminds you of one another. finding new songs together as you lay on the bed, hand in hand as you listen intently to every word. tons of joint playlists filled with your favorite songs for every different occasion, from things as common as naps together, to things you’ll probably never do, like road trips across the country.

secretly thinking up a list of songs you’d want to have at your wedding- not realizing the other has done so as well, and you both have the same songs filling them up. dancing cheerfully together at the end of a day together, your bodies’ last hurrah before you give out in each others’ arms, content, and full of love.

[haleigh-sloth]

A somewhat out of context and silly comment (I'm sleep deprived lol) , but it occurred to me that Shigaraki is in his Madara Uchiha phase.

The "Me alone against everyone™"

And I'm delighted (a little worried, though, I'm not going to lie)

I loved that fossil bastard

I don't know if you are aware of the can of worms you were opening anon and I apologize in advance LOL, but I have a lot to say here.

I'll be honest with you, there are two characters who, to me, seemed to be the "Shigaraki" of Naruto, and Madara was absolutely not one of them.

Before I go on that spiel myself, there was someone else who shared your concerns before, and @villainsandvictimsalliance gave a WONDERFUL break down of how that doesn't really fit. I highly highly recommend giving this post a read, Shan put my thoughts into words.

But I'm gonna put my own two cents in on this too, because I've been meaning to make a big Naruto vs. BNHA post (comparing the characters and arcs, etc.) but I haven't had the motivation or time. But I'll comment on Shigaraki/Deku specifically, and expand on what Shan said about them:

The two characters in Naruto that seem to have played into Shigaraki's arc in BNHA, to me (meaning my opinion), are:

Obito Uchiha

Sasuke Uchiha

Obito's doesn't go too far beyond surface level similarities though.

Being "taken in" and groomed to believe a certain POV, and take out that destructive (albeit, understandable) POV on the world and everyone in it.

Madara, to me, reads more as the AFO in Naruto. There's the brotherhood/estranged friend divide that brought about his actions (him and Hashirama being close and loving each other at one point, and then separating due to ideals---> AFO/Yoichi). That's a basic explanation because Madara had concerns that ended up being proven valid in the end (discrimination against the Uchiha), so Madara is not as simple and one-dimensional as AFO. But still played the "grooming the helpless, unsuspecting child" role in Naruto, and even had Obito use his own name throughout the story (AFO having Tenko take on his own last name).

But for Obito, being groomed and manipulated is kind of the only similarity between him and Shigaraki. Because Obito THEN goes on and targets Sasuke. Obito is the adult in this situation, and Sasuke is the unsuspecting child with easily manipulated emotions. Obito just carried on the generational trauma.

Also, Obito honestly is more of an inspiration for Kurogiri in BNHA than anything. Aizawa is absolutely based off of Kakashi (they act the same, their introductions are similar, they're both laid back and chill and collected), and Obito being the long-dead friend of the students' teacher is just....too on the nose. Kurogiri is the Obito of BNHA.

Now I wanna go back to Sasuke, who I personally think is the Shigaraki of Naruto.

There's obvious differences (there isn't really an Itachi in Shigaraki's arc), but there are more similarities between Naruto/Sasuke and Shigaraki/Deku than there are differences:

As Shan said, two halves of one whole. Naruto is the sun and Sasuke is the moon. And then for Shigaraki and Midoriya, well, it doesn't get more obvious than One for All, and All for One!

And then in this somewhat of a joke (but not really) post I made, @helga-grinduil pointed out the similarities in the color choices for both Shigaraki/Midoriya and Naruto/Sasuke

There's the looooongggg brother feud between Ashura and Indra that was carried down to Sasuke and Naruto, where they both had to reconcile not only both of those brothers, but also the Uchihas and the rest of Konoha. And then of course in BNHA Shigaraki and Midoriya are tasked with reconciling the loooong brother feud of AFO and Yoichi. But also together they're reconciling the rest of society and the LOV.

And then, idk, there's just similar art pieces like these two:

So, idk if this helps. But, I'm not worried at all about Shigaraki getting any ending similar to Madara (or Obito).

I really do think BNHA is gonna end like Naruto did. Aizawa giving the same pep talk he gave to Aoyama to the LOV, or Shigaraki at the least, and then saying that the help they contributed outweighs the damage they did and therefore, they have a second chance. And then everyone lives happily ever after together lolol.

I'm optimistic, honestly. And if it starts to take a grim dark turn (which I don't see happening), then I'll voice that and drop the series. But my opinion on the series is riding on the Shigaraki/Deku, Touya/Shouto, and Toga/Ochacko plots resolving with a happy ending where they're all together in the end, so if I see reason to think it won't go down the way I want, well, I'm out.

But again, I think it will be okay in the end!

[yeojaa]

( ROSERAIE. )

What you had - so brilliant and beautiful and bright it was almost impossible to look at head-on - was what was tearing you two apart.  It was your love that would be your demise.  

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.   my take on a hanahaki!au.  pretty heavy on the angst.  general.

tags / warnings.  mention of minor character death, breaking up, soulmates, angst, unrequited love, sick character (hanahaki), bittersweet, non-idol.

wc.  3.2k

beta reader(s).  my forever queens, @hobi-gif​ @snackhobi​!  you both bring such hope and joy (hahahaha) to my life!!!  and of course, the loveliest angels @joheun-saram​, @pars-ley​, and @ditttiii​ for reading through and giving me excellent feedback!

author note.  this is a part of @goldenclosetnetwork​‘s 23 | jungkook’s birthday project.  it’s my first time writing a hanahaki au so...  i have a lot of headcanons for it but i’m not sure whether it all came across in the story.  ���  eep.  anyway, please enjoy and feel free to leave any feedback.  i would love and appreciate it!  most importantly:  happy birthday, kook!  💖

Your parents were a young match.  Together from the tender age of eleven, they’d shared pieces of themselves readily, trading secrets in tree houses and blanket forts.  Nothing was held back - a childhood crush brought to life by playful ribbing and sugar-coated snacks.  Where your mother went, so did your father;  she was his light as much as he was her shadow.  Two halves of a destined whole, earnest and pure.  Friends first.  

It made perfect sense when they shared their dreams - the same one they’d had since they could remember - and it was identical:  swimming in the ocean with a faceless friend, families on their respective four and three-week long road trips.  They’d recognised each other immediately, felt the click the moment they stepped off the camper van.  Your father had called it cooties;  your mother said butterflies.

It didn’t matter that they’d never seen each other’s faces until that moment.  There was the spark.  Recognition.  The rest was history. 

Jungkook’s parents have been soulmates since the early 2000s.  His father had lost his wife - his first soulmate - exactly one year prior to their meeting.  He didn’t have his recurring dream until a fortnight before he met his wife.  Hadn’t expected it, either.  He’d been talking about his day in his local support group (it never got easier, he’d discovered) and he’d mentioned it in passing, glossing over the details of the vivid new pictures painted against his eyelids.  His second wife - his second chance - had attended after losing her son.  A complete chance.  Serendipitous. 

It wasn’t always simple, though.  The heartbreaking endings came just as often as the happy.  

There were people who lost their soulmates before even meeting them.  They’d never know they’d lost their first one until the next dream came - if it came.  If they were lucky enough.  

There were message boards and dating sites.  Places people stripped themselves bare and spilt their secrets to the world.  Desperate for love, they detailed their dreams and hoped that their other half was somewhere out there, reading those same words.  

Some, though, never found their special someone.  Life came at you fast and from all directions - or it never came at all, caught somewhere across the globe in the form of someone you’d never meet.  Those were the most painful circumstances, as if fate was cheating the system.  Here’s a love you know you have, but that you’ll never experience.  It was terribly cruel. 

(But when was life ever fair?)

There were stories about those that never found their puzzle piece and how it felt, whether it hurt.  Most said it was a quiet ache, something you never really noticed until you thought too closely about it, like a scar that had healed over or a loved one gone a long time.  Painful in an explicable way and only - luckily, miserably - softened by ignorance. 

Others spoke about it like death, missing an integral part of themselves.  It played a large part of their life, shaping and changing them with each passing day.  They couldn’t fully live without their person, even if they’d never met them.  It was simply the principal of the matter. 

You’d never quite existed in either camp.  You’d always wanted to find love but you hadn’t rushed it.  You figured you’d meet your happily ever after at some point.  Maybe at your work - caught between the shelves or returning an overdue book - or maybe out with your dog, walking the same route you took every day.  They’d show up one day.  You were sure of it. 

Love had a way of surrounding you. 

Your best friends - because of course the two of them would fall for each other (it was nauseating) - had found each other young too, on the grounds of the elementary school you all played on.  They’d been bonded since the beginning, secrets exchanged in art class and atop monkey bars.  You’d cheered them on the whole way, giddy in a way you couldn’t describe.  Being around it  felt like standing beneath the sun, scorching heat warming you all the way to the core.  It didn’t matter that you didn’t have it for yourself (yet). 

They’d come.  Eventually.  You felt it in your bones and later, you’d learn, in your shins.

He’d come around the corner fast as a bullet, headphones in and hood pulled over his head.  You’d barely have time to avoid him, poor coordination lending itself to disaster when only one of your feet would make it out of his path of destruction.  

BANG!  

It was something right out of a campy romance novel.  Guy goes jogging, runs headlong into his dearly beloved and nearly gives her a concussion.  He feels bad for her scraped knees and falls in love with her dog.  His morning runs become theirs and six weeks later, over a late night bite of contrasting gelato flavours - green tea for him, bubble gum for her - they fit the pieces together.

Jungkook’s the faceless boy you’d always dreamt of, one hand on the wheel, the other resting easily on your thigh.  He was the one with the slick black AppleWatch and long fingers.  You’d never imagined he’d be covered in ink, immaculate designs running the length of his forearm all the way back and across his shoulders.  In fact, you’d never thought about tattoos at all. 

You get your first and only one with him - intricate red looped around your wrists and over your pinkies.  Your own, very real string of fate, sealed and signed forever in rouge. 

He was your Prince Charming, your best friend, your bonafide soulmate.  You’d done everything together - skydiving, snorkelling, silly photos atop the Eiffel Tower.  He’d adapted to your distaste of onions and took them all, meticulously picking them out of stir fries and sauces until not a single sliver remained.  You’d learnt to tolerate his unbearably fast driving, white-knuckled and silent when he’d tear around corners too fast in a car too low. You fit perfectly, filling all the spaces he could never, keeping him whole even when he was broken.  

Your love was of fairy tales but it was better than that too.  Real.  Concrete.  Solid.

Until it wasn’t.    

The two of you had never had any other choice.

That’s what it feels like, at least.  He’d done his best - tried every little thing he could’ve possibly imagined - and it’d all amounted to nothing.  He’d gone through all the motions, explored every avenue, given everything he had.  It wasn’t working.  This thing he wanted with every fibre of his being, that he’d hoped for his whole life, just wasn’t working.  It wasn’t for him.

“I’m sorry,”  he cries, and he knows you know he means it.  You can read it between every line of his expression, tucked among the neatly scrawled india ink in faded red, underlining the passages you’d written together.  He is sorry.  He’d never meant to do this to you, nor you to him.  He’d wanted to give you it all - make all your hopes and dreams come true.

Sometimes, fate just had other plans.  

Because what the two of you had - so brilliant and beautiful and bright it was almost impossible to look at head-on - was what was tearing you apart.  It was your love that would be your demise.  

And he can’t bear to hurt the one he loves.  

He’d tried so hard.  Really, he had.  You had too, more than he ever deserved. 

There was simply no other option.  You’d always come up short.  You weren’t the one for him - not anymore - no matter how badly you wanted to be.  You weren’t the one meant for him.  You’d fumble for that ledge - held so impossibly high, just barely out of reach - before falling right back to where you began.  The bottom.  He couldn’t stand to see you there, brought to your knees once, twice, a hundred times.  

He’d lose count if not for the petals.

Little ones, at first.  Tiny pieces of silk you’d found on your pillowcase, outside the shower, in your water glass.  They’d been unassuming - reminders you could easily ignore.  

Then they’d grown, velvet softness that made it hard to breathe, that had him rubbing soothing circles over your skin, earnest vows winding like vines around your airways.  Neither of you had had any idea why it was happening.  You were soulmates - bound to each other and destined since the beginning.  Your love wasn’t unrequited. 

“We’ll figure it out,”  he’d said.  Sworn.  “We’ll get through this.”

Your heart had broken with each promise;  his had too, differently, but in perfect tandem.  

(Spring still came, steadily, with a rose garden blooming within your insides and freesias in your nose.) 

It wasn’t his fault.  You would never blame him, even when it was his fist that broke yours, splintered it into a million pieces that cut worse than the thorns in your lungs.  You knew this was just as hard for him.  He’d had to watch you wither away, even as a patchwork of flowers blossomed in the spaces he’d thought he could keep safe.  He hated it - could barely take it.  It kept him up all night, tears in his eyes.  Even when he slept - managed it, every few days - it’d prompt him awake in a cold sweat.

If he’d known then what had changed, maybe he could’ve fixed it sooner.  Maybe he could’ve saved you the heartache.  (Weeks later and during a coffee break with the new girl at his startup was not how he’d expected to find his answer.)

“I love you,”  you tell him, an ocean of sadness.  He loves you too, more than anything, more than there are stars in the sky.  He loves you with every part of himself - and yet he knows now that’s what’s causing this.  He loves you, but not in the right way.  Every touch he offers is wrong, leaving you bruised, broken, barely breathing.  It’s a disease - a venereal infection that seeps beneath skin and bone, settling within the marrow.  It changes you from the inside out, realigns your DNA until you’re mutated and miserable. 

The realisation is devastating:  his love causes more harm than it heals. 

So he stands there now, caught in the distance between you, eyes melancholy blue.  His composure is frayed, crippled beneath the weight of your circumstance.  He tries to memorise your face in these last moments - the colour of your hair, the shape of your stare.  How you sound in the morning - voice raspy with sleep, dust caught in your eyes.  The way you hold him close and the feeling of your eyelashes against his neck in the early hours.  

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t want this to end.  He doesn’t want to lose you, give you - this - up but he has to.  He has to, for you.  To give you a chance.  

Even after having so little - only five short years - you were about to lose the rest of your lives.  

You pack your bags - he helps, folding your favourite sweater (one of his, in truth) alongside your toiletries and undergarments - and you prepare to do the thing that you should never have to do.  You sign papers, dot I’s and cross T’s, and put all your treasured memories away into cardboard boxes to never be touched again.  You label them neatly and dress tape over edges;  Band-Aids meant to hold together the deepest wounds.

You’re going under by anaesthetic and he’ll be here, where he has everything he wishes he could give you.  A love he doesn’t deserve, within arms he wishes were yours. 

He wonders whether he’ll still feel the pull once it’s done or whether his heart will stay there, tucked somewhere beneath the dug up roots.  Whether it’ll be safe, undiscovered like a long lost treasure.  

It’s best this way.  He tells himself that - loops it on repeat until it’s the only thing he can think.  It has to be better.  For you, for you, for you. 

He knows he’ll carry you with him forever.  Like the air in his lungs, you’ll keep him going.  

He’s snapped back to the present, to the small hallway of the home you’d built together.  The traces of you are gone - all the photos hidden away, your row of shoes missing from beside his.  It’s strangely bare.  He knows it won’t last long.  She’ll be here next week.

Your hand pushes against his cheek, thumb caressing along the seam of his bottom lip, right where the freckle sits.  He’s a thief - a criminal, a sinner - when he dips his head, presses back into the warmth of your palm.  This isn’t for him to take but he does anyway, eagerly and with deep regret. 

“I love you.”  Your voice cuts through all the white noise and agony - a beacon in the night, guiding him home.  

He smiles, half-hearted and weak and not even his.  Every part of him screams at him to beg you not to do it, to accept him for the man he is - lost and weak and sorry.  He almost drops to his knees - fights tooth and nail against his aching limbs not to - and brings a hand to yours.  The red threads looped around your wrists fit perfectly together, the ends of inked rope caught around your pinkies matching when his fingers slot between yours. 

Don’t do this, he pleads, without words or hope. 

“I’ll love you forever,”  you tell him - promise like he had you.  “You’ll always be the brightest star in my sky, Jeon Jungkook.”

He almost cracks - seams near splitting, adhesive tearing from skin - when you return his smile and he can see how hard it is.  You’re already broken, all the pieces of your puzzle in terrible disarray. 

You’re trying, for him. 

“I’m so sorry,” he answers, because that is kinder than an I love you that doesn’t mean what you need it to.  Because you deserve better - you deserve it in the same way you mean it. 

So he’ll let you leave and he’ll pray this isn’t the worst decision of his whole life.  

“I’ll see you.”  

He hopes so.  He can’t bear the idea of losing you again.  He doesn’t think even she could fix him if he had to. 

“Be safe,”  he whispers, in a voice that stutters your stare and shatters what little resolve you have left.  He sees it in your eyes - all the crystallised parts of your composure turned to ash.  He wishes he could be sorry.  He’s not.  

“I love you,”  you repeat with an air of finality. 

Jungkook does the same:  “I’m sorry.” 

You leave, ushered into the back of your mother’s tiny sedan.  She helps you with your bags and your seatbelt, rubbing your shoulder carefully when baby’s breath slips past your lips and falls all over your lap.  She meets his stare when she climbs into the driver’s seat.  He tries to read her expression.  Understanding?  Resentment?  Gratitude?  

The car pulls away with a groan, disappearing down the tree-lined street.  Jungkook stands in the doorway for far longer than he should.

He’s moved on - settled down with the girl of his dreams.  Literally.  

She’s nothing like you, sarcastic and stubborn with a staunch refusal to ever come second best.  She laughs maybe a bit too loud, giving him shit when he orders in another car part.  She’d eat an onion raw, if she could, and takes showers hot enough to slough the skin from her bones.  They have a home together and in a year’s time, he thinks he’ll propose.  He’s not in any rush, though, because he knows she’s his forever.  

(Knows it, even though you’d once been that same shining star to him.  He has to believe it won’t happen again.  Life can’t screw someone twice, right?  Lightning never strikes the same spot or something like that?)

Still, he tries to forget the feeling of you.  

It isn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be.  The love exists as it always has, just differently, in the palm of his hand and not the space behind his ribs.  You’re his best friend and he is disgustingly, unbelievably lucky.  

He’d gotten his second chance.  Even if he’d once resented it, he had everything now.  

You still go for your morning runs and he still changes your oil because you’d never learnt how to.  His parents invite you for Sunday dinners;  you’re gracious enough to decline them.  You don’t see it as pity - you just don’t want to intrude.  (It isn’t your place any longer.)  You accept all the changes readily, without regret.  You promise you’ll go by one day.  

Your parents never speak to him.  He doesn’t blame them.  At the supermarket, on the street, in passing when he’s coming and they’re leaving - it’s radio silent.  

It’s been six months and you haven’t dreamt at all.  They’d hoped - prayed - that you’d find someone new after him, someone to treat you right.  You don’t mind, you tell them.  I’ll meet my special eventually, you say (again, again).

He wonders whether you resent them for it - their concern, perhaps a bit overbearing and offered with a heavy hand.  If you do, you say nothing, playing along each time they suggest you meet another friend’s son, another junior at your father’s accounting firm.  You don’t understand the sad way they watch you. 

“I’m sorry,”  he mumbles one night, seated at the neighbourhood cafe you’d frequented on your first date.  Your idea, because you loved coffee and, in your old words, this was your place.  The start of it all, where he’d knocked you hard onto pavement and stolen your heart in the process.

You don’t remember it now.  Not in the same way. 

This is somewhere you come for their great matcha lattes, where you waste a few too many evenings when you just want to get out of the house.  It isn’t the place he’d told you he loved you or where you’d resolved your first fight.  

(It’d been stupid.  He’d forgotten to pick up groceries for your first dinner with your parents.  You’d been so stressed you’d snapped at him, carrying tension into the rest of the evening.  He’d apologised with an almond croissant and your favourite green drink.)  

It’s like a wall has gone up, splitting your heart in two.  The part of you that’d once been Jungkook’s remains out of reach, caught behind a gate neither of you have the key to.  

“For what?”  You quip, a milk moustache presenting itself over the rim of your mug.   

Jungkook shrugs.  He can’t make you understand.  “Y’know,”  he mumbles into his red bean mochi bun.  It sticks to his teeth and coats them in soft white flour.  “Just— everything.”  It’s not enough, either as an explanation or an apology.  It falls terribly short, barely worthy of a participation trophy.  

“It’s fine.”  You say it every time, clockwork in response to the same apology he always gives - out of the blue and vague.

“No, but I’m—”

You level him with a glare.  It might’ve hurt once but now it settles like a scolding from a sibling.  He reminds himself this is how it should be, you there and him here - two parallel lines.  

The guilt never goes away. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​ @snackhobi​​

[angstmongertina]

The Vision of Lachesis

Spoilers for Artem’s Entwined Fates SSR card story! Also, warning for angst and implied/mentioned character death, because I can only write so much fluff before things get angsty.

I had this idea almost as soon as I played the Entwined Fates card story because I am a sucker for outside POV fics, though the idea for the last scene came later lol. Incidentally, if you want to skip the angst, just stop before the little warning I put in there. Everything before it should be perfectly fluffy.

Cross-posted to AO3.

In his years living at Cloudbreak Temple, Master Lu has already seen many visitors pass through its gate, all with various different hopes and dreams and stories filling their souls. He has seen everyone, from new babies to old grandmothers, from shy young couples to blissful newlyweds and bickering old spouses. And still, the pair he spies entering the temple catch his attention.

He is, as is always the case during the busy festival days, pulled in all directions at once, guiding petitioners through the rituals of prayer and interpreting fortune, but even so, he cannot help but keep an eye on them. A man in front, tall and middle-aged, wearing a solemn expression that does not quite suit the laugh lines on his face, and a boy, not yet fully grown and quiet, shying away slightly from the noise and bustle around him but watching the proceedings with a bright, piercing gaze. The man says something, a gentle hand clapping the boy’s shoulder in a warm, fatherly gesture that brings a faint smile to the small face, before they dive into the crowd, and he turns his attention back to the couple before him.

Thankfully, they do not comment on his preoccupation and he puts the others out of mind as he helps them determine their fortunes.

The next time he sees the pair, they are with old Master Wang, which comes as no great surprise to him. Although Cloudbreak Temple may be most well-known for petitions to the star of wisdom, they accommodate many types of prayers, and while the boy may be of the age where success in learning and exams is important, one glance at the youthful face is enough to tell him that the boy has both intelligence and diligence to spare, and furthermore, a concrete attitude that would likely dismiss the thought of appealing to prayers for school out of hand. No, there is no need for prayers for success. But for safety, on the other hand…

He moves a little closer, still not yet so close as to be truly spying, but near enough to get a better look at the pair. The man is dressed casually, long brown hair pulled out of his face, and stands almost at a slouch, but the eyes that observe the world around him through thin-rimmed glasses are far from relaxed. Instead, their grey depths are cautious, sharp, clearly accustomed to seeking out the truth behind every person, every choice and interaction. It is only when they fall on the young man beside him do they soften with affection and concern. A man of action, of justice and strong morals, though perhaps of some impetuousness and with a fragility under it all.

A man, in short, who likely puts himself into the path of danger for the good of the people around him, but who also might shatter should he be pushed to the brink, should the lives of those he cares about be on the line.

And the boy…

Master Lu frowns, brushing a thoughtful hand over his chin and the faint beginnings of a thick beard as the man ruffles the boy’s hair and he looks up at his companion with a small but adoring smile.

The boy still has a whole entire life in store for him, of that he is certain. And one that will no doubt intersect with the temple again.

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When the couple steps through the gates of the temple, the man sheltering the girl beside him from the crowds, he notices them immediately. Though many years have passed, he has learned to trust his instincts, even beyond what his mind may tell him, and his gut recognizes the man long before his eyes do. The boy has grown, of course, in the ensuing two decades, but the bright intelligence, the thoughtfulness and care, all harken back to the shy child of so long ago.

But rather than his old friend and mentor, this time, the man brings with him a companion of his own. At first glance, she is just as bright-eyed and curious as he once was, though perhaps with more anxiety than he had, focusing immensely on the tasks before her. And the way he watches her…

Before he knows it, he is approaching the pair, standing at a table for the star of wisdom, and offers his assistance. He sees her attention flit away as her partner leaves for his own prayer, following him through the crowd with her eyes and her mind; though she appears to be unaware of it herself, her partner knows, and he knows, that even apart, their hearts, their very lives themselves, are irrevocably entwined, two souls pulled together by an inescapable gravity that he had not seen in decades, if ever.

He cannot help his curiosity about them, about this pair that seems to confirm the very existence of fate itself. These two lawyers, partners, these two halves of a single whole, that the universe has brought together, in an act of perfect balance.

Their marriage fortunes, an offer he makes that is part personal interest, part guiding hand, come as a surprise, though perhaps it should not have been wholly unexpected. He has never been wrong before, not about the couples who have captured his attention, but this…

This is less of a gentle nudge from fate and more of a flashing neon sign.

She reacts to her fortune tag first and he cannot help but smile at the curiosity, at the innocence, in her eyes. “I cannot keep my heart, as it longs to be with you…” A straightforward fortune, as befitting the girl who watches her partner with subconscious adoration, who still does not see his unconditional tenderness, who still does not understand her own constant preoccupation, for what they are. In time, she will realize.

But her partner…

He knows from the moment he sees the man’s face that the meaning of his own fortune is not lost on him. “It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.” And it is fitting for him, for the way he turns away from this, his hesitant heart, cautiously hopeful for a sign that the undying flame he carries will not be snuffed out, bruised from this heavy blow from fate, determined to carry its burden alone, to push his feelings aside and pretend that all is well, as he has always done.

It is a cautionary tale, this particular fortune, and he can say nothing, can only look on in weighty silence, as its recipient takes his companion and continues down his ill-fated and forewarned path.

Or, at least, attempts to, but for the efforts of the girl by his side. He does not listen to the conversation not meant for his ears but he does not need to, not when her thoughts are written clear across her face, not when she tugs her partner back to hear his explanation.

Not when she, despite being still oblivious to the depth of their connection, to the direction of her heart, immediately moves to petition, to help, to find some way of reversing the luck, propelled by outward concern and hidden affection.

He gives them directions both to the wishing tree and for the method to improve one’s luck and watches as she leaps at each opportunity, apparently unaware of the implications, in her quest to lessen her companion’s misfortune. But the man, now wearing a near constant smile of stunned helplessness, knows, even if he cannot, or perhaps more likely, will not, let himself, discern the cause of her concern.

Not even when it involves her suggesting that they bind their fortunes together on the wishing tree.

He chuckles, running his fingers over his beard as he watches them, their gentle discussion and animated features, both conveying so much to the world that they are too close, too farsighted, to see. But in this moment, it is not his place to say anything, to interfere any further, and so he doesn’t. Fate has already shown her own interest in their future, one that they have accepted and furthered, without, apparently, even realizing it.

Ah, to be young and in love.

Waving off their thanks, he watches as they leave before shaking his head and letting out the full-bellied laugh that he has been holding back since he first met them. In all of his years working at the temple, he has never been wrong before, and he is certain that he will not be wrong this time.

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The first day of the festival dawns early and bright, with that telltale warmth that foretells another hot August day. Even before the temple is open for visitors, anticipation hums through the air, the faint buzz as everyone prepares for the inevitable rush of petitioners.

Standing before the steps to the main temple, Master Lu looks out over the entire grounds with a smile. While the outside world has changed drastically in the past decades, within the temple, it is like being transported back in time; the same old tables from years past have already been set up, and the decorations, while not entirely the exact same as those used in centuries past, have all been remade in the original style.

In the fast-paced and ever-changing world, it is almost a sanctuary from time itself, where the tags of decades of visitors remain for an eternity and the history and traditions of the ancestors are preserved for future generations.

Well, at least in some ways more than others, if the influx of technology, and not just from forgetful visitors, is any indication.

He shakes his head, chuckling at his own preoccupation as he dodges young Master Zhao, juggling his attention between the pile of fortunes carried in his arms and the phone jammed under his ear. Clearly, he has begun to get overly sentimental in his old age.

Alas, yet another reminder of the inevitability of the passage of time.

The entry of visitors, a veritable tsunami of petitioners all looking to arrive early, interrupts his thoughts and he turns his attention to them, casting an experienced eye over the crowd. As usual, the vast majority make a beeline straight for the table for the star of wisdom, drawn as ever to the promise of good scores and success. Young couples make their way to the table for marriage fortunes, fresh-eyed and smitten with each other. And others still filter towards the other tables, for peace and wealth and…

And safety.

He spots the small family almost as soon as they pass through the gates, though they are admittedly hard to miss. The man and woman walk arm in arm, slow and cautious against the crush of the people around them, his form shifting to act as a barrier to shield her against the worst of the crowd. The height of the man alone would have been enough to catch his attention, but it is accentuated by the tiny pigtailed girl riding on his shoulders, adding another head to their overall height. From her perch, she looks around with bright, curious eyes, a small hand pointing towards the main temple, and him.

Even across the distance, he can see the surprise and recognition flicker in the bright blue eyes that meet his, and he would not have been able to hide his grin even if he had tried. As it is, though, he does not try, instead stepping forward to meet them with a greeting.

“I don’t know if you remember us, but…”

He shakes his head, waving off the woman’s comment with a laugh. “I do.”

And of course he does. How could he not? They have matured, naturally, settling into one combined force rather than two beings still tumbling in each other’s orbits; her hair is longer now, pulled into a neat bun, and his more disheveled than he’s ever seen under the ministrations of toddler hands; but the same spirit, the same keen eyes and entwined fates, shine out from the pair, unique amongst the crowd of other visitors.

He grins. “Of course I do. After all, it’s not every day I draw two fortunes quite so complementary, and even more rare to have them be hung up together on the wishing tree like that.”

At that, she laughs as well, her cheeks reddening slightly, and pauses to shake her bangs out of her face. “Yes, well, you were right, and it all worked out in the end.” She turns to her husband with a playful look, elbowing him gently in the ribs. “Even if it did take the better part of another year.”

“That is on you just as much as it is on me. After all, it took you just as long to realize,” the man retorts, though, to his amusement, his ears flush a faint red, which only deepens when their daughter points them out in a chipper voice, one loud enough that several visitors nearby turn to glance at them.

From the mouth of babes…

“What brings you back? Not just to check on your old tags, no?”

Shooting him a grateful look for the subject change, the man shakes his head, a faint smile curling the edges of his mouth. “No, though it is an added bonus. We’ve come for a new prayer for safety.”

His wife nudges him again, though gentler this time, and with less vigor. “Two, remember?”

He laughs openly, an expression that makes him look years younger, as he drops a hand to the gentle swell of her abdomen. “It may be a little early for that, still. I think he at least needs to have an official name first.”

She wrinkles her nose at him before laughing in turn. “Fine, fine. We will just have to come back again in a year or two.”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

“Daddy!”

A comically dramatic wince flashes across the man’s face when his daughter leans over, her voice projecting with unerring precision directly into his ear, and his wife is left hiding her amusement with some difficulty.

“Too loud, baobei.”

The bright blue eyes widen in distress. “Sorry, Daddy!”

He chuckles, reaching up to clasp her small fist in his hand. “It’s okay, baobei. What is it?”

Squirming from her perch on his shoulders, she points towards the back of the temple, where a few decorated branches of the wishing tree can be seen hanging over the roof. “Big tree! ‘S pretty! Go see?”

He shakes his head. “Later, maybe. First we have to—”

“No! Go see!” She leans over until she is hanging directly in front of his eyes. “Daddy, please?”

The man glances at his wife, who shrugs, mouthing the word “softie” while still wearing that same huge grin, and he finds that he has to struggle to choke back his laugh before anyone notices.

Given the soft snort that reaches his ears, he only partly succeeds.

“All right, then. Let’s go. We can come back for a prayer of safety”—the man glances back down at his wife, a faint but wondering smile dancing on his lips—“or even two, later.” With a solemn expression, the man offers him a deep, respectful nod, one that he is not quick enough to wave away. “Thank you, Master.”

“Bye-bye!”

Laughing, he waves at the trio, watching as they slowly weave their way through the crowd towards the back of the temple. Even across that distance, he can feel the affection and respect they hold for each other, can see the connection they share, which have managed to catch his attention time and time again.

When they finally move out of sight, he turns back to the temple and the flood of other guests, making a mental note to keep an eye out for the little family in future years. Maybe he can take a small break from drawing marriage fortunes in favor of overseeing prayers for safety for a few years…

STOP NOW IF YOU DON’T WANT ANGST.

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The sky is still dark with storm clouds when they first dare venture back outside to examine the state of the temple. In some ways, it is almost a miracle; despite the weeks of heavy storms, accompanied by shrieking gales and large hail, Cloudbreak Temple and its inhabitants have been mostly unharmed, save for superficial damages, just in time for the summer festival. Still, the mood is quiet, solemn, as everyone sets to work, clearing away the fallen branches, discarding the broken shingles, and making room for the stations as best they can in the limited time they have.

Wandering over the grounds, Master Lu shakes his head. Summer storms are not uncommon in the mountains, but even in the many decades that he has spent at Cloudbreak Temple, he has never seen a storm like that one, lightning seeming to rent the sky in two and thunder shaking the foundations of the temple itself, where there was naught to do but to stay indoors and safe. They were truly fortunate that nobody was injured and that most of the damages can be repaired.

Unfortunately, not all of the temple has remained quite so intact.

Stopping at the edge of the courtyard, he sighs, casting his gaze over the mess. It does not come as a complete surprise, given the lashing of the rain or the howling of the wind, but that does not change the sorrow he feels at the destruction that greets his eyes. Where there was once a majestic, venerable camphor tree is now a tired, wizened old thing, bowing under its own weight in the weak hints of daylight. Fortune tags lay strewn amongst the branches that had once held them aloft, once vivid symbols of the future now simply dark red and brown patches against muddy green, that he has to pick his way around as he wanders further in, taking in all of the damage.

But there is no time to clean up the mess, not in his old age and with everything else that will be happening for the day, and the visitors will understand, have to understand. He shakes his head, feeling all of his many years pressing down on his shoulders, almost as though he is fighting the weight of all the fallen wishes themselves.

“Master Lu?”

He looks up at the familiar voice and smiles. Master Chen, arms full of red cords, stands in the entryway of the courtyard, his bright eyes filled with concern, and he suddenly finds himself wondering when they all got so young.

“What is it? Do you need my help with anything?”

The boy shakes his head. “No, we are almost finished. There are enough of us to finish and handle the visitors, since there likely will not be many so soon after the storm. If you want, I could help clean this area…”

He shakes his head again, this time with a more genuine smile. “No, you go on. They’ll be needing you in the main temple, I’m sure. I can work here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Chen nods, putting the new cords on the nearby table before giving him a small, formal bow. “Thank you. Then I leave this to you.”

He waves the kid away, chuckling slightly as he watches him turn and walk back to the main temple before turning his attention back to the courtyard and the scattered fortunes, the remembrances of years, or decades even, of hopes and dreams.

With another heavy sigh, he squats down, tossing some fallen branches aside before picking up the wooden fortune at his feet. It is old, the carved text worn down by the elements, and he runs his fingers over the inscription, a brief statement on the virtues of hard work. A student had hung it there, once upon a time, and he closes his eyes for a moment, hoping that they achieved their goals, before tucking it into his robes and continuing forward.

In some ways, it is almost a walk down memory lane. Prayers to the star of wisdom from students that have long since graduated, who may even be teachers and professors now. Prayers for safety for people who have moved beyond that point, who may have even already passed. Marriage fortunes, ones that he helped distribute and interpret, for young couples that are now parents or even grandparents of their own…

He stumbles to a stop, staring down at the ground by his feet. Lying in the grass, so hidden by mud that he almost missed them, are two wooden cards. Their surfaces are almost entirely obscured by the dirt, but he still recognizes them instantly, the pair of fortunes so opposite to each other, so perfectly complementary. Held to the branch and each other by a red cord that has split and frayed under the years, no doubt hastened by the tempest.

Heaving another sigh, he leans over and…

“Master?”

Caught off-guard he snaps upright, turning around with a polite refusal on the tip of his tongue, but his instincts, ever reliable, stay his reply as the appearance of the visitor sinks in.

Dressed in dark, muted colors, he is easy to overlook, blending into his surroundings, into any crowd, with little effort. His face is drawn, haggard, lines of exhaustion etched into his skin, making him look years older, while his dark hair is disheveled, streaked with gray. Altogether, the man in the entryway, tired and worn, is almost unrecognizable from the young, joyous father of his memory. In just the few years since he last visited, he has aged a decade, his strong, confident form now frail, once bright azure eyes now dimmed, haunted.

And the man approaches, moving forward with slow, hesitant steps, eyes fixed on the tags he holds in his hand.

“That… Is that…?”

The voice nearly breaks around those few words, hoarse and almost inaudible, but he doesn’t need to hear the rest of the question, doesn’t need an explanation to know what the man wants, to know what must have happened.

Closing his eyes, he bows his head. “Yes. It is. They must have fallen during the storm.”

He hears a labored, shuddering breath, one that makes his own chest tighten in sympathy. “I… May I?”

“Of course.” He steps forward, gently placing the tags into his outstretched hands, watching as trembling fingers brush over the faded markings, the broken cord, as the pale face twists with fresh pain. “I…” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Daddy?”

They both turn at the same time, where a small girl stands in the entryway of the courtyard, holding the hand of an older woman as she cradles a bundle in her other arm. Pulling free of the restraining grasp, she runs forward to join them, grabbing her father’s free hand. “Daddy?”

Something resembling a smile tugs at the corners of the man’s lips as he squats to his daughter’s eye level. “What is it, baobei?”

“Are you sad?”

The sound that leaves the man’s throat is more of a rasp than a chuckle, but neither of them seem to notice. “Yes.” He wraps an arm around the girl, lifting her into the air as he stands back up. “Yes, I am.”

To his surprise, the girl only nods solemnly before looking at the tags in his hand. “What is that?”

The man sighs, holding it up so she can examine it more closely, running her small fingers over the wood as he wipes away the mud. “Mama and I came here years ago and hung it up when we were here. Before you were even born.”

“Oh. It’s pretty.” A slight frown on her face, she studies the fortunes and the cord linking them before raising her gaze. “Do you miss Mama?”

He has to shift his gaze away as the smile on the man’s face crumbles, turning his attention back to the mess of branches and fortune tags, but even so, he cannot escape hearing the slight hitch in the quiet voice. “Every day.”

She sniffles, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder. “Me too.”

“Anthea!” The older woman reaches them, her face a mix of concern and frustration, and he can’t help but turn his attention back to the family. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think she would be so quick.”

The man shakes his head as she reaches for the girl, instead shifting her position in his arms. “It’s fine, Ma. Besides, you have enough on your hands. And you’ve done more than enough for us now.”

“Still…”

“Ma.” The man closes his eyes, gently shaking his head, before meeting her gaze with a determination that even he can feel, that makes him tear his gaze away once more, feeling vaguely like he is eavesdropping. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I…” A sigh that hangs in the air between them. “I need to do this. For her. But thank you for… for everything. And…”

A hand suddenly appears in his vision and he looks up to find the man before him, standing up straighter with a mix of sorrow and resolve dancing on his features. “I don’t know if you remember me, but…”

He shakes his head. “I do. Still.”

“Of course.” A small but genuine smile cracks his mouth as the man draws a deep breath. “I… I remember you said once that fortunes should be returned to the temple once they’ve come true and…” He swallows once, hard. “Can you put these back for me?”

“Yes, certainly.” He reaches for them, hand closing back around the fortunes that the man holds out.

Two little wooden tags have never felt so heavy in his palm before.

For a moment, the man stares at them, as though in his hands, in these fragile pieces of wood, he carries all the weight of the world, before tearing his gaze away to meet his. “Thank you.”

Oddly enough, when he opens his mouth, he finds a sudden lump in his throat and instead of trying to speak, he only inclines his head, but it is enough. The man smiles again, a soft, ephemeral expression, before turning and walking away, still carrying his daughter while his mother paces alongside him with his son in her arms.

As he watches them leave, he brushes his thumb over the worn fortunes he cradles, gently tracing the text that he still remembers like it had been drawn yesterday.

It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.

Leaving the courtyard, he silently enters the main temple, ignoring the questioning looks from his fellow masters and visitors alike as he sets the tag, still tied to its partner with muddy red cord, down amongst the various other fortunes of years past, and sits back on his heels, reading it over one last time.

And so it is.

[theflashdriver]

A Measure of Trust

Knuckles' birthday is on the horizon, Rouge had schemed up a surprise costume party for him. Unfortunately, a certain blue blur has taken much too long in picking out what he's going to wear, and a pink hedgehog has taken notice. Written for Sonamy/Silvaze Week 2021, but for the pirates or the knights prompt? You'll have to read to find out!

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Despite his usual arrogant antics, Sonic wasn’t without his share of weaknesses, that much he could freely admit. His cool demeanour tended to slip when it came to open bodies of water and he did like to the centre of attention more than he was willing to admit, but neither of those issues were plaguing him today. No, today’s grievances were derived from a two related yet contrasting sources; the need to plan and being forced to wait.

His issue with the latter was more obvious, his pseudonym was the blue blur for a reason after all. Sticking around in one place just wasn’t his style, he had to feel the beat of ever-changing terrain beneath his sole and watch his surrounding rush by so fast that he could scarcely make them out. No matter how much people watching he did, tapping his right foot all the while, hanging around outside the third costume shop they’d visited today wasn’t achieving the same purpose.

A sigh slipped through his lips as he readjusted his grip on the overlarge boxes stacked up to his chin, each of them a different colour and sealed with a bow. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for his present position… but if he was asked, he’d absolutely point fingers at Rouge, Knuckles and the girl he was presently waiting on. His claim for the echidna was admittedly the lousiest, as this was all happening without his knowledge, but he was the central cause. Having heard that the master emerald’s guardian had never had a birthday party, the bat had seen fit to organise one. The bat’s chosen party type of fancy dress was the hedgehog’s reason to blame the girl currently rummaging through boxes and coat-hangers somewhere behind him, trying to pick out matching costumes.

In truth, Sonic knew that his current circumstance was entirely his own fault. Rouge had passed out the invitations months ago and Tails had literally read the letter to him, just to be sure it wasn’t forgotten. The fox had also reminded him of all this last week but there being seven days till he had to act meant seven more days to put it off. It’d taken Amy’s intervention, a mere half day before the party was set to start, to get him on the right path.

To his credit, while running through station square, Sonic had made a mental note of a hat that seemed to be Knuckles’ style and would make for a good enough gift… but the hedgehog hadn’t given a single thought to his own costume. Apparently being fashionably late and undressed for a surprise costume party was too much of a faux pas. Well, he knew it was but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been destined to happen.

Amy had dragged him out to buy the hat on the spot before insisting that she would help him pick out an outfit. The serious yet excited look on her face had left him unable to come up with a quip or excuse. He supposed he could just have run, just as he could now, but he’d told himself if he showed up late after her offer she’d have a genuine excuse to be mad at him. That was what he’d told himself, but the truth was that his inability to refuse the pink hedgehog was third weakness of his, especially when she’d so plainly planned this out. She’d probably known this was how it’d all play out upon first reading her own invitation.

Her aid had come with a few catches, the first being his status as her luggage caddy for the day; that wasn’t so bad, though he couldn’t help feeling the boxes were meant to weigh him down. It was the other two that were filling his stomach with butterflies; he wasn’t allowed to pick out what he’d be wearing, and he had to stand outside while she picked out all the pieces. He’d stepped into the first costume shop and been overly thoroughly measured before being promptly kicked out. Every garb and accessory she’d brought out since was so thoroughly packaged that he had no chance of guessing what was in store.

He’d tried not to think too about it too much, but boredom had made him laps a handful of times. They were here for his costume, not hers, which implied Amy had already picked out what she was wearing. The moment she’d insisted on her plan he’d known they’d end up matching or contrasting in some way, and that’d only fed his potential embarrassment. The most savoury hypothetical that he’d managed to imagine was that he’d be the knight to her princess, at least the visor of his helmet would hide his embarrassment. With Amy at the reigns though, and all the time she’d had to plan, he really doubted it’d be so simple.

Sonic shut his eyes and leaned harder against the side of the building; just how much longer would she take? They’d been to three different costume shops, three! Whatever she had planned had to be elaborate; he would have picked up whatever was nearest the door and called it a day or wrapped himself in toilet roll and claim to be a mummy.

Amy plainly had a vision for what he was going to wear. Maybe she’d pull something specific from one of those corny romantic movies she liked to watch? Perhaps he’d end up more princely than knightly, dressed in some overly restrictive ensemble? That was what bugged him the most, not something he didn’t like but that it’d keep him from movi-

“I should have known I’d find you here, Big Blue,” He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who’d said that; he fought to make his grimace a grin.

“Long time no see, Rouge,” Sonic said, keeping his eyes shut so as to avoid the smirk that was surely on her face, “I figured you’d have already picked out your outfit, given that you planned this whole shindig.”

“Oh I have, you don’t have to worry about that sugar,” The hedgehog couldn’t help but hear another set of footsteps come to a halt just in front of him, “Why don’t you go stand next to him, Shadow. You two are matching after all.”

At that, Sonic’s eyes snapped open. Rouge nigh perpetual flirtatious gaze was present, as expected, but just left of her was a figure more obscured by boxes than he was. If it wasn’t for the dark quills poking out from both sides of the tower, and the presence of some metal boots, identification would have been impossible. Without warning, the figure stepped directly toward him, clearly unable to tell where it was going. Sonic took a step to the left only for Shadow to fill where he’d been standing.

“I’m glad I left sorting Red’s outfit to Tails, Amy must have predicted I’d have my hands full,” That was a half-truth, Amy and Tails had talked the bat into handing over that job after hearing what she’d schemed for the guardian, “I’ll see you tonight then, assumedly on Amy’s arm?”

The bat slinked off laughing through the automatic doors, only half covering her mouth with her hand. As soon as she was out of view, the blue blur returned to his prior head raised and eyes closed position. That was just a taste of what was to come tonight… at least the birthday boy would get a laugh out of it.

He opened one eye, glancing to his partner in embarrassment. Though the black hedgehog was a natural scowler, but the look on his face was truly tremendous. He was staring into the box in front of his head as though he was willing it to explode. It looked like, at any second, he might just faint beneath his own exhaustion and frustration at this whole situation.

Seeing a silver lining to this dower situation, and an opportunity to distract himself, Sonic opened his mouth, “So, Shad-

“Not a word,” Shadow cut him off, “I’ll be dealing with your nonsense enough later, I’m sure.”

“Aww, come on, I want to guess what you’re going as. Rouge has a sense of humour; it’ll be something like a vampire, right? That way it won’t be hard for you to stay in character,” Sonic teased.

For a moment, icy silence hung in the air. The dark hedgehog’s eyes closed, “I don’t care what she’s picking out.”

“W-Wait, you trusted Rouge to pick your outfit?” After he asked that though, realisation struck him. Trust had nothing to do with it.

“I don’t care,” Shadow flatly insisted.

“That’s what your mouth says, but your face says you didn’t have a choice,” The blue blur smirked, “Amy stopped her from picking Knuckles’ costume for a reason you-

The sound of the automatic doors sliding open, and the footfalls derived from a familiar set of boots cut Sonic off. His blood ran cold as a long box was added as a new peak for the mountain he was carrying. He scarcely managed to see a set of pink ears line up in front of him.

“Alright my darling, that’ll do,” Amy Rose had returned, Amy Rose had finished her creation, “Let’s get you home and try it all on!”

“Alright, let’s do it,” He managed to grin as he poked his head around, locking eyes with the girl in red.

Immediately he was of two halves, the look on her face had split him in twain. She was beaming with excitement; the red on her cheeks, the smile on her muzzle and brightness in her eyes was overbearing. The hedgehog was so plainly happy with what she’d made, so overjoyed that all she’d planned had come together. That happiness struck him to his core and made the waiting worth it, but it also brought him certainty that this outfit would be his undoing.

She only managed to walk a couple of paces, her happiness unyieldingly blunt in her step, when she came to a sudden halt and looked to her left, “Shadow? Is that you?”

The set of legs beneath a mound of boxes gave no response, so Sonic spoke for it, “Rouge is picking his outfit for tonight.”

“Oh, Shadow…” The sympathy in Amy’s voice only lasted for a moment, being quickly replaced by a lecturing tone as she puffed up her cheeks, “Well, after tonight I’m sure you’ll have learned your lesson, just as I’m sure my darling Sonic will.”

Up until her last claim, seeing Amy talk down to the once named ultimate life form had been the highlight of the speedster’s day. Instead, it was just another source of conflicting joy and fear. Like two ships crossing in the night, without another word, Sonic walked past Shadow to catch up with Amy.

He wasn’t used to moving like this, walking slow to keep everything balanced. Usually, the only thing he could see was what was directly in front of him, now he was reliant on Amy to carve him a path through the people walking Station Square. Just looking at her from behind all these boxes, the sight of her red dress and boots, was conjuring more theories. He’d ended up a werehog due to one of Eggman’s schemes, would she make herself red riding hood? Maybe they’d visited so many places because she’d been looking to perfectly recreate that style?

Haphazardly poking his head out from behind the pile, seeing an opening, he rushed forward to walk next to her, “So…”

“So?” She cocked her head, plainly already aware of what he was going to ask but enjoying dragging it out.

“Now that you’ve picked everything out, I get to know what I’ll be dressed as. That was the deal,” He reminded her.

“The deal was that I get to pick out your outfit and you don’t get to know what it is,” She responded, rubbing her chin and pretending to be in deep thought, “I don’t remember saying I had to tell you what it was.”

“So, I can just open the boxes now?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Well, I didn’t say that,” A sing song tone had entered her voice, “Besides, do you want to reveal my decision with all these eyes around?” That was a fair point, if he was set to be the nutcracker for an evening, he didn’t much want to pull the outfit out now, “My flat’s just a couple blocks away, after all this, I’m sure you can wait five more minutes.”

“Just five minutes till the embarrassment really starts,” He hummed, being forced in behind her by the passing of a group.

“Don’t you trust me, my darling?” She sounded from ahead.

“Ames, I trust you with my life,” Sonic honestly responded, but he wanted to match her teasing, “But I know not to trust you with the little things, you know you can take advantage of those.”

“Well, if my choice really embarrasses you, we can always swap. I’m sure I’ll look quite dashing in what I’ve picked you out, almost as handsome as you would,” She grinned back at him again and he had to duck behind the boxes, for whatever reason his face felt hot.

“Y-Yeah, well,” He muttered, biting his tongue. The only comebacks the came to mind played similarly to the half compliment she’d just given; he didn’t have the will for that sort of teasing right now.

As a result of his heavy tongue, the remaining walk back to her place was relatively quiet and left him with far too much time for speculation. The elevator trip up to her apartment was even more difficult, being side by side with her meant perpetually catching her excited grin and the dual mirrors in the metal box didn’t much help him avoid it. Amy Rose would never truly hurt him, physically or emotionally, he knew that for sure, but teasing was more than fair game. After all the times he’d jokingly run off and talked about dates, this did rather feel like karma.

He didn’t drag his feet though as they alighted the elevator and took the small walk to her door. The instant it was unlocked however, the scent of flowers just about knocked him from his feet. He’d been in Amy’s flat a handful of times, mostly just to escape the rain or crash for a night, and it never failed to perfectly reflect its inhabitant.

It was as if he’d stepped into valentine’s day as he made his way through the door and into her combined kitchen-dining room; pink, red and white were absolutely everywhere, from the tablecloth to the walls to the painted wooden fixtures. Even in the middle of the table, perfectly pristine and unwilted, sat a large bouquet that contained half a dozen red roses and various pink flowers he couldn’t identify. Admittedly only this room was that overpowering, her living room was far more regular looking, but the space’s first impression was certainly strong.

Finally, Sonic managed to set down the ludicrous pile of boxes on the kitchen table. Quickly, he managed to separate out the round ribboned hatbox that contained his gift for Knuckles and set it aside. A cold sweat swept down his back as he looked upon the four other boxes, he’d been made to carry for so long. While only one of them truly had any heft, Amy had made sure to have them sealed as though they were presents. The serious of difficult to carry shapes this had resulted in were not only difficult to carry but truly gave zero clarity regarding their contents. If he had to guess, he’d say the heaviest box contained shoes, but he didn’t have to wait any longer!

As Sonic reached to undo the first bow however, a single finger came down to hold the knot in place, “Not yet, my darling.”

“Eh?” He looked up only to be met with the pink hedgehog’s bright green eyes, “What’s holding up the show?”

“What you said before hurt me so badly,” Amy pouted, “I need to prove that you can trust me with the silly little things.”

“What’re you getting at Ames?” His bit back a stutter, totally lost about what was on its way.

Bounce still in her step despite the theatrics, the pink hedgehog slipped around the table and into her kitchen. She quickly returned with a pink dishtowel in her hands and a cunning look in her eyes. Immediately Sonic understood her plan and an embarrassed, wiry, smile crept onto his lips.

“I said you don’t get to know what your costume is,” When it became apparent that he didn’t understand her plan, she smiled oh so sweetly, “If your blindfolded, you’ll have to trust me to put your costume on.”

“Really, Ames? I can’t even dress myself?” He snorted, trying to play off her suggestion as a joke.

“Well, considering your usual attire, I’m not sure you know how to,” She only half fought back her laugh, “Have you ever even worn a shirt?”

“I’ve…” His mind went blank as he thought back, “Worn jackets?”

“You never even button them up though. You just sling them over your shoulders and decide that’s good enough, regardless of the weather,” She correctly established, but, rather than cockiness or excitement, a certain sincerity crossed her face, “I want your first view of it to be the full picture, everything put together,” She seemed to be aware of just how foolish this was, but it seemed like she’d planned it too, “There’s not that much to it, just some accessories, it’ll barely take me five minutes.”

Sonic hesitated, feeling his face grow warmer. He’d said no to Amy in embarrassing situations like this countless times, she’d ask for a date and he’d run off and she’d follow, that was the way things worked. Sure, he’d let her catch up in the end and they’d hang out for a while, usually doing something close to what she had planned, but by that time he’d have cooled off and come up with quips. With how late he’d left all this, there was no time or space to run. Unless he truly said no to her, he’d just had to face whatever she’d schemed up. Though he said no to her a lot, it’d never been wholeheartedly.

“At this point, what’s five more minutes,” He sighed, running his hand through his quills, “If it’s really what you want, then fine,” It was just so embarrassing, he had to do something, “No pictures or anything until after I’ve seen it though, alright?”

By the time he’d dared look down her eyes were sparkling like emeralds, enthusiasm had claimed her, “Deal!” She pushed the tablecloth into his gut, practically bouncing, “Put it on and don’t peek, I’ll try to be quick.”

Swallowing his embarrassment, the hedgehog tied the cloth behind his head. For a moment there was silence between them, by the wind on his nose he could tell she was doing something to check he was truly blinded.

Suddenly, a set of hands were on his shoulders, “You’ll need to bend down just a little,” He acquiesced immediately, and her fingers left him, “Now, where to start…”

“The beginning probably,” His nerves had forced a quip loose, he really hoped his muzzle wasn’t as red as it felt.

Her snort, followed by the shifting of boxes, only made that heat worse. Something about her contact, so gentle when she knew she could be so strong, struck a chord deep in his gut. Amy rivalled Knuckles in terms of strength, Sonic had seen her swing her hammer hard enough to behead metallic titans. Having her take control away from him and then so gently ask him for something she could take was just so heart wrenching yet surreal.

Her next contact sent the same static up his spine; she took hold of his right hand, raising it to be more accessible. Her fingers went from loosely locked around his wrist to fiddling with the hem of his glove and soon that garment was fully removed. Soon after, equally gently, a glove made from a thicker material with a wider cuff made its way onto his hand.

Reflexively, Sonic raised his left for easy access only to hear, “Thank you,” Uttered in response.

Trying to guess an outfit from the internal feeling of a single glove was foolish at best but when he closed his fist, he didn’t feel pointed nails. Well, that probably ruled out him going as the werehog. Puzzlement crept into his mind again as she finished with the left hand; the gloves were matching, that was clear.

Before he could think any further, her voice caught his ears, “Turn around.”

He spun on his heel, trying to make the action look cooler than it had any right to be. The hedgehog felt anything but cool however when she stretched over his back, pressing a loose shirt to his back before pulling the sleeves along his arms. It took her a little bit of shifting to fit the holes in its back, likely custom cut in the shop to fit his spines. He managed to keep cool until she moved at his neck, plainly fiddling with the shirt’s collar, before reaching around to do up his buttons. Did there have to be so many of them? This was why he never closed his jackets, it felt so restrictive! He was getting hotter and hotter in the face.

Well, it was a fun excuse to think about. She seemed to hang on the top two sets of buttons for a moment, as if debating closing them, before opting not to. Now with two distinct articles of clothing on, Sonic had no idea what he was set to be, but he felt reasonably confident ruling out that they were going as a knight and a princess. The next garb served to confirm that theory, it was some sort of loose waistcoat that she’d slung over his shoulders like he would a regular jacket.

Things got more confusing with the addition of what felt to be a large belt that was tied around his waist. That wasn’t too bad but then he felt another’s buckle on his shoulder, soon followed by her hand slipping beneath the supposed waistcoat and around his back; for whatever reason, she’d opted to bring that second belt out through one of the spine holes in his back. It was so bizarre, was there something on the belt? He was getting the feeling that he was being dressed as some sort of handsome prince when she reached for his midriff again, looping something new across the belt on his gut.

“A-Are we about done?” His stutter caught him off guard and shut him up.

“Very almost,” She sounded so pleased with herself, but that sound was followed by the dragging of a chair across carpet followed by her hands again arriving on his shoulders, “Sit down, the chair’s just behind you.”

He followed her lead only to then feel her, left hand grazing across her shoulders, walk around to face his front. After a little bit more shuffling he felt her hands in his quills and was relatively confident a crown of some sort was coming. The end result was strange though, he felt something pass between his quills and then heard the familiar sound of fabric knotting. As if that wasn’t a strange enough addition, the touch of her hand on his ear was followed by something cool and metallic being left behind. If he was set to be a prince, it wasn’t like any he could visualise.

“Wait right there, don’t peek, I need to get one last thing!” The excitement had put a tremble into her voice, matched only by the sound of the skip in her step as she rushed past him and through a door.

They hadn’t been exceptionally talkative, but something about the still silence her absence brought perturbed him. Once again, he had been forced into a position of patience. There was a reason he was known as the blue blur and not the azure anchor, stillness like this, unless he was snoozing or distracting himself some other way, just wasn’t his style. Though his face felt cooler, his thoughts were lingering on the various sites she’d made contact across his body. Words like intimate weren’t commonly thought of, let alone used, by the hedgehog, but feeling her fasten button after button couldn’t have been described any other day.

She was just so bouncy and jubilant most of the time, capable of throwing herself at him without a care. Amy Rose wasn’t afraid to use her strength, in moments of need and casual excitement, but her potential for softness always hung beneath those efforts. He’d seen her gently look after Cream and handle flowers with such softness. She was an adventure in and of herself, capable of being so surprising. Maybe that was why, no longer how far or for how long he ran, he’d always let her catch him again, eventually.

Sonic heard the door reopen, but Amy’s pace was bizarrely slow. He could hear the rubbing of fabric and the pad of very slow footsteps. Was she wearing some sort of long dress? That would validate his prince and princess theory, but he really didn’t feel like what he understood of his outfit matched it. The fabric rubbing sounded like some sort of strange flapping, it was as if she was waddling in her rapid approach.

“Here’s the final part of your ensemble, just a little something for you to carry!” She shouted bringing his head to snap, eyes still blind.

“Ames, wha-

He was cut off by a sudden form jumping into his lap, a form that weighted the exact same as Amy Rose but was weirdly textured. Whatever she was wearing, it was covered the entirety of her lower half. Anticipation and contemplation built toward climax as he felt her hands on her shoulders again. The feeling of her wrists sliding beyond the sides of his head absolutely renewed the warmth on his muzzle.

While his vision had been very red, the blindfold had been thin enough that his eyes barely had to adjust. He was greeted by Amy’s green eyes and wide grin first, but his eyes were quickly drawn to her forehead and a seashell headdress. From there his gaze was brought down and came to collide with a loose-fitting red shirt. Its sleeves were long rippling, almost like there were waves in fabric. Just beneath her midriff, he identified the source of her slow movement; made of what looked to be a red plastic material, dotted with sequins, was a fish tail.

As he looked down at himself too, it all clicked. Brown mariners gloves for handling ropes, a loose white shirt, a blue overcoat, buckles and belts and sashes. Sonic reached up, feeling what she’d attached to his ear and put through his quills, he was wearing an earring and an orange bandana. She’d made him pirate and herself a mermaid.

“Do you trust me now?” Mermaid spoke with mocking befitting of his stupidity.

“With my life,” The pirate cheekily grinned back.

“What about with everything else?” She asked, putting on a joking pout.

“Well,” He stuck his tongue out, “I trust you with my outfit at least.”

“I suppose that’s a start,” Amy hummed, “I’ll be trusting you to carry me to Tails’ airship and back here tonight, I’m afraid that walking’s not my strong suit.”

“Well, swimming up to a flying island does sound difficult,” He mock rubbed his chin, in thought.

“And I’ve got just the thing to help you,” She reached across and knocked the top off the last, and heaviest, of the boxes. Hitched on two of her fingers, up came a set of brown, “I figured, unlike everything else, you could handle the shoes,” A grin, more teasing than any prior, claimed her muzzle, “You’re used to those after all.”

He took them from her, matching her expression, “Didn’t want to leave the gloves up to chance though, good call.”

“Well, it’s not every day you let me hold your hand,” She repositioned herself, sliding to rest her shoulder on his, “So, seems like I planned this all pretty well then.”

“I can’t deny it,” He shrugged, more than content. Sure it was all a little tight around the chest, but it could be worse and at least his legs were free.

“I’d love to bask in this more, but we should probably get going, the actual party still needs set up and it seems like Rouge could use the extra hands,” The pink hedgehog leaned up and reached for the table, gathering up the boxes that contained their respective gifts for Knuckles and the keys to her flat.

“Only one set of feet though, apparently,” Sonic joked, shifting to hold her before rising, only to be struck with a realisation, “With us decked out like this, Shadow’s gotta have drawn the short straw.”

“Try not to tease him too much, he’ll be embarrassed enough as it is,” Amy half insisted as she was walked toward the door.

Between her as the arms and him as the legs, they managed to make it out and close the door, “Yeah well, if he’s hit rock bottom then I can’t push him down any lower.”

Their back and forth over how much to tease Shadow didn’t get very far by the time they’d reached the bottom floor. The moment they arrived there though, the talk didn’t stand a chance of surviving; with Amy in his arms, Sonic shot off like a rocket. He tore across pavement, skidding and weaving around people and over roads as if they were nothing.

In a matter of moments they’d reached the city’s edge and then, a further three moments later, they’d ran across enough green grass to sight Tail’s workshop. Above, just visible from this distance, Angel Island was hanging. He couldn’t help thinking that Knucklehead would probably be surprised he’d shown up on time, let alone with a halfway decent gift and a good outfit. It’d be a surprise within the greater surprise.

The hedgehog duo slid into the open door of the massive workshop, finding the scent of oil quickly caught up with them. At the heart of the space stood the overlarge plane that Tails had modified to transport not only the party people but the party goods. The mechanic himself was to the back of the room and looked to have just finished putting on his own costume. It was jokingly low tech compared to his usual work, plainly made from carboard boxes with slap on buttons made from loose junk, but the youngster had made himself into a carboard robot. He’d scarcely be identifiable if it wasn’t for the outfit’s cut face and tail holes.

“Hey Tails,” Sonic called across, getting his attention, “Cool costume!”

“You look so cute!” Amy shouted from his arms.

“Thanks guys,” The youngster beamed before throwing a knowing look, “I see Amy caught up with you.”

“Well, I mean, it looks more like I caught her,” Once the words fell from his mouth, he realised he hadn’t played this whole situation off as well as he’d planned. Instead, he tried to change the subject, “What did you end up picking out for Knuckles?”

“Oh, I just put the finishing touches on it,” He picked up what looked to be a heavy-duty briefcase, flipping it open, “I figured he’d want something cool and practical, something that could double as a proper gift.”

Inside was a set of ornate hand axes, a metal breastplate, a pair of metal shoes and a traditional knight’s helm. The whole get up was admittedly giving Sonic some very strange flashbacks to events he was only half certain were dreamed, but he couldn’t deny that the metalwork looked superb. It was all exactly to Knuckles’ style and, if that perhaps dream was to be believed, it’d look great on-

The sound of fast moment coming to a sudden stop, punctuated by three quick footsteps, pulled the blue blur from his thoughts. That was a sound Sonic knew well and could only associate with one prickly fella. It was finally time to see what the bat had made of him.

“Hey Big Blue, fancy seeing you here on ti-

In an instant, the prior gloating confidence seemed to hitch in Rouge throat as Sonic turned and the two pairs came eye to eye. The blue blur found his counterpart dressed in red and brown, with knotted ropes punctuating leather shoes and gloves. A belt with a golden buckle, a red overcoat with shoulder flares, a tricorn hat and an eyepatch made for a dissimilar yet still much too familiar view. The familiarity was again shoved to the forefront with Rouge, the tail that’d come to replace her legs was black and she’d opted for a pale crop top with a matching shark tooth necklace, but the intent so blatantly matched Amy.

Somehow, just as they’d ended up at the same costume shop, both girls had settled on the same concept to share with their partners who’d waited far too long to pick out an outfit.

“Well,” Rouge blinked, for once entirely deadpan and serious, “Two of us need to change.”

[sepublic]

Lumity and the Illusion Coven Leader?

           So I’m really interested in Through the Looking Glass Ruins. Not only because it’s another important Gus episode (and the implications of him being at Glandus and how that can connect to the premise of Escaping Expulsion), but also…

           Luz and Amity are at the library- I’m not sure WHICH library, it could be the one at Glandus, or the one in Bonesborough. But given the mention of ruins, and how the background image that reveals the synopsis shows us what appears to be the desolate ruins of an arena of sorts, surrounded by cloaked statues… It makes me wonder. Aside from the obvious possibility that these statues were real witches petrified by Belos or some other entity;

           The title is interesting, because it invokes the sequel to Alice in Wonderland, itself a fantasy tale about a young girl entering a fantastical world… In other words, an Isekai, which fits Luz’s whole schtick in the Boiling Isles! Obviously I should be careful about using the reference in the title as a basis for my speculation; Sense and Insensitivity references Sense and Sensibility, but otherwise has zero correlation with the book as far as I can tell, beyond the idea of King being of higher social prestige and that sort of concept I guess?

           In Through the Looking-Glass, Alice goes through a large mirror to enter a fantasy world. The imagery of mirrors intrigues me, because it directly invokes the symbol of the Illusion Coven… And we can bet that the Coven Heads will make their appearances this season, especially with how Season 3 is too short and more likely to be a final battle/climax of sorts. Not only that, but we also have the other plot of Gus, who is an illusionist… And of course, the library reminds us of Lost in Language, and the twins Emira and Edric, who are both also illusionists.

           I don’t think the twins would be messing with Amity and Luz again, but then again, maybe Odalia and Alador are making them; We don’t know what will happen at the end of Escaping Expulsion, but if Amity and Luz are still hanging out, perhaps they’re feeling pressured. The concept of illusions also ties back to Luz a second time… Remember Witches before Wizards? And how a puppet demon, Adegast, used illusions to put Luz through a whole segment straight out of her favorite fantasy books, of a special chosen one travelling through a world with wacky companions?

           Adegast’s plot appealed to Luz’s sense of fantasy, her desire to feel special and important, as validation/justification for being so ostracized back home. With the idea of illusions, and fantasy worlds, not to mention literary references because Luz and Amity are at a literal library, and it’s brought up the idea in some fans’ heads of like… Luz and Amity going through a fantasy segment taken straight out of Alice in Wonderland.

           So, to get it all out of the way; I think the Illusion Head will play a role in this episode, debuting in Through the Looking Glass Ruins as the main antagonist. I suspect that each coven leader will get their own episode introducing and featuring them as antagonists and characters, so an episode hearkening back to Lost in Language, which had the illusionist twins… With a side-plot of Gus the Illusionist, who wants validation; Not to mention the idea of fantasy stories come to life, feeling special, and how that’s reminiscent of Adegast…

           I think Through the Looking Glass Ruins could be a major episode for Luz and Amity and their characters. Perhaps as a major stepping point that helps to tie together previous events thematically, the Illusion Head might place Luz and Amity in an illusion even more grand and powerful than what Adegast could dream of; One that places the duo in a saccharine fantasy world. Luz and Amity of course have to navigate this fake world and its inane rules, while exploring their own relationship… Perhaps Gus will come into play, or his story will just be a parallel, I can’t tell. But again, it calls back to Luz and Amity having their own experiences with illusionists, so having them face off against the most powerful Illusionist of all, together, would be a nice culmination of those respective arcs!

           What’s interesting is the mention of ruins, and the image we see… It reminds me of that one article description for a ‘Witch Arena’ at the titan’s knee (which foreshadowed Adventures in the Elements), but aside from general ruins, we don’t see any duels occur there, nor is there reference to that site hosting sacred rituals and events for witches. Perhaps we’ll see this actual arena here, or not… This arena could just be part of the elaborate illusion, hence why Luz and Amity encounter it in the library, or they get transported. Maybe the library is next to the ruins, if it’s the one for Glandus or one besides the Bonesborough one.

           (Personally I’m hoping for more Amity and the library lore, possibly the return of that librarian who seems to be on good terms with her.)

           Like Adegast, the Illusion Head could taunt Luz and Amity with visions and deception… Perhaps hearkening back to Enchanting Grom Fright, by showing illusions of Luz rejecting Amity or vice-versa. Luz and Amity of course have to see through and realize what’s real or not, as part of their character development, Luz’s especially with recognizing reality and not being deluded by fantasy. For all we know, the Illusion Head might cruelly play with their feelings, by having ‘Luz’ or ‘Amity’ confess their feelings to the other… Only to sadistically reveal it all be fake in the end.

           Perhaps the ruins will be a part of this illusion world that Luz and Amity confront the Illusion Head at, by the climax of the episode! Or the ruins are/hold some entrance to this fake world… Regardless, we could see Luz and Amity dealing with their ‘fantasy’ of being friends, and possibly more, with the other… Both might want more, but be afraid that’s just fake in the end, or just hopeless romance that only happens in their little fantasy books that they love, and the Illusion Head might capitalize on these insecurities. Perhaps they’ll try to sway Luz with a perfect world, only to change plans when she’s clearly used to that; And Amity, she might need Luz’s help, as she hasn’t faced this kind of dilemma before. Mirrors are symbols of self reflection, so perhaps this will give Luz the chance to reflect on her own feelings for Amity and realize them, to look back at past interactions with Amity and realize the hidden meaning and all new context that comes with what she learns about Amity...

           Maybe the Illusion Head will try to manufacture situations, trick the two girls into ruining their friendship, thinking the other doesn’t like them, acting rashly, etc. Perhaps they’ll create a fake scenario that leads one girl to act at the cost of the other, for whatever reason… Maybe Amity will be so caught up in the idea of a perfect world where everything is ideal; Where her parents love her, where her siblings respect her… And where she can confess her love to Luz, and Luz reciprocates. Luz may or may not stumble across and see, and realize, how Amity feels… And we could get some painful angst skin to Grom rejecting Amity’s invite as Luz, but dialed up with the Illusion Head’s more immersive, fake reality.

           Perhaps the despair created by the Illusion Head leads to Amity turning to the side of the Emperor’s Coven, losing hope in finding a better life for herself because that’s just ‘fantasy’. Rejecting her favorite childhood stories like Otabin and The Good Witch Azura, attempting to be more ‘mature’, which could also lead to a brief discussion about how it’s okay for older people to enjoy stories for younger audiences! It could contribute to Amity’s constant feeling of shame for who she is, that feeling of inadequacy and not being enough, hiding behind a façade; Hiding the truth beneath an ‘illusion’, which of course the Illusion Head might poke fun at. Maybe offering a literal illusion to help Amity pretend and fit the image of the Emperor’s Coven?

          From what we’ve seen, the Illusion Head could be a pair of twins like Emira and Edric, or like Gus, an individual operating alongside a copy. Amity might be directly reminded of the twins and her relationship with them, so this could be an opportunity to explore her relationship with the twins and their past together, perhaps showing what happened between them in the fallout between Lost in Language and Adventures in the Elements.

          We could see how she feels about them and vice-versa, maybe look at their interactions throughout the past, with the Illusion Head possibly even taking their appearance and poking at Amity’s memories knowingly. Maybe they pretend to be the twins, hurting and mocking Amity, only for her to acknowledge that while they ARE flawed, they’ve also grown and the real Emira and Edric would never do this- This could help to develop the relationship with Amity and the twins, and her own potential disdain for illusions because of that association with her siblings.

          Another thing to note with the Illusion Head is that amongst their two selves, one face smiles, the other is frowning; Invoking the image of the Comedy and Tragedy masks. Fitting with the idea of written stories and fantasies, perhaps the Illusion Head will operate as two halves, one light-hearted, the other morose; And both toy with the idea of Luz and Amity’s story being a tragedy, or a comedy.

           The dual symbolism, two sides of the same coin concept, could come with Luz embracing Comedy, the happy ending, while Amity sides with Tragedy, the sad ending. Maybe Amity breaks free of this conception and her and Luz get their happy ending together… I can see the Illusion Head being a MAJOR theater nerd, and thus invoking the kinds of stories and tropes that the two kids are familiar with. And Amity will of course be reminded of Emira and Edric, making her more insecure and uncertain, while Luz might call upon memories of Gus to guide her. Luz and Amity are parallels and opposites, again, two sides of the same coin, and this might be paralleled with the Illusion Head being composed of two halves, with it yet to be seen if both halves are separate individuals or not; For all we know, it could be a witch and an illusion so immersed in the other that they’ve both forgotten who is the real one!

           Am I saying Luz and Amity will kiss and/or realize their love for one another in this episode? I can’t say for sure… But this episode might play on the idea of their relationship and its progression regardless. It could end in Tragedy, or Comedy, what a duality- Maybe even both! We’ll just have to wait and see… I’m excited for this, for more Gus, and I wonder if he’ll show up at the end to help, or provide more insight into the idea of Illusions, which will then enrich the other plot of Luz and Amity! The audience might gain a better appreciation for the mechanics of what the Illusion Head is doing.

          And of course, the illusions here could lend to a trippy nightmare sequence where the animators can REALLY flex and mess with our heads and the visuals, confusing both the in-universe characters and the real-life audience as well, as we’re uncertain of what’s real or not- Perhaps the ending of the episode could play with this question, with Luz and Amity not entirely sure if what happened was totally real or not or some elaborate dream, and the Illusion Head’s status and actions also uncertain.

           So, what do you guys think? Will we get an episode dedicated to Luz and Amity’s relationship, to their pasts with fantasy, with illusions, entering an unusual world together, taunted by the Illusion Head while another major illusionist, Gus, operates elsewhere? Could the Illusion Head serve as a thematic exploration of duality, of opposites and parallels, and how Luz and Amity’s relationship with one another, their dynamic, is built on those foundations?

          Will we see Emira and Edric here- Perhaps with Luz and Amity… Or even with Gus, acting as ‘cool kids’ who ARE impressed by him, unlike the students from Glandus High? I’ve always wanted Gus and Twins interaction… I think Gus is also an interesting duality, parallels and opposites, two sides of the same coin dynamic with the twins; Emira and Edric are individuals who are like one, while Gus is his own person split amongst himself and his clone! Both with a knack for showmanship, and wanting to be noticed on some level. 

          Maybe when all is said and done, Amity grows a greater appreciation for Gus, Emira, and Edric, getting to interact with Porter properly for once, and helping repair her relationship with the twins; Imagining their surprise at Amity suddenly hugging them, only for the twins’ playful wit to melt away into endearing appreciation… Only to finish it off with a practical joke, because they can’t be TOO sappy of course!

          I’m really fascinated and I can’t wait to see what we have for store in this episode… Sounds like the first five episodes alone are ALL going to be jam-packed with very important, major events! Wasting no time I see… Alas, because Season 3 is shorter than anticipated.

[heretherebedork]

Ok this may be kind of long so please bear with me. It seems like VegasPete are better suited for the Mafia lifestyle than KinnPorsche. I like BLs but at times it seems too sweet...almost cavity inducing. That's why I like a bit of a darker show (TharnType was the first BL I was actually interested in watching if that gives any context) so although I can enjoy most series, I am usually not fully engaged. But when this series was announced I was hooked immediately. And from what I see so far it seems clear that KinnPorsche could exist outside the mafia which is why the date episode didn't seem strange or out of character. Porsche is trying to adapt but you can tell he is an outsider because of his humanity. Kinn is doing what is expected of him which is why I get his dad's concern of him being in love because deep down he is truly just a lovable sap. Yes Kinn can be cut throat but I think that's survival and maintaining the image especially after the lessons learned from his last relationship. But I don't believe this is who he truly is or wants to be. I view them like chocolate; has different sweetness levels, sometimes messy, great in all different recipes/environments and just overall enjoyable(Pt1.)

(Pt2.) VegasPete on the other had are my SourPatch babies. Vegas is sour to all and sweet to who he let's in whereas Pete is sweet to all but will show his sour side to the right person. I can't imagine Vegas in a regular life that doesn't involve violence and deception because that's just who he is. Pete I feel is a chameleon where he can naturally fit into any environment that's why his goofy sweet moments are as reasonable as his darker complex moments. (These characters assessments are purely based on spoilers as we haven't had a chance to fully see both sides of VegasPete yet). I feel Pete probably didn't have moral dilemmas about his job and the violence required like we have seen with Porsche. For him if someone had to die they just had to die rather than their being a purpose or an end goal which is why I think he will do well as Vegas' partner because with him there might not be a reason. All this was to say that I can imagine Kinn as head of the minor family where he isn't as deeply involved in the mafia as he currently is and is viewed as a hard but decent business man to the community with Porsche. VegasPete I could see as being the head running the underworld with whatever means necessary to keep others in line. Like having a public face to the company (KinnPorsche) and the illusive CEO (VegasPete).

Ah, so we have very different taste as TharnType was one BL that had me mostly pissed off because nothing had real consequences and all the drama felt manufactured specifically to play into scenarios that didn't work well for me. That is always interesting to know. And that's what makes this so interesting to me.

In any other BL? I'd be eating up these cute scenes. I normally love them. I normally adore them. But here? It doesn't feel right. It doesn't sit well for me. I just can't get past the two halves of the relationship they share to find the whole.

I get that they're going for that but my problem is that the way they show those sides isn't working for me. I get that it is for most people and I wish it was for me but the tonal shifts and changes are just making my head spin instead of drawing me more into their loving relationship.

A lot of people are talking about how this episode is needed to explain why they love each other but for me this episode already assumed that they loved each other and went from there. I don't know any more why they love each other or what they're doing together or why from this episode because I feel like we skipped a whole bunch of that because it was all tied into trauma and they can't handle that alongside the fluff.

But anyway.

Yeah, anon, I get what you're saying and what they're trying, it just doesn't work for me.

As for VegasPete... I just don't know. I feel like there's a lot of things going on with them that are gonna turn out different than we expect.

I mean, honestly, at this point I expect the same tonal issues with them so I'm no longer trusting anything I've been trying to analyze or predict because the tonal shifts means I can't.

I'll probably still try once I get another chance.

But... expectations set to confusing.

(no book spoilers)

[victoriareyloficlists]

8 July 2021 Additions to Reylo Fluff

These fics have been added to the Fluff lists located in the following lists:

Fluff Part 1 Titles A-G

Fluff Part 2 Titles H-M

Fluff Part 3 Titles N-S

Fluff Part 4 Titlez T-Z

Nerd Table by tasu7 (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, 9 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben, one of the nerdiest nerds at his high school, is completely smitten with the new girl, Rey. She plays board games, loves videogames, and is even better at robotics than him. And somehow they've become friends. The problem is she doesn't like him like that. And Ben can't just tell her how he feels.) Two Halves of a Whole Idiot by Theyna_Shipper (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: After a game of truth or dare, Rey and Ben are stuck literally and figuratively trying to figure each other out.) Hike A Mountain, Climb A Tree by greywilde (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey invites the entire office on a weekend hike and only one person shows up: the new IT guy she doesn’t get along with. At all. They hate each other, right? (or maybe, things aren’t the way they seem)) Rey, Voulez-Vous Prendre Ben Comme Époux? by Theyna_Shipper (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is her boss's best friend and is present at his French wedding. However, due to a language barrier, Ben and Rey are the ones who end up married.) The Curious Case of the Cinnamon Rolls by Ayearandaday (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: The whole office is perplexed - not only perpetually grumpy Alpha Ben Solo developed a mysterious addiction to cinnamon rolls from Irresistible, he also undergoes a magical change of character upon their consumption. What dark secret is behind the innocent pastry? The game is afoot!) Code of Conduct by reywritethestar (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, WWII AU, Quick Synopsis: It was early morning, a second World War still raged on across the Channel, and Ben Solo was thoroughly distracted. After being transferred to England, world-renowned code-breaker and Alpha Ben Solo has to adjust to life at Bletchley Park - the home of the Allied Resistance. He expected long hours, double shifts and ciphers, ciphers, and more ciphers. What he didn't expect was Rey, an Omega with a higher IQ than ninety-eight percent of the world's population who swears like a sailor and smells like home.) the tide is high (but I’m holding on) by KyloTrashForever (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: In which Rey just wants to see her best friend half-naked, and he’s making it incredibly difficult.) Bed and Breakfast by soupe (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey gets drunk at a party and stumbles into a sleeping Ben's room by accident. Drunken compliments, hair braiding, and cuddling ensues.) Give it a Year by KiKi37 (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey would really like to spend some quality alone time with Ben, the quiet IT guy, but can't seem to get the message through to him. Finally, at the employee Christmas dinner, she takes her shot:"You wanna get outta here?") The Assistant by OptimisticBeth (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is Poe's assistant and specifically tasked with keeping Ben out of Poe's office.) Our Karate Kids by Theyna_Shipper (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rey drops in on her daughter's karate class for Halloween, she meets Ben Solo, another single parent, and watch their children spar.) Go And Catch A Falling Star Chapter 62 by Ayearandaday (AO3 2021  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Fluffy meet-cute for MerMay. Rey is working as a mermaid in an aquarium and meets Ben Solo through the glass.) Everything is Alright by Theyna_Shipper (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Canon AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey adopts an orphan that she finds on a ruined planet. Domestic Force-bond fluff ensues.) R3YLO by Theyna_Shipper (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is a very empathetic cashier at First Order Department Stores. KYL0 is the sentient AI installed to make her job easier. Over a course of months, Rey befriends the AI and grows attached to him. But one day, Rey learns that KYL0 has fallen in love with her.) The Kiss by Theyna_Shipper (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben couldn't be happier to be quarantined together. They get along perfectly and are best friends. Their feelings for each other couldn't possibly get in the way. Until Rey gets assigned to re-create a painting at home for quarantine homework.The painting? Francisco Hayez's The Kiss.) Taming the Beast by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Hux notices that Ben is more reasonable in company meetings when Rey is there as well. Hux starts inviting IT employee Rey to meetings completely out of her knowledge scope. The ruse is discovered when Ben is having a fit and overhears Hux ask Poe to 'go get the missus.']) Let Me Slap... With Love by starfleetjedi (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben receives a highly inappropriate anonymous Valentine at work, which he proceeds to accidentally forward to his assistant, Rey.) You're My Home by CaptainMarvel42 (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben barely had the energy to walk from his car to his apartment door, but he finally made it. He opened the door and was greeted by the sight of a beaming Rey. (Or: they're roommates, and they're both pining.)) Never Thought I'd See You Again by CaptainMarvel42 (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is convinced to go on a blind date with Ben. The problem? They've hooked up before, only they called themselves Kylo and Kira. She saw his band play when she was in college. He was her first.) open secret by hi_raeth (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: After a night out celebrating Rose's reconciliation with Hux, the girls reminisce on how embarrassingly transparent Ben and Hux were about their crushes during freshman year of college and Rey decides to share those memories with a very amused Ben.) Go And Catch A Falling Star Chapter 61 by Ayearandaday (AO3 2021  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Hades/Persephone AU, Quick Synopsis: What if Persephone took Hades?) I'll Pick You by greywilde (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey broke off her no-strings arrangement with Ben to move to the big city and broke his heart (and her own) in the process. Three years later, a trip to an apple orchard has her falling - literally - into the arms of the man she left behind. His feelings haven’t changed, but have hers?)

[invisibleicewands]

Q&A with David Tennant and Michael Sheen

What can you tell us about the new series of Staged?

Michael: David and I are still being ridiculous with and about each other - that’s still very much the tone of it. We have a lot of amazing surprise appearances which I hope people will enjoy as much as David and I enjoyed doing the scenes with them.

David: It’s the same set up as before. Michael Sheen and I talking rubbish to each other over the internet from our respective homes, with Georgia and Anna, our other halves, keeping us from becoming too self-indulgent, not always successfully. But there is a bit of a twist to it all, which I’m not going to reveal here...

In the show you play exaggerated versions of yourselves, are you anything like these characters in real life?

David: I imagine not at all, but probably... quite a lot.

Michael: I think David would say that he's not at all like his character in the first series. Whereas I would say, I probably am quite like that. But I think between the two series, there's a slightly more representative version of ourselves emerging, or at least that's what I would say anyway.

Why do you think the first series was so popular?

Michael: We didn't take ourselves too seriously and made fun of ourselves - I think people enjoyed that. I'm using the sort of format and medium that everyone is using. Having to do calls on Zoom and all that kind of stuff - so we've been able to tap into what's funny and absurd about that as well. Also, having lovely surprises like Judi Dench and Samuel L. Jackson, we have lots more of those surprises in this new series.

David: People seemed to recognise what the characters were going through. Not the specifics of being an actor in lockdown as such, but the sense of helplessness, the frustrations and occasional joys of being stuck at home while the world trundled on. That and the fact that Simon wrote a really funny script - I mean without that we’d have been stuffed.

Did you think you’d be back for another series?

David: If you had told me a year ago that I’d end up making a series for BBC One from inside our house, without a crew, wearing my own clothes and being entirely responsible for turning the camera on and off I would have found it wholly implausible, so the idea that we would do it twice is just one of the many unpredictable eventualities that this weird, weird year has presented.

Michael: I certainly thought that if it went down quite well then there was no reason why we couldn't do more, because it was such an innovative way to make a series - filming in my kitchen with just the laptop and a smartphone. It was very nice to come back and do more of it.

What was it like working with your partners?

David: The scenes between Georgia and myself had to be fitted in around school drop-offs, baby naps and unloading the dishwasher, so there is a certain urgency to getting them done but we have really enjoyed making Staged together and we do laugh a lot - perhaps it’s the sleep deprivation.

Michael: I thoroughly enjoyed it, it was great. The difficulty for Anna and I was that one of us had to go and look after the baby, so that presented a bit of a challenge and limited how much we could do together. But the positive side of this was that it meant Anna could do more scenes with other people. So, there's more scenes between Anna and Georgia, Lucy and Simon as well. It was lovely not taking ourselves too seriously and to play around with it.

Will any of your children be making an appearance in the new series?

Michael: There’s that fantastic moment in the first series where you see David and Georgia's daughter in the background coming down the stairs and then going back up the stairs - that's very funny. I'm sure you can hear Lyra in the background of some scenes; you’ll have to be eagle-eyed and eagle-eared for that.

David: No, I think they find it slightly risible that mum and dad are making a TV show from the house and are mostly just annoyed when we tell them to be quiet for a take.

What can you tell us about working with the guest stars?

David: Well I think it’s out there that we have Ben Schwartz joining us this series, playing the assistant to Michael and my US agent. I’ve known Ben for a few years now, we both play the voices of ducks on Disney’s Duck Tales. Ben is very very funny and is a master at comic improvisation. Michael and I both had to sprint to keep up with him once he started going off script. Recording those scenes was a particular joy. But beyond that I’m saying nothing - that would spoil some nice surprises.

Michael: In the first series one of the most enjoyable things was being able to do a scene with Dame Judi and with Samuel L. Jackson. In this series we have plenty more where that came from and it was an absolute joy - a real thrill! We have some special guests this series who David and I both enjoy the work of. I hope the audience enjoy it half as much as we did and also see that it's not just us who have difficulty with the technical stuff!

Q&A with Georgia Tennant and Anna Lundberg

What can you tell us about the new series of Staged?

Georgia: We are all still in lockdown but things are starting to open up a little and everyone is trying to feel their way through their new normal. David’s hair is longer and my wine cellar (metaphorically speaking. We don't actually have a wine cellar) is emptier.

How did you come up with the idea for the new series?

Georgia: We always said we would just do one and hope people didn't hate it. Much to our amazement people really didn’t hate it and of course it's much more tempting to visit something again if the reception has been good! When we filmed the first series I think we felt like it was a small window of time where the world had shifted and before long we’d all be back to normal and Staged would end up being this nice little time capsule. Simon Evans and Phin Glynn then came up with a brilliant little seed of a premise and we all took it from there.

In the show you play exaggerated versions of yourselves, are you anything like these characters in real life?

Anna: Well we’re all slightly different from the first season. I certainly don’t bring Michael charcuterie boards like I did in the first season, hah! I think in this season I have lost most of my patience with Michael and although that isn't true in real life, it seems closer to how we would behave with each other if we were living through those exact circumstances. I'd tease him for being so serious and a bit of an arse but at the end of the day we got each other's back. I've also gotten to know Georgia and Lucy a bit more since the first season, so those scenes seemed a bit closer to real life this time. Although I don't think there's a world that exists where I'd actually offer David Tennant advice on using Viking methods with an axe to deal with a conflict.

Georgia: This series ‘Georgia’ is slightly less tired and has gotten her fight back a little. The kids are back at school and she’s trying to get everyone else back to some sort of normality. She’s even less indulgent of ‘David’.

Why do you think the show was so popular?

Georgia: I think for the first time in probably ever the whole world was doing the same thing - sitting in their homes. To be able to watch a show where the actors are doing exactly as you and much less elegantly was probably the secret to its charm. To be able to laugh during this time has also certainly saved my sanity and having a comedy escape, albeit for 15 minutes, was probably very needed.

Anna: I think a lot of people around that time were happy to see something light and a bit silly as opposed to another heavy drama about what everyone was already going through, but without ignoring what was going on at the same time.

What was it like working with your partners?

Georgia: That was the best bit for me. He is my favourite person, actor and makes me laugh like no one else. I think I may struggle working with anyone else now!

Anna: The biggest challenge of filming with Michael is figuring out what to do with the baby when we do. Once we've managed to work that out around naps it’s great! He’s very encouraging and patient with me. Serious about the work though and likes to be in charge of all the technical stuff, even though I helped him to set it up in the first place. But I let him.

Will any of your children be making an appearance in the new series?

Anna: There’s always a chance you’ll hear Lyra’s voice in the background. She likes to get in on the action and has a great ability to project and be heard like her father. But no, not in vision.

Georgia: No. I cannot tell you how little they care about what we do. We were just annoying them by asking them to keep the noise down for takes.

[darkpoisonouslove]

Ranking the Winx Club Finales

I recently finished my rewatch (and first watch of a season and a half) of Winx Club and wrote out my thoughts on all of it. However, to send off a year that was in experience a lot like watching this series - meaning, generally frustrating and downright disappointing whenever I got excited over a thing with a few highlights that actually stuck the landing - and to get out any remaining feelings over the series, I have decided to rank the finales from least to most favorite. I just have a lot of rage to spare over season 8′s finale and needed an excuse to do so. Plus, I am being thematic here goddammit! Here we go:

8. Season 8

Yeah, I really spoiled that already. To sum it up:

But let me elaborate. Like I already said, this finale enraged the living fuck out of me. I just cannot comprehend whatever possessed them to write a finale so, so... excruciatingly devastating... to a season that started out with a lot of promise and had some extremely solid decisions (except for the art style, which is just NOT IT). This finale is an absolute disaster in every way. First, there is a new plot point introduced mere minutes before the finale and it is never tied into the overall narrative of the season which doesn’t do it any favors, especially after the two halves of the season already have trouble connecting together into one overarching story. The reason they brought in the creatures from the Dark Dimension was to distract Valtor while Winx make their attempt at stealing the stars which could have very well been a role filled by Arken confronting Valtor in an opportunity to clear up all the muddy details around their partnership and bring together the two halves of the season. The Winx’ plan had potential that was completely wasted by their own interruption instead of seeing each girl (provided Layla was playing Icy, Stella - Darcy and Musa/Tecna - Stormy) doing her best to pretend to be the Trix she’s posing as to give the Trix the due role they should have had in this finale. Instead, we get an Icy that is a complete opposite of the character we’ve known her to be for seven seasons all for the sake of a wish she doesn’t even get fulfilled despite her decision to help. Her motivation is a direct contradiction to the original plan of the Trix and disrespects her character from all previous instances of her being on the show for absolutely no reason as she is left with nothing in the end and the whole backstory they invented for her out of nowhere and couldn’t fit in any way with anything previously known about her was in vain because it was never resolved. Winx essentially manage to defeat Valtor once they wish for their own power-up and are gifted powers they haven’t really earned only to be pronounced great heroes who even get their own constellation in the sky. Come again? There was no narrative tension in this episode, no big climax to resolve what is supposedly the biggest threat in the universe at the moment, and no actual emotional conclusion to the season. It can’t even be called a messy wrap when so many threads were left hanging in there. A true disaster on every front.

7. Season 6

Even if you count both 6x25 and 6x26 as the finale of season 6, the structure is still lacking big time. Acheron who is the main drive of the entire season is defeated before the end of 6x25 and the Trix who are the other main villains were also more or less neutralized at that point to leave absolutely no stakes for the last episode so they had to pull some bullshit to fill it. The Winx are useless for the entire episode, including Bloom whose battle with the Trix is an absolute joke. Like, they can’t even think of syncing their attacks so that she can’t protect herself from all three of them with her ridiculously small shield and Bloom couldn’t even bother to actually buy herself enough time to leave the Legendarium. The only saving grace of that fight is the little emotional moment it causes for Bloom but that was also not really set up at any point of the season so it was just out of the blue. Selina changing her affiliations permanently even after the imminent threat for her life was neutralized made about as much sense as her turning evil in the first place and the fact that they needed her to lock the Legendarium made everything 1000% shittier because of how convenient it was that she just decided to turn good again without any justification for her course of actions. That coupled with the lack of consequences for any of her actions (she nearly killed Flora for heaven’s sake and no one even brought that up?) plus the dreadful info dump monologue they gave her just brought the whole thing down. The wrap-up of the season was also underwhelming after they had an entire episode that was mainly free of villains in order to close the other storylines... but, of course, there were no other storylines. Pretty disastrous.

6. Season 7

Just like in season 6, Winx were pretty useless here as they really didn’t do all that much for the plot. Luckily, the fact that the Trix were brought in allowed for the villains to have a battle that was more intriguing and provided some action as for a finale. The other key elements of the season (fairy animals, Trix, wild magic, Kalshara and Brafilius and the time travel) were actually woven together pretty well to make for a pretty satisfying finish to a season that really lacked any solid plot. The mini worlds and the Tynix transformation did not have use in the last episode but that wasn’t too catastrophic. There was actually a pretty emotional moment between the fairy animals and Winx that would have been even better if their relationships had been better developed throughout the season... You’d really think that since fairy animals were the main point of the season and there was no solid plot to account for, they would have taken the time to pay attention to Winx bonding with their fairy animals but nah. I am still impressed with how touching their goodbye was given the fact that they didn’t really have all that much time to actually become close so bonus points for that. The very last scene is a little generic but what else to expect from a season that has sung all its songs already (thank god that there were no musical numbers in this because I have a feeling it would have been even worse)?

5. Season 5

Season 5 could at least pat itself on the back for dealing with the main villain of the season even if there were a couple iffy things about the whole deal. I’m taking away consistency points for a) the fact that the Throne was supposed to be activated with the seals from the Pillars of the Infinite Ocean, yet suddenly stealing a random Sirenix would do, b) Tritannus being defeated by simply having his trident taken away even though he literally grew in body mass implying that the power of the Emperor’s Throne had seeped inside of him (also confirmed by Mystery of the Abyss) and c) the mutants inexplicably turning back into people once Tritannus lost his powers even though they never turned back during his times of relapsing back into a human thanks to running out of pollution. His defeat was just ridiculously easy and Bloom got to do it even though Layla was the one with the personal connection to Tritannus and the one most directly impacted by his actions as her family fell prey to him. Instead of getting to shine in a season that focused heavily not just on her home world but on the environment from which her powers come, she got benched in favor of Bloom getting to do everything again with only mild assist from Layla’s cousin. They should have kept it in the family and left Layla and Nereus deal with Tritannus. The Trix were blasted out of the narrative extremely conveniently and the rest of Winx were saved twice by the mutants just turning their back on them instead of destroying them right then and there and then being turned back into their original form as well. There wasn’t the usual teamwork of the whole Winx unit which I am still salty about despite being sick of all the time they reached for convergence in that season. Theredor fighting alongside Winx (different from his own daughter) was a nice touch but the king and queen of Andros coming off as so helpless (and apparently the only people in the castle unless you admit that everyone else drowned) was frustrating. Where was the Andros army? We only got Tressa, Roy, four of Winx and a handful of mermaids. Is that the whole population of the Heart of All Oceans? Additionally, the finale left no time for any emotional resolution of the season’s events, especially considering the big deal that Daphne’s revival was. Instead they opted for a musical number at the end. Not the best form.

4. Season 3

Season 3 had a finale and then another finale. Granted, better than season 6 that had a finale and then filler but there was not a lot of glory to the ending of a story with such a strong opening and emotional moments that send you bursting into tears. The spell of the four elements was pretty decent in its first appearance in 3x25 but the way Valtor lost it all was a real let down after the climatic confrontations between him and the Winx girls throughout the rest of the season. His return was more or less a desperate last attempt at personal revenge against Winx as his goal was mostly out of reach at this point. The spell of the elements was brought down in both its use to create clones of Winx’ boyfriends and in its power as it was much easier to undo in its reappearance. The saving graces of this season’s finale are the couple emotional moments sprinkled through both 3x25 and 3x26. Bloom’s willingness to sacrifice herself for her friends and the world was the thread that the finale hangs on as she is mostly the one resolving the whole conflict which was a bit dissatisfying after the emotional damage Valtor inflicted on all of them directly or indirectly. There is a few moments left to recover from the emotional intensity of their battles against Valtor but nothing that really addresses the seriousness of the trauma they had to survive because of him. The Trix didn’t even get to have a last stand of their own in either of the last two episodes despite the position in which they started the season but that was more or less unnecessary anyway since we’d already seen they can’t hold their ground against Enchantix Winx even with a boost from Valtor. Overall, the finale is pretty weak, especially as a follow-up of the dynamic and strong experiences that the season put them all through. It was the first finale that was confined to a single episode (or rather two separate battles spanning over an episode to end the season) and there wasn’t enough tension building in the confined storyline an episode told.

3. Season 4

The season 4 finale is overall a solid conclusion that delivers both a final battle with the Wizards and enough time left to address all the other storylines left unfinished. The final battle was pretty short but there was enough intensity in the previous couple episodes to have covered the action demand that the season had already set up and it also provided the opportunity to have Winx come back together as a team after Layla split up. Not only that, but Nebula and Roxy also get to play their part while the Wizards make their last desperate attempt to regain the upper hand. It’s pretty climatic for something that length that also left about 15 minutes of the episode still to fill. Everything that had to do with the closure of the Earth fairies storyline was emotional beyond belief and gave more depth to all of them and Layla’s decision to join them. Winx had to face all of the separate responsibilities they have on their shoulders and find a way to balance them all so that they can pursue their dreams. There was a plethora of emotional moments and a deserved spotlight shined on Layla’s situation and how she’s dealing with it, plus the others’ feelings. It was a really touching finale and also an inspiring one to see Winx stand behind their dreams while still balancing their responsibilities. It seemed to achieve the initial goal of the season to have them adapting to the adult life they were shifting into.

2. Season 2

I’m gonna be honest, I had a very hard time deciding whether this would be number one or two because the season 2 finale had a lot more character moments that were very moving. It really corresponds to the season since it was more character driven than the first one and the finale suited that. However, ultimately I decided that it would take silver because of a couple minor things that bring it down. To get that out of the way, the second portal to Realix that led Winx there was imo a copout that destroyed pretty much all of the tension that the entire season spent building around the search for the Codex. It just felt so wrong for there to be another way to enter that dimension and to me it was a big disappointment. Especially since the key to activating the copy of the Codex was the color riddle that was a ridiculous panicked attempt on the writers’ part to show that Stella isn’t useless and has what to give the team but it only made her look worse in my eyes. Also, minor gripe for the fact that there wasn’t that much of a final battle since everything ended with a single convergence. Of course, there were several battles across the episode between different sides that made for good action and tension and there was magic involved in more ways than simply the convergence in order to defeat Darkar but it was still a bit of a letdown to never truly see him put his everything in battle. And the fact that Griffin and Faragonda held him off for as long as they did on their own actually hurt his credibility as a threat as well. But hey, on the plus side, remember when the teachers actually helped and did not leave the fate of the whole universe in the hands of 16-year-olds? Good times! The MegaTrix and her? their? battle with Darkar was epic. 20/10 on that concept alone, plus it really brought a great feeling of vindication after the number Darkar did on them and felt so satisfying even if they were also part of the villain team of the season. They were portrayed as three-dimensional and weren’t cast out of the narrative without care just because they were villains and that was actually probably the most solid moment that the Trix have ever had on the show (just minor gripe for the fact that they were supposed to be trapped in Realix when the dimension was sealed forever but they were later somehow brought out of there which was never explained). Sky’s speech to Bloom was actually a pretty emotional moment and the payoff from it felt earned and allowed for Bloom’s victory against the darkness to feel natural and in place. It was probably one of their best moments as a couple. Plus, the cute little interactions that we got during the celebration party to send off the season on its merry way made for a great finale. (And a shoutout to the Musa x Riven scenes both in 2x25 and 2x26 because that was some good shit and some cute shit and it was exactly what we deserved).

1. Season 1

Season 1 reigns supreme with its finale. There is just no other finale that can rise to the level of the first one that was built for about one third of the season so that the last episode could dive right into the action without wasting time on setup. This is also the only place where we truly and fully get to see each of the Winx and the Trix (well, minus Layla who hasn’t been introduced yet) showcase their powers but especially Bloom and Icy. It is the longest battle we have seen and it builds a lot of tension on top of what was already there to leave you on the edge of your seat. The exploration of magic in this episode makes it so iconic and such a great watch even on the 300th time. There isn’t really much more to say than simply “It is epic”. What makes it even better though is the fact that there is enough time left in the episode to wrap up everything else and not in a rushed way. The battleground is extended to the locations that have already suffered the previous battles to show the full extension of the action and to setup the wrap-up that comes at the end. They even find the time to let some of the minor characters have distinct and touching moments as well and thus expand the universe of Winx further than just the main characters. Speaking off, they all get their moments, too, and the Specialists aren’t left out of that (you will never catch me not fangirling over Sky and Riven fighting back to back). The finale also doesn’t forget about the overarching story about Bloom’s origin which is commendable considering the constant lack of consistency the show suffers. This is really the only finale that isn’t lacking in any of the departments and manages to provide a truly fascinating story that keeps you entertained and in suspense while at the same time does not discard the emotional payoff or the logical continuation of events. It just excels in every way.

Well, this is my analysis on the finales of Winx Club. What started out as a bitch fest actually left on on a positive and uplifting note to make for a great ending to a harsh year. Let’s see what beginnings 2021 will bring! ;)