#alas i’m left to imagine these scenes by my self .

[eightdoctor]

SO FUCKING SAD we’ll never see fitz and the doctor on screen. like we’ll never see one staring longingly at the other like they want to devour them. Sad!

[lordisitmine]

TTNBD BLOG PART FOUR

Covers chapters 4 and 4.5 of the story.

This is the chapter that gave me the idea to do these commentary blogs in the first place! This is also the longest chapter so far (*distant laughter from the future*)- I originally intended to try and keep each chapter of this story around seven thousand words, so they would all be nice and even, but alas, I’m just too verbose for such consistency. The story has to split the right way, and so that inevitably means that some updates will be longer than others. One of the later chapters I have planned might very well end up being twice as long as this one (*laughs again*), so I’ll really have no place to hide at that point. So, without further adieu, let’s get to it!

CHAPTER FOUR: AT THE TURNING OF THE YEAR

The title of this chapter isn’t directly inspired by anything- there is a folk song with that name, but I hadn’t heard of it until way after I already came up with the title for this chapter. It’s kind of a neat song though, so I’ll link it here- it’s about the changing of the seasons and the nature of mortality, and the kinds of things people think about and sing about at new year’s.

This chapter starts with one of my favourite scenes that I’ve written for this story so far. I think it’s probably my own personality showing through again, but the idea of having a woman dress up for me is like O_o and picking out her clothes for her!? Please. Anyway, Sybil is not being subtle… Lizzy is just really oblivious, though maybe not so shy anymore, based on the way the chapter ends. Don’t worry, don’t worry, we’ll get there.

I know Lizzy’s colour is pink; her outfits in the anime are all based on Lolita fashion, and they’re all in very typical feminine colours. Since she’s grown up now, I wanted her style to reflect that, as well as the changing of the times. And I just think blondes look so good in green. It’s my favourite colour, and it’s the colour of her eyes, so it would make them pop. I have at least one more party scene in this story, though, and she’ll be back in pink and frills for that one. I just wanted to give her a simpler, more classic silhouette for this one, which is what I think Sybil would have picked for her, with the ridiculously large sleeves that were so emblematic of the time.

And a Gibson girl hairstyle! This was a popular hairstyle of the time, albeit a little later, more into the 1910s (Edwardian rather than Victorian). But like I’ve said, I can and will fudge the numbers a little when it comes to historical accuracy, if I think I can get away with it and if I really want to be self-indulgent. This is fanfiction, after all. The hairstyle I described was not the one I ended up drawing. There are some variations when it comes to what constitutes a Gibson girl hairstyle, and of course, it would depend on a given woman’s hair length/texture etc. What I described was simpler, more like the picture on the left, but what I ended up drawing was more like the one on the right, which is so beautiful, and I’m obsessed with how the drawing turned out.

As for Sybil, who I imagine to be more on the masculine end of the fashion spectrum- I wanted her to have a Marlene Dietrich moment (for those unaware, Marlene Dietrich was a singer/actress who was very popular in the WWII era and was known for her bending of gender roles and her queerness). Once again, I’m being anachronistic- Marlene Dietrich and her iconic menswear wouldn’t be a thing until decades later, but I can pretty much guarantee that lesbians have been wearing tuxedos for as long as tuxedos have existed.

Madame LaChance’s shop is called Chanceux en Amour. That’s French for ‘lucky in love’ and since Madame’s name is literally ‘lady luck’, I thought it fit. Women have been seamstresses, both domestically and commercially, for centuries, but for a long time, they did all the labour and reaped none of the benefits. So yeah, this is a women-owned business, baby! We love to see it.

As we know by now, Madame is not only a friend of Sybil and Simeon’s but is connected to Ciel and Sebastian as well. I like to think she treats those boys a little like dolls, like if she comes up with some insane design she wants to try, she’ll test it on them. I swear to God I must have been a fashion/costume designer in another life because I’m obsessed with describing/drawing outfits for my characters in everything always.

I am so incredibly proud of these ones. Ciel and Sebastian are known by their employees and patrons only as the Raven and the Phoenix (I referred in TTEOE to Ciel being like a phoenix and it stuck oops) and I wanted them to have stupid, extravagant outfits to reflect that.

Anyway, yes, Sebastian is wearing thigh-high boots, and yes, you bet they’re the stiletto heels he wears whenever he’s in his true form and we only see his feet! Ciel is in heels too, lol, he would have to be to keep up with Sebastian at all.

I am in love with the idea of the two of them creating this whole mysterious persona around themselves, and I’m a sucker for a masquerade. Ciel’s outfit (the sleeves in particular) was inspired by Shakespearean costumes- I’m a big fan of theatre and Shakespeare and I love when characters in stories have an element of mystery and performance to them. Ciel is nobility, so he’s used to garnering a certain level of attention and respect from the people around him, and I don’t think that would change now that he’s a demon but I also think he would like the element of anonymity that a mask gives him.

I’m a BIG fan of the 2004 Joel Schumacher Phantom of the Opera film (if you couldn’t tell by the way I described the theatre in this chapter, or the outfits I have everyone in). If you’re trying to imagine anything in this chapter, it’s all pretty much lifted directly from the aesthetic of that movie. And I was also listening to the 2013 Baz Luhrman Great Gatsby movie soundtrack when I was writing it too. Yeah yeah, it’s the 1900s not the 1920s but I have to get in the old-timey party mood somehow, and that soundtrack was hugely popular/ I had it on my iPod when I was a teenager and at the height of my Black Butler obsession so. They’re somehow kind of linked in my mind.

Le Cour de Corbeau literally translates to ‘the raven’s heart’ and what is Ciel if not Sebastian’s heart? I’m thinking of writing a one-shot spin-off once TTNBD is done that goes back and explores exactly how Sebastian and Ciel met Madame and ended up owning an entire nightclub. I don’t have the exact timeline of events planned out but I imagine it involved some sort of demonic shenanigans so it should be fun to come up with something.

The club is located in the Montmartre area of Paris, which was one of the main gathering areas of the queer community in Paris in the early twentieth century. Paris in general has been home to many underground gay clubs, salons, cafés and cabarets throughout history. Even to this day, it’s considered one of the queer capitals of the world. I knew I had to pay homage to the queer community in my fic, knowing Ciel and Sebastian were going to be living in Paris.

In chapter nine of To the End of Everything, I wrote a scene where the two of them snuck off from a ball to be together, and they danced in a quiet, dark room, and Ciel had a thought of some day being able to do it in the open. I was thinking of that when I decided to set a chapter in this club.

The scene with Lizzy and Sybil in the carriage on the way to the club was really tricky to write- it’s difficult to write a sort of coming out scene without being able to use any of the modern terminology we use now. I’m of the opinion that homosexuality was talked about in common society a lot more than the history books would have us believe. Humans have been having sex longer than we’ve been doing pretty much anything else, and that must count for something.

Lizzy and Sybil get to dance in this chapter! I spent a long time trying to find the right song for them, and I settled on Serenade for strings in C major my Pyotor Illyich Tchaikovsky. Tchaikozvky’s waltzes have this grandness to them, and they always make me feel like I’m being floated around on a cloud of air, which is how I wanted Lizzy to feel during this scene. I believe I’ve said this before, but music is very important to me and it inspires me greatly, and so I’m always finding ways to subtly work it into my writing.

Speaking of music- let’s talk about the scene with Madame’s performance- one of my favourite Sebaciel tropes is them having sex in semi-public places, during parties or in Ciel’s office or anywhere they might be discovered at any second so Ciel has to try to be quiet while Sebastian will try to make him get loud on purpose. There’s just something so utterly them about it. Also Sebastian leaving his gloves on. Enough said.

The song Madame is singing during this scene is from Mozart’s famous opera Don Giovanni, called Vedrai, Carino- specifically the aria from that scene. In that scene, one of the characters, Masetto, has been beaten up, and his fiancée, Zerlina, finds him and promises she can cure his wounds… with sex. It’s all cheeky double entendre and it’s very romantic and cute.

Here are the lyrics:

Come, come; if that's the worst, there's no great harm done.

Come with me home to supper,

And give your faithful promise, you'll nevermore be jealous;

Those bruises can be cured, where love is zealous.

Come, shall I tell thee,

How what befell thee,

Soon can be cured

By my potent charm?

No garden grows it,

Though it aboundeth,

Like furnace glows it,

Yet none 'twill harm,

All guard and cherish it:

Gold cannot buy it,

Say, wilt thou try it

Soft 'tis, and warm.

Has thy wit flown,

Hear, how it throbs within,

lays his hand on her heart

'Tis all thine own,

Ah, 'tis thine only

The melody is cheerful but lilting, and it builds and builds with a sort of heartbeat rhythm toward the end… I just thought it was perfect for this scene.

Sybil and Madame’s conversation was interesting to write. I realised part way through that I was writing an exchange with only original characters in it. I wasn’t sure how many people would really want to read a story with so much original character content, but the response to this story and especially the characters I’ve created has been wonderful and really touching. Being a writer is the most important thing in the world to me- someday I hope to have my own novels out in the world, so even a little bit of positive attention for the more original aspects of my fanfiction is a big encouragement.

Anyway, onto the next section of commentary, which is the scene between Alois and Claude.

I want to be clear- being a victim of sexual assault or child sexual abuse does not automatically turn you into the kind of person Alois is. It is completely possible for CSA victims to have normal, healthy relationships as adults. Alois, of course, was never in a safe enough space or had the necessary support system to heal from the trauma he endured. Instead, he ended up internalizing the abuse he experienced and convinced himself he was in control of it, that he was the one manipulating and using the old man, and that has led to him having a skewed perception of himself and his own sexuality, as well as an unhealthy relationship with sex in general.

The human mind will convince itself of all sorts of things in the pursuit of survival. People will cope however they can. There is no wrong way to survive. In Alois’s case, he sold his soul to a demon. Clearly, he has much different motivations and boundaries than a regular real-life person- and often in fiction, an unhealthy mind is much more interesting to write and read about, especially when there’s things like demons involved.

From the beginning of planning this story, I wanted Claude and Alois to have a super messy dynamic. I see Alois and Claude as a narrative foil to Ciel and Sebastian- the same dynamic, a young aristocrat and his demon butler, but taken to the opposite extreme conclusion. The same devotion, obsession, even attraction, but inverted- reluctant, resentful, but no less intense and inescapable. Where Sebastian is loyal, Claude is treacherous, but he is no less drawn to Alois, if only because of the contract between them.

Alois and Claude’s dynamic as I write it is this: Alois may be the master, and he may think he is in control, but he will always get more than he bargains for when it comes to Claude. Of course, I’m writing this commentary months after this chapter came out, and I’ve pushed that dynamic even further in subsequent chapters.

As to how it will end between them- well, you’ll have to wait and see.

On to the climatic title moment of the chapter, the countdown to the new year and the new century: I was just a little kid in 1999, so my memories are vague. I remember some stuff about the Y2K scare (for those of you younger than I am who don’t know what I’m talking about, you can google it, I’m not going off on a tangent here 😆. Anyway, I imagine the coming of a new century must be really exciting, more so than any other new year celebration, because it’s far rarer.

And of course, what better moment to kiss a girl you like for the first time than at such a classic, traditional moment? There’s something so gripping about the turning of the year, that moment when it feels like everything is about to change even though it really isn’t. It gives that same sort of exhilarating feeling as kissing someone for the first time. Kissing someone for the first time is terrifying too, but it’s also amazing.

Of course, things are about to go sideways for Lizzy, so she’s not going to get to experience any of what normally comes after such a thing, at least not for a while.

I like to imagine Ciel and Sebastian standing up on that balcony, looking down into the street over the crowds and the fireworks, and Ciel’s jaw just dropping when he sees Lizzy kissing Sybil. Lizzy?? Kissing a girl?? He’s not jealous or anything, obviously, but it must have been quite a shock for him, it’s no wonder he was staring.

CHAPTER FOUR-POINT-FIVE: INTERLUDE; AULD LANG SYNE

There are going to be a few interludes throughout this fic- they’re really just chapters on they’re own, but they’re shorter parts that feel like they need to stand on their own. Also, I like the word ‘interlude’ and wanted an excuse to feel fancy.

Auld Lang Syne is of course a quite well-known (at least in my neck of the woods) Scottish folk song that people typically sing at New Year’s. it was originally a poem written in the Scots dialect by poet Robert Burns, written in 1788, but he said himself that he had “taken it down from an old man”. The first verse and chorus can be directly attributed to a 1711 folk song by James Watson, the rest being attributed to Burns himself. Watson’s original stanza and refrain are the most memorable of the song’s lyrics:

Should Old Acquaintance be forgot,

and never thought upon;

The flames of Love extinguished,

and fully past and gone:

Is thy sweet Heart now grown so cold,

that loving Breast of thine;

That thou canst never once reflect

On old long syne.

Chorus:

On old long syne my Jo,

On old long syne,

That thou canst never once reflect,

On old long syne.

The phrase “auld lang syne” can be translated to mean “old long since”, but in a more general sense just means “times long past”. The phrase “for auld lang syne” can me taken to mean “for the sake of old times”. The song, while generally sung at the stroke of midnight at the new year, can also be used as a general farewell- it’s about remembering the past while moving toward the future. It’s been sung at graduations, funerals, and other such events for this reason.

Thematically, it’s perfect for where we’re at in the story. “Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never thought upon” is sort of an inverse of what’s happening- Lizzy still thinks of Ciel often, and Ciel has just had his past brought back to him despite having moved on from it. “Is thy sweet love now grown so cold, that loving Breast of thine; that thou canst never once reflect on old lang syne?” Has Ciel really lost all attachment to his past- does he really care so little what happens to the people he once cared about that he can’t even be bothered to look back, or to literally go back to his old life in some sense?

Alois is hungover and yet somehow still a little horny- there’s not too much to say about it other than OOF. I always have more fun writing Claude’s inner monologue anyway (I hate him so much but it’s so fun to write him), so the scene at the breakfast table where he makes the comment about Ciel not having the butler Alois does really tickle me. I love when characters throw shade at each other without realising what they’re saying. And the fact that Alois has to go around solving crimes and blames Ciel for it despite never having met him? Delightful. What a whiny bitch he is.

Abberline is the boss man now, and he’s doing his whole strong man though guy in charge routine, but he can’t fool me. He’s just a little guy. Still, though, it’s not great that someone leaked stuff to the press- it’s almost like whoever did it wants to cause a panic and make sure that the message gets sent to someone… I wonder what it could mean?

I don’t actually know if the London news would be published in Paris so quickly. I’m probably stretching historical accuracy to its breaking point haha, but like I always remind myself, I’m the only one who cares about stuff like that, and it’s my story anyway so ultimately, I can do whatever I want!

Ciel and Sebastian would be walking down the street holding hands if it was allowed. They’re so gross and domestic in this story and I’m not even sorry. Thinking about them going to a café in the morning and sitting looking at the paper and people-watching while Ciel eats a mountain of sugary treats and Sebastian drinks his coffee- I am often inclined to think about little else. I promise that when all of this is over, they will go back to doing that. But the main plot of the story has finally caught up with them.

“Would you hate me terribly if I said I wanted to go back to London?”

“I would hate you terribly if you pretended you did not.”

One of the things Sebastian loves most about Ciel is how unapologetic he is about the things he wants. Ciel’s motives as a human were never about being good- only about serving his family’s name, which was an obligation as well as a desire, but also about revenge, about going to any extent to achieve his goals. People so often sacrifice their dreams or wants for the sake of others, or for the sake of politeness, or decency- but Ciel was never like that. In a lot of ways, Ciel is a selfish person, self-indulgent and stubborn and a lot of other things people normally don’t like. So how could a demon like Sebastian not love him?

For the record, I love Ciel also. I call him selfish and stubborn and indulgent and all of these somewhat negative things, but I mean it affectionately. He’s a pretty little bastard and I love him so much. I think he should get everything he asks for and be allowed to do whatever he wants forever. (Me 🤝 Sebastian).

Okay so. I had to kill someone. There had to be a murder to bring Ciel and Sebastian back to London. It wasn’t going to be Lizzy that dies, obviously, but who else could it have been that would have made Ciel even remotely interested? I didn’t want to kill one of Lizzy’s parents, they’re useful characters to have around. Not Abberline- he’s even more important. So, Edward was the natural choice. I don’t think Ciel liked Edward at all- Edward certainly didn’t like him- but neither do I. Or rather, I don’t really have any feelings for Edward as a character whatsoever- he’s so minor. So murdered it is. The more important part is HOW he was murdered, obviously, but the fact that the victim is someone connected to Ciel’s past is also important.

RIP Edward Midford, thanks for your sacrifice to the plot. You will not be forgotten.

I think Lizzy and Sybil would have probably gotten together that day if Edward hadn’t have died and sent Lizzy on a whole new emotional arc. So maybe actually Edward, fuck you for getting murdered and keeping your sister from getting some. And fuck me for writing it that way I guess 😅

Anyway, that’s all for now! I’m on hiatus right now, and I’m working on the outline for the final arc of the story, and also trying to catch up on these. I’m probably going to start grouping chapters together in posts. There ended up being so many more chapters in this story than I originally planned. See you again soon!

[minsyal]

The Fugitive (Finding Home), Pt. 1

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

Backpacking through Eastern Europe was not a top priority on your “to do” list. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Being one to preplan everything, you were completely caught off guard when your roommate sprung the idea of the trip out of the blue. You roommate, Jezebel Haine, was your first and only roommate from college onward. All legs, she was one of the stars of the track team but was most certainly not one of the brightest shining ones. She was considerably dim-witted, fanatical, and had a booming over-the-top personality that scared every potential boyfriend who had the disservice of meeting her. There were times, though, that she was rather endearing. Her childlike sense of self and emotional drivers consistently put her at a crossroads between what everyone else was doing and what she should be doing; she was, and always will be, a follower.

After four years of becoming “the bestest of friends,” you had a hard time imagining such a hard shift either into another roommate or living alone. Plus, her parents funded most everything she did and, in turn, funded the apartment the two of you shared.

“It’s an amazing opportunity!” She insisted, waving her hands in a simple manner as she rose from the condensed cushion of the leather-clad couch. “Think about it.” Gathering your hands in hers like a 20’s actress who had just met the man of her dreams, she pulled the bundle to her chest. “We frolic through the European countryside, it’s golden hour. My skin looks absolutely gorgeous… yours too, of course. The sun is just about to set, but alas!” She let out a dramatic gasp, removing one of her hands to cover her mouth. “It’s growing dark out!”

“That’s what happens when the sun sets.” You noted, causing her to drop the act for a moment only to immediately go back into character.

“We hear the crunching of leaves and twigs all around us as if something…” she drew close and lowered her voice to a whisper, “sinister is coming. Out of no where we’re ambushed! By what, I’m not sure. Then,” her eyes became glassy as she lay a delicate hand to her forehead, “two absolute studs… and I’m talking big bulging muscles, gorgeous trendy hair, captivating eyes… really everything a simple girl could ask for… seemingly drop from the sky! We’re saved!” She throws your hands into the air as if they’d fall like confetti. Drawing both her arms in, she sways back and forth in a waltz of one. “We’d be married by the next day! Hell, maybe we’d even end up as princesses.”

Oh, how utterly wrong she was.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” You groaned, haughtily holding your chin up while feeling your spirits low. A few miles back, on an asphalt road that quickly turned to dirt, sat the dingy red rental truck with a blown out engine and a deflating tire. With no cell service and the last town being over 100 miles back, your only choice was to walk.

“Don’t blame me!” Jezebel stopped walking, feet falling flat to the ground as she stomped her foot in a childish manner. “I,” her lip quivered as all the anger held in her body dissipated, “I just wanted to have a fun time with you.” Big tears flowed from her eyes quickly after finishing her proclamation, leaving smearing black lines down her face from the eyeliner she insisted was necessary in the Romanian countryside. God, if her parents weren’t funding this trip, you’d throw a fit for your money back.

“Jess, just,” reaching backward, you fished a rag from your backpack, “don’t cry. That’s not going to make this better.” Sniffling, she accepted the rag and wiped her eyes, further smearing black all over her face. You couldn’t help but feel a shred of sympathy for her. “Let’s just keep going. No use in wasting daylight. I really don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

“Where are we supposed to go, then?”

“I’m sure the next town will have some sort of inn or hotel. At the very least, they’ll have directions to the nearest city.”

After another five miles of walking, the sun was beginning to set and no gorgeous studs were waiting to save you. The blazing yellow ball inched slowly beyond the horizon. Its warming rays that had kept the snow from freezing the two of you in the day crept down below the snow peaked mountains that were nestled in the distance. Shadows began dancing between the trees, sending the forest into a theater of silent performers. The dirt road that was once large enough for two cars was now only a walking path so slim that Jezebel had to follow on your heels. Every now and again you were reeled back by the piece of rope that she had attached to your backpack that was firmly gripped in her hand. She claimed it made her feel safer.

“You think those two hunks are going to come save us now?” You joked, attempting to make light of this dark situation.

“I wish.” She huffed, frustration evading her voice as exhaustion took center stage.

Flickering light caught your eye. Hues of yellow and red mingled together in the distance, the outlines of rooftops and smoke-filled chimneys littered the ground below. “I think that’s a village.”

Another mile of downhill travel was all it took to reach the place where the once distant flickering of torches and lanterns grew into the quiet streets of a cluttered settlement. There was no clear indication of movement once you stepped foot in the village; the only evidence of any life came in the form of fresh boot prints, livestock, and the ever-blazing lanterns. Jezebel was all to happy to release your makeshift leash from her fingers, trotting mindlessly by to examine the street corners and homes. Your eyes continued wandering up the rooftops, finally landing upon the eerie looming castle situated on the mountainside above.

From around the bend, you heard Jezebel screech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You threw caution to the wind, quickly rounding the corner to scold her like a parent would to a misbehaving child. “You don’t know if these people are violent or not. We can’t just go parading ourselves into the town center.”

“I think they’re violent.” She mustered the shaky words. Her hands covered her eyes and the majority of her face as she backed away from whatever had caused her distress.

“What?” The unpleasant squelch of snow beneath your feet caused your attention to draw downward. Dark snow surrounded your boot, an unnatural red hue stained the pure white. Gaze moving upward, your chest restricted feeling as if it had crushed inward on itself. The putrid smell finally fell upon your nostrils as you backed away from the scene. Severed animal heads hung lazily above you, their tongues flopping from their opened mouths.

“I want to go home.” Jezebel sobbed, rasping her cries into her cupped hand. Shaking her head as if to knock this moment from her brain, her short-lived façade of curiosity gave way to her immediate feeling of impending dread.

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now, Jess. Just, calm down.”

A low grumble had you standing further on edge, if that was possible at this point. The sound was clear as day and was anything but human. You weren’t even sure a human could get to an octave so low without the help of technology. Eyes darting upward once more, a chill ran from your shoulders to your toes.

Hauntingly yellowed eyes lingered upon the two of you. The beast-like figure was silhouetted by the moonlight, outlined like a ghost. It looked to be a man, but also anything but a man in the same sense. Its mouth was parted, baring old rotted teeth that looked to have dried blood caked between its gums. Its hands were bloodied as well, small cuts were painted across its forearms only hidden by the rags that clung to its chest.

Before you could process the situation, Jezebel let out another yelp. In an instant, the beast lunged down from its perch, landing with a ground shaking thud nearly five feet before you. “No!” Jezebel’s open palm collided with the space between your shoulder blades as she pushed you toward the monster. The last thing you saw was her backpack falling to the ground as she began running toward one of the homes. You landed face-first in the snow, groaning as all the air in your lungs were forced out. The beast snarled, once again showing its teeth as it hunched down to your level. This was, most certainly, not the way you envisioned dying. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist; this is myth, this isn’t real. It all felt like bad dream gone worse that you couldn’t wake from.

“Pesky creatures, aren’t they?” A new voice called out as the horrendous sound of metal crushing bone and muscle slithered through your ears. The disgusting feeling of gore instantly trickled down your hands. “Please,” the voice continued, “feel free to thank me anytime.”

A moment later, the stranger let out a scoff with the squishy suction of whatever he had used to quiet the monster. The tap of a boot on your elbow finally prompted you to uncover your eyes. “Or don’t.”

“I,” you started, opening and closing your mouth multiple times unable to find the right words, “thank you.”

“Oh.” He tiled the stiff rim of his frayed hat back, exposing a pair of circular sunglasses perched upon his nose. “Foreigners, eh?”

“Yeah, um.” You gathered yourself, finally pushing up to stand on your feet. “We got lost.”

“And ended up here, no doubt.” A stifled chuckle left his lips as he tilted his hat back in place and swung whatever he used to kill the beast over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, the stranger sauntered off with a backward wave of his hand. “Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.”

“Y/n!” Jezebel’s shrill voice called as she returned with a rather confused villager. He held a shotgun with both of his hands, Jezebel shone a flashlight in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The villager moved forward with extreme caution after peering around you dumbfoundedly seeing the crumpled body.

“I’m fine, no thanks to her.” You spat, anger swelling in your throat causing a particular acidity to your words.

“All of you! Inside this instant.” A matronly holler came from behind Jezebel and the villager. “You know Miranda’s protection only runs so far as we grow closer to this time.”

Who is Miranda and, more importantly, who was the man who saved you?

The home you were ushered into was on the outskirts of town. It was one of the larger estates given the fact that some people seemed to live in one-room shacks. Upon entering, you were greeted with the warm glow of yellow light trickling in from what looked to be a formal living room. The sweet aromas of honeyed tea wafted through the air, drawing further in as the woman led the three of you deeper into the home. What was worse? You pondered. Being killed by that beast or potentially being murdered by the inhabitants of this home? You couldn’t decide. Thus far, the two gave no indication of malice.

“Please, sit.” The woman pulled out two of the chairs at her table, the wood scratching against the floor. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Jezebel was so brainless. She smiled at you as if she hadn’t just offered you up as a midnight snack. Surely there was no hamster running on that squeaky track that powered her.

“What was that thing?” You turned to the man who was now seated to your right. “The monster.”

The man ignored your question, instead grabbing a piece of rounded bread from the plate at the center of table. Slathering butter on it, he looked to you. “How’d you kill it?”

“I didn’t.” You frowned, recalling the mysterious man who saved your life without even dropping his name. The villager raised his brows and kicked his foot up on the table. He was waiting for more information. “Some man came out of nowhere. He had some hammer-like weapon.”

As soon as he processed the words, his foot fell from the table and he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. You could smell the distinguishable bite of alcohol percolate from his lips. “Did he wear glasses? A hat?”

“He did.” The words slowly drifted from your mouth. “Hair to about here.” You motioned to the halfway point of your neck.

“Adelina,” the man called, presumably to the woman who guided you inside. He got up quickly, rushing to the other room leaving you and Jezebel alone.

“What the hell is going on here?” You whispered in a harsh tone, leaning forward to get closer to her. “Is this not weird at all to you?”

“I think they’re nice people.” Jezebel responded at full volume without a second of thought.

“That’s coming from someone who tried to feed their supposed best friend to a monster.”

“I was buying us time to get help.”

“Help? I almost died!”

“But you didn’t.”

“When we get back to the U.S. I never want to speak to you again.” You seethed. How could she be this bad? You knew there were a few… a considerable amount of screws missing from Jezebel, but how in God’s green earth does she justify her actions at this point? The thought of it accompanied by her dazed and empty stare only fueled the fire of anger more.

“Dear,” the woman, who you now knew was Adelina, reentered the room accompanied by the man with a tray of cups and a kettle in her hands. She set a delicate china glass in front of you, softly filling it with a reddish colored liquid that she assured you was Celestial Seasonings, a tea imported from Africa. “I hear that you’ve met Lord Heisenberg.” Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a warm smile that only sent another wave of dread through your body. There was something so alluring about this woman, yet so sinister.

“Lord, who?”

Adelina stiffened, craning her neck to the side as she plastered a forced smile upon her lips once more. You had upset her, that much was obvious. “One of the four Lords that rule here alongside our dear Mother Miranda.” She explained, pushing the cup of tea closer to your body. Jezebel had already finished her first glass. Warily, you lifted the cup in your hand and allowed the warm water to heat your frozen body. An elongated finger pointed to the framed painting that hung to the wall. “Mother Miranda protects us here.”

Mother Miranda. You could only focus on the image of the woman silhouetted by six black wings and a halo outlining her head. Her eyes were indistinguishable behind the raven-like mask that clung to her face. Adorned in a black garb, she looked to be a holy figure in this town. But like Adelina, something just wasn’t right with Miranda.

The unsettling reverb of crickets and cicadas chirping grew louder and louder with each passing hour. You counted the seconds between waves of mass chorus; so far, it was roughly thirty seconds between each bleating scream of their nightly tune. You couldn’t sleep. Despite the somewhat comforting, but entirely unsettling welcome given by Adelina and Marion, you couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal in the tiny cupboard room they had given you. A curious thought tickled the back of your mind, willing you to remain as alert as possible after an exhausting day of hiking; where had they put Jezebel? Not that you particularly cared at this point. After the attack she had done a 180, dropping all suspicion of malice in this village. She simply flushed the pictures of hanging heads and wild beasts from her memory. You sometimes envied her lackadaisical memory accompanied by a fanatical view of the world. Living blissfully ignorant, especially in a situation like this, seemed to serve her best.

After a small dinner of fish that smelled of ammonia, of which you politely picked at, Adelina insisted the two of you stay the night. “The beasts will return!” She exclaimed, holding a firm hand over the intricately carved wood of the doorframe. “Early tomorrow we can arrange for a car to pick you up from the next town over.” Hushed murmurs climbing up from the cracked floors pulled you from your thought. The voices spoke in an incomprehensible argument.

“I’d quite like to keep...” the words faded in and out.

“No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous...”

“What if....”

The floor spoke a soft squeak from beneath your feet as you shifted to get closer to the voices. Their conversation stopped, and you waited with bated breath for it to continue.

“We have to offer someone up tomorrow.” It was Adelina.

“I know, I know.” Marion sounded frustrated. “But you know Mother Miranda prefers only the purest. How are we supposed to know if either of them are-”?

The words faded once more as the two moved from room to room. Walking on the sides of your feet, you followed. Peeking around the corner, your eyes landed on Adelina and Marion illuminated by a flickering fire. They stood close to one another, keeping their tones low.

“Clearly, we offer the frumpy one. Take a look at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s unexperienced.” Adelina snickered, taking a seat on the worn couch with her back to you. “She wouldn’t fit in here anyway.”

“The dumb one would get along nicely with our son.”

“I agree.”

A knock at the front door sent a shiver of adrenaline down your spine. Quickly scrambling to hide, you took in a deep breath as Marion passed by with his shotgun in hand. From the parted door, you could see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Had it really been that long already?

“Are you sure she’s pure?” The new man stood in the doorway rushed past Marion, looking in the direction of the room they had put you in.

“I suppose we could check.” Adelina called, rising to join the others. “The both of them had that tea. They shouldn’t wake until the ceremony later today.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yes, the other one is upstairs.”

“Let’s check this one first.”

With heavy footsteps falling upon the rotting floorboards of the somewhat dilapidated home, you slunk further into the shadows of the room behind you. The glint of something metal caught your attention; a small handgun sat perfectly on a dresser as if set there intentionally for you to find. Holding your breath, you crept forward to it. You’d never shot a gun in your life, but you knew the basics... both hands, check for ammo, rack the slide, pull the trigger. At least, that’s what the movies told you.

“Out of bed so soon, are we?” The soft voice turned malevolent as Adelina appeared in the doorway of the room. “I wouldn’t use that if I were you.” She motioned to the gun that was aimed rather unskillfully for her chest.

“What the fuck is going on in this village?” You spoke with purpose now, tone wavering slightly as Marion stepped behind his wife.

“You don’t understand things around here, girl.” Adelina spat, moving aside as Marion began charging into the room. The loud blast of the gun echoed from the walls of the home followed by a harsh curse and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. You had shot Marion in the leg; he’d live.

“No,” you started, re-racking the slide as Adelina’s other friend approached wielding a similar gun to your own. Adrenaline washed over your nervous system, your hands shook violently, but you attempted to remain composed. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This isn’t normal! Tell me what’s going on now or,” your eyes trailed down to Marion who was attempting to control the flow of blood from his wound.

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly.

“Like hell, I wouldn’t.” You exclaimed, training the gun onto her. “Now tell me, what’s happening here.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Adelina’s friend’s words were the last thing you heard before your ears rang and the sting of a bullet burnt white hot in your shoulder. You weren’t sure if your gun ever went off again.

Despite being tied, bathed, dressed, and currently sitting on a freezing alter-of-sorts, you still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on. A crowd of villagers surrounded from the south, all carrying on with a rumble of conversation. Adelina shot daggers at you, Marion as well, from a small, inclined hill at the edge of the crowd. The clothes you wore were your own, she had fished through your backpack claiming that it was of no use to waste a nice dress on “someone like her.” Jezebel was likely still fast asleep at their house.

A woman with the likeness of the framed photo you had seen appeared out of nowhere. So, this was the famous Mother Miranda that everyone regarded so deeply. She stood before you as the crowd’s voices hushed and their eyes became hazed with looks of admiration and devoted appreciation. Surely, she was a human, deities and gods didn’t exist in a physical form, you assured yourself.

Without a word, Miranda moved gracefully as if flowing across the ground to stand before Adelina. Taking her face between her hands, she whispered what you assumed to be praise as Adelina’s lips moved rapidly thanking Miranda. She then moved to Marion and grazed her hand against the wound on his thigh, speaking of how his steadfast devotion would quickly heal any injuries of cruelty spread by evil. When her attention finally fell back to you, she frowned. Stalking around you in circles, Miranda’s imposing figure made you want to shrivel to nothingness.

“Thank you.” She turned to the villagers as if to dismiss them. “When the time comes, I will return for another.”

The black wings you had seen in the photo sprouted from her back, shielding your sight of the villagers as they retreated to their homes. Hopeful cries and shouted blessings to Miranda echoed from the crowd as the village gate slammed. The only evidence of them once populating this empty square were flowers and offerings of fruit and grain left for the supposed goddess.

The world swiftly darkened once more.

Part 2 - Paths Meet

I promise there's more Heisenberg in the next part..

Feedback is always appreciated

[samstree]

Just a Little Pretense

Jaskier and Geralt stage a fake breakup. Someone’s feelings get hurt for real.

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

AO3

“… It would be to take you off my hands!”

Geralt’s voice echoes in the ballroom, between the tall walls and the high ceiling. Everyone on the dance floor has fallen into silence. Even the band has stopped playing, their lead singer gaping with round eyes.

Jaskier blinks, impressed.

All the eyes are on the two of them. Jaskier’s back prickles with the gazes. As the fight escalated, more and more guests have stopped dancing just to eavesdrop on the witcher and the bard, the most peculiar couple in the room.

Which is just perfect. The more people witnessing their breakup, the more awkward it will be afterward, and the easier it will be to get out of this tedious party. And here Jaskier is, regretting ever having doubted his dear witcher’s ability to perform.

Who would have thought Geralt is a method actor? Drawing inspiration from a past argument is ingenious.

His old acting professor back in Oxenfurt would approve of this. The show is going swimmingly and he is pumped with adrenaline—maybe he should go back on stage one day, do a play or two.

But alas, he can muse the idea later. The show must go on.

“Really? Just like that?” Jaskier croaks, seemingly on the verge of crying. He’s not so bad himself, classically trained and everything. “Thirty years, Geralt. I followed you for thirty years, and just like that, you will kick me out of your life? Did I ever—” he breaks off with a whimper. “Did I ever mean anything to you? Or were you ready to cast me aside this whole time?”

A tear rolls down. His lips wobble. The crowd erupts in hushed murmurs and sympathetic sighs. The set-up, the build, everything has been perfect. Now the only thing left is for Geralt to break things off, and the two of them can ride into the metaphorical sunset and never see this court again.

Jaskier waits in anticipation, but his witcher opens his mouth.

And closes it.

Geralt looks as upset as he should, angry and torn and equally shocked, his golden eyes wide and his jaw clenched tight. It’s a nice picture to paint for the audience. They are supposedly having the biggest fight in their lives and his body language is very convincing.

More than convincing.

Except, it just might be … too convincing.

Wait—

Jaskier focuses on Geralt, who looks as if he wants to shrink into himself, his shoulders slumped and arms drawn in. He looks as if he’s waiting to be struck. Wait, something’s not right.

“I can’t do this.” A whisper leaves Geralt’s lips, small and achingly sad.

It’s not the line he’s supposed to say.

Geralt’s eyebrows droop ever so slightly, and there’s a flash of distress behind the molten gold. It’s gone in a second, hidden behind a façade of indifference.

The tells are subtle, near imperceivable to the untrained eye, but to Jaskier, they are clear as day—Geralt is hurt. For real.

Oh.

Fuck.

“Geralt,” Jaskier tries, instantly snapped out of his character.

And yet, there’s no reply. Geralt lowers his head, turns around, and flees the scene within one heartbeat and the next. The crowd is too eager to make way for him.

“Shit,” Jaskier curses, ready to chase after Geralt, but the Countess de Stael appears out of nowhere with a flock of maids and positively blocks him in all directions. She’s eager to lament the loss of love and companionship, and to offer Jaskier a place at her court once again. Oh, shit.

Jaskier brushes her off, all the while painfully remembering he and Geralt’s goal from the beginning—to use the breakup as an excuse to get out of this place.

Well, the plan is shit. Is it too late to notice?

Weaving through dozens of nobles is a lot more difficult when they all want to extend sympathy, and Jaskier is only placating them absent-mindedly, faking regret and heartbreak. His mind is full of his witcher, who is either brooding or spiraling over the venom he spewed earlier.

The truth is, Jaskier has long forgotten about the mountain—not because it didn’t hurt. To be shunned by Geralt, blamed for everything, and denied friendship, was the worst thing to have happened to him at the time. It’s just that Jaskier has forgiven it, so long ago and so completely.

Jaskier cannot get to their room fast enough, and when he pushes open the door, the sight of Geralt’s dejected face is a stab through the chest. The witcher is perched on the bed, somehow looking a lot smaller than he is.

Jaskier never should have come up with the stupid fake breakup thing, never should have inadvertently reopened the old wound. They healed, together. They shouldn’t be hurting anymore.

“I explained. We can leave now,” Jaskier tires, but in fairness, he doesn’t remember what he said to the Countess. “Geralt?”

The witcher himself crosses his arms, hugging his midriff and avoiding Jaskier’s gaze. “Good,” he answers curtly, shoulders still tense.

He looks angry, and when Geralt is angry, it’s most likely with himself. Oh, whatever heartbreak Jaskier acted out earlier, it’s not a match to a fraction of what he’s feeling now. It must be the one millionth time Geralt’s self-loathing has broken Jaskier’s heart, and it never gets easier, not when Jaskier caused it himself.

“Hey.” Jaskier desperately wants to wrap his arms around Geralt. So he does. He sits down on the bed and pulls his witcher into the biggest bear hug, which is returned immediately and so very tightly. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I fucked up, Geralt. I’m—”

“Don’t be.” Geralt buries his nose into Jaskier’s neck and shakes his head. “I never should have said those things, Jask. I should be the one apologizing. It was wrong and untrue and I would never abandon you. You are my best friend. How can I ever? Please, believe me…”

Geralt trails off, his hands rubbing circles into Jaskier’s back. Although it’s unclear who he’s trying to soothe.

“I know. It’s okay. I know,” Jaskier murmurs, over and over again, sealing each reassurance with a kiss pressed into silver hair.

“I never meant it, Jask.”

“I know. It was fake. We were pretending.”

Geralt pulls away, golden eyes dead serious, pausing between every word. “I never meant it.”

Jaskier meets his gaze unwaveringly, with not an ounce of doubt. “I know.”

They stay there for a while, just holding each other. Geralt keeps sniffing Jaskier’s scent the same way he always does to check for injury or distress. He thinks he’s subtle, the sweet man, so Jaskier never mentions it.

Despite what an outsider might assume, Geralt is the sensitive one between the two. He’s so careful when it comes to their relationship, especially after the mountain and sometimes to his own detriment.

He’s so scared of hurting Jaskier again.

“I was an idiot for suggesting it,” Jaskier breaks the silence, nudging Geralt in the knee.

Geralt hums, lips pursed.

“Fake breakup is a terrible idea. Next time we’ll just grit our teeth and sit through the month-long party.”

Still, no smile.

“Alright, you win. Next time I won’t take you to a month-long party to start with.” Jaskier gently pats Geralt on the cheek. “For your delicate sensibilities, darling.”

Finally, finally, Geralt’s lips turn upwards, just a smidge.

“You are an idiot,” Geralt says, the crease between his brows fading. “Just…don’t make me make you cry again.”

Melting into the warmth welling up between his ribcage, Jaskier leans forward and presses a tiny kiss at his witcher’s forehead, so softly as if he’d break with any more force.

“Yes, dear.”

Being careless with Geralt’s heart is a mistake that Jaskier never wants to repeat. As he put a hand over his witcher’s languid heartbeat, Jaskier feels the soft thrumming against his palm, and realizes just how terribly he needs to guard it with the same care too. Against his frivolous self, and against the past that never seems to stop haunting them.

Because Jaskier needs this thing between them to work. If a faked breakup already seems unbearable, he shudders to imagine a real one.

A witcher’s life is already riddled with pain and sadness and could-have-beens. A poet would hate it if he added himself to the list.

---

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod @kuripon

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[onebizarrekai]

undeniable proof that shuichi and kokichi were gay in v3

prepare yourself for the most big brain thing that has ever bigged your brain

chapter 1

shuichi saihara spends this chapter following kaede around because they were just trapped in a godforsaken killing game and everything seems to suck. when faced with a situation such as this, the natural inclination is to either find someone to latch onto or to distrust and stick to oneself. shuichi does the former because he is a twiggy little man who would probably die in a fight before anyone even attacked him.

what is kokichi doing in this chapter? sticking to himself? stalking someone? that is the real question. nobody knows what he is doing because he is not the protagonist and not the obligatory party companion. however, since v3 follows a theme of fiction, it is totally logical to believe that some system must be in place, but kokichi is not bound by such a system because kokichi represents anarchy.

he does not stick with another for all to see, nor does he remain alone. alas, he searches for a secret companion and has not found one yet. who shall he find? shall he find any? the truth is, he gravitates towards shuichi. it’s supposed to be in secret, but there is a way in the game to see what really happened.

if you speak to tsumugi right before everyone is asked to gather at the cafeteria a second time, she mentions sonic the hedgehog. kokichi runs by, saying “got to go fast”. this means that kokichi has either played sonic the hedgehog or is at least well-versed in sonic memes. if you get this dialogue, and only if you get it, later, kokichi makes another sonic reference, saying “faker? I think you’re the fake hedgehog around here!” while he confuses everyone, the dialogue makes the odd choice of stopping on shuichi, even though the dialogue box only includes “…” and nothing else.

chapter 2

if you have unlocked tsumugi’s sonic dialogue and go to the monomono machine, you now have a 5% chance of getting sonic merchandise. if you give this merchandise to kokichi, you get some interesting dialogue. he says “wow, shuichi! how did you know that I grew up playing sonic and that it’s my absolute favorite video game series of all time?” this immediately maxes out all 5 of his friendship fragments, and you can get all 5 of his hangouts without giving him any more presents. you’re probably wondering why this is important, but you will see.

as kaede is now dead, shuichi finds himself horribly alone. while kaito is there and starts calling him his sidekick, the force of protagonist syndrome has caused shuichi to gain the courage to hang out with anyone, including kokichi of course. I don’t need to talk about kokichi’s hangouts. they literally end with “I stole your heart, so now I’m satisfied!” and it doesn’t get gayer than that.

or does it?

if you investigate the bathroom part of ryoma’s lab during this chapter and click on a very specific spot in order to enter one of the stalls, you can click on the toilet 5 times and shuichi will lie down on the floor. while it’s to investigate the underside of the toilet, and there is nothing to be found, the words “kokichi was here” are written on the ceiling above the stall. if you’ve already hung out with kokichi at least once in this chapter, shuichi will sigh and wonder what kokichi is doing right now.

if you’ve given kokichi the sonic merchandise, and you reach kokichi’s final free time event in this chapter, he will actually question shuichi after he finishes bandaging kokichi’s finger up, briefly commenting on how shuichi managed to get close to him so quickly and asking him “what his trick is”. he says “you must like me a whole lot, shuichi. I hope you don’t bail on me after this.” word for word, literally just hear me out.

“kokichi places his warm hand on mine, and I feel like he’s prying much deeper than he usually does.”

“I didn’t think that was possible…”

chapter 3

little did you know, giving kokichi the sonic merchandise unlocked a bonus hangout. yes, you heard me right. a WHOLE bonus hangout. you can hang out with him again whenever you want in this chapter. kokichi only says “good to see you.” you can select yes or no.

the screen will fade to black.

you have used up a free time.

if you have reached this hidden part of kokichi’s relationship sequence, random dialogue that isn’t in the normal game starts getting sprinkled in, as well as certain easter eggs. when angie starts her whole shtick, since you’ve already hung out with kokichi 5 times, there are a few things he has to say straight up, like how he’s going to teach shuichi about cults so shuichi doesn’t accidentally join the student council.

chapter 4

now that you’ve finally reached chapter 4 and activated the secret kokichi pathway, you get a hidden scene, much like the others that are triggered by having specific items in your inventory. in the middle of the night, kokichi breaks into shuichi’s room and shakes him awake, telling him that someone stole his almond milk.

shuichi tells kokichi to shut up and rolls over.

fun fact, if you get the hangout with miu where she checks whether shuichi is a virgin, she does, in fact, say “ha, I can’t believe this!” and if you zoom in the window behind her, you can barely make out kokichi’s face. peering in. watching you. if you click on him at any point during this hangout, you will hear a voice clip of kokichi’s laugh and shuichi will internally respond to miu’s dialogue differently. he will think “miu is the last person I need to know about this…”

in this sonic dialogue route, shuichi responds slightly differently to kokichi revealing that he is the mastermind. although his dialogue is mostly the same, he counts approximately 22 extra crying sprites, implied to be caused by additional heartbreak.

chapter 5-6

these chapters play out mostly the same way until the very end, the only exception being when you’re investigating kokichi’s lab. if you click on kokichi’s throne 13 times, one of the bookshelves will slide out of the way to reveal a hidden bathroom. there is an envelope taped to the wall that says “for my beloved detective, who habitually smacks things over and over.” it says “if you’re reading this, I’m probably dead. or am I? wouldn’t you like to know? nishishi.” shuichi comments about the fact that kokichi literally wrote that stupid laugh out, only to start crying again.

make sure that you have kind lie equipped as one of your skills before you start the final trial.

if you’ve done everything exactly according to plan up to this point, the ending is different.

tsumugi decides to show kokichi’s audition tape instead of kaede’s. he says “I’d love to be a part of danganronpa! I can finally be a bad guy without being scared!” but then kokichi looks directly at the camera. he says “naw, just messing with you. guess who?”

the screen cracks.

kokichi has suddenly entered the scene of the trial. tsumugi looks horrified. her wig falls off. everyone is at a loss for words. suddenly the screens and lights around them start to black out until everyone is left in almost complete darkness.

shuichi finally asks kokichi how he’s alive. he’s like, “you DIED” and kokichi is like “or did I? it’s the grand finale, shuichi! I owe you the truth this one time, because you’re my favorite.” everyone listens intently. “you see, by observing your irrational actions, almost like that of a main character… I was able to conclude that we exist in a fictional world that plays by certain rules. but we all been knew, didn’t we? not quite! someone forgot to test for exploits.” himiko just goes like “what the fuck you smokin?” and kokichi just laughs. “my self awareness has given me more power than you can possibly imagine! let’s just say I learned where the hit boxes are broken and installed a few cheat codes in the meantime!”

“no… that’s impossible! this isn’t supposed to be part of the ending at all!” tsumugi doesn’t like that one bit. she just kinda breaks down crying. shuichi isn’t paying attention to her though. he had accepted oblivion only to be greeted with kokichi being alive. as annoying as kokichi is, they are hopelessly in love. maki is a little disturbed.

after passionately reuniting with shuichi, kokichi says the thing. “this world is mine now, tsumugi! you got nothin on this! it’s time to say goodbye to this trash dump and create a new reality!” tsumugi just kinda goes like “noooo!!!”

everything goes black. shuichi has a vision about entering creative mode. kokichi has opped him. they take hands. “let’s create someplace way more fun.” maki and himiko and keebo look at each other because they’re floating in the background and watching this happen even though it’s supposed to be an internal vision. the screen goes white.

shuichi graces us with some internal protagonist dialogue about how he doesn’t really understand what’s happening anymore or what’s waiting for them outside of this world, but he thinks that things might turn out ok.

after unlocking this ending, you unlock a super secret video that you can view from the main menu. it’s a fully animated video of kokichi and dice dancing to world is mine. this is what they spent all their budget on

[is-nini]

Genshin impact boys x reader(school au!)

|Will include: Diluc, zhongli,childe

(This will be the character for now also the characters age is 18+)|

"(Y/nnnnnnnnnnn)".

Your name was heard across the hall way, you flich and look around slowly and sweat drop.

"C-childe".

You whisper, trying to cover up your red face he just HAVE to make a scene in front of all people, his presence alone brings attention he is one of the student council afterall.

He jump and run towards you, flower seems to be floating around him, he hug you and rubs his head on your head while people around you are just staring.

"How are you~ how was your sleep last night~".

He cooed while you are dying with embarrassment. You try to push his head away from your smaller body but of course you failed..

"C-childe... y-you're making a scene...".

You whisper to him voice trembling.

"ahhhhwwww you're soo cute embarrassed!!!!".

Childe squeal he was about to say more stuff until someone else cut him off.

"Please don't make a scene in front of my class childe, (y/n)".

A deep strict voice was heard, there stood Mr. Ragnvindr the economic teacher.

"Ahhhhwww but Mr. Ragnvindr~ (y/n) is soooo cute with a face reddd don't you think~".

Childe stated while mushing your face togather and show it to Mr. Ragnvindr. When he see your adorable face being squished he can't help but want to take you and kiss you right then and there, but alas he have to hold it in and instead cover his red face and clear his throat.

"Please step inside the classroom (y/n), you are in my class today if i recall correctly".

Mr. Ragnvindr stated. Of course being a good girl, you follow his command. So you start to make your way to the classroom until you felt a strong big hand on your waist.

"Come to my classroom (y/n)~".

Childe say while putting his head on your shoulder, lucky for you Mr. Ragnvindr is there and he hit Childe's head making him let go of you.

"Go back to your class Childe or I'm going to report this behaviour to Mr. Zhongli".

Mr. Ragnvindr stated with a sharp tone and with that Childe scurry back to his classroom.

Diluc then look at (y/n) that's already starting to go inside the classroom. He move his gaze to the people around the hallway who are watching, and giving them a harsh glare that makes them tensed up and run to their own class.

Diluc sigh and then went inside the classroom too.

You sit in the middle of the classroom, not too far from teachers desk but not too close either, why is this important you ask? Well it seems like a certain teacher is watching you, whatever you do and as creepy as it sounds Diluc can't help it- you're so cute, your focus gaze on the exercise he has made the class do. Diluc will never get tired of watching you, Everything you do from sneezing, eating, even when you're walking you seem to bounce around making you so much more cuter-

His thoughts about you were cut off when the bell rings Diluc clear hus throat and stand up.

"Okay class make this assignment as your homework and please give it to me tomorrow. (Y/n) stay in class".

...whops.. Diluc face flushes red as he said the last word 'WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!' he thought to himself, face becoming as red as his hair but quickly try to calm his self down as he saw you walking towards him with a nervous walk.

"Y-yes Mr. Ragnvindr?".

You ask, confused but scared as to why he called you. Mr. Ragnvindr look at you and clear his throat.

"I would like to ask, has Childe been bothering you?".

"...eh?".

You say, dumb founded to the question your teacher just ask, Mr. Ragnvindr then started to explain more.

"I saw him and you on the hallway and was wondering is he bothering you?".

Ohhhhhhhh the hallway incident you nod understandingly but quickly shake your head and put a hand in front of you to futher prove your answer.

"N-no Mr. Ragnvindr, it's normal for him to do that and I'm not bother by it, thankyou for asking about that Mr. Ragnvindr".

You said bowing your body towards him.

"no it's normal for me to take care of my students and you don't have to bow, please stand up".

Mr. Ragnvindr say with a strict tone while holding your shoulder so that you stand straight, there seems to be a hint of shyness(?) On his voice, but you proceed to ignore that thinking that it was your imagination.

"Also, call mr Mr. Diluc please".

You look up at him confused but happy either way so you smile up at him and nod your head.

"Okay Mr. Diluc!".

When he heard you call him by his first name his body is shivering... The way you speak his name is so...sweet his heart started to thump around and he quickly Clear his throat.

"T-thankyou (y/n) you may go now".

You nod your head quickly and walk with a little bit of bounce on your steps.

"See you Mr. Diluc! Thankyouuuu".

You said while waving your hand towards him, lucky for him you didn't seem to notice his state, face red and hands trembling. God you're just the most adorable person he's gonna pass out.

You close the door and make your way to the cafeteria. While walking you bump into none other than Childe...

"There you areeeee i have been looking for youuuuu".

Childe say with a big smile while hugging you and pick you up, which..makes you freak out.

"CHILDE?! PUT ME DOWN PLEASE!?!?".

you demand... Well you TRY to demand but it comes out as a squeaking noise and it makes Childe laugh.

"Hahhaaahaha why would i? You look so cute embarrassed! Let's go eat shall we".

Childe say while walking to the other direction, opposite of the canteen.

"B-but Childe! The cafeteria is that way!".

You manage to squeak out while he just pat your back and rub it.

"Were not eating there babbeeeee".

Childe say while patting your back. You heard what he say and you're EMBARRASSED childe called you babe, childe called you babe, childe called you babe. Your body is over heating. And worst..he don't seem to have any intention to stop doing it.

"Were here!".

You look around and look at the name of the room 'Mr. Zhongli's office'. You're confused you are aware that he and Mr. Zhongli is close but... You enver thought he usually have a lunch with THE Mr. Zhongli. 'so that's why he didn't disturb me when it's lunch time-' except today of course you thought.

You heard a door being slammed opened, shocked you look at Childe and saw him smile to Mr. Zhongli who seems to sigh and rub his temple.

"Childe...please don't slam my door..".

Childe seems to ignore the word that Mr. Zhongli say and proceed to drag you in and present you in front of Mr. Zhongli as if you're a Christmast present.

"Hereeee is the girllll Mr. Zhongli".

Mr. Zhongli seems to be tired but after seeing you his eyes.... sparkles a bit..?.. that's.. interesting.

"Hello miss (y/n) pleased meeting you here".

Zhongli say with a small smile on his face. You nod and quickly bow to Mr. Zhongli.

"P-PLEASE TO MEET YOU MR ZHONGLI".

you shout out due to the embarrassment that childe has made you went through, suddenly a deep voice was heard throughout the room.

"What in the world is going on here".

Mr. Diluc asked his eyes narrowed to look at all three of you, when his gaze fell upon you his eyes soften a bit and turn his attention to Mr. Zhongli, feeling his fellow friend's gaze Mr. Zhongli sigh a little again and proceed to explain.

"Well a certain student of mine seem to have a very.. interesting attraction to Miss (y/n) here and he seems to be very exited to introduce her to me... despite me already knowing her".

Childe roll his eyes, hug (y/n) and proceed to squeeze her with his hug, he then rub his cheek on her cheek.

"Of course i am excited! I want to introduce my girlfriend to my favourite teacher afterall~ i want everyone to know she is mine~".

After he said that everything just stopped. The room becomes very quiet and the only sound is the ticking from the clock.

"Pardon me"

"Excuse me"

"WHAT"

Mr. Zhongli, Mr. Diluc and you say at the same time, confused as to what lies that Childe has spit out. You then cough a little to gain the people in the room.

"I-i believe CHILDE here MEANT that i am his FRIEND that is a girl".

You stated sweatdroping a little bit, seeing the relaxed faces of your teacher, you become relaxed too.

Zhongli know you, how can he not..you have been the kindest girl he met, the way you walk around is very.. cute too you remind him of a bunny so cute, so kind, so soft. Sometimes zhongli just wanted to hug you for the rest of his life...how can he not? When you are such a cutie.. such a good girl for him.

"Well then Miss (y/n) and Mr. Diluc, would you both care to join me and Childe for lunch? You both has already spend enough time dealing with Childe your luch time is cut off short".

You nod while Childe drag you to sit between him and zhongli. While Mr. Diluc sit on the other chair, all of you makes your self comfortable with your seat until Mr. Zhongli decided to put you on his lap. Your brain just stopped working and your whole body freeze, Mr. Zhongli put his head on your shoulder while Childe and Mr. Diluc is shocked as to what happened before their eyes.

"I hope you don't mind me Miss (y/n), you smell so nice I can't help it but wanted to hug you".

Mr. Zhongli say with his deep voice, Mr. Diluc stand up, making everyone looking at him as he walk towards you, taking your hair and slip it behind your ear, he bend in front of you and kiss your cheek.

"Well then i hope you don't mind me (y/n) your cheek is very adorable, it's a shame that no one seems to clain it".

Mr. Diluc say while holding your hair and kiss it too, your heart just stopped beating at this point. This two hot teacher will be the death of you. While you're in your embarrassed and drunk like state, Childe pout and kneel in front of you, like a prince and flashes you one of his charming smile, he took your hand in his and kiss it gently and look up at you.

"In that case i hope you don't mind your true prince to kiss your hand that will hold a ring with my name on it".

Childe state. That's the last straw, you felt your sould left your body and acends to heaven, you faint- face flushes so red that Mr. Diluc's hair is ashamed of it self. Seeing your state the boys started to argue on who is at fault here.

In the end of the day, Miss lisa and Miss jean teach the boys a lesson on how to not make you faint again while aethet, lumine, albedo and sucrose is fanning you and helping you to hold your self.

This will be a normal day for you :)

/thankyou so much for reading this book, im still new to this Tumblr and writing so..if there is any complaints please don't be shy to tell :) also if there is any suggestion as to who you want to see next, please do tell. I will try to write it!/

[erimeows]

Crush

Bumblebee never imagined a world in which he’d be obsessed with Sentinel Prime, but there he was, staring longingly at the Elite Guard member’s back as him and his team watched fireworks together. Luckily for him, Jazz had convinced Sentinel to tag along.

The yellow Autobot sat there, half-engaged with the conversation Bulkhead was trying to have with him. He hated that he was missing out on the fireworks, but something about watching Sentinel seemed to captivate him more.

A cocksure smile on beautiful lips which released an even more beautiful midnight laugh into the air, earning a laugh back from Optimus Prime, who was sitting by the larger bot’s side on the rooftop they were all currently on.

Jazz and Prowl were walking around the rooftop, talking and pointing out the fireworks they liked, while Ratchet (who was completely sober) laid in a corner with Sari sitting next to him and stared at the sky silently. Bulkhead had been by Bumblebee’s side the whole night, which he appreciated, but still... He couldn’t help but be upset, just watching them.

His fixation with Sentinel had gotten bad since the Prime had come to earth, to the point that he had memorized the outline of those rough lips and burned the scent of the older bot into the back of his processor.

But no, it wasn’t because he had a crush on Sentinel Prime, his former sergeant, like everyone teased him for.

Instead, it was because of how in love he was with Optimus Prime, one of his closest friends and the leader of his repair-team-turned-squad-unit.

And it hurt. Primus, it hurt.

It hurt to watch Sentinel have what he wanted so easily, to use that magic touch of his as he tossed an arm over Optimus’s shoulders and chatted away with him like the old friend that he was despite all of the fucked up shit he had done to the younger Prime.

It hurt to watch Optimus turn to face the blue and gold bot and laugh, those plump lips curved into one of the only true and genuine smiles Bee had ever seen from him, the tension between the two rivals melted by the oil they’d all consumed and replaced with their blatantly obvious feelings for each other, those of which had always been there. It was almost like they were destined to be, two main characters in some sort of love story, while Bumblebee was a supporting character meant to push Optimus in that direction.

But, no. He was selfish, and he would never do such a thing, even if it meant seeing Optimus- because Primus be damned, he could make Optimus just as happy as Sentinel could if not happier, couldn’t he? He was selfish and greedy and wanted Optimus to himself, so he did what he could, and if that meant making everyone think he was in love with Sentinel Prime with the way he gawked at him, he was fine with that- because Optimus was too selfless to go after Sentinel if he thought Bee was interested, anyway. 

That wasn’t his intention when he started watching Sentinel, initially. He’d just been trying to absorb whatever the hell it was about the large bot that Optimus loved so much, and everyone had misconstrued it, but it had worked out for him.

Or so he thought. Look at him now, though, ignoring his best friend in favor of staring at Sentinel and Optimus, neither of whom were even batting an optic in his direction. 

And this was how his new year was starting, him wishing he had some semblance of whatever Sentinel Prime had that made Optimus fall so hard for him; confidence, strength, sharp optics, wit, bravery, or maybe it was something else like how Sentinel’s audials twitched when he was nervous, how his face plates burned red when he lied, or how good he was in the berth.

The thought brought him no peace, and it brought him no rest. He heard Sentinel sneaking into Optimus’s room at night quite frequently, and though he never knew what happened in there, the thought of Sentinel and Optimus intertwined underneath the younger Prime’s berthsheets, whispering sweet and filthy things alike in each other’s audials, kept him awake and anguished.

Bumblebee felt himself frown at that, lips pulled tight and mouth tasting bitter. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so negative, but when it came to his feelings for Optimus, he couldn’t help it. It was all wrong; how immature, how deceitful, how angry he was acting about the whole predicament, but he figured that’s what love did to a mech when it was at its worst.

“Bee? Buddy?”

When he snapped out of his trance, Bumblebee looked up to see that Bulkhead was dangling one large servo in front of his optics, clearly trying to catch his attention. The pang of guilt that always came at times like this manifested in the yellow bot’s spark rather quickly, sinking to the bottom of his stomach like tar in a way that made him feel sick. He knew he was neglecting his other relationships while being caught up with Optimus and Sentinel, and Bulkhead had always been there for him... Why couldn’t he just be one of those mechs who fell in love with their best friend?

No, that was a cruel thought. Bulkhead deserved someone who cherished and adored him, he was too good for Bumblebee, as was Optimus.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been out of it all night, and you seem sad... You have too much oil?” Bulkhead’s servo was on his shoulder plating, and for a second, Bumblebee struggled to speak. His optics landed on the bright fireworks above them, pink and purple and white and vibrant. Bulkhead was focused on him, Ratchet was pointing out planets to Sari, Jazz and Prowl were as in love as they always were, and Sentinel Prime and Optimus Prime...

Well, he couldn’t handle it. Maybe it had something to do with the oil he’d nervously been drinking to settle his nerves, or maybe he was just at a boiling point, but before he could think about what he was doing, he was standing up on his stabilizing servos with shaky knees. He must’ve looked bad, because within seconds, everyone’s optics (or, in Sari’s case, eyes) were landing on him.

“I- I think so, um... I’m gonna leave,” Bumblebee stuttered, voice cracking. Optimus was the first to object, standing from his spot on the edge of the roof. No matter how hard Bumblebee tried, he couldn’t seem to ignore the servo of Sentinel’s that was resting on Optimus’s back. 

“Bee shouldn’t someone walk you back if you’re not feeling well?” Optimus approached him, but the smaller bot, unable to handle the emotional turmoil that was taking him over, found himself stumbling away before he could even process the consequences his actions might’ve had. “Where are you- hey, Bumblebee, wait up!”

“Let him go, Optimus,” Sentinel stopped him, because of course he did, and with that, Bumblebee was racing back down to the inside of their base from the stairwell on the rooftop and into his room.

When he reached it, he shut the door behind him and flopped down onto his bed with a frustrated shout.

He wanted to recharge, but his processor was too clouded with his conflicted thoughts to allow him to do so. The celebration on the floor above him slowly died down, the fireworks growing quiet and the sounds of berthroom doors opening and closing as everyone went to bed over the span of the next hour.

Optimus was probably already asleep, too.

Angry at himself, he started to rant, even if no one was around to hear him out.

“Ugh, why am I like this... I could’ve just put up with it like I always do, but no, I just had to go and make a scene in front of him, and now no one’s going to let me live it down, and they’re all going to assume I’m jealous of him for hugging on Sentinel when it’s not-”

His self-deprecating rambling was cut off by a knock at his door; knock, knock, knock. Three soft, polite, in rhythm taps that Bumblebee quickly recognized as his leader’s, followed by said leader’s deep voice ringing through the wall.

“Bumblebee? Are you awake? Sorry to disturb, but I wanted to see you. Could you come open the door?”

“Bossbot?” The Autobot perked up, and though he had fully intended to lay in bed sulking and ignoring everyone who came to check on him, the sound of Optimus’s voice had him rushing to open his berthroom door. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you since you seemed to be so out of it when you left, but you seem to be doing alright, thank goodness,” The Prime gave him that smile, the one of relief that made Bumblebee’s spark leap because of just how beautiful it was. “I should probably leave instead of pressing the matter, but... I thought I saw you staring at Sentinel and I, and I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t misjudge what was happening.”

His spark fucking dropped. While whatever his obsession with Sentinel happened to be was obvious to bots like Prowl, Ratchet, and Bulkhead who teased him for it, he had hoped that Optimus would never bring it up. It was a conflict he wasn’t ready for, and if he could, he would play it off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bumblebee tilted his helm, wondering if he had been that obvious while watching them on the rooftop earlier that night.

“May I come in?” 

Optimus being Optimus, he didn’t get right to it, which made the anxiety building up in Bee’s chest ten times worse. But alas, he could never say no to his boss, so he stepped aside to allow the Prime inside.

“O-Of course!”

With that, he shut the door behind them.

The two sat next to each other on Bumblebee’s berth, the lights still off, which meant that the only thing keeping the room lit was the beams that poured through the window from the moon and the fireworks. Optimus’s face was gorgeous in that moment, full of something that Bee could only perceive as longing and regret and love if he didn’t know any better, sharp features highlighted by the moonlight that shone over them.

“I’m not sure what you think my relationship with Sentinel is, but it’s nothing more than enemies at our worst and sparklinghood friends at our best. Our relationship is very long and very complicated, but we’ve always been more like brothers than anything, and as much as you deny it, I know you’re in love with him... I pay attention to how you look at us, when the two of us are together, and how you perceive him. I just want to reassure you that I would never steal him away from you, Bumblebee. I love you too much to do that to you- even if I can’t have you, and even if it’s with someone else, I want you to be happy.”

“W-What?” The younger of the two spat, optics going wide. Optimus being the type he was, he cringed at what he’d said and scooted to the edge of the berth, not even able to look at Bumblebee after the impromptu confession.

“Ah, I shouldn’t have phrased it like that, but-” The red and blue bot stood up and held his helm in one servo. He groaned while Bumblebee couldn’t even process what was going on. Had he imagined the whole relationship between Sentinel and Optimus that he thought was there? Was this actually happening? Did Optimus love him back, and was he going to get the happy ending he’d always wanted? “Well, I suppose the truth is out, then... The oil seems to have gotten to the both of us. I’ll leave-”

“No, are you insane!?” Bumblebee exclaimed with a laugh and moved closer to the Prime so he could grab his arm with both servos and drag him back down onto the bed. Begrudgingly, Optimus sat back down, and Bumblebee closed the gap between them.

“Huh?”

“It’s- It’s you, Prime! It’s always been you and it always will be, you know?” Bumblebee’s words were rushed, stumbling over each other and dripping with excitement. The tension in Optimus’s shoulders seemed to release as his face was dyed bright red with a heavy blush- perhaps from the embarrassment that came with the same realization Bumblebee was having. “I was never in love with Sentinel; he’s a selfish, inconsiderate glitch who’s always treated you like you’re scrap metal! You’re brave, you’re kind, you’re always there for me when I need it, and I just... I love you so much, and-”

“Oh, beautiful, c’mere,” Optimus broke and pulled Bumblebee into him, strong arms wrapping around the yellow bot’s frame and pulling him into his lap. Bumblebee melted into the touch and buried his face in Optimus’s chest plates. “I’m sorry it took us this long.”

“Me, too.”

There was a moment of silence, but it was broken by Optimus, who spoke with an uncharacteristically teasing tone and an equally teasing smirk gracing his plump lips.

“How long ‘ve you been crushing on me, then?” The words were a bit slurred in a way that made Bumblebee hyperaware of just how buzzed they still were from the oil.

“...Too long,” He spat and quickly stared down at the ground like it had become the most interesting thing in the universe. “I don’t want to admit how long level long.”

“Ah, I see... Looks like I owe Sentinel some money after all,” Optimus laughed, earning a playful slap on his arm from Bumblebee in return.

“Wh- You guys bet on which one of you I had a crush on!? I need to hear about this!”

“Okay, so it started when...”

And, as Optimus started to tell his story, an arm still lovingly wrapped around Bumblebee’s small frame, he sighed in relief. 

Surely, after this, no one would think he had a crush on Sentinel Prime.

[catiuapavel]

for the ask meme: tactics ogre & final fantasy tactics lol

Tactics Ogre

the character i least understand

I will say if I were Vernotta, I'd simply push my ugly husband the king down the stairs and forgive the handmaiden he had great power and influence over but I guess you can't make much out of a royal with 5 lines and a half who is only ever seen treating a servant cruelly.

interactions i enjoyed the most

I love Catiua's interactions with and about the Dark Knights but more so with Lanselot's. The understanding she shows of him and the genuine admiration she has for his methods, even after he abandons her... It holds something over me. He also understands her and uses this to further his goals but I also thinks he underestimates how much she gets him in return.

I always have this praise she has for him on Princess route when she meets Barbas and martym in the Hanging Gardens in mind and the respect she has for what he accomplished in Lodis and for how he intended to put her on the throne. She parallels him in a few aspects and she proves this with this dialogue.

I also appreciate Catiua and Denam's exhanges a great deal. A lot of care was put into writing a convincing yet trouble adoptive sibling dynamic.

the character who scares me the most

Oz? In a morbid "I would still let him remove my fingernails one by one" way. I'm enthralled yet also terrified.

Otherwise... Barbas.

the character who is mostly like me

(looks endearingly at Chaos Vyce) He's just like me......

In truth 90% of Vyce's character couldn't be less like me but he has this one line in his duel on Chaos route that has made me feel seen and understood in a rare way and echoed my own complicated feelings on a shared trauma so as a result, he's the character who is mostly like me.

hottest looks character

dating me is crazy like you really have to be at peace with the fact that you're a placeholder until I meet ozma moh glacius

one thing i dislike about my fave character

I once read that Matsuno would have liked to add 3 entire routes to chapter 4 for Vyce, Denam and Catiua and ever since I read this I cry myself to sleep at how interesting a hypothetical entire Princess route could have been. Alas, games do not have eternal budgets and eternal time for development.

one thing i like about my hated character

I do not know if I have a most hated character but at the bottom of the "people I do not care about" list is Bayin.

Bayin always hates me, no matter the playthrough. I have to respect him for that. Seethe more, old man.

a quote or scene that haunts me

Imagine you have been playing this game for years and jumping back through anchor points over and over and you look at your timeline one day in the Warren report to see the sidequests you've completed and you see a lost character icon somewhere and the scene description does not sound remotely familiar. It's a scene that's somehow appeared because you never properly completed a sidequest in one of your many re-plays.

You watch it. You feel hollow. You understand why this was so far hidden in the report. You lay awake thinking about it at night every week.

That's the scene.

a death that left me indifferent

Xapan on chaos route. I mean, good for you Vyce for passing your nerves on him!

a character i wish died but didn’t

Wait, you mean there are characters who make it out unscathed? The thing about Tactics Ogre is that you may just get your character death wish in another route- or you can kill them yourselves if they're recruitable.

That being daid I would like nothing more than to see Balxephon dead in an upcoming sequel, in the way you want to see a character you adore die the miserable death they deserve.

my ship that never sailed

Most of my Tactics Ogre ships didn't sail but I usually like them one-sided, dead, miserable or downright toxic so I don't usually care to see them sail.

I will however say I desperately wanted Canopus/Andoras to sail (clenches fist)

----

Final Fantasy Tactics

the character i least understand

I think maybe... Argath? I can't understand being this much of a little bitch sorry.

interactions i enjoyed the most

Naturally I enjoyed Ovelia and Delita's interactions the most, I think theirs may be the most interesting ones in the game, I especially loved to see how it spiraled down in the end and he became gradually less aware to how miserable he was making her yet how you could read some genuine care toward her which she could no longer perceive herself.

Also the way she misunderstands him in the end and thinks him to be more callous than he actually is, like in this scene where she spies on him and interprets him to murder Valmafra in cold blood simply because she lacks a clear view on the event, is so good. It's a tragedy how they both can't read the other in the end and harm each other as a result (And I eat this up).

the character who scares me the most

I mean anyone should be rightfully terrified of any of the Lucavi for a start but I have to say, were I to dine with Dycedarg, I'd be terrified to touch my plate.

the character who is mostly like me

I asked my boyfriend this question and he replied "Tietra, because she is cute... and has brown hair... and probably reads books" which I find hilarious so I will roll with it. I guess she looks most like me at the very least?

Generally there is often something about the way Matsuno explores family issue, especially between siblings, that's just relatable in a way not many other games are. And for this reason I always relate to Rapha in how she feels about Marach.

hottest looks character

Zalbaag Beoulve (fans self). He isn't my usual type but he has something of an aura.

one thing i dislike about my fave character

My favourite character is Delita and what I truly hate about Delita is that I cannot make a joke about Delita's wrongdoings without the most annoying Delita haters and Delita lovers showing up in my mentions to fight because they have no humour.

They're coming for me already, I have to go.

one thing i like about my hated character

I absolutely love how Barrington gets thrown off the building. There he goes!

a quote or scene that haunts me

Did you get your end in all of this, Ramza? I... I got this.

😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶

a death that left me indifferent

Sadly I feel nothing when the Templars die (at the exception of Isilud and Wiegraf). I just kill the rest and move on.

a character i wish died but didn’t

Must we ask for more casualties......

Oh Ovelia apparently? Maybe ? Sometimes I recall how you sent me this article about how Matsuno intended for her to survive the epilogue and I simply prefer my miserable interpretation so that is what I will stick to.

my ship that never sailed

Alma/Ovelia sometimes you just want girls to find love together in their lonely convent

[playlistmusings]

I am sick of the chase But I'm stupid in love (And there's nothing I can do)

 1,571 words

Jude Duarte x Cardan Greenbriar

Response to a prompt from @charrise :  “ Do you accept fanfic prompts? Because I got an idea it’s post TWK and Cardan’s wondering why Jude won’t come back and then he begins to reevaluate how he treated Jude in the past? And he realizes he treated Nicasia like a queen and Jude like dirt and he begins to wonder if Jude’s not coming back because of him and he begins to regret how he treated her?”

Cardan was pacing. It was an unfortunate habit he had picked up since becoming king, the actual king that is, one without a meddling seneschal secretly working behind the scenes. It had started at some point while Jude had been held captive by Queen Orlagh, when his days bled together because of repetitive meetings and his nights bled together because of the worry that had filled the pit of his stomach. It felt odd to be alone with his thoughts, usually when things got bad, Cardan made a point to surround himself with people and vices, in an effort to escape his mind. But those days, where all he could think about was Jude and getting her back safely, it felt wrong to surround himself with people he knew she would hate, doing things that would cause her to look at him with disdain. So, he paced.

He had hoped that the habit would be forgotten when he got her back. When he slipped the ring on her finger and proclaimed her his queen, hoping that meant that instead of pacing at night he would hold her body to his and never worry about her safety again. But then she had killed Balekin and Queen Orlagh had demanded a punishment and he had exiled her.

It had been far too long since then, far too long since Cardan had heard her voice or saw her face, and, yet she still filled his mind. He felt like when he was younger, writing Jude, Jude, Jude over and over again on paper before hiding it away in books, as if he could stop his thoughts from controlling him by forcing them onto paper. He had tried that since her exile. Writing long winded prose explaining that she should come back, that she should come home. He had not-so-subtly hinted at the loophole he had left, writing until such time as she is pardoned by the crown with such emphasis on the last word of the phrase, that he knew that lest she had, somehow, never received a single letter, then she had to understand his meaning. So he was forced to assume that she understood his meaning and chose to ignore it, chose to ignore him.

That fact hurt him more than he would admit. Throughout the whole time he had known Jude, he didn’t mind that she hated him, in fact, it usually made it easier for him, knowing that she thought of him at all, even if her thoughts were colored with anger and hatred. This time though, when he had, for once, been trying to help her, when he thought she should finally see through the cruelty and understand he didn’t want to hurt her, he just wanted her. Jude. The High Queen. His queen.

So he paced. And contemplated writing another letter.

Eventually he decided against it, less so because he thought it'd be best not to, but because the sun was slowly moving up in the sky and he knew he only had a few short hours until he’d be forced to go to a meeting and then another and end the evening with a revel. Slipping under the spider silk sheets, Cardan forced thoughts of Jude out of his mind and focused on ignoring the way his bed felt too big and cold and lonely.

-----

Cardan felt his crown tipping precariously off the edge of his head as he sat haphazardly on his throne. He was aware that he should be smiling, laughing, dancing, something other than frowning on his throne, wishing he could get drunk without seeing Jude every time he closed his eyes. To be fair, Jude was usually hidden behind his eyelids, but when he was less than sober, his mind muddy with alcohol and his inhibitions lowered, he found that her face was more vivid, that he could feel the intensity of her glare as if she were right next to him. So he didn’t drink.

He was slightly aware of Locke and Taryn and Nicasia off to his side, walking towards him with drinks in their hands and mischief in their eyes. As they approached the throne, Cardan saw Locke’s eyes catch on a faerie walking past, clearly enamored and lust driven, despite his wife’s presence at his side. It was no surprise that Locke split from the trio, leaving Taryn to wander away pretending that she wasn’t hurt by his actions. So only Nicasia was left to approach his throne, nodding her head in a small acknowledgement of his position before speaking.

“My King, wouldn’t you rather be dancing or doing something more enjoyable than sitting on your throne all alone?”

Cardan could feel a part of himself come to the surface, the other side of him reserved for his school friends and members of the court that reeked of self-importance, yet polite in the way only someone raised from birth to be a part of the gentry could master. The frown slipped from his face as he replied, “Of course, but, alas, a king must make time for his subjects to come to him with their problems.”

Cardan refused to acknowledge that when Jude was seneschal times like these were secretly one of his favorites. He would put on airs while drinking and laughing, all the while knowing Jude would always be by his side, whispering into his ear exactly what he should say and do. Now, it felt like a slap in the face to only have Nicasia by his side, someone he couldn’t banter with or insult or antagonize. The thought shot a painful jolt through his heart. Imagining the rest of his life like this: lonely, boring, sad, and all because of his actions. It was something he was loath to admit, that it was his words that caused Jude to leave, even if a part of him knew that it was a risk when he said those words on the beach, a bigger part of him hoped it wouldn’t be true. And he was wrong, so instead he was left alone with Nicasia and her pretty smiles and flirtatious words, all the while wishing she were someone else.

Something about the moment reminded him of all the revels before this mess, before the bloody coronation and Jude’s secret plot and everything, when him, Nicasia, Locke, and Valerian would walk through these same rooms, demanding respect and hurting those who refused to give it. It almost felt nice to be lost in those memories, of trysts and teenage foolishness, until Jude’s face worked its way into the memories. For every moment of satisfaction he got, there was a memory of Jude’s frown or hate shooting from her eyes, burning into his heart. It was enough for him to mumble some half-hearted apology to the direction of Nicasia as he slipped from the room into the halls that led to his chambers.

His mind felt too full, as he thought through all the times he had antagonized or hurt Jude. Flashes of her face stubbornly refusing to show weakness as he watched Valerian force faerie fruit into her mouth, glimpses of her saving Taryn from drowning in the river, all of it clicking into place in a horrid montage of his misdeeds. What struck him the hardest is that for every memory of the pain he caused Jude, there was Nicasia, standing by his side laughing or smiling, perfectly happy. Even as she toyed with his heart, leaving him for Locke, he had shown Nicasia respect and knew that she would be there as a friend— regardless of how messed up his definition of the word was. It hurt, finally acknowledging that while he only saw the kind gestures, he gave Jude, pricking her so she would stop suffering from the faerie fruit induced madness, offering her an out from his antagonizing, she must only remember the pain that he had caused, all the while treating someone half as deserving of his love and compassion more kindness than her.

It suddenly made sense why she didn’t respond to his letters or come back to him. Because even if he had thought he made his loophole clear, even if he had exaggerated the point in his letters time and time again, Jude was used to seeing the worst parts of him, of being blinded by the pain and unaware of the miniscule efforts he had made to help her.

Every memory stung like an arrow lodging its way into his skin, knowing that all of his actions were horrible, that he was horrible and cruel. Knowing that Jude must think of him as horrible and cruel, and that she was right to believe it. But the realization that right when he had earned her trust, right when Jude had seemed to let go of the memories of Cardan’s cruelty, he had exiled her, had denied her as his queen, in front of Orlagh and Nicasia, struck his heart like a dagger. And now she wasn’t coming back, because of him. Because he was everything she must think him to be, a wicked king, undeserving of love or respect, least of all from her.

So, when he arrived back in his room, thinking of all his regrets, refusing to let himself remember anything but the truth of how he hurt the one woman he would do anything for, he paced.

————

So, I lied, and I wrote this all in one sitting instead of starting my school work. Which means that I am apparently better at getting things written in a timely matter than I thought I was, but I am also apologetic if this isn’t the best because I should probably edit it more, but oh well. Anyways, I hope you liked it and that it was sort of what you had in mind, I feel like I’m not that good at writing angst but I tried my best :)  (Title from Killer by Phoebe Bridgers, which side note I feel like is such a Jude and Cardan song but that may just be because I listened to Stranger In The Alps while reading this series oops)

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Reflection of Beauty Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers for a date yet to be released in EN! 🍒

Phone call between Gavin and Mr Keller before the date: here

Candlelit Night Collection: Kiro // Lucien // Victor

Trivia regarding the name of the date: 

This date is called 惊鸿照影来, which is part of a couplet from “Shenyuan”, a poem by Lu You written in the Song Dynasty

Rough translation of the full couplet: Alas, the green water under the forlorn bridge / Once reflected the charming face of my beloved one!

It was inspired by the poet’s own love story, where he was forced to leave his wife because his mother didn’t like her. Even so, their love never ceased. Ten years later, they met again in Shenyuan Garden (which was also the place he first fell in love with her). Lu You inscribed a poem on a stone wall, conveying his anger and sorrow towards their separation. A few days after seeing the poem, she died from depression :’<

“Shenyuan” was written later on as a memorialisation of his undying love. It conveys how revisiting old places makes one remember past lovers and sentiments

-

[ CHAPTER ONE ]

The date begins with MC and Gavin having a rehearsal for the sequel of the “Three Lifetimes” play

The audience had a deep impression of them in “Three Lifetimes”, so Mr Keller wrote them into the sequel as second leads

In the play, the town looks forward to the marriage between Lady Su (the female lead) and Swordsman Bai (Gavin)

But Lady Su is in love with Swordsman Bai’s friend, a scholar (the male lead)

Meanwhile, Swordsman Bai is in love with the character MC is playing (a high-ranking palace maid and a close friend of Lady Su)

After the rehearsal, Mr Keller gives them suggestions on how to improve, and tells Gavin to gaze at MC and hold her hand during a particular scene:

Gavin: ...all right. 

-

[ CHAPTER TWO ]

Once the rehearsal is over, Gavin is a sweetheart as always, bringing water and a few bananas over to MC with this face:

Gavin: If it isn’t enough, I can get a few more? 

MC: There’s enough, there’s enough. 

Su Xuan, the actress playing Lady Su, tells them to change outfits for the photoshoot:

Su Xuan: I’ll help you put on some make-up first, then marry you off beautifully to your Mr Gavin. Come, close your eyes.

Without giving me a chance to explain or argue, she skilfully helps me with my make-up, as though she’s really helping a sister prepare for her wedding. 

Su Xuan: Mm, that’s more like it. 

She pulls me to my feet. After looking me over carefully, she tilts her head and smiles at something behind me.

Su Xuan: What does the groom think? 

Before I have time to react, Su Xuan pushes me lightly, and I fall into familiar arms.

Gavin: Pretty. 

Gavin, who has walked out of the changing room, is also wearing a matching set of red wedding attire.

The colour, which isn’t typically found on him, suits him unexpectedly well.

His easy-going independence has been toned down, replaced with fiery passion.

Gavin: What are you looking at? 

MC: This outfit really suits you.

MC: ...very handsome!

Gavin: [coughs] ...you look very pretty in red too. 

Gavin’s ears have a tinge of redness. He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes containing insuppressible surprise and warmth as he looks at me. 

Su Xuan: All right, you two “newlyweds” can appreciate each other after the shoot! The photographer this time is quite picky.

As she speaks, she pulls our hands together. 

The both of us stop talking, perhaps due to the dry air around us, or the warmth surfacing in our eyes. 

Gavin holds onto my hand tightly.

-

[ CHAPTER TWO: A flashback ]

Location: Outside Lynn’s Kitchen

By the time Minor and Gavin leave the noodle shop, the sky is mostly dark.

Only traces of the sunset glow faintly from behind the tall buildings. 

Minor: It’s so difficult to get tickets this Chinese New Year... I’m always struggling during this part of the year, and spending the New Year’s alone here is too cheerless. Gavin, what are your plans? Eh... why am I even asking - you’re definitely spending it with Boss.

Gavin is the same as always, letting Minor ramble on at his ear. 

Only when he hears the final sentence does a corner of his heart feel a light tug.

Gavin: Mm. I promised to help Mr Keller with her. 

Gavin smiles faintly without even realising it himself.

Minor: Huh? ...even though I find this method a little off, it’s not bad I guess! Boss has been asking everyone in the office what dishes they usually make for New Year’s. It made me curious... so you two are spending New Year’s together!

Minor’s words cause Gavin to recall the few memories of “spending the New Year’s” he has.

New Year’s should be a festival of celebration. There was a time when he looked forward to it.

It’s just that afterwards, this day gradually became no different from a normal one. 

That is, until the girl reappeared in his life, drawing the link between this day and warmth. 

It made him start looking forward to it again.

Minor: Bro Gavin? What are you thinking about? It’s rare to see this look on your face... I got it!

Minor makes an exaggerated expression, predictably receiving Gavin’s neither hard nor soft punch. 

Gavin: Minor, are there places selling New Year goods near her home? 

Minor: Bro Gavin, you want to... buy New Year goods?!

Gavin: What’s wrong with that?

Minor: Nothing nothing nothing...

Gavin: ...your smile is a little nauseating. 

Minor: I’m just happy! Then again, as compared to preparing in advance, there will be more of an atmosphere if you pick them out together!

Gavin: Makes sense. 

Gavin nods, quickening his pace slightly. 

Minor: Bro Gavin, where are you headed to next?

Several images flash across his mind - a warm light in the living room left on for him, a table with the home-cooked dishes he mentioned liking, and the girl waiting for him on the sofa, hugging a pillow. 

Gavin: Home. 

-

[ CHAPTER THREE ]

The photoshoot turns out to be more difficult than MC expected

Photographer: You must imagine - you two are about to elope, so it has to be dynamic! And yet have a tinge of... hesitation and worry! You’ve got to feel it! Change your pose!

MC and Gavin struggle to understand the photographer’s abstract descriptions

MC suggests they pretend to chat while sitting on the grass

MC: ...the weather is getting cold. Does Sparky need to be sent for maintenance? 

Once the words leave my mouth, I’m filled with a sense of regret. This topic is too forced...

Gavin seems to be stunned for a moment, then the corners of his lips lift gently.

Gavin: Mm, I have plans to do so. We can find a day to go together.  

MC: Ah, okay!

Gavin smiles, lifting his hand to tuck stray tendrils of hair behind my ear. 

His amber eyes, which are filled to the brim with smiles, hold my blinking and grinning expression within them.

Photographer: Very good! That’s the right feeling! Could the both of you try lying down? Girl, close your eyes and lift your head slightly.

MC: ...all right. Like this? 

I follow the photographer’s instructions and lie down at Gavin’s side, closing my eyes. 

In the darkness, a familiar warmth encases me tightly, allowing me to have a peace of mind and lean into his arms. 

We are very close to each other. His unique scent entwines with the reed grass that has been dried by the sun, reminding me of the summer we spent together. A breeze brushes past us. 

It makes one want to draw even nearer. 

Photographer: Very good very good. Can the man include some movements to add on to the idea of newlyweds interacting?

Gavin: ...uhm.

I hear Gavin’s breath halt for a moment, as though he’s deep in thought. 

After a while, he seems to have thought of something, and he laughs softly. 

Gavin: MC, don’t move. 

Right after he finishes speaking, I feel a lock of hair near my ear being lifted gently. 

I don’t dare to move a single inch, nor dare to open my eyes. I leave myself entirely to Gavin. 

The frequency of my heartbeat increases, and a numbness travels from the roots of my hair to my spine. My hair seems to be gently held in his palm.

Gavin: ...let me know if it hurts. I’ve never tried this before. 

Even though he says this, his actions are cautious and tender. 

All I can feel are the slight vibrations from my hair, the lock of hair ascending and descending along with his fingers, and then falling by my ear again. 

I purse my lips tightly, frantically trying to control my rapid breathing. I’m afraid that I might accidentally ruin this ambience. 

The shutter continuously sounds. The photographer seems to be saying something again, but I can no longer hear him clearly. 

Next to me, Gavin’s breathing brushes against my forehead and the tips of my hair. The breath, which carries a certain warmth, feels like a light kiss. 

Even though this is just a photoshoot, I wish time would give us this moment for a little while longer.

The words he said during the Qixi Festival last year surge from the depths of my heart, and once again gather in the centre.

I can’t help but feel that even if our destinies entangle and cross, and fate only allows for fleeting meetings, we will ultimately accompany each other at the very end. 

In my ear, the sound of his heartbeat is akin to him giving me a definite answer. One after the other, regular and resolute. 

Photographer:

Gavin: MC, we can get up now. 

I open my eyes slowly. The past few minutes have felt like a small, beautiful dream. 

In Gavin’s hand are locks of our hair tied together with a red string. 

Noticing my gaze, Gavin clear his throat unnaturally. 

Gavin: ...when the idea of “newlyweds” was brought up, I could only think of this. 

[Trivia: In Chinese culture, one’s hair represents one’s self. During a traditional Chinese wedding, the couple would each cut a lock of their hair and tie them together. This is called 结发 (”joining of hair”). It symbolises the couple becoming one flesh and blood, and how they would be connected forever... T^T]

I nod, not daring to meet his eyes. 

His short sentence channels layers of emotions in my heart, converging into unstoppable ripples. 

In a most straightforward way, his unembellished words leave a long and sweet aftertaste in my heart. 

MC: Let’s go over there so the next group can use this place...

Gavin: Hold on...

Without waiting for Gavin to finish, I’ve already sat up. Only when I feel a light tugging sensation do I realise that my hair is still tied to Gavin’s. 

MC: Ah-

Gavin: ...does it hurt? Don’t worry, I’ll untie the knot.

Gavin’s voice, which carries within it concern, is very close to the top of my head. In the next second, the strands of hair that are pulled are immersed in a tender warmth. 

Gavin: ...I might have tied it a little too tightly.

MC: Let me try...

Gavin agrees with a sound, cooperating by bending down slightly to make it easier to untie the red string. 

I try pulling at the end of the string, but the knot refuses to budge.

Gavin: ... 

MC: It does seem a little tight... could it be a dead knot? 

Gavin seems to have leaned in a little closer. Perhaps it’s just my misperception, but he seems even closer than he was during the photoshoot. 

His temperature and breath make my face feel increasingly flushed. I focus on the knot in my hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice my flustered state.

MC: N-next time, don't tie it so tightly! Or else I’ll leave it to you to untie. 

I pretend to be angry, wanting to break the atmosphere that makes my heart go into a frenzy. 

Gavin: All right, I got it. 

When I hear his voice in my ear, I know fully well that my attempts are futile.

When the red string is finally released and falls to the ground, I release a huge sigh, yet feel an inexplicable emptiness in my heart. 

It’s as though my fate with Gavin has become untied. 

They get called back to the rehearsal

MC: We should go over then.

Gavin: ...hold on. 

Gavin pauses, then takes the red string from my hand.

In a slightly clumsy manner, he uses the string to tie a knot at the end of my plait.

Gavin: This is also considered joining of the hair.

Gavin looks at me, his eyes clear, as though he has seen through all my emotions. 

Gavin: Let’s go.

While he speaks, he takes my hand and we leave. 

I hold onto Gavin firmly, the red string on my hair swaying gently along with our footsteps.

We will never miss each other again. 

-

[ CHAPTER FOUR ]

At 8pm, the play finally begins

On stage, MC is supposed to read a letter to Gavin

But when she opens it up, she realises there’s nothing on the letter even though her script is supposed to be on it

Gavin notices that something is amiss, so he steps in to calm her down while pretending everything is normal

MC starts reciting her lines based on memory, but starts panicking in fear of ruining the play

Gavin then takes the letter from her and pretends to read from it, reciting her lines perfectly

The First Act of the play comes to an end, and there’s an intermission

MC decides to thank Gavin properly after the play is over, but Su Xuan suddenly looks for her:

Su Xuan: MC, are you free now? Pass the silk ball to Gavin! I don’t know why, but the prop hasn’t been brought over yet.

MC: Okay! I’ll go now!

Thinking of the little time left, I grab the silk ball and run towards the other end without much thought. 

In the next scene, Gavin and I are supposed to enter the stage from different sides, which is why I have to cross through the entire backstage to reach him.

The silk ball is an indispensable prop in the next scene. Also... I have a “thank you” to say to him in person.

With this in mind, I quicken my pace, and find a familiar figure afar off in the busy backstage.

MC: Gavin! I’m over here!

I stand on my tiptoes and wave at him, thinking of ways to reach him even faster. 

Hearing this, Gavin raises his head. After seeing me, he immediately weaves through the crowd and walks towards me. 

People are moving to and fro. Our eyes only have each other, and we go against the flow of people, walking towards our only focus. 

Staff: Prepare for the second half!

When I’m only a few steps away from him, the countdown for the second half of the play resounds. 

MC: Gavin, this is for you!

In my desperation, I lift my hand. The silk ball flies in a slightly shaky arc, landing steadily in Gavin’s arms. 

[Trivia: In Chinese culture, the silk ball (绣球 - ”xiu qiu”) is used to symbolize love. Giving it to someone reflects the giving of one’s heart. If a woman is in search of a fated life partner, she will toss the ball high into the air in a crowd. The person who catches the silk ball would become the person’s husband]

MC: Gavin, about earlier...

Staff: MC? What are you doing here? Go back, we’re about to start soon. The snatching scene is next, and it’s very important. 

MC: Please wait! I haven’t finished what I wanted to say...

The staff doesn’t give me a chance to continue, and pulls me to the other end. 

I turn my head towards Gavin, and I have no choice but to swallow the words of gratitude I couldn’t say to him in time. 

Gavin: [unintentionally sexy whisper] Wait for me.

Gavin stands in place and looks at me, mouthing those words to me. 

The bell from the venue rings, and the noise from the audience gradually dissipates.

Staff: The Second Act! Begins!

-

[ CHAPTER FOUR: A flashback ]

Location: Gavin’s home

MC: “It’s good, and I doubt the lady would refuse, but...”

Gavin: Are you still looking at your lines?

MC: ...Gavin? Why are you here!

[Note: I have no idea why MC asks this since the backdrop is of his own house LOL]

Gavin walks over with a blanket in his hand. 

MC: The rehearsal is the day after tomorrow, so I’m trying to make use of my time to familiarise myself with the script, especially the scene where I’m reading the letter. Even though I should be able to read straight from the letter on the actual day, I think it’s better to memorise it just in case... Gavin, why don’t you accompany me in going through the lines!

Gavin nods and sits beside me. After covering me with the blanket, he takes the script from my hands. 

Gavin: From here? 

MC: Okay!

Gavin and I go through the dialogue. Places I usually get stuck at become miraculously smooth.

Without realising it, we’ve gone through the entire script.

I flip through the script, marking out places requiring additional attention. 

MC: I feel like Mr Keller has taken reference from the personalities of the actors when writing the lines. I keep thinking that the lines sound like what you would say.

While speaking, I let out a yawn.

Gavin: If you’re tired, rest. We can continue tomorrow. 

As the year draws to a close, there are more things than usual to settle at work. And when I come home, I’d have to familiarise myself with the script. It’s natural that I’d feel fatigued. 

MC: You don’t have anything on tomorrow? 

Gavin: I don’t have work tomorrow, so we can practice our lines.

MC: That’s great!

A warmth gushes out of my heart. I shift closer to Gavin, sharing half the blanket with him. We look at the script together. 

MC: This is so much warmer!

Gavin: ...do you still want to look at it? 

MC: Mm, let’s look through the letter scene again. “If you lack medical knowledge... attach some... scattered silver... I hope to do my best...”

The words in front of me gradually become blurry and distorted. After a certain line, I lean on Gavin’s shoulder in a dazed state, giving up on my fight against sleep.

Gavin: MC? Are you asleep? 

The girl, who loftily said they would look at the script together just a few minutes ago, is now leaning softly against his shoulder, sleeping peacefully. 

Gavin doesn’t wake her up, and simply covers her with a jacket. He flips to the first page of the script, quietly reading the girl’s lines, and memorising them. 

The city is asleep, but the room filled with the breath of two people is still illuminated with a tender light. 

The all-knowing stars in the night sky are silent, and will guard the small world belonging to these two people.

-

[ CHAPTER FIVE ] The curtains are drawn slowly. I once again step onto the stage, following the script. 

In this scene, Gavin will snatch the silk ball, and I will hand it to the male lead so he can bring his beloved home.

For the scene to be more realistic, the actors are allowed to walk around spontaneously. 

As such, I have to run past various settings, weave through the crowd, and finally reach the stipulated spot. 

MC: Swordsman Bai? 

Panting slightly, I stand underneath the embroidery building, looking for Gavin. 

[Trivia: In ancient times, women who were more socially well-to-do would do embroidery in embroidery buildings.]

The sense of deja vu blurs my perception of the boundaries between the play and reality. 

A strong wind arrives as promised. Following the glint of a sword, a path forms in the crowd, interrupting my thoughts.

Gavin is dressed in red. One hand holds onto the silk ball, and the other sheathes his sword. He walks straight towards me. 

Gavin: Trivial matters held me back, and I seek forgiveness from the lady. 

The corners of his lips are curled into an open smile. His eyes are wilful and tender. 

The setting of the blue sky, the red silk in the surroundings, and the startled magpie birds surround Gavin, who is donned in wedding attire. It makes one unable to look away. 

At this moment, he finally stands before me again. 

The crowd and the noise of the world - they no longer have anything to do with me. 

Gavin places the silk ball into my hands steadily. 

Even though I know this is a script, and that it’s part of the plot, I can’t help but feel that the red silk ball in my hands is akin to a solemn promise. 

A greedy thought even flits across my mind - maybe it’d be good if the story ends like this. 

On stage, the silk ball is finally handed to the scholar. The lady takes the silk ball and holds it with her lover.  

Under the embroidery building, Gavin suddenly takes my hand. 

Gavin: Perhaps this may be abrupt. MC, are you willing to marry me and become my wife? 

MC: ?!

Was there such a line in the script? 

I look at Gavin with confusion.

Gavin doesn’t say a word. He stares straight at me without a hint of evasion.

There are so many emotions within that pair of eyes, leaving me unable to make sense of them. I have no idea what to say. 

Off-stage, the audience erupt in thunderous cheers.

I glance to the side. Mr Keller, who has been watching the entire play, nods in my direction, signalling that I should continue in my role. 

My confusion dissipates when I see Gavin’s amber eyes, which are filled with deep, tender emotions and lingering affection. There is even an undercurrent of questioning and anticipation. 

It’s as though the answer I give would be an entrustment of the rest of my life. 

My heart beats loudly in my chest, feeling like it would leap out from my throat in the next second. 

MC: I... I accept. 

I blush and respond, not even sure if my words are loud enough to be heard by the audience off-stage. 

However, every single word is heard by Gavin, who has received my feelings. 

With a gentle laugh, he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me up. 

Gavin brings me up the embroidery building to stand alongside the male and female leads.

At the end of the play, there is thunderous applause from off-stage. There are even a few audience members who are fully immersed in the story, sending us their blessings. 

In the midst of the applause, I tilt my head and lean towards Gavin’s ear, speaking softly. 

MC: Gavin, just now... I don’t remember seeing such a scene in the script?

Gavin: Mm, it was impromptu. 

MC: Why didn’t you tell me beforehand? I even thought...

Gavin doesn’t respond further, only smiling at me. 

Facing the cheering audience, the four of us bow and thank them for watching, as though worshipping the vast sea of people. 

After the play, everyone involved in the show gathers together to celebrate over dinner

MC: Gavin, thank you so much for today! It’s a good thing you saved the show! Back then... I really didn’t know what to do.

While I speak, I raise the drink in my hand, clinking it lightly against Gavin’s.

Gavin: You were looking for me just now to say this? 

He raises his drink, making up for the delayed clink. 

MC: Yeah. I wanted to thank you properly, but time was so tight that I couldn’t find the chance. Come to think of it, how did you know my lines...

Gavin: When we were rehearsing lines together, I just memorised them as well.

Gavin lowers his head and takes a mouthful of food, maintaining his usual casual attitude. Noticing that I’ve been watching him, he rubs his neck in slight confusion.

Gavin: Um... is there something on my face?

I immediately shake my head. A warm wave of emotions overflow from my heart. Countless words of gratitude are lodged in my throat, but I feel that no matter what I say, it would not be enough.

In the end, I silently fill a bowl of soup for him.

At the table, everyone is eating and drinking merrily, and the atmosphere is warm.

MC: After spending so many days with the crew, thinking of how we might not have the chance to get together like this again makes me feel quite reluctant to part with them.

I lean against Gavin, looking at the lively crew around us. 

MC: Gavin, I suddenly thought about something from my childhood. My dad used to be busy producing programs, and would bring me to the recording site to spend the New Year’s. The site was always busy, but no matter how pressed they were for time, everyone would sit down together and have an especially sumptuous dinner. Once I grew up, I also started spending my New Year’s working. I still remember that the warm ambience back then was the same as right now. 

Gavin: Mm, I can imagine. I used to spend New Year’s with my teammates, and it was very lively. 

MC: Even though it’s not at home, it’s still a different kind of fun!

Gavin: Since we’re on this topic, [coughs]...

Gavin seems to have something very important to say, but he takes another sip of his drink and stops. 

I blink, waiting for him quietly. I can vaguely guess what he wants to say.

In the end, he seems to become determined. He clears his throat and turns his head to look at me with a serious expression. 

Gavin: Over the next few days, if you don’t have anything else planned....

Gavin: Spend the New Year’s with me at home.

His tone is light, but the look in his eyes tells me just how solemn this invitation is. Even the tips of his ears turn an unnatural shade of red. 

I am very certain that, to the both of us, these words are the most precious and serious treasures from the deepest parts of his heart. 

MC: Okay. 

I nod heavily in response. Since a very long time ago, this answer has not changed.

The corners of Gavin’s lips turn up slightly. Those eyes, which always have an undercurrent of emotions, look like a glacier that has melted in spring, tenderly melting into a warm current. 

Gavin: I’ll pick you up then.

MC: Mm!!

The way his lips are curled upwards is as though all the uncertainties in his heart have found a most potent answer. 

I find myself smiling along with him.

MC: I recently learnt how to make a few New Year’s dishes, so we can try them. 

Gavin: All right, I can help. My skills... have improved. 

I freeze for a moment, making a sudden realisation. 

MC: Have you been practicing in secret? Looks like teaching you how to cook was a wise decision.

Gavin: ...I occasionally tried to.

MC:��I’ll have to check the results of my teaching this year then!

Gavin: No problem. 

Gavin smiles, nodding his head with some measure of seriousness. He suddenly thinks of something.

Gavin: Oh yes, do we need to buy things like spring couplets?

MC: Mmhmm, we also have to buy the character “福”! It will only feel like New Year’s when we have these things pasted.

[Trivia: During the Chinese New Year, households paste an inverted red coloured square with the character 福 (“fu”, which means auspiciousness, blessing or happiness) on doors, walls, etc. to usher in such tidings]

I continue talking, listing on my fingers the items I want to purchase.

In my memory, my aunties’ fierce interrogations don’t seem that long ago. In just a blink of an eye, a new year has arrived. 

[Note: She’s making reference to the Spring Festival Date!]

This time, we can leave our time to each other. 

In a place belonging only to us, flipping open a new year’s calendar together.

The atmosphere at the dining table is just right. The sound of clinking glasses and celebration comes in waves. No one notices this small corner. 

We clasp each others’ fingers quietly. 

Our pulses, only separated by a layer of skin, call out to each other in the language of warmth.

I’m so lucky to have you by my side. 

[dhwty-writes]

Dreams

Merry Christmas, everyone! This is my contribution for the @thewitchersecretsanta for @heyabooboo on tumblr.

My thanks also go to @contemplativepancakes, who betaed this fic for me. Thank you for your patience while I was still writing this <3 You guys should also definitely go check out her work, I love it to pieces!

Anyways, I shouldn't bore you too much. Let me just say one last thing: I think this is the most well thought-out piece of fiction I have written in my entire life. I have weighed every words of this five times at least. I hope you guys like it.

Have fun reading!

Summary: Geralt takes on a contract to investigate some spectral activity in a haunted ruin. As it happens, he disturbs the residence of a powerful being, that traps his soul in a nefarious netherworld. Jaskier, local bard with no sense of self preservation, does the obvious and follows him, trying to parse information from talking plants and braving unspeakable horrors in order to bargain for his witcher's soul. If only that were as easy as it sounded.

Moodboard by the amazing @petrificustotaluss

Warnings: Rated T. Canon-typical violence

Read on AO3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

It was a serene and sunny day when the witcher scaled the hill to the abandoned mansion. It shouldn't have been, by any rights; neither day nor sunshine quite set the scene for a monster hunter to come slay to his prey. Alas, Weather does what they want rather than what they should—most of the time they are too busy laughing at humans they catch by surprise, to notice another one of their storms escaping anyways— and neither of that is to set a picturesque scene for a murder to take place.

Well, not necessarily a murder; that might, admittedly, be a bit crass. An eviction, rather, though the witcher did know yet that was what he was about to do. He simply marched up there, convinced that he would do some light reconnaissance and then return to the bard he had left behind. He was so adamant in his conviction, even, that he simply couldn't imagine anything else.

Geralt of Rivia slid from his saddle and pat Roach on the side of her neck. "Good girl," he muttered as he tied her reins to the withered remains of a tree on a field of dried grass. 

He stepped back to retrieve his sword from her saddle and heard the telltale sign of a dried-up flower crushed beneath his boot. Geralt lifted it. It was a dandelion. He cursed internally. Were he a superstitious man, he might’ve thought it a bad sign. He wasn’t, though, so he knew it to be a bad sign.

Nothing good ever came from places where not even weeds could stubbornly cling to life. It usually meant that nothing would stay alive—or dead— for very long either. He'd have to be fast. 'A quick look around and I can go back to Jaskier,' he promised himself, the only silver lining on the horizon of this shitty day. 

With a grunt he went to the road that led towards the ruin looming up above him, taking in every detail of his surroundings. The tree Roach was tied to seemed to have belonged to a grove, considering how systematically the husks of the trees were arranged. 'Like gnarled fingers trying to reach for the sky.'

Geralt huffed. Jaskier was rubbing off on him again. The collapsed stone wall lining it was another strong indicator that once there had been someone tending to the woods. 'A cemetery?' he wondered. It might be a strong start...

He stepped past the large erratic to his left to vault over the crumbling wall. He had barely taken two steps when a dark shadow fell over him. He looked up to see the sun inching closer and closer to the horizon. A shiver ran down Geralt's back. ‘So late already?’ He had barely set out an hour ago, he was sure of it. And yet— something moved to his right and his medallion vibrated. “Fuck,” he cursed. He didn’t like this at all. 

Still, he had come here for a reason, so he turned away from the deserted grove and headed to the ruin. It wasn’t a large ruin, by any means, barely three walls standing. The first floor was completely decayed, so he didn’t have to check that, at least. In less than an hour he’d be done. 

That didn’t alleviate the uneasy feeling in the slightest. With each step it seemed like the temperatures dropped further. By the time he reached the facade his breaths were visible in white clouds, mingling with the fog drifting up from the ground. The weather was changing entirely too fast for his liking.

Slowly, Geralt stepped over the threshold into the broken mansion. He kept his eyes on the fog the whole time. The tendrils were thicker now, larger than any snake he'd ever seen as they slithered across the rotten floor. 'I should turn around,' he thought. He knew he should turn around. Still, he kept moving further into the mist.

A movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. His head snapped around. One of the wisps rose above the ground, twisting and twirling to a melody he couldn't hear. "The fuck," Geralt grunted and reached for his sword. 

He regretted taking the contract already. It was a fool's errand, and he had known it to be. But coin was scarce these days and he had to make do. Even if it meant investigating haunted ruins that made his medallion nearly jump off his chest.

The shrill sound of rusty door-hinges made him twirl around. He was met with an inscrutable wall of fog. "Shit." His sword was in his hand before he could even think about it. A gentle gust of wind swept through the ruin, as if the air itself around him heaved a breath of relief. 'I have to get out of here.'

He turned towards where he had entered and bolted; not quite running, but almost. He hit the wall face-first. "Fuck!" he cursed, holding his bleeding nose.

An all-too-familiar laugh rang through the silence. "Fuckin' idiot!"

"Lambert?" he groaned as he raised his hands to set his own nose. It hurt like a bitch.

"Who else, you bastard?" his arsehole brother answered.

"Where are you?" Geralt wanted to know, feeling blindly for his sword. 'Fuck.' Why had he dropped it? It had been stupid to drop it. He knew better than that. He was a witcher, for fuck’s sake.

"Right behind you!" Lambert laughed again. He was probably within a punchable distance.

Geralt found the grip of his sword and whirled around, coming face to face with... fog. Nothing but fog. "Lambert?" he asked, desperately. No answer. "Lambert!" He waved his hand, a futile attempt to disperse the mist, and squinted, as if that would do anything. Of course, it didn't.

There is something to be said about the eyesight of mortals, and that is that every single one of them possesses a truly despicable one. So, it shouldn't come as a surprise that when the witcher blinked and tried to focus his vision, he did not see anything he hadn't seen before; which was nothing at all.

A quiet groan rippled through the dark, and Geralt stumbled forward before he even knew what he was doing. "Eskel," he gasped desperately, trying to follow the ragged breathing. He’d know that sound everywhere, he had heard it far too often already. "Eskel, where are you, I'm coming," he promised, while the maddening mantra of 'I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't.' kept fluttering through his head. He knew exactly what he would find, Eskel with his face slashed open, bleeding and barely breathing. 'I can't do it again, I can't, I can't, I can't.'

"No!" the high-pitched shriek made him halt in his stumbling, nearly doubling over. "Get out!"

"Yenna," he breathed. He vaguely realised that the world was spinning around him and fought the instinct to throw up.

"No, help!" she screamed again.

"Yennefer!" he shouted in response. "Where are you?"

A woeful giggle swept past him, one that might've belonged to a child or a giant or something else entirely.

"Did I not train you well?" a weak voice, that barely sounded like Vesemir, coughed. "Is your sword your only weapon?"

"N-no," he stammered and raised his trembling hand. He willed his fingers to bend; each movement was pure agony. After half an eternity his hand formed the sign of Aard and the fog dispersed.

Never in his life had he regretted anything more. "No-" he choked out weakly as his knees hit the blood-slick floor. "No!" He could barely comprehend what lay before him, only that they were dead dead dead, all of them, gone, dead, their blood soaking him to the bone.

"What happened?" he whispered, whimpered, wailed. There was an uncomfortable feeling coiling in his gut. It was something important, he knew. Something he should do. Somewhere he should go. Someone he still missed. But whatever it was, there was a thick fog clouding his mind that he could not see through. 

"You failed me," Yennefer answered, rising from her last resting-place. With each movement her broken bones popped back into place. But there was nothing to be done about her torn-up chest; nothing to be done about her empty eyes, picked clean by the crows long ago, full of accusations.

"And me," Eskel agreed, blood trickling from the gashes on his face. And his legs. And his arms. And his guts. There was not much to trickle left.

"And me," said Lambert's head where it lay inches from his torso. Two swords protruded from his body, one silver and one steel. They had stripped him naked save for the medallion around his neck, a snarling cat where there should have been a wolf.

"You failed all of us," Vesemir rasped, lying limp on his deathbed. After months of sickness and starvation, he could count every bone on his body. But it was the garrotte that had been his end.

"Who did this?" he gasped.

"You did," they answered in unison.

"Me?"

A shadow giggled and caressed his cheek. "Of course, you," a velvety voice answered. "It’s what you do. Butcher. Hunter. Priest. You brought war to my peace."

He groaned quietly, desperate to lean into the touch. When he did, he nearly toppled over. He caught himself inches from the ground. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. "Who are you?"

"Who am I? That answer's not yet due," the strange voice answered; wisps of fog danced, curled together, formed what might have been a body. "The real query is: who are you?"

"I-" He inhaled sharply as realisation hit him. "I'm- missing someone."

"Missing someone, are we?" The shadow giggled. "Pray tell, who might that be?"

He did not want to answer. He didn't. Still, he said: "Where's- Jaskier!" Fear closed its icy fist around his heart. True fear, that was paralyzing, numbing, horrible. He wanted to do something, wanted to— he didn’t know. His hands were shaking too much.  

"Geralt!" a bard’s piercing scream ripped through the eerie silence.

The sinister giggle rang again; a wisp of fog caressed his shoulder. Suddenly, there was light. So much light, it was overwhelming after the all-encompassing darkness of the fog. He screamed in pain, trying to avert his gaze, trying to flee— but he couldn’t. 

"There you are," a smile spread on what might’ve been the creature’s face as they bent down, their mouth dragging across the shell of his ear, "Geralt."

[xae-in-a-coat]

Organization XIII doodles(Part 1)

Also, I was challenged by my younger sibling to give Number III a female love interest:

As seen above, I’ve managed to provide the drawings of our first three Organization XIII members, but I find that the whereabouts of their origins are far more enticing than the drawings in question themselves: The scheme initially came to me when I absentmindedly doodled Xigbar in a fairly theatrical pose, all based off of an X(courtesy of my boredom-drunk-artist’s-hand, & yes, by ‘X’ I do seriously mean an X. Slightly curved with imperfections, but nonetheless still an obvious representation of the letter X). The idea struck my fancy & I thought it quite ingenious. Honestly, It’s not everyday an artist as mediocre & unadventurous as yours truly decides to sculpt a multitude of stylized exaggerations, each of which depicting versions of the human body, out nothing more than a handful of strategically ruined X’s, correct? So I set to it almost immediately, adding the finishing touches to our Freeshooter before turning my attention to the Superior himself(who was, surprisingly enough, drawn second after his own Number II). Then came our Whirlwind Lancer, & followed inevitably by, my art block. With all previously collected inspirations lost to cruel mental exhaustion, I couldn’t do much other than wait out the drawl, scrounge the very edges of our world in hopes of finding even the slightest hint of inventiveness, & doodle occasionally when it mercifully swayed me. I was left stranded on a desolate island surrounded by ideas that once were but no longer showed to unviable eyes. Stuck with nothing more than the blank torsos of Numbers IV, V, & VI. Though without a doubt, I desperately look forward to further extending my progress in this self assigned challenge & sharing it with you all once I eventually get my troubled self sorted out in the near future. As for the time being, take these new quotes & a death scene originally meant to assist me in letting out some portion of my despair:

“Indeed, we lack the ability to feel in any proper manner, but why feel when grief, anguish, & sorrow is all that there is to it? You see light dweller, emotions are nothing more than pain.”

-𝚇𝚊𝚓𝚎(I unknowingly based this one off of Xemnas’ final words in KH3, so if you find that there’s a certain resemblance between the two, this is why. Apologies for my absentmindedness, I should’ve known that the phrase I had elicited seemed far too familiar for a reason)

“Hate, one of the more powerful words within my expansive arsenal. Any being well versed enough in the English language, such as myself, would only ever dare to use it during the most perilous of verbal enragement. & you must know by now that there is nothing I hate more than insensitive, selfish, & overwhelmingly dimwitted light dwellers such as yourself.”

-𝚇𝚊𝚓𝚎

“Indeed, I loathe this world to the deepest extent imaginable, but that is only because I loathe myself even more so deeply… Hatred can be the most detrimental of sicknesses, incredibly so if it is hatred aimed at oneself.”

-𝚇𝚊𝚓𝚎

“I’m not mean!- I’m just… Not used to being nice… Especially not after spending all of that time devoid of any true emotion…”

-𝙹𝚊𝚎

Protagonist: H-Hey, it’s gonna be okay-

Xaje: OF COURSE YOU’D THINK THAT! WHAT WOULD A NEAR PERFECT LIGHT DWELLER LIKE YOURSELF KNOW ABOUT THE PAIN WE NOBODIES HAVE BEEN DEALT! THE PAIN I’VE BEEN DEALT!

Protagonist: I-

Xaje: YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO BE USELESS, TO FEEL LIKE NOTHING YOU DO WILL EVER BE GOOD ENOUGH, TO BE WRONG IN EVERY SINGLE WAY POSSIBLE! BECAUSE UNLIKE ME, YOU WERE BORN RIGHT! INSIDE & OUT YOU WERE MADE PERFECT! YOU NEVER NEEDED TO CHANGE A THING! YET THAT FOOLISHLY DETERMINED HEART OF YOURS JUST NEVER SEEMED TO GIVE OUT! NEVER, NOT EVEN IN THE FACE OF SUPREME DARKNESS ITSELF! YOU WERE EVEN STUPIDLY NAIVE ENOUGH TO BE CHOSEN BY A KEYBLADE!-

Protagonist: …

Xaje: Heh… Stupidly naive enough to be loved… To have friends… To know the warmth of acceptance… To have a heart…

Protagonist: Xaje…

Xaje: Tch, spare me your worthless sentiments P/N… It’s not like I’ll be able to hear them anyway once I’ve finished fading… Wha- Let go of me this instant fool- I’d greatly prefer to spend my last moments free of your filthy human contact-

Protagonist: First of all, Rude- & Second of all, It’s called a hug, jerk.

Xaje: Ah yes, the peculiar act you sappy light dwellers use to signify physical affection during which two or more beings successfully partake in the spreading of their many infectious diseases whilst attempting to show some mystical form of true heartfelt emotion, correct?

Protagonist: Ew no- Okay kind of- but try looking at it this way instead, our hearts are connecting. I’m letting you know that I care & that you aren’t alone, because I’m here for you, because I accept you… Because we’re friends.

Xaje: What heart? The last time I checked, us Nobodies aren’t able to exhibit the trait of mushy pink blobs containing romanticized magic within our dark forms, nor do we fancy the idea of befriending those who once turned their backs on us in the face of adversity-

Protagonist: Would you shut up with all the textbook definitions? I’m just trying to help you understand the concept of being human a little more.

Xaje: Who are you to teach me, a Nobody, when you yourself have failed to understand our dynamics countless times before? Get off, your light ridden touch is causing my eyes to water uncontrollably-

Protagonist: Hey!- What is there left for me to understand?!

Xaje: It appears my story has alas reached it’s final chapter, for the time being at least…However, promise be made, I’ll explain it all to you in full detail at a better time, in a better place, perhaps in the next life. Farewell, P/N…

Protagonist: Later I guess… Geez, what is it with these complicated jerks & their last minute redemption arcs? It’s almost as if they’re purposely trying to make me tear up-

-𝙵𝚒𝚗

Progress shots:

[thesleepy1]

You C-Could’ve Just Told Me Y-You Didn’t Want Me

A/N: I stumbled upon the MorMor fandom again and thought, “What the hell, why not? Most of this is either depressing, sad or kinky. Right up my ally.” Unbeta’d as always. 

 Pairings: Jim x Sebastian 

 Summary: Moriarty really did it. He killed himself and Holmes. But did the great consulting criminal think of the outcome? Did he think of what would become of his tiger?  

 Word count: 2,591

 Warnings: Please do not read this if any of the warnings trigger you, I’m touching on many heavy subjects and there will be a sad ending. Please be aware of what you can handle. There is no shame in reading the same coffee shop AU over and over again. Please proceed with caution. Major character death, death, suicidal thoughts, suicde, attempted suicde, violence, language, depressing thoughts, mourning, grief, poor coping mechanisms, blood, alcohol consummation, 

 Moriarty really did it. Jim’s really gone. No warning. No notice. No caution. No nothing. Just a single message plastered on the building in front of his window.   

 “Behave tiger.” 

 Sebastian learned on the news that night after not having heard from his boss, the man he thought of as a friend and more. The newscaster focused on Holmes’ leap from the building, but all Sebastian cared about was the body being dragged off the scene. That same empty gaze he had grown to adore, the same slicked back hair he wanted to run his fingers through, the same sickly pale face he wanted to feel under his fingertips. 

 Gone.

 Just like that. 

 He had never told Jim about the beating in his chest, the butterflies in his stomach, the constant searching for him in a crowd. But the man must have known. He read Sebastian like a favorite book. Had memorized every line, every page, every chapter, everything. Jim had known and yet he was still gone. 

 The arguably new fridge in his kitchen had not seen the sight of alcohol since it was installed. Sebastian had swore off of the thing since his parent’s passing. He had seen what it did to people. But tonight was an expectation. And so was the next day. And the next week. And the week after that. And the months that followed. 

 The only reason he left his small flat was to get more. Nothing else mattered anymore. Time passed as it always did when someone died. Sebastian had no right to be mad at the human concept of time, but he had to have someone to blame. Something that made sense. Because if time was allowed to move on as if nothing happened then time was a bastard.

 Jim wasn’t just some concept a man with too much time on his hands created. Jim was more then every human life was worth and more. Jim was also a Westwood wearing bitch. 

 The man just won’t let Sebastian die. Appearing in front of him at his worst moments.

 One morning or afternoon, he wasn’t sure, he was awoken by the sound of polished shoes on his tiled kitchen. His first thought was Jim, just like every other thought he’s had for the past year. Time wasn’t even really a thing. But alas, when he opened his exhausted eyes, because his bed was just a place marker, he was greeted by the sight of an old woman in a suit. 

 “Good day,” she spoke in an central London accent, too polite for a shirtless man in his pants. 

 “The prostitute lives a floor down.” 

 She seemed to be taken aback by his comment, visibly flinching. Her lips pressed together a moment before she spoke, “I’m here for you on behalf of Mr. Myrcroft Holmes.”

 “Tell him to go fuck himself.” 

 “That can be arranged, but for the time being he wants you to meet him at his estate. He sent me here to make sure you were alive,” the woman said sternly, regaining her composure. Jim wouldn’t have even faltered at his comments.

 “Tell him I’m dead.” Or will be if he could find the tenner he kept hidden in his couch cushions. He was due for another bottle. “I’ll even give you a blood sample. Just give me a knife.” 

 The woman seemed unimpressed, taking in the state of the flat. Things were askew, he knew. That was the point of grieving wasn’t it? Being self destructive to the point of insanity? Give him time, grieving takes time, everyone suffers differently. He could no longer count how many times he’s been to Bart’s, just sitting on the ledge. The fact that jumping, falling, seemed like a simple matter to see Jim again should frighten him but...it doesn’t. He’s just biding his time until he’s had enough. Unsure what’s holding him back, waiting. 

 That was a lie and a half. He had jumped, twice. First time a moving truck broke his fall. The movers had called an ambulance and he was rushed to the hospital. That was eight days after Jim shot himself through the skull.

 The second was last night, morning? Some twenty hours ago that was foiled by a short woman who wore her hair in a low ponytail. She had given him some sort of speech but he just tuned out her voice and threw away the slip of paper with her number on it. He didn’t need pity. 

 “That won’t be necessary. I can inform my employer of your beating heart and he will arrive here himself,” she turned on her heel and headed for the door, her hand lingering on the handle before turning back to him. “What made him worth suffering for?” 

 The door clinked shut. 

 More than the bastard realized.

 “Calling me a bastard and a bitch? On the same day? I’m honored, Sebby,” came Moriarty’s voice from the arm of the couch. “Really, just wonderful what you’ve done to the place.” 

 “What are you doing here?” Sebastian groaned to the figment of his imagination which was also a shit eating bitch. 

 “Picking flowers, what do you think I’m doing?” 

 Sebastian couldn’t help but grin at the comment. He knew Jim wasn’t actually here but if he could fool himself for an hour or so. The calmest hours he granted himself once a week.

 “C-could you hold my hand?” Sebastian begged in a whisper, not looking up at the gaze of his one sided lover. 

 “This again?” He could hear Moriarty rolling his eyes. “I guess, but only for a moment.” The ghost held out his hand, far enough to make Sebastian work for it. He always did, forcing himself to move, to crawl, fight tooth and nail with his useless body to get up and hold Moriarty’s non-existent hand. 

 Moriarty’s hand was cold. That was how he imagined it if he had ever gotten the chance to hold it. Moriarty’s hand was soft because he never had to do any dirty work. Nails filed down and clean, pristine. The real Jim would never, but Sebastian let himself have this. 

 “You’re crying again. I thought this was supposed to be my moment.” Moriarty lifted his face to meet his, wiping the tears with an invisible force. “Can you not make this about yourself for one moment? It's starting to get on my nerves and Daddy wants the spotlight so SUCK IT UP.” 

 Sebastian clenched Moriarty’s hand, nodding and willing himself not to cry. It never worked. “Why did you have to leave?” it came out as an uncontrollable sob.

 “Things were too boring. I needed a change of pace. What’s better than being a ghost?” Moriarty licked his tears clean but more poured down.

 “I-I could h-have-”

 “You could have done NOTHING to change my mind. Even your subconsciousness knows that, Sebby.”

 Seconds, minutes, hours, days, who knows passed as Sebastian cried into the arms of a dead man. He curled into Moriarty’s side, a trembling ball of compressed pain. The alcohol was wearing off at this point and he longed for another hit. Something stronger perhaps. 

 Just anything to make him forget for a while, because while he permitted himself to cry with Moriarty, feeling nothing at all felt better. Just empty, mindlessness. Unconsciousness. Anything but this. 

 “Why...why won’t you-you let me die?”

 “Because you know I would be furious if you died. Rage wouldn’t even cut it if you met me in hell.” Moriarty brushed back his overgrown hair, messing with his beard just because he could. 

 “I want your rage instead of this. Please,” he begged, rubbing his head against Moriarty’s chest. “I-I had a gun stashed here. I knew exactly where it was and how many bullets were in it. Jim...he...the real Jim took the bullets out.” He picked at the loose strings on the couch, unable to face his mind. “He-” he croaked, “He took them and put them in his own gun. I-I checked and everything….” Pressing the heel of his palms to his hand Sebasatian continued in between gasps. “I want them back. I want my bullets back. I want him back. I want him. I want him alive and here. I want to hold him and let him hold me. I want him. I want Jim. I don’t care if-if he never wanted me. If he-” It pained him to keep talking, to admit this in his worst moment. “If he did this just to get away from me...I just want him back.” 

 “You’re being awfully selfish today. What if I really did this to get away from you? And now you want me to come back? Sebby, please. Be realistic. If all of this is because you’re useless, and it can very well be, then I don’t want you.”

 “So that’s it? You won’t even let me off myself?” Sebastian mumbled into his sleeve, his eyes stung from crying and he was too dehydrated to continue.

 “Behave tiger.”

 He didn’t clean himself off or made himself look presentable like he did with Jim. He just smoked as he tried to find himself a cab to the other Holmes’ estate. Apparently that wasn’t needed due to the fact a black car pulled right up next to him, the front window lowering to reveal a driver that motioned for him to get in. 

 Sebastian did so, flicking off the cigarette before entering. The driver didn’t speak, not that he would reply, but the man looked like he wanted to. A new guy who was still learning the ropes. 

 “D-” 

 “Talking out of turn will get you fired, or killed,” Sebastian repeated the phrase Jim had told him the first day he worked for the man. Back then he didn’t know what he was getting himself into when he wanted a quick, high paying job. 

 “Rude,” the driver murmured before pulling into a driveway. He stopped the vehicle and gestured for Sebastian to exit with a roll of his eyes. Sebastian wondered then what the other Holmes would do if he blooded up the driver. Getting himself killed had crossed his mind numerous times, bar fights and ally robberies, but he was too skilled to allow himself to be disarmed. But the Holmes were of a different story altogether. They could have him killed in an instant if they felt like.

 “Well are you going to leave or what?” 

 Holmes would probably do nothing, not for a driver this chatty. He left the vehicle with Moriarty on his tail, “You’re useless, you know that? I tell you to do one thing and you do another. Well you come to hell, don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me.” 

 Sebastian resisted crying in the home of Jim’s worst enemy’s brother. It wasn’t worth it, he told himself. Whether he believed himself? He didn’t feel the tell tale wetness on his cheeks so that was something. 

 “Good day,” the elder brother greeted him, not a hair out of place despite the fact that his brother was dead. 

 “What do you want.” 

 “Getting straight to business I see. Very well then,” Mycroft thumped his cane on his hardwood floors of his parlor. “I have an assignment for you, think of it as a favor if you will.”

 “Fuck off,” he turned on his heel to leave only to freeze in place. Sherlock Holmes stood in the doorway, as alive as the day he was born. Not a wound or sign or anything that said he was dead or had been. Just standing there.

 Sherlock Holmes is alive.

 Jim Moriarty is dead.

 It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. 

 “Sebastian Moran, Jim Moriarty’s right hand man and one sided lover from the state of your appearance. How is crying over a man who will never love you going?”

 Sherlock Holmes is alive.

 Jim Moriarty is dead.

 The other Holmes rolled his eyes, “I’m trying to get him to work with us Sherlock, not plan our murders.” 

 “I can’t say the same for him though,” Sherlock smirked, like he was getting a rise out of seeing Sebastian like this. A caged, striving tiger pacing.  

 Sherlock Holmes is alive.

 Jim Moriarty is dead.

 “Sherlock.”

 “Mycroft.”

 Sherlock Holmes is alive.

 Jim Moriarty is dead.

 “If you want to kill me just do it. I won’t fight back,” Sebastian stated, meaning every word. He just wanted the release of death. If anything his dying might please Jim Moriarty. Having someone watch the life or what was left of it, drain from his eyes. He could only hope. “Just kill me.” 

 “On the contrary. We want you alive.” 

 “I’m useless alive or dead,” he repeated what his mind told him.

 “I can assure you, you’re m-” 

 The gunshots shattered the parlor windows. Glass burst from their constricting frames, a shower of shards raining down. More gunshots followed, a dozen barrels at the least. Sherlock and Mycroft ducked for cover because they wanted to live. Sebastian stayed where he was because he would rather not. 

 A shot pierced his side immediately, then another and another. His legs could no longer support him so he fell forward, the side of his face pressed up against the rough carpet. He was staining it red, a stark color against the shades of brown and white. 

 Rope ladders dropped the sky, bodies lowering from out of view helicopters. They entered in pairs, shooting up the parlor room and everything in it. Over the sound of gunshots nothing could be heard then it stopped like a conductor silencing an orchestra with practice.

 A suited man entered the ruined parlor, his arms spread wide in dramatic flare. “Daddy’s back, Sherlock!” 

 “Jim Moriarty,” Sherlock exclaimed, smiling from his cover behind a bookshelf. “Glad you could make it.” 

 “I missed you, Sherly.”

 Sebastian could only smile from the floor. 

 Sherlock Holmes is alive.

 Jim Moriarty is alive.

 And all it took was for him to be bleeding out on the floor from gun wounds. Dying. Unable to feel his arms or legs. That was all it took for Jim Moriarty to come back.

 His grin pained his face from disuse, but he couldn’t stop it. Joy didn’t cover what he was feeling. The love of his life, forever one sided; the man he yearned to stay by, to hold, to drink and live alongside was fucking alive.

 Sherlock Holmes is alive.

 Jim Moriarty is alive.

 Jim Moriarty is alive.

 Jim Moriarty is alive.

 Jim Moriarty is alive.

 “Y-you’re alive,” he gasped from the floor, his blood cooling but his smirk never faltering. He wanted so badly to drag himself to Jim Moriarty but he couldn’t feel the warmth in his limbs. The man was right there, breathing, standing tall, and looking so jubilant. Sebastian really was useless. 

 “Tiger?” Jim Moriarty’s act flickered when he heard the sound of Sebastian. He turned to face the fallen sniper and every set of eyes in the room followed. 

 “Y-you’re here,” Sebastian choked on a laugh, his eyelids heavy. “You c-could’ve just told me y-you didn’t want me.”  

 “SEBASTIAN?!” 

 His eyelids closed shut. What remained of the feelings in his limbs dispersed. His labored breaths evening out until he disappeared altogether. His hearing was the last to go but even that shut down. He was dead. That was all it took. 

 Sherlock Holmes is alive.

 Jim Moriarty is alive.

 Sebastian Moran is dead.

[nafeary]

Cheating!MC Headcanon with Leonardo Da Vinci

⚬ Pairing: Leonardo Da Vinci/Reader

⚬ Characters: Leonardo, Comte; mentions of Arthur and Theo

⚬ Warnings: Intoxication

✧✎ A/N: First and foremost, I DO NOT condone infidelity. It’s vile, revolting, and can absolutely destroy a person’s entire life.

I chose to focus on the prospect of cultural differences they could have, especially considering our very casual dating standards nowadays (a lot of people don’t see sex as a very serious thing, do they?). Thus, MC isn’t cheating per se, but someone from the 16th century (aka Leo) might just perceive it as that.

I got the idea from our lovely @teatimemols, and she allowed me to use it for a headcanon. Thank you sweets (and make sure to drink water, everyone)!

You had kissed him... which wasn’t unexpected, considering the hungry glances you’d often exchange with him

You had embraced him, just as he had enbosomed you. Whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he mumbled how absolutely adorable you were.

And you had smiled at him. That smile, acting as the final culprit in the heist to capture his heart

Unaware of the courting standards you were used to, he determined it would be for the best to simply go with the flow

From what he had picked up from both you and Sebastian, women in your time had finally been allowed the rights they were entitled to (feminism they had called it)

He could only assume that his confident cara mia would sort things out

Which might have been a mistake... as he watched you accompany Arthur and Theodorus on their late night bar trips, only to return late at night with obvious signs of intimate activity, the Renaissance man felt his entire demenour shift

Were kisses in your time meaningless, the amalgamation of breaths unimportant to the heart?

Distance grew between the two of you, and his heart yearned in painful pleas; on the other hand, his muscles contracted at the thought of strangers’ hands working themselves under your skirt, unwrapping your layers

The last straw for him was the golden hair he noticed adorning your garments, the familiar scent of musk he knew ‘Comte’ to favour assaulting his nose when he stood close to you

Unbeknownst to him, you had initially thought of your... engagement with the polymath as nothing more than a fling. And yet, you couldn’t help your heart from falling for his charms, but you were reluctant to open your heart to him. After all, you had your own time to return to. Nothing good could result were you to act on your fantasies.

You were aware of him having discovered you multiple times on your late night escapees with Arthur and Theo, deciding to assay the author’s method of forgetting troubles

Aka, indulging in brothels as a distraction from your heart’s desire to be close to the Italian

And one evening, you committed a rather grave mistake— no, you couldn’t call it that under the booze’s influence. You had, after all, enjoyed the illusion the alcohol has painted

After a particularly busy night, you had returned to the manor alone, drunken stupor rendering you almost incapable of proper action

Le Comte, ever the gentleman, discovered your situation and chose to carry you to your room, assisting you with changing your grimy clothes (and closing his eyes when it required, we stan a respectful man)

Just as he was about to leave, you had caught him by surprise as he conceived Leonardo’s name leaving your lips in a tired mumble, pulling his arm rather roughly to crash your mouth atop his own

He had left after wishing the girl bonne nuit (as she had passed out the moment she had kissed him), smiling at the prospect of... supporting a relationship including two of his favourite friends

Alas, le Comte has an idea that might just aid the coping methods his guest had chosen... and his old friend’s worsening mood

“Cara mia,” the deep voice of your dream’s protagonist resonated outside your door the next morning. “Are you awake? ‘Comte’ told me you you were feeling unwell and asked me to bring you breakfast.”

At the mention of le Comte, your brain had to do a double take; you suddenly remembered the events of the previous night. The host of the mansion had found you in a probably more than likely disgusting state— and you had the nerve to kiss him

In your defense, you thought it was Leonardo; but considering the fact that they’ve been hinting at having been lifelong friends, you weren’t confident that you could bare to face any of them ever again

Nonetheless, you invited him inside

After you were done with your breakfast, you gazed at Leonardo dozing away on your carpet, just about to voice your confusion as to why he was still in your room, when he stood up and said, “I should be honest with you. The main reason I came was because ‘Comte’ told me something rather interesting.”

You could only gulp as he came to stand in front of your bed, kicking of his shoes. “You kissed him, in quite the rowdy manner from what he told me.”

You were remembered of you slip up once again, and you could only mutter in defeat, “I was drunk and confused, Leonardo.”

By now, ants were crawling up your legs as he lay down beside you, tickling your ear as he nuzzled it. “Am I not good enough for you?”

“Pardon?”

“You kiss me, yet you indulge in other mans’ arms.” All tranquility strained from the scientist’s orbs, and you could only lift your eyebrows in annoyance. “You make it sound like I cheated on you. Whoever I spent the night with is none of your concern.”

“So you are allowed to be a constant resident of my mind.” He trapped you with his arms, appearing to me ignorant to your growing exasperation. “Don’t you consider that to be—“

Enough was enough

You strongly pushed at his shoulders, rushing to stand up as you glared at him lying on your bed like a goddamn male Venus

“Leonardo. Please listen to me for a moment.” Seeing him nod, you proceeded. “Yes, I did kiss le Comte. Yes, I was spending the night with strangers. And yes, I did kiss you. However, you have absolutely no right to lecture me on these actions. We aren’t together, you didn’t ask me out, and I can kiss whoever I want to.”

You exuded calm anger with your crossed arms and stern gaze, but his utterly confounded face wavered your resolve... he almost looked like he had no inkling as to why you were so upset with him

Well, at least until realisation fell across his expression the way it was wonted to whenever he figured something out.

“I’m sorry, cara mia,” he said, sitting up in a more dignified position, “I was unaware that these are the type of courting standards you have grown up with.”

Courting... standards...

God are you stupid. You hastily replied with an apology from your own side, embarrassment blazing across your cheeks at the prospect of almost forgetting the fact that you were indeed in the 19th century and talking to Leonardo fucking da Vinci, when courting standards were so much more self explanatory and determined by matchmakers

You sat beside him as you elaborated the procedures you were used to, fiddling your thumbs at the scene: a world renowned artist, your... crush, perched on your bed and listening to you discussing 21st Century Dating for Dummies

The hushed breathing of the man was the only thing occupying the room, and you couldn’t help but hyper focus on the disparity of your own erratic puffs

Perhaps, despite your flakiness, you still had this wish, hidden deep within your mind, that you could still have a chance with Leonardo. And— you couldn’t help but sigh as the reality of it crashed upon you

You two were way too different, after all. Different time, different manners, different everything

“I have another question,” the smoky voice of the polymath whispered, the pleasant scent of cigarillos dancing beneath your nostrils, “How you do you conduct this... asking out, cara mia?”

You whirled around to meet his chiseled face, speechless at his inquiry. Surely, he couldn’t still want to? “Well, you... you ask the person whether they’d like to go on a date with you... and then, if the date went well, you could ask if I’d— that person would like to start a relationship with you.”

“I?” He smirked at your blunder, mirth pulling at his cheeks. “If you wanted to ask me out, you could have just done so earlier.”

Heat waltzed across your cheeks as you tried to stay composed, but you only managed to hang your head in defeat.

“Are you free after your chores today? I’d love to show you an invention I’ve been working on.”

Lifting your head ever so slightly, you muttered, aware if he were to deny your question that you wouldn’t lose any more dignity, “It’s a date?”

“It’s a date.” And the most beguiling smile encountered your own

I hope this was kind of what you imagined? They were going to be shorter (and including more characters), but I’ve wanted to explain the situation properly, ya know?

Anyway, have a nice day everyone!

[hopeymchope]

Muv Your Luv

So I’ve been playing/reading the Muv-Luv visual novels lately. Mostly because the third title (Muv-Luv Alternative) in the series is SO heavily praised. Unfortunately, to actually understand it/appreciate it, you have to get through two other Muv-Luv titles first.

Prepare to experience TONAL SHIFT.

Muv-Luv Extra is the first VN. It’s basically a generic high-school dating sim/rom-com kinda thing starring a pretty fucking douchey asshole of a protagonist, and I thought it was profoundly boring when I wasn’t actively hating it. The only parts I liked were the endings, which were well-written enough to close out the story of what we’d learned of these characters in a pretty effective way. But overall? Fuck Muv-Luv Extra. It primarily serves as the necessary introduction to the characters and how they act in a “normal” setting; it is literally hours of homework.

Also, all the girls look like they sculpted cat ears into their hair. Please imagine the metric fucktons of product that must take.

Muv-Luv Unlimited starts with the dickwad protagonist waking up in his bedroom like usual... only to find that the surrounding city has been largely decimated. He finds himself in a different world with most of the same characters introduced in “Extra.” Alas, this is a world where most of humanity is dead and the remainder is locked in an ongoing (losing) battle against alien invaders. His old high school is now a military base, and in less than 30 minutes of the opening, the protagonist finds himself conscripted into being a cadet alongside a squad consisting of most of the girls from “Extra.” YOU JUST GOT ISEKAI’D, BOOOOOOOII.

We follow the lead’s experience of meeting all the same people in a new context as he undergoes harsh military training to battle back against mankind’s extinction. It’s certainly a more interesting story than “Extra” was, but it’s also still pretty generic and moves rather slowly. I wonder if I’d like it more if I wasn’t in the midst of a severe bout of anhedonia. But probably not, because humongous mecha are heavily involved, and I honestly have never given much of a shit about mecha. I acknowledge that this may make me a Bad Anime Fan to many, but... sorry. It’s just not my genre.

Bask in all its genericness.

At this point, I was just about ready to quit, except... the ending to “Unlimited” left me MOST DISPLEASED. Regardless of which girl you choose to romance (yes, that’s somehow still a part of this story), the ending is a super-sour note to leave on. I guess they found a way to affect me after all, because I was downright depressed by the conclusion. Maybe that’s a sign that I was finally getting invested in this?

So... partly because of how the third one is often praised as being “one of the best visuals novels ever written” and partly because I needed to get a better ending than “Unlimited” could ever give me... I’ve now ventured into Alternative.

Muv-Luv Alternative starts with the protagonist waking up in his bedroom like usual... except he swiftly realizes he’s experiencing a time loop! He’s still in the same world he was stuck in during “Unlimited,” but now he has the advantage of knowing a lot of what’s coming his way. With that in mind, he sets out to make things go better than they did last time and also try to finally find his way back to his homeworld. He soon realizes that the more he changes things during this cycle, the more it affects events downstream and, subsequently, the less useful his knowledge of the future becomes. So how far can he really take this advantage? And can someone who is an entry-level cadet behind the stick of a training mech even remotely hope to alter major events with far-reaching consequences?

By the time we reach “Alternative,” the self-centered asshole protagonist who was downright abusive to the people closest to him has transformed into a douchey hard-nosed military grunt. It’s... not really much of an improvement, I have to say. The central protagonist is still far from a selling point in this story. Furthermore, a pretty big chunk of the early stages of “Alternative” is just retreading material from “Unlimited,” only now it’s going a little bit faster. That makes it pretty boring until new territory actually starts to be explored, which takes HOURS.

There are still occasional choices to be made, but in Alternative they’re less consequential than ever.

I’m 20-something hours in now, and it’s thankfully become pretty compelling in its new, uncharted events — certainly much moreso than the first two titles. There is complex political intrigue enveloping the humans despite the fact that they’re facing potential annihilation, which is understandably frustrating to our “hero” but simultaneously pretty interesting for the reader. 

On the downside, some of what’s grown more interesting about the writing is just how PRobLEmaTIC some of the viewpoints espoused in the story tend to be. There’s at least some self-awareness of how the patriotic, nationalistic stuff that most of the characters espouse could be viewed as troubling... but it’s mostly an attitude that is celebrated. And that’s not even getting into the weirdly triumphant “If you believe yourself to be little more than a tool for someone else to use as they see fit, then you should be used as a mere tool because that’s what you believe, and that belief is more important than your life, so go forth and die as someone else’s pawn! Believe yourself worthless as an individual, because that’s just who you are!” motivational (...?) speech that I just read through. Is this like, a Japanese thing... ? 

Also, some events that are incredibly boring (like a military ceremony in one scene) go on for FAR TOO LONG, dragging out for more half an hour of non-progress with zero value provided to the overall narrative or characters.

In case it wasn’t obvious, although I am much more intrigued and more invested than I’ve been up until this point, I am still not entirely taken with this “Muv-Luv” universe. In fact, as of this writing, the games still haven’t seen fit to reference or explain their own damn title. Somebody tell me the relevance of “Muv-Luv” to these characters already! 

I am hoping that by the end of “Alternative,” I’ll actually believe this trip was worth all the work it took to get here. I hear that “Alternative” lasts as long as Extra and Unlimited COMBINED, so there’s plenty of time for things to step up their intensity. I won’t write off the entire series as a failed experiment for me yet... especially not when I’m finally caring... but damn, it was a LOT of homework to reach this point. Here’s hoping they pull out some kind of eleventh-hour miracle to justify all the hype around this one.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Is It Really THAT Bad?

Cats has been a divisive show ever since it opened in 1981. Some people hate it for being a plotless spectacle that focuses more on the visuals than on music and story, while others love it for those same reasons, as well as for being utterly campy and fun. I’m firmly in the latter category, to the point I can’t  really comprehend the opposition to the film. Stuff like the jab at this film in The Critic or the mockery of it in Hey Arnold just seem weird to me; what is it about this fun, silly musical about cats that makes people’s blood boil so much?

Perhaps all these people saw into the future where the film was released.

Cats had a long, troubled history getting from stage to screen. In the 90s, Amblimation was set to make an animated version of the movie, set during the Blitz of WWII. Unfortunately, the inability of writers to find a way to turn this episodic showcase of random singing cats into a cohesive narrative combined with the failure of Amblimations films caused the project to dissolve, leaving behind nothing but some really cool concept art. 

But see, this perfectly demonstrates the problem with adapting Cats: the musical is a spectacle, a showcase, it’s all about the dancing, costumes, and the songs. It doesn’t have a story to speak of, instead contenting itself with showing us a bunch of different cats and having them sing about themselves for a bit before moving on to the next cat. Sure, there’s a bit of continuity and whatnot, but this really isn’t the sort of show that’s trying to deliver a deep narrative. It just wants you to have a good time, nothing more, nothing less.

No one told any of this to Tom Hooper, apparently. This director of the grounded, gritty, realistic adaptation of Les Mis was tapped to utilize this same style in a musical about magical singing cats, all while not even knowing what catnip is or how animation works. Hooper was apparently constantly butting heads with the VFX team due to his lack of understanding of how animating works. He tried to get the team to watch videos of cats performaing the stuff he wanted and forced them to give 90 hour work weeks, cementing Tom Hooprt as one of the biggest douchebags imaginable. On top of all this, the guy tried to weave this plotless showcase of felines into a cohesive narrative, and tapped a bunch of talent of various degrees of questionability to play parts. And what was the result?

An absolute disaster. The film was savaged by critics, with most positives being that the film was so bad it’s good. The film (of course) won a bunch of Razzies, and was the subject of mockery and memes before, after, and during its run in theaters. Hell, as soon as the trailer dropped, the film was mocked to death. Not helping was the rushed VFX which, again, was due to the team being under pressure from a draconian idiot who had no idea what he was doing. The film received an unprecedented bug fix, so to speak, in the form of an updated version with slightly better VFX that was shipped to theaters after the initial negative reaction. This obviously did nothing to help the movie’s reputation, of course. Hell, even in my initial review, I wasn’t super keen on the film. Most damning of all, though, was Andrew Lloyd Webber himself calling the film ridiculous, and even said "The problem with the film was that Tom Hooper decided that he didn’t want anybody involved in it who was involved in the original show."

But after ruminating on it, and after watching the film once more, I’ve decided to ask the usual question: Is it really that bad? It’s weird to ask this about a film that’s so new; I usually wait for hindsight to kick in, and look at older films considered bad. But even now, Cats is building up a reputation as a campy cult classic, with such figures as Martin “LittleKuriboh” Billamy watching the film with alarming frequency. And after reading the nightmarish behind the scenes and considering everything… yeah, I think this film deserves a re-evaluation.

This is going to be a little different, though: I’m sort of going to go through the film part by part, since this film has an interesting issue where, generally speaking, the first half is where the worst problems are, and the second half is where things start to pick up. So let’s get the bad out of the way first, then move onto the good.

THE BAD

So, I’m actually not going to pick on the VFX too much, and not just because of the horrible treatment of the VFX artists. In all honesty, the weird human/cat people, while not even remotely as cool as the insane costumes of the stage show, eventually stop being super distracting and kind of just become something you accept. Like, I’m not gonna pretend like this work is amazing, but I dunno, I think it gets harped on too much. There is some stuff that stands out as noticeably bad, though, and we’ll get to that.

A consistent problem with the film that I can’t even try to defend is the problem with the scaling. It’s seriously hard to tell how big these cats are supposed to be in relation to anything else. They honestly seem to change size from scene to scene. It’s seriously weird and baffling and there’s never any way to get a good sense of scale. Even when the cats are alongside mice and roaches, it just boggles the mind what size anything is actually supposed to be.

Mr. Mistoffelees, one of the most flamboyant and enjoyable characters of the stage show, is one of the biggest character issues with the film. Gone is the tricky, confident magician who prances and dances, and here is a meek, sniveling twerp who can barely do anything without tripping over himself. This is because the actor who plays him had a terrible audition that left him miserable due to a lack of singing and dance background. So, rather than find someone who could, you know, sing and dance, they decided to rewrite Mr. Mistoffelees into comic relief, which is just an insulting slap in the face. The cherry on top of course is how they straightwash the character and excise his homoerotic tension with Rum Tum Tugger, instead making him completely and totally straight and giving him a thing for Victoria. Out of everyone in the entire film, they did Mr. Mistoffelees the dirtiest.

Now, let’s get onto the actual “plot.” The film actually starts out fairly well, with some cool shots, good dancing, and some setup for Macavity, whose intro has a neat little nod to the fact he’s based on Moriarty. The issues don’t really start showing up until we reach the first of the Jellicle choices… Jennyanydots.

Jennyanydots is portrayed by Rebel Wilson, which is the first issue. Rebel Wilson is probably one of the worst actresses ever. She is just a horrendously, relentlessly unfunny human being, and she brings that exact quality to her role here. For her song, the vocal talent is secondary to the cringeworthy comedy Wilson puts on display. And yet, somehow, Wilson isn’t the worst part of the scene. No, that would be the horrendous CGI human-faced mice and roaches, which look like they came out of a PS3 game.

This horrendous spectacle is followed up with the appearance of Rum Tum Tugger, portrayed by Jason Derulo. I’m of two minds about this. On the one hand, I do think Derulo has the necessary egotistical celebrity swagger to play Rum Tum Tugger (especially when you consider he responded to negative criticisms of the film by calling the movie  “one of the greatest pieces of art ever made”) and his design is actually one of the better ones in the film, but on the other hand, his singing and the musical choice for his song are not very impressive and really just doesn’t work all too well. It’s at least something of a step up from Rebel Wilson and her CGI abominations, but that’s not really saying much, is it?

Next up we have Bustopher Jones, played by James Corden and, if I’m being totally honest… he’s not quite as awful as he could be. Corden is basically the male equivalent to Rebel Wilson, but at least while he’s singing he manages to be somewhat amusing, whimsical, and enjoyable even. The problem comes when he throws in jokes, including one where he claims to be self-conscious about his weight… a joke that occurs in the middle of his song where he is bragging about how fat he is. Talk about sending mixed messages. I wish I didn’t have to be so harsh on Bustopher, but sadly he is bogged down by really bad shtick.

Bustopher Jones also highlights a problem with the cats in this first half. These minor roles – Jennyanydots, Rum Tum Tugger, and Bustopher Jones – are all being played by relatively big celebrities, and as such they’re going to want a lot of time to sing. As a result, songs that were ensemble numbers on stage become more one-man songs here, with Bustopher Jones being the most egregious example, turning this positive fat character into a walking James Corden fat joke as he sings his own praises rather than having his praises sung.

Following him up we have Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, who are usually fun characters with a fun little pseudo-villain song, but alas, they manage to screw that up by using a slow, jazzy version of the song originally used in earlier London productions rather than the more up-tempo version from later productions, making the song sound awkward and forgettable. Topping it all off is the bargain bin Mr. M popping in at the end for some wacky shenanigans, but at this point, the movie takes a turn towards…

THE GOOD

So as soon as Dame Judi Dench shows up as Old Deuteronomy, the film gets a sort of inverse of what happened at the start. Where the film starts somewhat awkward and promising, it slowly gets stupider and stupider when Rebel Wilson, Jason Derulo, and James Corden botch their scenes in the ways described above. Here, things start a bit shaky and unsure, but Dench is a sign things are about to pick up. What makes her so enjoyable is how, despite how utterly silly things are, she treats her role with the dignity and gravitas of something out of Shakespeare. The only thing as good as an actor in a silly movie like this going full-on ham and cheese is an actor treating their role dead serious and injecting it with such class and dignity you can’t help but enjoy it. Thankfully, Dench isn’t the only person to take her role seriously.

Jennifer Hudson as Grizabella technically appears briefly in the earlier portions of the film, but here we get to hear her belt out “Memory,” and by god does she do a fantastic job. The raw emotion and passion she injects into Grizabella is phenomenal, and it’s even more powerful when it comes back for its reprise in the finale. Victoria gets a sort of response song to “Memory,” called “Beautiful Ghosts,” and it’s a decent song in its own right, but you can tell it was a more modern composition and it just doesn’t gel super well with the rest of the songs. Still, all this is good stuff, and the “Memory”/”Beautiful Ghosts” scene is a nice, refreshing bit of emotion after the incredibly weird and silly extended dance number that is the Jellicle Ball.

The movie doesn’t stop pulling punches; shortly after Grizabella we are given Gus the theater cat, an elderly actor whose number is all about reminiscing of the old days of theater and his many stellar roles from days gone by. Naturally, the only actor who could possibly perform this role properly is Sir Ian McKellan. I am completely unironic when I say this: This is to McKellan what Patrick Stewart’s performance of Xavier in Logan is. This sounds ridiculous, but think of it: Gus is an aging thespian, clearly a bit senile and desiring to be reborn because he has reached the end of the line, and McKellan fills him with this genuine, incredibly honest performance that really makes you feel emotional. It’s powerful. It feels so personal and resonant, like McKellan has inserted some of his own feelings into his performance, which may very well be the case. Oh, and after his song Macavity kidnaps him with a big autograph book and apparates away while saying his name, which gets me every time.

And now, my friends, the lord and savior arrives: Skimbleshanks.

This is, hands down, the best scene in the entire film. Everything comes together here: the music is absolutely fantastic, the dancing is choreographed extremely well, and it’s clear that everyone involved is having a blast. This is a concentrated essence of what Cats should be, and it’s really a shame Hooper didn’t understand that this is the energy needed for the entire production. The most crucial element, of course, is Steven McRae, who not only has a lovely singing voice and looks dapper as all hell in his red suspenders, but is a tap dancing maniac. This man has feet of fire, and his tapping adds a whole new layer of fun to the song. Overall, this is a perfect scene, and probably one of my favorite scenes in any film ever. For a brief four minutes, everything about this film works. I literally have no idea why this cat wants to be reincarnated, he is straight balling in this life.

But the hits don’t stop! Right after this song, Taylor Swift descends from the ceiling, and we get “Macavity.” In the stage productions, this is a song sung by Bombalurina to describe how nasty Macavity is, since she’s traditionally a good cat; here, she’s reimagined as a villain, and so this song is basically her acting as Macavity’s hype man, singing his dastardly praises, and best of all, Macavity joins in at the end! I’m certainly not a Taylor Swift fan, but she really kills it here, and definitely makes this one of the best songs in the movie with her hilariously forced accent and insane energy. It’s just a shame that from here on out Macavity ditches his villainous pimp coat and is now a nude Idris Elba, but I suppose this is equivalent exchange for Skimbleshanks being so amazing.

While not as incredible as the previous two songs and not quite as good as the stage version due to the removal of the latent homoeroticism, Mr. Mistoffelees’s song is actually okay. It’s nice that he gets to sing his own praises here, but it’s just nothing compared to the stage version, even if it has a fun little finale and it actually is genuinely heartwarming when Old Deuteronomy returns and sings along. It’s a sweet moment that almost makes up for how much Mr. M has sucked the whole movie. Oh, also, all of the Jellicle choices Macavity kidnapped fight back against their captor Growltiger, with Skimbleshanks aggressively tapdancing at him and Gus using his acting skills to make him fall into the Thames. This is so goofy that it wraps back around to being awesome.

The movie winds down in the goofiest way possible after the gorgeous reprise of “Memory,” with Macavity being caught on a big sculpture and apparently running out of magic, leaving him stranded like a regular cat. Then we get one final fourth-wall breaking song where Judi Dench directly addresses the camera that has the music swell up to the point where it seems like the song is ending numerous times without actually ending, and each time is funnier than the last. Really, what better way could you end such a silly film than with this?

Now, a general thing that’s great about the film is the choreography. The dancing in the movie is spectacular. I don’t really have a bad thing to say about it. And, in a broad sense, the music is good too, even if the singers aren’t always perfect, the backing tracks are great, and there’s a lot of fun in the tracks in the latter half of the movie. McRae and Taylor Swift’s contributions in particular are great, and Hudson’s version of “Memory” is incredibly powerful, as is McKellan’s take on Gus’ song.

Is It Really THAT Bad?

No.

Look, it’s hard to be like “Wow this is a fantastic masterpiece of film” or anything like that, because the movie has blatant and evident problems. But this is literally the reason I made this review series; I’m asking if the movie is really as bad as people say, and in this case, no, there’s too much genuinely enjoyable in the film for me to say it’s deserving of several Razzies and a spot on the Bottom 100 of IMDB that places it above Master of Disguise and The Emoji Movie. Like, seriously? This is worse than the 90 minute commercial starring the abusive dick who called a bomb threat on his girlfriend? Hell, this movie is rated worse than Artemis Fowl, which is definitely a contender for the worst film ever made (and amusingly enough also features Judi Dench in it). Artemis Fowl has next to no redeeming qualities in it, and it certainly doesn’t have Skimbleshanks, whereas Cats has several fun scenes and also has Skimbleshanks.

I definitely think there’s more of an argument for this film being so bad it’s good or camp at best, but it’s definitely more enjoyable than you’d think it would be. If you can learn to live with the weird CGI, it’s a fun, goofy romp that you might find yourself feeling for at times. After my second watch, I have to say… I’ve started to unironically enjoy this movie. It might even be one of my favorites of all time. I can’t even deny that it has a lot of stuff I don’t like, and it falls flat in a lot of ways the 1998 film soars, and it screwed up some of my favorite characters… but there are so many moments where the fun and heart of Cats shines through brighter than it has any right to, and all the failures of Hooper and Universal seem distant for a just a few minutes.

So yeah, is this movie good all around? No way. But is it fun, does it have value, and is there more redeeming qualities than the critics let on? Oh yes there is.