#and let y’all form your own opinions and theories

[dreamlandiasims]

thinking about my own story again lol… but here are some of my thoughts about the last post -

first off, it doesn’t really matter whether Meridith is telling the truth about Erwin’s dad - she’s reminding him that she (and Ted) are the ones with the power to control their situation (if she says the garage is going under, it’s going under). So it’s less a question of does Erwin believe the specific story she told, and more so does he believe that she will act on her words regardless.

also, I really debated making this more explicit in the story but we can assume that the reason Meridith knows about what’s going on is at least in part because Frankie decided to call Saf even after being warned not to. In that scene, the woman walking towards her is Meridith, presumably to give her a similar warning to what she says to Erwin. Meridith was also at a booth in the 8 Bells when Frankie met “Alana” so she’s already had a hunch that Frankie was catching on.

and lastly thank you everyone for reaffirming that Meredith is A Milf. I am in love with her too

[mariacallous]

If the question hasn’t hit your For You page or Twitter feed (or group chat) yet, it will: How often do you think about the Roman Empire? The provenance of the query is a little blurry, but it maybe started with this tweet (which also references an Instagram Reel) or possibly this TikTok. Or this one. The point is, everyone is trying to figure out how often the men in their lives think about the Roman Empire.

According to one of those ur-TikToks posted by @paige.elysee earlier this week, you will be “shocked with their responses.” But if my friend group—and the WIRED Culture Slack—are any indication, the responses are simply … interesting? When I sent the question to group chats yesterday, most of the responses skewed toward, “Is this that Twitter poll? lol” or “I got asked this last night. Truly never.” In other words, they weren’t shocking but were definitely amusing. Some colleagues generously interjected with “My brain: ‘The Roman Empire is to men what girl dinner is to women’” and “My theory is that it's because that Daily Stoic podcast is so popular.” WIRED legend Steven Levy offered that he thinks about Ancient Rome, “Every time I write about Mark Zuckerberg.” But according to people who aren’t my friends, the answer is more along the lines of “every single day” or once a week or “a few times a month.”

I decided to poll WIRED colleagues. Now, I’m of the opinion that it’s kind of ridiculous to gender this question—people of all identities can be history buffs, y’all!—but maybe that’s an argument for another time. As of this writing, answers are still pouring in on the impromptu Google Form I set up, but in a group that consists of a good balance of men and women, about a fifth answered that they “never” think about the Roman Empire. “Never” was tied with “weekly,” followed by “monthly” at about 15 percent of respondents.

In my deep, morning-long investigation, there were also more than a few responses that pointed to the Cold War or Pompeii or the 1920s as time periods more worthy of contemplation. This, ultimately, led me to a theory: Dudes/people don’t think about the Roman Empire a lot, they think about media about the Roman Empire. Video games set in the Colosseum, old films like Cleopatra, roughly a million History Channel docuseries, Monty Python’s Life of Brian—these things are burned into our memories. Jay-Z was able to put Russell Crowe’s “Are you not entertained?” at the beginning of “What More Can I Say” because Gladiator was so popular. 

My own ponderings of Ancient Rome tend to hover around the persecution of Christians and the empire’s conversion to Christianity after Constantine. Then I think of Keanu Reeves. One of my former editors responded to my group text query by noting that she’d recently watched HBO’s Rome concurrently with Amazon Prime Video’s Domina to “contrast the characterizations of Octavian’s wife during the Second Triumverate.” Then I Googled this and went down a rabbit hole of my own.

This is the state of media consumption in 2023. Hollywood, hungry to adapt any story it can, has turned history into IP—shows and movies that we now watch with phones in hand and laptops open to delve into whatever new tidbit shows up onscreen. Who amongst us hasn’t lost hours on the KGB Wikipedia page after a binge-watch of The Americans or sought to fact-check The Trial of Chicago 7? Fire up any streaming service and there are hours of content about World War II. I once dedicated nearly a month of reporting to Alan Turing’s “Bombe” code-breaking machine after I saw The Imitation Game. Frankly, Turing is probably my Roman Empire. (Ask me about the Apple logo in the comments.)

As the cliché goes, history is always written by the victors. But in modern times, it often gets translated by screenwriters and then “punched-up” by studio notes. People tend to be obsessed with the past. The longer my text and Slack threads stretched, the more respondents tried to figure out why anyone was even talking about dudes and the Roman Empire in the first place. It devolved into questions about why humans are enthralled by war, the collective fascination with powerful men, and on and on and on. No one ever figured out why the meme went viral—or whether men really do think about the Roman Empire all that much, or more than people of other genders. But we were entertained.

[iguessitsjustme]

Our Days - What Even is the Music?

***Disclaimer! I’m but a humble couch potato. I am not a musician. I play half of three instruments and .005% of another one. I’ll let y’all try to figure out what that means. But I am not some infallible music genius. Please form your own opinions.

Okay so my theory about the weird music involves So. I’m not entirely sure how to put it into words but it’s basically focused on So and his mood and his feelings and his music taste. Mim’s music has a more Studio Ghibli-esque feel to it. Everything weird so far has centered around So, who happens to be the musician so it fits. Then this week had normal music because the focus of this episode was Saint and his feelings with So pushed off to the side. Of course So was still in it and even announced his feelings for the first time. But it was to Saint, who remained the focal point for the entire episode. I’m guessing once we start focusing on So again, it will become weird once more.

I know that I’m in the minority with this opinion, but I loved Our Days. The whole show, including the soundtrack. Now, don’t get me wrong, the soundtrack is fucking weird. I have a theory about the soundtrack though. The soundtrack specifically matches characters rather than the scenes. Each character gets their own music opposed to each scene having a song to help set the tone. This method will absolutely not work for everyone, but it worked really well for me. It took a little bit of adjusting, but I ended up loving how this show did it.

The soundtrack only seems weird when the show focuses on Soh. The soundtrack is just a normal soundtrack when the show focuses on Mon or Saint. Soh is just a special case. First of all, Soh is a musician so it makes sense that his character pulls different genres from all over the world. He is also the one that ends up going abroad so of course his music pushes the boundaries.

Mon’s music is what most people would consider normal for a soundtrack. It’s Studio Ghibli-esque and it reflects Mon’s personality perfectly. He is a melancholy person. So when you have two main characters with wildly different music, it makes the whole show’s soundtrack seem really out there and can pull you out of the show entirely.

But Rae, I hear you all saying, you said a good soundtrack shouldn’t pull you out of the show. I know, I KNOW! This soundtrack works for me, but it’s not going to work for the majority of people. I wouldn’t call this a good soundtrack specifically because it does pull you out of the show. It does ultimately distract from what’s going on in the show and with the characters. And while I love it and I see what they were doing, I can acknowledge that the execution of it was...poor. But I love that they tried. And that’s why I won’t say it’s a bad soundtrack either. I can only settle that it’s weird and it’s really and truly going to depend on each person on whether or not that works or not.

[ladyprince202]

So… I had the strangest dream. Not gonna get all deep into interpreting my dreams…

But… I decided to do a Tarot reading for y’all!!!

(Btw thank you for the previous likes & repost on my last reading… i been feeling under the weather. But I’m back!)

Pick Your Tarot Reading of the Afternoon ✨

Please pick one of these, as the message will convey to you personally. (It has been shuffled and laid out with crystals and/or cowrie shells)

Now that you’ve picked the number✨

Card #1 : (Reverse) Cups 7 - A lost sense of wonder and awe. Your creativity and imagination 💭becomes your saving grace. You wanna do so many things in your life which eventually you procrastinate. TIPS: Sometimes your mind can imagine great things.. but it can also kill so much time in not doing anything. ⏱Time is ticking⏳… you are not getting any younger, what are you waiting for? Try to put as much time in doing something as much as you think .🤔💭 Since there’s 12 months in a year, it takes 30 days to form a habit. Try to form a consistent plan for 30 days and see if anything change in your life. Was what you were thinking about it a great idea to do? Or was the idea was just good to think about and not do it? I suggest you do things you LOVE to do… that way it’ll be worth it doing something about it.🤍✨

Card #2: (Reverse) Malika Swords - Absentminded. Forgetful. You may not think things through and are subject to the influence of others’ opinions. A widow. Divorcee. Broken Ties. TIPS: Sometimes collecting others opinions and theories to gain a better understanding is good; what is not good is NOT thinking for yourself. Do you like the color red because your parents or friends like it? Or because YOU like it? Ask yourself why? Question and answer yourself to understand where your head is really at. When you only subject yourself to other’s opinions, you sabotage your message, your viewpoints, your own opinions and theories. What you have to say is less important which the “widow” concept is death to your internal relationship. You don’t really take yourself seriously which means is you are stuck in this situation because you are stubborn about change. You must learn to “divorce” taking the advice of others and start taking your OWN advice. If you do come across someone with an advice, make sure that it is mix with your internal advice as well as theirs. That’s what makes you a character. 🤌🏾✨

Card #3: Wands 2 - You act as surveyor to all that you have accomplished and seek to research and develop new things. You contemplate that which success brings and a sense of responsibility. TIPS - Having responsibilities means to take on more roles you have to do. But being able to do it well means you organize your environment to keep tabs on your responsibility. You should be proud of yourself for maintaining responsibility; Especially, if you are a student or a worker during the pandemic or even a parent, then you have the ambition to keep going. Keep that positive uplifting attitude and you will be blessed in the long run. Someone will recognize your hard earn work.. don’t give up on yourself. 🤍✨

Card #4: (Reverse) The Sibyl II - Lies, ulterior motives, aloofness, isolation, and lack of awareness. TIPS: Are you ignorant? Did you know that ignorant means to ignore? Why are you trying ignoring the truth? Even though the truth hurts, you can move on faster than the long-term lies you projected in your mind. It’s time to grow up.. talk to the little kid in you and tell the kid, adult you wants to learn how to handle the truth responsibly. Adult you will meet many kinds of people in your life, some will stay in your life and others will leave for many different reason.. but these are the truth you have to face and let it teach you about yourself, your mind, emotions and spiritual views. Little kid you will cry internally but will trust you because you are all you got. Trust that you will be okay even when you are facing the truth.

If you want more Oracle readings, please reblog this post. Thank you ✨🙏🏾

[hmspogue]

Outer Banks season 2 Official Trailer shot-by-shot rundown

A comprehensive post where I scream about analyze the entire trailer frame by frame for clues, theories, and plot. Just my own opinions and general tin foil-hatting

These are screenshots from Netflix’s trailer for Outer Banks season 2. I do not claim or own any of these.

note: this post is tagged as a long post if you wish to avoid having to scroll until your thumbs break.

“My old man used to tell me, ‘it’s best to never say you’ve hit rock bottom’.”

(Putting all of these shots together since they’re scenes we already know but-) Holy shit, okay let’s just....start off like this I guess, damn.

“'Trust me’, he said...”

Kiara looking back and forth between the boys like this really just feeds the headcanon I have that her form of grief this season is going to be her trying to hold it together for their sakes (and eventually just snapping).

JJ just looks fucking furious someone give these kids a hug? I already know this scene is going to ruin me.

“You can always go...”

JJ back working at the hotel. He looks literally so angry again in this scene I could see him self destructing at work and losing his job? (Please do not be isolating yourself you beautiful son of a bitch even though I know you’re going to).

Pope in the Twinkie (costuming wise they all are in warmer looking clothes for some of the shots, so just confirming it’s a little bit into the school year when this all takes place).

“Lower”

Big John was real big into pep talks, I see. (seriously can you imagine Big John having this conversation with like 8 year old John B after he fucking dropped his ice cream cone or some shit I shouldn’t be laughing).

I’m just-

These poor kids, I wanna know how the police all the way down in the Bahama’s knew about them?

Their calves....

“RUN!”

Are going to be so fucking jacked by the end of this season I stg.

Fuck you.

“The gold from the Royal Merchant....it’s here.”

For a while, I had thought that maybe they didn’t even make it to the Bahama’s at the front of the season and ended there (because everyone had been filming in there). But I guess they’re going to be making two trips.

If I were a bird from this POV I’d shit right on that house no questions asked.

oooooh ho hokay. Just so we’re clear. Ward Cameron not only get away with murder and about two dozen other felonies, but-

“Half a billion.”

HE STILL FINDS THE GOLD IN THE CRAIN HOUSE AND GETS TO KEEP IT?

Not the polo with the snap back, I just know this man has a playlist called Sad Boi Hours that is just Juice WRLD’s top 5 songs on Spotify and he tells his friends they wouldn’t know the underground artists he listens to.

Sh, you have lost screaming privileges. Go inside and take a nap maybe.

“John B, we are fugitives in a foreign country.”

So, previously, I was talking about how I was confused how they would still be trying to find him is everyone thought he was dead, but here the wanted poster clearly says “presumed lost at sea”. I think that will be interesting to see how the Pogues all interpret that. 

Especially because they already had a memorial for John B and everything, I wonder if there will be any part of the Pogues holding out hope that they both could still be out there OUCH.

I’m going to circle back to this, but it looks like John B and Sarah are going to get separated for a little while in this man hunt, I could see my idiot himbo son trying to sacrifice himself so Sarah can get away but in reality just....stranding her.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

Oh, sweetie....

“Well, Sarah Cameron, I do stupid things all the time without realizing it.”

The volume of his self awareness is astronomical. sir, that is your whole character summed up in your own words.

GOD, IT’S ME AGAIN. PLEASE LET THEM LEAN INTO COMPLETE HIMBO JOHN B THIS SEASON I’LL DO ANYTHING-

nyyooooOOOOOOOOOOOOM-

“Hold on!”

The complete abject terror I would feel having John Booker Routledge driving get-away and then saying the words “Hold on” while reaching fro the gear shift? The english language fails me. 

Sarah, bestie, I’m so sorry.

I just wanna know-

what the plan or objective was in this situation. What was the reason for being this dramatic.

Rest in piss, bozo <3

“Ward’s still out there...”

Okay, same conversation they were having as before. I wonder what makes them decide they need to get back to the OBX for this tho.

“I can clear my name. This can all be over in one shot.”

It looks like Topper watching this but way more concerningly, correct me if I’m wrong but this 100% looks like....John B gets caught. And the DEATH PENALTY?! He did have a mug shot for the fliers in s1 and the one above but he was never brought in? Plus he just looks super dirty and dishevled in this one so I-

Jail break anyone?

I also still want to know if they’re going to go with a Topper redemption arc this season. like, does he know more than he should just from being around Rafe and his big fat mouth? Is he going to help out the Pogues even if it’s just for Sarah?

This shot just suddenly made me really sad. The thought of this all started because Big John left one last thing for his son to find, his literal life’s work. And when it all started, it was just a fun adventure John B and his best friends were going on together and having fun with. Then it all got dragged to absolute shit and turned into what it did, including the remaining 3 Pogues thinking that this treasure hunt took their two best friends away from them. And it’s nothing like Big John intended it to be.

Why my eyes wet?

Now we’re edging into what I was talking about earlier with John B and Sarah getting separated.

“If you think there is anything I wouldn’t do...”

Once again, John B is no where to be found. Also, just in case y’all didn’t already know or forgot Ward is an actual psychopath.

I believe this one of the new character, played by Jontavious Johnson (Stubbs). Based on the voice over it lowkey sounds like they’re implying Ward maybe hired Stubbs and Cleo to find and bring Sarah back. My theory would be I bet they do go to retrieve her, but she somehow convinces them that it would be more beneficial for them in the end to be on the Pogue’s side instead.

Miss Girl you gotta be keeping your head on a SWIVEL. Especially when you’re a FUGITIVE of the LAW-

“...you haven’t been paying attention.”

My guy, who are you clarifying this for?

It’s what you deserve for monologuing.

in all seriousness, the idea of them coming to face to face with Ward in Nassau after thinking they finally escaped him is genuinely terrifying.

“SARAH!”

It kind of looks like they’re either hiding their faces or covering their noses? I don’t know maybe it was from some tactic to get away from Ward.

What did I literally jsut say about yelling privileges, you unhinged mother fucker?

“I’m calling the shots now. I’m driving.”

The following progression of scenes made me actually snort-

“I can’t drive stick.”

PLEASE THE FINGER GUNS LAUNCHED ME INTO ORBIT I LOVE THEM, YOUR HONOR.

Alright, so now it looks like we’re in Charleston. This is the same scene with Heyward’s truck that got leaked from BTS (read: JJ and Kie shoulder touch).

One of the main things that stuck out to me in the following scenes which, you will see, is it lowkey looks like Pope is kind of heading up this part of the operation, or even going in alone? The following clips are just very Pope focused. 

I don’t know what it means, it’s just an observation.

“John B was not the only one that Ward double-crossed.”

LIMBRY-

Bro, we have been hearing about this woman for literal months and I just have....so many questions? 

Who the hell is she? How is she connected to Ward? Why is she in South Carolina instead of the OBX? How do the Pogues even learn about her and how to track her down? How is she meant to “help” them? GAH I JUST WANNA KNOOOW. I already know I don’t trust her though and no I will not be offering up supporting evidence.

Sir, that is my son please unhand him.

“I think you know what I want.”

.......no? But feel....free to explain yourself?

The print on the paper is the same one that’s on the ceiling tiles in the following scene. Obviously, with a key on it that most likely goes to the place a few shots from now.

Hell yeah, son, let’s get SLEUTHING.

“The treasure belongs to the Pogues.”

DAMN STRAIGHT.

Bestie’s I’m not going to lie, I stared at this frame for a solid 10 minuets and I have no idea what it says on there I’m sorry. Someone in the comments is welcome to enlighten us.

“We gotta find it first.”

I can’t tell if that’s just dirt or if he hurt his head? But he look GOOD right now for one thing. For another, same outfit as the one in the Twinkie from the beginning of the trailer.

Look at her. LooK AT HER! LOOK! AT! HER! I MISSED HER SO MUCH even in that damn smiley face top that continues to haunt my waking hours she is in it so much and it stresses me out for literally no good reason I’m sorry-

I could literally cry right now and I think that speaks volumes to how little we actually see him genuinely happy. Have I mentioned how much I love that red hat?

Also, probably not that important, but this is not from the same scene as the shots of Pope and Kiara were. This is from the next one-

“Woogity-woogity?”

“Give me some woogity, baby!”

Yeah, this pushed me over the fucking edge, the way that they’re actually happy and laughing? The fact that they kept woogity-woogity and made it A Thing? Yes.

I am, however, going to be intentionally ignoring what appears to be the very intentional stagingof having such an obvious space between where Kiara and Pope are sitting adn where JJ sits, even including the level they’re sitting on because I don’t have the emotional capacity to face those implications right now. Thank you for your time.

Yes yeeeeEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

GIVE ME ALL OF THE SCENES OF THEM ACTUALLY GETTING TO BE TEENAGERS AND JUST BREATHE AND LAUGH AND HAVE A GOOD TIME AND NOT BE RUNNING FOR THEIR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!

before Rafe comes in and literally starts shooting because they can’t breathe for more than 7 seconds but we’ll....get to that.

They refer to Sarah as a Pogue this season or I burn Netflix to the ground. Your move, Jonas.

50 bucks says John B is driving the Twinkie again for the first time since being back.

I deadass think the Pogues JUST got Sarah and John B back and they’re just having the time of their life. Kie was in her smiley face outfit when Pope was in this one a few clips ago, and I still hold to the belief that that one still they released of JJ and Kie hopping over a fence is the Pogue reunion so-

Ward? I have no idea what he’s looking at behind the wall paper and I’ll be so honest I don’t care my eyes are only seeing Pogue content right now.

“This is a map of the whole island.”

This fit, when will John B learn how to operate buttons, stay tuned for season 5. Also my previous theory of this being their reunion outfits and stuff because Pope is in the back in the same jacket as before.

The plot thickens and so has JJ’s hair, Rudy drop the shampoo brand.

Please, dear God, tell me they’re back in the sex church. For @jiaaraa sake.

Kiara, your Madison is showing.

Okay, I really did try but all I can make out is Something to the tomb begin something something.

You’re welcome.

I am no expert but I do not believe boats operate on land.

John B looks like he is in the same outfit here that is in his mug shot we saw on the TV screen so I have a sneaking suspicion this is where he gets caught. 

“John B is back-”

Once again with the damn sexual tension that’s always between Barry and Rafe in every scene they do are we about to kiss right now?

“-it’s him or me.”

First of all, no.

Second of all, I’m just....so very confused about this time line this season. It kind of looks like Ward and Rafe follow and find Sarah and John B in Nassau (unless those scenes by the truck were actually back in the OBX). So did they....go to Nassau, then just come right back when they did? I’m just confused.

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me.

Literally when will you stop at this point I am begging you. 

This looks like the same scene the Pogues were, ya know, literally just having a good time at so fuck me, I guess.

Yeah, no, it’s going to be a no from me, I’m just going to pretend like I’m not seeing this and moving on.

I have simply no idea what is going on here or who that is on the bike but maybe JJ? Maybe Luke even? I think that’s JJ’s bike. 

The sewer scene. The SEWER SCENE-

For months sicne that tiktok leaked this damn scene has been genuinely all I could think about. So (obviously) it seems like they’re sending Kie down into the sewer to go do seomthing and things go horribly, horribly wrong. 

If you haven’t seen the tiktok, essentially all it was was JJ and Pope screaming and trying to lift up the man hole cover while Kie is begging for them to hurry from inside. I’m cheating a little bit as this isn’t a shot from the trailer but this picture was posted and it’s from the same scene.

I’ll just....leave this here. Back to the trailer shots.

Nice. Also, same shirt as mugshot.

Hey, um, what? 

Kiara’s car, she’s driving, I can’t tell who’s in the back seat or the front.

Holy God what is going on and how can I as an audience member put a stop to it?

So, same scene as we will see and was in the teaser but, for some reason, they’re all jumping off of a giant ass boat into the little life raft where it looks like JJ gets hurt later but don’t you worry we’re getting to that.

JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE THEY BOTH LOOK SO DAMN GOOD AND THEIR LITTLE SMILES SPARE ME-

Cleo 🥵

I’m so excited to see her arc and what it brings this season you guys have no idea.

Please for the love of God be about to get Ward Cameron’s ass like he deserves literally punt him into jail right from Tanny Hill.

Sarah at My Druther’s with what looks like a bloody bandage on her side? Same outfit she’s wearing when they’re running from the police on the beach and she has the bandage there too so. Interesting. 

Topper hugging who I’m pretty sure is Sarah, being a general douche because he’s clearly looking at John B like 😏 

Clips like these serve to remind me just how many of my worldly posessions I would gladly give up to be able to punch Topper Thorton in the throat one time. 

I think this is Cleo jumping off the boat with Pope after John B and Sarah. 

Absolutely busting a lung at Pope’s form in this one.

John B and Sarah waiting in the life raft, still Cleo and Pope coming after them. The obvious next question is where are JJ and Kiara. The scene I’m sure you all have been waiting for is coming up and clearly takes place in the life raft as well.

So, I really think JJ and Kie get left for last, something horrible happens as they’re trying to jump (my head instantly goes to JJ maybe like pushing Kie out of the way and getting hit on the head instead or even just some accident). 

And, oh my GOD a scene of him falling off the boat after it happens and Kiara diving in after him immediately, having to desperatly try to stop him from sinkingand get to the life raft holy shit-

Girl CATCH HIM?????

Because why wouldn’t this be Rafe’s fault. Part of me wonders if this isn’t related to JJ being hurt.

I am going to try and unpack this as calmly as possible because behind my computer screen I am vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass but respectfully.

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS TIAUEWFHLAILA

Okay, so scene wise, JJ’s hit his head somehow (probably while he was jumping with Kiara) it looks like and now they’re back on the raft. 

In my opinion, this is either:

A) JJ is in really, really bad condition after getting hurt in the jump and they’re not sure he’s going to make it. So this is a “Please stay with me, stay awake, please don’t die” hug OR

B) They very narrowly just avoided a deadly situation (my first thought is JJ hits his head while jumping, passes out in the water, maybe almost drowns but Kie and the others get him onto the life raft in time) and this is more of a “Oh my God, you’re okay, you’re safe now, we’re okay” hug. 

I honestly lean more to the second one based on the little bit of Sarah’s face we saw in the background. To me, it almost looked like she was smiling thru tears, which, fits way more with the second option than the first. 

Anyways. Moving on before I burst a lung again.

(also, before anyone comes at me, no, I’m not happy JJ is hurt, obviously.  

(Once again, arrest outfits). You can still see the bandage but it looks like Sarah’s limping now too so...good Lord give the girl a break maybe?

Everything in this trailer just went to shit so fast I think I have whip lash, can we go back to the Pogues hanging out and being happy now pkease I liked those scenes.

“I get it. You guys are scared.”

“No.”

She’s cute but, uh, hello sewer scene outfits. Seems like them planning to do whatever the hell they were going to do in the sewers but the boys are starting to get cold feet as maybe they should but hind sight is 20/20 I suppose.

“It’s kind of cute.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You should’ve just led with that.”

I will never be able to express how much I adore Pogue banter and general dumbassery and I have a feeling this season will not be lacking in either department

I high key don’t think these two are actually going to be there for this scene to go down but I’ll let it slide this time because-

They do be kinda cute.

It both feels like I’ve been waiting for this damn show for 3 years and also like I just watched season 1 last month explain that to me. 

Either way holy shit. I missed this dumb show and these dumb kids so much it physcially hurts and WE GET THEM BACK IN T-MINUS 16 DAYS.

Also. Where The Hell Is Wheezie Cameron And When Will She Have The Rights She Deserves.

[ptergwen]

4 times peter loved you and 1 time he said it

warnings: angst, swearing, and flash being a dickwad (love him tho)

a/n: i wasn’t sure if i would ever finish this bc i started in march? and gave up but i really like the concept so i made myself get back into it and AHH i’m really happy with how it turned out! fingers crossed y’all like too ahaha. also this is unrelated but send me requests!

-

to say you and peter were each other’s missing halves would be an absolute understatement. there wasn’t a secret you didn’t share, an inside joke you didn’t have, a text or call left unanswered, or a second you weren’t on the other’s mind.

it had been like that since your first day of freshman year. you took the seat next to peter in first period spanish, and the rest was history.

peter knew you better than you knew yourself. as cheesy as it sounded, it was true. he could guess what you were going to order at a restaurant before you picked up the menu. if you had a bad day, he’d come over to your place with tissues and hugs, without you having to ask. he knew all the little things.

you? you were a peter parker encyclopedia. you watched all his favorite movies so he could rant to you about them, and you’d actually understand what he was saying. whenever he felt overwhelmed by his chaotic life, you found a way to calm him.

you two were soulmates in best friend form.

best friends, nothing more.

♡ 1.

you had an arm around peter’s neck as you picked at some fruit on his lunch tray. his head was resting comfortably against your cheek, whole body leaning on you. impromtu cuddle sessions weren’t unusual for the two of you. they worked in both of your favors. peter was your own personal heater, and you were just really comfortable to nap on, in his opinion.

“are you gonna eat all my grapes? i was looking forward to those,” peter whined, taking one out of your hand. “are you gonna keep using me as a pillow?” you challenged. he responded by moving his head to your shoulder and chewing. “then, yes. i am gonna eat all your grapes.”

“you know what two people who share food are?” ned chimed in from across the cafeteria table. already knowing what he was implying, you sighed. “what, ned?” he cupped his hand over his mouth like he was about to spill the world’s biggest secret. “a couple.”

it wouldn’t be a regular day without ned trying to play matchmaker for you and peter. the idea made peter scoff. “leave us alone, man. that doesn’t even make sense.” “yes it does!” ned nudged mj for backup. she only raised her hands in defense. it was always a hard pass from her on getting involved in these types of things, unless she found a reason to.

“really? how?” you grabbed peter’s milk and took a sip just for the hell of it. he chuckled at that, forgetting he was supposed to be annoyed with you. a bit of milk dripped down your chin in the process. “oops,” you grimaced at yourself and licked it away.

something about the whole thing made peter’s heart clench. it was so... you were so... cute. cute was definitely the word he was looking for. wait, what? that was new. peter had always thought you were pretty and all, but he’d never found himself endeared like this over such a little thing you did. or had he? no. nope. it was ned’s stupid theory messing with him. that was all.

“y/n, dude, everyone knows it’s a thing. like, why else would someone give up their whole lunch? it’s flirting,” ned interrupted peter’s sudden thoughts about your cuteness. the smug look on his face made you want to throw the tray at him.

before you even joined their friend group, ned was on a mission to set the two of you up. peter described you to him and mj as “the actual sweetest girl ever. she makes me laugh a lot. you guys gotta meet her.” mj obviously ‘tsked’ at him, but a light bulb went off in ned’s head. peter was crushing. he just didn’t know it yet.

part of how you and peter got so close was that ned and mj used to back out of group plans. you’d end up hanging out alone most of the time. of course, it was ned’s idea. a successful idea, yes, but neither of you understood the obsession. apparently it was a guy in the chair’s duty to be a good wingman, and you should leave it to him. whatever that meant.

“if i remember correctly, you and your mom went halfsies on a piece of cake at your birthday party last year. what are you trying to tell us, leeds?” mj asked with a smirk. you and peter looked at each other and burst into laughter, ned’s mouth hanging open. the girl could really get someone when she wanted to.

“shut up, you guys! that’s different!” “so is y/n stealing my food and you calling it sharing,” peter made a point of saying more to you than ned. despite his words, he pushed the tray over to you. it was basically yours, anyway.

you thanked him with a pat on his cheek and popped more grapes into your mouth. in that moment, peter decided he’d get you all the grapes in the world if he could. jeez, he seriously needed to reel it in.

ned was only going to keep going now. “see that? peter’s such a sweet boyfriend. isn’t he, y/n?” he cooed and clasped his hands under his chin. you didn’t have the chance to change the topic before flash appeared at your table. he’d probably overheard your conversation. “penis parker is somebody’s boyfriend? good one.”

feeling peter tense up next to you, you put a hand on his shoulder to let him know you were there. you’d been in too many of these situations. the way flash talked to peter pissed you off in ways you didn’t think were possible. he was fine with everybody else, so why did he choose to pick on him? peter was the least deserving person of having to put up with it from anyone.

“just ignore him, okay? he’ll get bored and leave. works every time,” you reminded peter. too uneasy to say anything, he reached back and put his hand on top of yours. he tried to focus on how nice your touch felt instead of the fact that he was about to be humiliated by flash yet again.

“peter could totally get a girlfriend! he has, like, tons of girls after him,” ned attempted to back peter up, pleased with himself. groaning, peter put his head down on the table. he couldn’t bare to watch his friend destroy what was left of his social life. “you’re really pushing this now. stop talking,” mj warned in a whisper yell to ned. that didn’t stop flash from hearing her.

“she’s right. even parker agrees! look at him,” he snickered at peter’s embarrassed state. you’d had more than enough of him at that point. screw the silence. it wasn’t going to cut it for this one. while wingman ned was still making up stories, you tapped peter’s shoulder to find out how he was doing. his head remained down.

“you okay? want me to say something?” “i’m used to it, and no. i don’t wanna make you deal with him.” peter hated putting his issues on other people, but you couldn’t stand another second of listening to the things flash was saying. you cut into an argument between him and ned about peter’s body count. like his was any higher.

“fuck off, flash!” he stopped in the middle of his sentence. “huh?” “i said fuck off. anyone would be so lucky to date peter. you’re probably salty at him all the time because it’ll never be you,” you finally snapped. his tough guy persona faltered for a few seconds at your words, ned and mj taking the opportunity to high five you for telling him off.

peter was glad his head was still down because his cheeks were pinker than he’d like to admit. did you really mean that? would you be lucky to date him, too?

“what are you, president of the parker protection squad? or are you two a thing?” flash quickly recovered. there he went trying to get the last word in. the embarrassment for peter if you denied it was exactly what he wanted, but you weren’t letting him have it.

“ask me again some other time.” you plastered on a shit-eating grin and waved goodbye. unsatisfied with your answer, flash huffed his way back to his own table. after he was gone, peter looked up at you with something you’d never seen before twinkling in his eyes.

“thank you, y/n. you really didn’t have to say all of that.” “oh, no. don’t thank me. i‘d do it for you anytime. i am president of the parker protection squad, after all.” your fake smile turned into a genuine one for him. peter couldn’t help but mirror it.

his was heart doing that thing again. he guessed it was because he loved you so much, but this love felt different somehow. it wasn’t the friend kind of love he’d had for you all those years.

it was the kind of love he saw in the rom coms you made him watch when you got to pick for movie night. cupid’s love was the official name for it. when he put two and two together, the realization smacked him straight in the face. ned was right.

peter was starting to fall in love with you, and there was no way he could stop.

♡ 2.

peter was a workaholic. patrolaholic to be exact, especially when he had a reason. he’d sometimes find himself in a cycle of getting home late and going out early for days on end. he’d gotten used to the sleep deprivation. his grumbling stomach from missing meals wasn’t too big of a deal either. not when he had a city to save.

it was also a good distraction from everything else going on in his life. man, did he need a distraction. after peter came to terms with the fact that he loved loved his best friend, he narrowed it down to two options; telling you about his feelings or taking them to his grave. since the city was so busy, he was thankful he could throw himself into patrolling and not decide just yet.

may would usually only allow peter to patrol on weekends. school existed, and he had to take breaks. peter really wanted to help out more, so he proposed an idea that could potentially let him up it to the full seven days. he had to make it home in one piece every night for a trial week. that would prove to may he could handle it.

ignoring his black eye on tuesday and limp on thursday, it worked out. peter was positive he could finish off the week just fine. may didn’t have the same optimism. she decided that so much as a scratch on friday and it was strike three. friday came, and peter had impressively managed to end the day, like he thought, just fine.

he did one last swing around the neighborhood he was in, then started heading back to queens to gloat to may. on his way, he remembered he had to text you goodnight. he was bound by a pinky swear to you that he would do it every time he finished patrolling.

peter being spider-man was something you figured out only a few months after he got his powers. he technically exposed himself, and you pieced everything together. it all happened when spider-man offered to walk you home from school one day.

the way he rubbed the back of his neck while asking was a nervous habit that was oddly familiar, and urged you to say yes. you also thought it was strange how even though he didn’t ask for your address, he somehow knew where he was taking you. then again, he was spider-man. it was his job to know new york city and the people living in it.

you came to the conclusion you were making things up until he was about to leave. he walked you to the door of your apartment building and said, “stay safe, squirt.” nobody called you that besides peter. he came up with it because he had recently grown a few inches taller and could finally give you hell for being the short one.

needless to say, peter didn’t take off like he was intending to. he realized his slip up as soon as the nickname came out of his mouth. you brought him upstairs and had a long afternoon of questioning, explanations, and making promises.

peter typed out a message telling you he was fine and to go to sleep. as he was about to hit send, he swung too low and smacked his head right into a traffic light. that was what he got for texting while swinging. he could imagine mj giving him one of her famous safety lectures already, but that wasn’t first on his list of worries. he had a throbbing head and may’s third strike to deal with.

crap, may couldn’t know about this. she’d ban him from patrolling probably forever. going home was out of the question, but peter was in desperate need of an ice pack. there was already a bump forming from where the light hit him. his next choice would be to go to happy, only he couldn’t do that because he‘d tell may.

peter’s hands worked faster than his brain, and he started swinging over to your apartment. the overthinking began soon after. nobody wants to deal with a surprise appearance from their possibly concussed friend at 2 a.m. besides, what would he say? he’d barely seen you all week. it wasn’t fair to you, but it was too late to turn back.

peter landed on the sidewalk with an “oof” and crawled up the wall of your building. when he reached your window, he knocked in the same rhythm that he always did. no answer. he knocked louder. no answer again.

seeing as he had no other option, peter had to let himself in. he pushed on your window to see if it was unlocked. thank god it slid up then, but he made a mental note to remind you about keeping it locked another time. he climbed through the window with as little noise as possible so your family wouldn’t hear.

after navigating in the dark, peter pulled off his mask by the side of your bed. he instantly melted at the sight of you. your face was squished into your pillow, hair sprawled everywhere. you’d must have fallen asleep waiting for his text because you were holding your phone. peter was sure he’d never seen something so adorable.

he let himself stand there and watch the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. the bump on his head was no longer a priority. peter was utterly and completely entranced with you. god, why was he acting like this? oh, right. he was secretly in love with you.

before peter could help himself, he brushed some hair that had fallen into your eyes away with his fingers. you squirmed in your sleep, peter pulling his hand back. he was such an idiot sometimes. your eyes fluttered open and landed on him.

“peter? ‘s that you?” you squinted to see in the darkness of your room. he moved closer. your legs dangled over the bed as you slowly sat up. “yeah, it’s me. sorry to wake you.” he went to scratch his head out of nerves, but stopped when he remembered it really freaking hurt right there.

“‘s okay. i was hoping you’d come over soon. missed you all week.” you frowned at the red and blue clad boy in front of you. except for school, you hadn’t seen peter the past few days. “lots of crime to fight lately?” “missed you more, and yeah. been kicking lots of asses.” the awkwardness peter was imaging faded away when he plopped down next to you on your bed.

“how’s your eye doing? and the limp?” you turned his head towards you by his chin. he exhaled in relief. “getting better, i think. now that we’re talking about injuries...” the sleepiness was knocked out of you. you all but leapt to your feet and turned on the lamp by your bed. peter had a feeling you’d slightly freak.

“we’ve been making small talk and you’re hurt? what happened, peter?” “i-i sort of, um, i was texting you and swung into a traffic light.” “oh my god, where?” he pointed at his forehead with a weak smile. surely enough, there was a big bump. you gasped. “please don’t be mad at me.” “i’m not mad at you. just feel bad it was kinda my fault. do you think you have a concussion?”

you weren’t sure what to do beyond the mostly useless first aid videos they played in gym class. being an avenger, peter had had his share of experience with wounds. whenever he came to you hurt, he talked you through how to help him. the most you’d ever dealt with was a few particularly deep cuts. this was not the same.

“i‘m not sure. you could try that finger thing?” he suggested. you crouched down in front of him. “good idea. let’s do that.” as you waved your index finger back and forth and peter’s eyes followed it seemingly well, his mind was elsewhere. he was thinking about crawling into bed with you and sleeping in your arms.

“well, you passed or whatever they say. i’m pretty sure you don’t have a concussion. you’ll heal fast because of... you know.” you stood up and mimicked the way he shoots his webs. peter chuckled quietly. your thumb ran lightly over his bump, making him wince. “how bad does it feel?” “on a scale from one to ten it’s, like, a five and a half.”

although not what you wanted to hear, it was manageable. you hoped so, at least. “i’m gonna go get some stuff. change into comfortable clothes.” “yes, doctor y/n.” peter saluted you. you were happy to see he still felt up to joking around. biting your lip to hold back a smile, you made your way to the kitchen.

peter searched through the spare clothes he’d left here over the years. there were so many, you had to give him a drawer. he changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt, then sat back down criss cross on your bed.

you came in shortly after with a water bottle, two advil, and an ice pack wrapped in a towel. “i was kidding about the whole doctor thing, you know.” “too bad.” you handed him the advil and water. “take these. they’ll help until your magic healing powers kick in.” peter took the pills while you pressed the ice pack to his bump. he took it from you when he was finished.

“is that any better?” “much better. i’m all good. i should probably go soon.” he mumbled, not meaning it but also not wanting to overstay his welcome. you’d already done so much for him. you stopped him from getting up by putting a hand on his chest.

“what? you already changed, and i’m not sending you home to get killed by may. just stay.” “are you sure? i don’t wanna bother you anymore. it was annoying for me to come here so late in the first place.”

a frown set on your face. “peter, don’t you remember my promise?” there was a beat of silence while he thought about it. “that you’d help out with spidey stuff?” “however and whenever i can. i don’t know what made you think differently just now, but nothing’s gonna change that. doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night or early in the morning. i’m always here.”

only you could reassure him just like that. peter was really lucky to have you. really, really lucky.

“right. you’re right. sorry for... whatever that was.” “you apologize too much.” you poked his chest to punctuate your statement and switched the light off. “sorry for that, too,” he teased, wanting a reaction from you. “peter benjamin parker, just get in the bed.” “yes, ma’am.” that was enough before you changed your mind and threw him out.

you rolled to lay on the other side of peter. still pressing the ice pack to his head, he laid down next to you. it didn’t take long for both of you to be settled under the covers. “try not to bang into the wall or something,” you joked and pulled your comforter up to your chin.

peter puffed some air out of his cheeks, tugging more of it back. “you can’t be mean and hog the blanket.” “it’s my bed, so i actually can. i’ll hog everything.”

to prove your point, you moved over to peter until there was no room between you. both of you knew it was an excuse to cuddle. he wasn’t mad about it at all. peter opened an arm for you. you curled into his side, letting him hold you close. his whole body relaxed as you hugged him against you. “goodnight, spidey.” “night, squirt.”

♡ 3.

“what does that cloud look like to you?” you pointed up at the sky. peter’s eyes darted around as he tried to find exactly which one you were talking about. there were a lot of them, in his defense. you made a big circle with your finger around the cloud in question.

“the really curvy one. right there.” “kinda looks like a tiger. can we keep walking now?” peter tugged your arm linked in his in an attempt to move you from the spot you’d randomly stopped in. he made a whiny noise when you didn’t budge.

“i think it looks more like a horse, and no. why are you in such a rush?” furrowing your brows at him, you tightened your grip on his arm. “because some people don’t like cloud watching, grandma.” “i only asked you about one! i’m just... trying to get the most out of today.”

with college around the corner, you and peter both had a lot to do and a little bit of time to get it done. your only hangouts had become some shared extracurriculars and weekly study group with your other friends. trying to binge watch your shows together on facetime hadn’t been easy, for one thing. you fumbled to keep your phone up more than you payed attention.

on a more serious note, being apart sucked majorly. it was going to be this times a million when you would inevitably have to split up in a few months. thinking about it for too long usually made you cry.

peter was struggling in other ways. his more than a friend feelings for you were only getting stronger. having all that love and not being able to give it to you was hurting like hell, and he had to just pack everything up and act normal during the rare moments you were together. you were both going through it.

this was the first sunday in what felt like forever that you and peter were both free. you decided that the nice weather called for a meetup at central park. so, there you were, arm in arm on your afternoon stroll.

“don’t say it like that, y/n. you’re making me sad.” peter let out a breath as you rested your head on his shoulder. “that was the point.” you started walking again, peter following next to you. he kicked at pebbles while you smiled up at him. that made him smile at his feet. you were getting really good at making him flustered.

“so, did you finish that pre calc packet?” peter asked to distract himself. you lifted your head off his shoulder with a groan. “peter, we’re not talking about school for once. let’s talk about literally anything else.” “like what?” you were about to make a suggestion, but something caught your attention.

you raced over to a swingset, dragging peter along with you before he could realize where you were taking him. you stopped in front of it and threw your hands up to present it to him. he let out a breathy laugh. “when was the last time you went on one of these?” you asked, taking peter’s arm again. peter shook his head. “way too long ago.”

with a smile, you walked him over and took a seat on one of the swings. peter sat on the one next to you. you spun around in a circle to see how much you could twist the chains, peter laughing. “y/n, what are you doing?” “having fun. you should try it sometime.” he backed up to get himself started and grabbed his own chains. “i do have fun. it’s just not in the ways you think.”

you untwisted yourself to watch peter. “so, how?” “well,” he started going higher, “i like learning about stuff, even the things we have to in school.” “everybody knows that. that’s the first thing i thought of.” you did know everything possible about him.

everything except his new feelings for you, but this wasn’t the time for him to blurt that out. he was still figuring out when or if he should.

“guess i’m not gonna say i like movies, either.” “singing?” you were swinging next to him, turning it into an unspoken competiton for who could get the highest. peter slowed down a bit since he’d had a head start. “i suck. the only person who’s allowed to hear me is you.”

“it’s possible to suck at something and still enjoy it.” the breeze blew your hair around, peter seeing it from the corner of his eye. he’d always loved how carefree you were around him. it rubbed off.

“remind me to force you to do karaoke one day.” “you’re so annoying.” that motivated you to kick off harder on the ground. peter huffed and tried to catch up to you. “don’t be mean to your only source of fun.” if that wasn’t true, he would’ve came up with a comeback.

the only time peter remembered to relax was when he was with you. it was usually because you reminded him. he skidded to a stop on the swing and looked up at you.

“why’d you let me win? was that too mean?” you looked over your shoulder. “nah, i just got tired.” “oh. we can do something else now. catch me?” “sure,” peter chuckled and got off the swing. he stood in front of you on the grass and waited for you to get lower. you clenched your teeth into a nervous smile.

“ready?” “ready.” swinging towards him, you jumped off and expected to land in his arms. you ended up completely on top of him instead.

the wind was knocked out of both of you, but peter had it worse because he broke your fall. your hands were on his shoulders and one of his was around your lower back. neither of you realized the position you were in. you were too busy trying to breathe again.

“god, that hurt.” “my bad,” peter mumbled. in any other circumstance, he wouldn’t be complaining about this. “i should’ve warned you or something,” you dismissed him.

you were still hovering over peter, your lips dangerously close to his. he could’ve sworn they almost touched. that was when you got off of him. he only forced out a laugh. nothing ever went his way. you offered him a hand, oblivious to his inner conflict. peter took it and pulled himself up, falling into step next to you as you headed to another path.

that could’ve been a chance to make some sort of move, and he blew it.

♡ 4.

it hadn’t been easy for peter to move on from that day. his mind kept replaying the split second you almost kissed on an endless loop, and all he could do was come up with what he should’ve done in the moment.

things were getting to a point where he had no clue how to act around you. being your friend was hard, but becoming your boyfriend would be that much harder. his stupid feelings put him in an awkward place, and he was afraid you were starting to realize. he couldn’t lose you altogether.

you asked peter to meet you for coffee after school. it was this small place in between your apartments you’d both been to once before. they had really good cookies and an overall cozy feeling you liked. peter wasn’t sure what this was all about.

were you going to confront him? did ned say something? maybe it was a mistake to confide in his most gossipy friend about how he felt.

with a headache from stress and a heavy backpack hanging off his shoulders, peter walked into the café. he spotted you at a table near the window. you’d already taken the liberty of ordering, two drinks and a chocolate chip cookie waiting there. you looked up from your phone when peter pulled a chair out.

“hi.” you gave him a small smile and put your phone down. “i already got everything.” peter shrugged off his backpack with a grin. he sat down facing you. “thanks. sorry i’m kinda late. i had to stop at my locker.” you usually met him there. come to think of it, why hadn’t you today? you pushed peter’s drink over to him. “you’re fine. i came here early to get us a table, anyway.” phew.

peter bent the straw to his iced macchiato and took a sip. it made him feel grown up, casually drinking coffee with you over a boring conversation. adult life must’ve sucked. “so, how was the rest of your day?” he asked to fill the silence. you only had two classes without him after lunch, so that was a dumb question. he’d never had so much trouble talking to you.

“eh. betty fell asleep on me during this cold war documentary we had to watch.” “didn’t she say american history is her favorite?” you broke off a piece of the cookie with a laugh. “not after that. what about your day?” the light from the window was shining directly on you, blocking out everything else from peter’s view. he wanted to tell you how beautiful you were so bad, but that would be creepy.

you took a bite of your cookie and raised an eyebrow. he was staring. “uh, nothing interesting. i’m gonna patrol a little bit later.” peter sipped his drink again. you clicked your tongue and let out a breath. “that’s all you do these days.” he knew you were catching on to how off he’d been. what was he supposed to say? it would’ve helped if he’d prepared a few excuses.

“just trying to help out while i’m still here.” that was a half truth. “yeah, but you should still take some time for yourself.” you ripped open your straw wrapper and blew it at peter. he caught it just before it hit his face. rolling your eyes, you put the straw into your drink. “i hate your reflexes sometimes.” he shrugged one of his shoulders casually. “jealousy is a disease.”

neither of you said anything for a few minutes. you stared out the window while peter finished the rest of the cookie. he could tell something was on your mind. whenever you were deep in your thoughts, you sort of zoned out like this.

he was too nervous to ask you what was wrong because of the conversation you just had. it sounded like you had already considered he was being distant before today. his feelings aside, he needed to reassure you. that was more important.

“y/n?” you turned your head to look at him. “yeah?” peter’s gaze shifted from you to his thumbs twiddling in his lap. “i know we’ve both been really... busy lately, but i’m still here. don’t forget that.” a hint of a smile played on your lips. you would’ve hugged him if you could reach. “thank you, peter. i kinda needed to hear that.” he nudged your leg under the table. “of course. hey, you wanna come with me tonight?”

a couple of hours later, you were in peter’s arms on a rooftop that was much higher up than it looked. he insisted on taking you for a swing so you could get the full experience. he’d been trying to get you to do this for the longest time, so he wondered what made you agree today. you wanted to find out what was so enjoyable about it.

“i trust you, but you’re not gonna drop me, right?” your legs were around his waist, and he had one hand supporting you by your back. that wasn’t terrifying at all. you grabbed peter’s shoulders, the idea of it making you nervous. he wrapped his arm tighter around you.

“oh my god, no. i can always web you back up.” “peter! that’s not funny.” even behind the mask, you could tell he was smirking. “you’re always safe with me, squirt. don’t worry.” you brought your arms up to loop around his neck.

“i feel better now.” “good. i’m gonna jump when we get to the edge, okay?“ your whole body stiffened up. peter could sense it. as excited as he was to share this with you, he didn’t want to make you feel pressured. “or we don’t have to do it.” his voice was quiet. you tried to relax in his hold. “i’m just gonna close my eyes. i think that’ll help.” “we’re about to find out.”

peter started walking towards the edge of the building with you holding on even tighter to him, your eyes squeezed shut. he kept finding himself in situations where he was close to you in the ways he’d been wishing for, but never for the same reasons. it was bittersweet.

he bit down on his lip and aimed his free hand at a building. you squealed when he leaned back. “i’m jumping now,” he prepared you, and before you could respond, you were in the air. you hid your face in peter’s chest the second you felt yourself pretty much flying.

“what the fuck, you like this?” you had to yell so he could hear you. peter shot another web to keep swinging. “it’s really not that bad! try looking up!” he shouted back, clearly amused.

grip tightening around his neck, you slowly pulled your face away from him. he kept you close as he swung. you somehow convinced yourself you weren’t going to die by looking at something besides peter. your eyes landed on the sky behind his head.

the sun was almost completely set, deep pink and orange merging together against the glowing lights of the city. you were finally understanding why he liked this so much. it was beautiful.

peter peeked at you for a second to check on you. he swore his heart was going to explode out of his chest. the look of adoration on your face, it was even better than the view. it was the view. the little moments where peter got to see you this way made him realize how in love with you he really was.

“this is... wow. i get it now,” you laughed in disbelief, watching as the city whirled past you. peter smiled so big it hurt. “pretty awesome, huh?” one of your hands slid back down to his shoulder. “take me with you more often.”

♡ 5.

peter licked his lips out of habit as he held the door open for may, who was following behind him with a look of pride. he was about to graduate high school. the ceremony was being held in a really nice stadium-like place. trying to find it added minutes on to the parker tradition of being late to everything important.

peter wasn’t as concerned with his tardiness as he was with finding you.

while he tossed and turned in bed the night before, he went over his whole school year in his head. that meant little things and big things. he was starting to drift off until he remembered a conversation with ned a few weeks back. they decided on a deadline for peter to tell you about his feelings, and it was before graduation.

they chose it because if peter got rejected, he’d be over it by the time college started. that was the goal.

it wasn’t that peter had changed his mind. it was that he completely forgot. he didn’t have a solid plan for what he should do. these things needed to be decided way in advance. he ended up pulling something together last minute because it was you. plus, this extra pressure gave him the push to go through with it. somewhere between steps seven and eight, he passed out.

may rushed him to get ready because he’d slept past his alarm. the whole morning was a mess, and he had at most fifteen minutes to confess his love to you by the time he got there.

“you should go make sure you’re marked here. i’ll see you after. love you.” may pressed a kiss to his cheek and half-jogged to the auditorium for a seat. he squeezed her arm and headed off to check in. your whole grade was already lined up along the walls for what looked like miles. the deal was to tell you before graduation. he still had about ten minutes.

peter walked past hundreds of students with his heartbeat thumping in his ears. everyone was in alphabetical order, so it didn’t take too long to find you. relief washed over you when you saw peter. you were worried he wouldn’t show up at all. his cap was in his hand, hair getting tangled from running his fingers through it. he looked at you with pleading eyes.

“finally, i’ve been trying to call you all morning. where were you?” your tone was dripping with concern. “i overslept. there’s something i gotta tell you, y/n.” he gulped. you smiled in a way that was kind of pitying. “we’re about to start going inside. i- you have to wait, pete. go get lined up.”

this wasn’t how it was going to end. not again.

he looked around to see who was watching, then he grabbed your wrist. “peter, what are you-“ “just come with me really quick.” despite yourself, you let him lead you down the hallway. you dodged a couple of teachers having a conversation and went into a bathroom that was vacant by some chance. he let go of you after the door shut. you stood behind it while he walked over to a sink.

it was making you anxious to not be out there. you could be late. peter was the same way when it came to school, so you knew this had to be pretty serious. you gave up the battle with yourself and made your way over to him. he was looking at himself in the mirror, trying to get a stray curl back in place.

“let me help.” you stood next to him. he turned to face you, that same look of urgency still in his eyes. you used two fingers to brush through his hair. there was so much gel that it was wet enough to mess with. you smiled a bit and took your hand out of his hair. his hand was gripping the sink.

“you look good, pete. you smell good, too.” “so do you.” his voice was lower than usual. you flattened out the material of your blue gown. “thanks. so, talk to me. what’s up?”

the question was so simple, but way too many answers were running through peter’s brain. he wasn’t even sure he’d have enough time to explain everything now. this was why he needed a written out and carefully crafted plan.

but, like he said to himself last night, this was you. his best friend in the entire world and any other that might exist. the person who’s been there for his most embarrassing moments, and who’s been responsible for some of his best ones. if he couldn’t finally say the three words he’d said to you so many times before, what was the point?

his fingers drummed a steady rhythm while he mustered up the last remaining bit of courage in him. you watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. “just, um...” he was stalling. he pulled his hand off the sink. “i... love you.” peter only glanced at you for a second, too afraid to see your reaction. “i love you, too. is everything okay?” his heart sank. you thought he meant it in the friend way.

that was what he got for being so terrible with words.

“no, y/n. not like that.” he blurted. you were lost. peter pressed his back against the wall and sat down. confused and equally worried, you sat next to him on the floor. “then what do you mean? you’re scaring me.” he checked the watch may made him wear to see how much time was left before graduation. four minutes. he really should’ve woken up on time.

“we have to get back in line soon. i don’t wanna miss-“ “i love you, y/n. i’m in love with you.” a weight that had been on peter’s chest for months was lifted just by saying it. you squinted your eyes at him, but said nothing.

“i’ve been trying to tell you for a while, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. i just had to say it.” “fuck, are you serious?” you sounded what peter could only describe as disappointed. yeah, it was unrequited. here came a summer of crying. “i was gonna tell you first.”

peter’s breath hitched in his throat, and he swore you could hear it. he was so sleep deprived that it felt like he was hallucinating. you shook your head as heat came to your cheeks.

“how long have you...” peter trailed off, an eye crinkling smile interrupting him. “that day we went for coffee. something clicked, so i thought for a while and figured it out. i think i’ve loved you for a really long time.”

you inched closer to peter, just barely resting your head on his shoulder. for once, you felt like the shy one. he put his hand on top of yours. his thumb traced over each of your fingers. “i’d ask you out, but you know. we don’t really have time.”

“peter, it won’t take that long.” you giggled. he squeezed your hand in his. “hm. y/n, would you wanna go out with me after this?” you thought about teasing him for it, but he was right. you had to go. that was the friend still in you. “i’d love to go out with you, peter.”

with that, you both jumped to your feet and ran out of the bathroom. you were still holding hands, and a few classmates made faces when you rushed past them to get to your spots. you exchanged one last smile with peter before lining up.

the person in front of you said everybody was looking for you two. honestly, you didn’t care all that much. you were too excited for your date later. peter already knew he’d be checking his watch throughout the whole ceremony.

it was a best friend and soulmate thing.

[palbabor-writes]

KDJDJSLSKS OK SO- ik it’s widely accepted for Tomura to be kind of an asshole to y/n, but what if 😌 he had the kinda “asshole to the world but never to your girl” thing going on? 😌😌😌😌 I live, I love 🥰

Hey, hi, hey ✨

So, I pretty much exclusively write Tomura with that idea in mind. For me, it’s just a...if I can say this, a canon compliant concept.

Moar under the cutttt + spoilers for post Overhaul arc & MVA arc.

You opened a can of worms nonnie. I’m going to answer the ask, but imma hop on my soap box first ✨

Tomura I would argue, is less of an asshole and more of a sassafras. He is snarky, snarky & I love his attitude.

I feel like early Tomura is the main font of this “asshole” misconception within the fandom. Horikoshi wrote him very differently in the beginning of BNHA. Pretty much everyone who met him called Tomura a “man child.” And he kinda is. He’s impatient and short tempered, but not once did he react to these slights with what I would classify as asshole behavior. Even when his life is threatened, he’s being a little sassy boi.

He’s annoyed in these panels. But he’s not like, hey, you fucking dick, get off my nuts before I kill you. If anything, he elaborates on his thoughts and is challenging Stain to pick up the crappy pieces of his own shoddy “theories.” To Tomura, killing heroes is only breeding MORE heroes. He feels Stain’s plan is flawed & he tells him so.

Tomura is also easily able to slip into different roles. He can fit in with others and make himself part of the crowd. He’s got mountains of self control. When he spies Izuku in the mall he doesn’t come at him with some angry outburst, instead he reverts to snark:

Look at his voice bubbles! They’re a little wavy, but they’re nothing like his usual bubbles. This man can modulate and control how he sounds. He’s going for something open and friendly, albeit, his general demeanor is creepy, but he still manages to get close to Izuku and catch him off guard.

This is the worst outburst we see from Tomura. He’s not spewing vitriol or degrading dialogue, if anything, he’s controlling himself. He’s not wanting to kill these guys anymore and he’s scratching out some space for himself. He needs time to process. He’s a little rude, I guess, but who hasn’t told someone to shut up? It’s a normal piece of conversation when you’re annoyed.

But ken, what about asshole behavior that is visible in the manga? I gotchu, don’t worry.

This guy? Dabi? Yeah, this guy is an example of an asshole. He’s abrasive and confrontational from the GET. Tomura only responses to his aggression, he doesn’t project his frustration until after Dabi has called him fucking GROSS. You talk a lotta shit when you look like THAT king. Like, the morgue called, and they want their burn victim BACK.

Again, Tomura is snarky, but he only calls Toga a freak after she spouts some nonsense about loving Stain so much she wants to kill him. These people are wild and he is not pleased. His ad in the paper asked for COMPETENT villains, not teens, tweens and anything in between.  

Plus, Mr. 3rd Degree Burns keeps ignoring his questions. I’d be peeved too, y’all.

Dabi is the asshole in the LOV. He goes out of his way to be nasty, especially to Spinner:

How does Tomura deal with Spinner? He treats him as an equal, even asks his opinion on battle strategy when they are in Deika City.

Tomura has changed a toooon over the course of this manga. Horikoshi has deepened his growth and created a very well rounded and complex character. He cares about his people and he hates being disrespected. Hell, he hates when his people are taken advantage of.

This man, if you are on his side, will fight for you.

So, I don’t write him as an asshole. To me, that is fanon and not canon. Now writing him as blunt, snarky and impatient? Sure. Because, to me, he IS all those things and we can see him being all those things.

ANYWAY. If you made it this far, here is the Drabble:

“They haven’t checked in for two days. Should I call them? I told Toga she needed to-“

“Don’t bother. If it exposes our hand, then this whole mission is a waste.”

“But if they-“

“Why do I need to repeat myself? Like I said, if our plan is revealed then Mange’s death, and your fucking arm, were sacrificed for no reason. Don’t call them, Compress.”

You’re perched on the edge of a large box, watching the tense exchange. Tomura has been quiet the last few days, even keeping you at an arms length. He’s upset, and he’s been brittle, jagged in his recent conversations and movements.

Compress tosses you a quick glance and shrugs, his light brown eyes darkening. “All right, I suppose we can go off of the old saying that: no news, is good news. However, I am going to ask Toga to maintain regular check in’s the next time she calls.”

“Fine,” Tomura grunts, following Compress’ line of sight, his eyes lingering over your seated form. “Is that all?”

“Yes, yes,” Compress nods, his gloved hand waving in the air beside his head. “That’s all from me. I’ll check on the van. Giran said it would be available this afternoon.”

Tomura continues his silent observation of you, barely lifting his chin to acknowledge Compress’ statement.

“I’ll be back this afternoon,” Compress continues, letting out a soft chuckle as he turns on his heel, closing the heavy door behind him.

“You think they’re ok?” You ask, your voice soft.

Tomura removes Father from his face, his long white hair falling around his cheeks. “I told them I trusted in their abilities. It’s not sending the right message if I pester them for intel and their whereabouts every few days. Don’t you start up, too.”

You laugh and hop off the crate, your feet padding you over to him. “I’m not, it’s just...it’s so soon after...I mean, Mange’s death was...”

“Yes. Chisaki is an idiot if he thinks one lackey of his is equal to our Mange. This has to work.”

You lift a hand, pressing your fingers across his jaw, cupping his warm skin. Tomura leans into your touch, his vermilion eyes slipping behind his hooded eyelids.

“It will,” you confirm, pulling him down to your lips.

∩(・ω・)∩

Sorry for the lecture. It was a fun ask to answer! 

Bonus!

[daisys-gard3n]

Suzie Q Stan here again.

I’ll just add that I feel like that one thing Joseph liked about Suzie W was her looks and how easy going/funny she was but especially liked that she wasn’t a though woman. It’s canon he don’t care for anything in a woman Except their looks (he even said he’d let the girl Straizo held hostage be harmed because she was ugly (thinking that it was a reasonable way of thinking and that anyone would fall for it since it seems logical (it wasn’t)).

He said about Lisa Lisa (before knowing she was his mom) that he could never marry a woman like her because of her string character.

People on some thread said that Tomoko made more sense than Suzie because Tomoko was more similar to women in Joseph’s life (Erina, Lisa Lisa) aka strong temperament in comparison to Suzie who was more ditzy and care free.

My theory is that Joseph’s musty ass met Tomoko at some point, a pretty strong character student who might have said something sassy to him or flirt with him In a sassy/banter way (intriguing him and lowkey getting to him) and he started flirting with her because he wanted to win her like one win a fight. Since he don’t like strong temper in women but still think with his second head , he still went to woo her as in « See I still got it » to both her and himself.

Or perhaps it was as simple as a pretty college girl flirting and bantering with him and he had a fling.

Anyways I don’t buy in the one night stand because it’s clear Joseph had to spend time with her based on her reaction wether it was a week, a day or a couple hours hence he cheated on his own accord.

I really wanted to see Suzie’s inner thoughts, I doubt she forgave him only through the power of love.

Sidenote: I love Araki’s work but I wish he sometimes put a little more into the why X character do X things. Eg: Joseph’s unfaithful ass cheating. Dio’s determination to ruin Jonathan’s life and later trying to remake the world for himself (and also why this man was getting it with everybody under the sun, 4 children damn, I know condoms weren’t a thing in the 1800s but if the man had the time to learn about planes, cars and adapt with modern trends (piercing his ears) he had to know about wrapping it up.

Anyways, from Suzie Q’s POV pre-Josuke their love story is cute , you’re a young woman living life with your mentor then you met that tall, handsome, cocky , energetic guy then y’all get married and moves to America where he becomes a billionaire so you living lavish with y’all daughter.

Then it gets ugly cuz he cheated and had a whole child on you.

From a 3rd Party it’s even more tragic because he really had the audacity to adopt another child then have her raise her with him (imagine being in old age with no Hamon having to go through raising a kid all over again).

I don’t wanna hear Joseph’s POV because I know I’ll throw hands with my screen.

Anyways, sorry for the long rant , love your work (sorry for the spicy ask between really if it made you uncomfortable) . Joseph cheating really still get my blood worked up.

But anyways, keep doing what you do, you’re really talented.

The great thing about being individual people is that you can look at something and form your own opinions and everyone just respects one another's opinions (most of the time).

Like I said earlier, to have Tomoko acting like that when she confused Jotaro with Joseph, there must have been a whole relationship in between since she's normally a no-bullshit strong person. If Joseph flirted with her knowingly or she just got the wrong idea - we'll never know, we're not araki.

And when it was mentioned when Joseph came home with Shizuka - Suzi almost killed him thinking he had another affair he didn't tell her about, but was pretty accepting when Joseph wanted to adopted her with Suzi. Maybe Joseph was trying to use Shizuka as a way to fix the bond he had with Suzi while raising a child (because he's still soft for children - like he was for holly). I mean, that's still kinda horrible, but at least he still cared for Shizuka.

Maybe Araki might get inspired one day and make a light novel describing things from Suzi's or Joseph's perspective about Josuke and whatnot. But for now, we're just theorizing. Joseph is still an asshat for cheating, let's get that clear though.

- also your question for dio not wrapping it up - he's dio and he thinks he's too good for condoms. Maybe read 'Over Heaven' to get some more answers on Dio since it's pretty much his personal diary.

[that-wizard-oki]

theres something that morganthe said that's always confused me. In the final fight against her: "Face me in all my forms and despair." Why does she have other forms of Balance, Ice, and Storm? Is there an in-lore or headcanon reason or is it just... something the devs picked just to make the fight more of a challenge worthy of being arc 2's ending?

I don’t believe there a confirmed canon explanation for this, though (to absolutely no ones surprise) I do have a very good guess to what these multiple forms might be!

To start let’s take a quick look at the forms themselves

First you have Ice, depicted in a deep blue and star patterns, then Balance, which is mainly void of any color or pattern, Death in Grey and lunar symbols, an finally Storm is purple and clad with solar pattern. 

Which yea, at first glance- nothing particularly unusual stands out about this. Save for Balance, each “version” of Morganthe here is colored in accordance to their respective schools within the game, and... wait a minute though. Doesn’t this seem a little... familiar? 

Oh yea, now I remember-

Y’all, Morganthe’s Memories share the exact same color scheme as those “forms” we see in the Shadow Palace. This, in my opinion, can not just be some wild coincidence and definitely has place within the game’s Lore about Morganthe herself. 

If you’ve kept up with my theories (which if your reading this i assume you have lol), you know I’m very sold on the idea that Morganthe was put through the conversion table process, and was infused with shadow magic so that she could be puppetted and controlled by the one connected to the Shadows core- Old Cob himself. We’ve seen the dialogue that’s stated this a few times, so i won’t get into that here- however, that still begs a interesting question- HOW exactly does the “conversion” process work, especially for Morganthe?

I think it would be so fitting if Spider was actually able to alter/tamper Morganthe’s own memories to how he wanted her to act as Shadow Queen. He talks about how “reluctant” she was to continue working with the Arachna once she figured out they wanted to use her knowledge and ability with Shadow as a weapon. THIS was bad for Spider/The Arachna, because ultimately his plan was to use an outside force so great and terrible (shadow queen Morganthe) that it would eventually lead someone (the wizard) who he could more easily trick into freeing him and then beginning the events of Arc 3 since Morganthe ended up figuring out what his true intensions were. 

So instead of emotionally manipulating her into doing what he wanted (like how he was able to do with the wizard), the only option left was to control her more literally- aka, the conversion tables.

However, I think Morganthe was an especially different case from how we see the Mantises and other Arachna being infused. We See Old Cob simply unweave the shadow tacked onto them with the use of crystals if I’m not mistaken. With Morganthe though, this girl is a fucking wizard prodigy who re-discovered the inner workings of Shadow Magic. I Would imagine that Cob probably had to take a more desperate approach to making sure he had her under his thumb to get what he wanted. 

And, as we know, Shadow magic deals a lot with memories. I think that Spider was able to tamper with Morganthe most formative memories, cut out the parts that grounded her in reality (like her Memory in Avalon of wanting to resist what her brother was doing, and her displeasure over hurting people), and stitch in the parts that influenced rage and power (such as the hurt she felt over Ambrose banishing her) in order to create what we know as the Shadow Queen. 

So in sum, the “forms” we see in the Shadow Palace are Morganthe’s Memories, though they are the ones altered by Spider- that’s why they appear as the Shadow Queen does because he made them into his image. The things we see in Radiance Reborn could very well be the “true” memories, the untampered scraps that Spider had tossed because they were of no use to him.

Now, as for the Balance “version” we see- I think that’s a Forth memory in the progress of being formed. The Blue, Violet and Grey versions we see are obviously Morganthe memories (tampered or not), and they all stand ground in in what are definitely the most prominent events in Morganthe life- all up UNTIL she actually becomes Shadow Queen.

Despite being controlled by Spider, her own shadow still exists within her, and she can still create these physical forms out of her memories. I think that Balance one- the one devoid of any particular color or pattern- would eventually become the memory that signified her time as Shadow Queen, like the three memories we’ve seen before. 

The reason it might be depicted as balance is because the Memory has yet to concrete itself in something that represents the time that it symbolizes- the Blue Memory being Ice makes sense because Ice often symbolizes strength and foundation- The memory of Avalon is obviously set during Morganthe’s very early youth, where she was very impressionable. It could also attribute to her feelings of grief and loss- she might have wanted to remain “frozen” in a time before Malory's death.

Violet being Storm makes sense- Morganthe being banished, her wand/deck being taken from her, accidentally hurting her classmates, ending up homeless/an eventual pirate, and generally being scared of her powers than NO ONE seems to know hwo to help her control, probably leaves her with an extreme sense of anxiety and sadness, such easily represented by the power and energy of Storm Magic.

And then you have Grey, the memory that kicks off all the unspeakable stuff occurring for Morganthe in Khrysalis, and is obviously reprehensive of death magic. For me, I think this time, especially once she starts to refuse the Shadow Magi, is perhaps Morganthes lowest point. All she really wanted was to learn how to control astral magic, “find her true self”, and return home and prove she wasn’t some monster. But here she is, having been groomed and tricked by the Magi into re-discovering lost knowledge and wanting her to be their grand weapon in a war she wants no part in. Needles to say, this memory being rooted in Death fits. 

So then, what would the fourth forming memory be? For me, I think Fire. The most uncontrollable element, and one obviously linked with rage and destruction, I think fits the time in Morganthe’s life were she was the Shadow Queen- even if Spider was partly controlling her the entire time, it was still her. (Also, as shadow queen she’s clad in a deep, scarlet red color with her usual black robes... just sayn’ lol)

Speaking of, I actually wanted this memory to be a focal point if Morganthe ever gets a redemption arc. While I think she could more easily accept thosr first three memories/shadows as a part of herself, i’d expect her to actually repulse the idea that this... “Scarlet” memory/shadow belongs with her. The biggest reason for this is that, if she “accepts” this part of her life, she’ll ultimately have to remain with the reality of what was done to her, the Spider had control of her, that she DID hurt and kill so many people... that’s scary, and I think could speak to a lot of trauma victims in the same what Arc 3 speaks so clearly to those with broken or divorces families.

Anywho, i’m really starting to ramble here, but TL;DR: Morganthe’s different forms at the end of Arc 2 could very well be related to her memories we see in Radiance Reborn, and also allude to the idea that Old Cob, when Morganthe went through the conversion table process, may have tampered with those initial Memories/Shadows, and created memories that would help fuel Morganthe’s power as shadow queen. 

And yea, It’s very possible the devs simply picked Ice, Storm, Death, and Balance for game play purposes, and it doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but! What’s in the fun in that y’know? I think this, or something akin to it, is a lot more intriguing and gives a lot more depth to Morganthe’s character, as well as the story for Arc 2 :D

[caffiine]

A BRIEF PAUSE

From my regularly scheduled content. I’ve got some shit to say, y’all (forewarning for spicy language and spoilers)

I thought about making this post on my fandom subblog but this show and this relationship have been TOO important to me for the past 8 years to not give it its proper place in my life. strap in bc im not sure how long this mf is about to be.

When i started this DUMB show at age 19 tortured soul “empath” dark academia me thought sam winchester was going to be my favourite character. and don’t @ me, i love sam now in his own right (and we deserve some SAILEEN PEOPLE). but after literally less than 5 episodes i KNEW dean’s character and his arc were going to be amazing and beautiful and he immediately became my favourite brother. The nuances of his character i.e. his shell vs his true self were so evident to me even in the first couple seasons. in my humble opinion, he had the most growth of the two brothers.

They all deserve to be happy, but for whatever FUCKING reason dean has the HARDEST TIME OF ANYONE being happy in this show. I know it’s his character. I know it was written that way. But FFS.  I kept wondering when they were going to wrap up his emotional arc and stop torturing the poor dude.

then in season 4 they introduced castiel and 1) I thought the new concept of angels as assholes was super cool and 2) I hardcore SIMPED over misha collins (still do). I watched benignly as cas and dean began to form this relationship that seemed pretty special. I started watching the show when it was in its eighth season and I binged the shit out of it for two weeks until I was caught up. By the time I was caught up I was CERTAIN there were some feelings between them and I LOVED it. I am bisexual and I was ECSTATIC for a potential queer relationship between two masculine-portrayed dudes. I went on tumblr to express my newfound theory, only to find out that this was a real THING. “Destiel” was already an idea that had absolutely and intensely BLOSSOMED in the fandom  for several seasons already. So many others saw what I saw and saw the potential of emotionally tortured/constipated “daddy’s blunt instrument” dean and the unfeeling daddy’s boy cas “crack in his chassis” Winchester being allowed to be happy together. I felt validated and hopeful. For a while.

Then it was season after season of hopefulness for them to be finally happy with each other while still fighting the ills of their world with sam and the other new members of their family that were added along the way, only to constantly have that hope seemingly teased away at the end every single time. By season 11 and the introduction of amara (not bashing, eventually loved her character and her development too) I gave up. I lost hope. I stopped watching the show. I didn’t want to keep watching my two favourite characters continuously abused by the story they were thrown into.

I know not everyone likes destiel, not everyone thought it was real. That’s chill, idc. Stories are so often meant to be (and sometimes inadvertently) left up to interpretation by the person experiencing and consuming them. It’s what’s so amazing about books and shows and movies that are able to make us feel so intensely about them and their characters. And I felt SO strongly about dean and cas. It was honestly really upsetting to me, the way the show was going with their relationship.

A while later season 13 had been going on and I started seeing some things pop up on my dash. Hopeful things. I did a bit of research and accidentally saw THE SCENE from season 12 and I couldn’t help myself. I restarted it. I watched the whole thing from the beginning again AND introduced it to my boyfriend I think partially as a way to ensure I wasn’t imagining shit (it took him awhile and a lot of me internally screaming during many scenes but by season 9 he was like “uh are they in gay love”). Fast forward to me finally catching up as season 14 was starting. I was still hopeful, somehow. And it happened AGAIN. Season 14 and the beginnings of 15 made me so sad. I HATED what they did with their relationship. I HATED the way it ended. I HATED the way dean treated cas and everyone around him. It felt like the show was taking his whole character arc back to day 1. I didn’t understand. I kept watching for a couple episodes after the big argument and cas left but the luster was gone and eventually I just stopped.

I love this show. It has meant so much to me as a story. So many of the characters are/were very dear to me. I know it’s a running joke with this show about character deaths and homophobia but the strength of the bond I felt was between cas and dean gave me a lot of hope. But it wasn’t enough. I felt betrayed one too many times. And for those of you who kept watching, for whatever reason, I don’t hold it against you. It’s still a beautiful and interesting story without cas and dean’s relationship. But I just personally couldn’t do it anymore.

I hadn’t planned on watching the rest of season 15 when it came back after pandemic hiatus, at least not for awhile. So imagine my FUCKING surprise when I was doom scrolling through twitter during election week on Thursday and I see supernatural trending right along with election shit.

What.

I couldn’t stop myself, I looked and literally SCREAMED and made my boyfriend spill his wine all over our couch. I didn’t know exactly what happened as I hadn’t seen the episode but APPARENTLY all my emotions and feelings had been at least partially vindicated. So I BOUGHT season 15 so I could finish watching where I had left off. I watched 8 episodes in less than 24hrs (don’t judge me there’s a quarantine) and I LIKED them. And it might’ve been bc I knew what was about to happen in 15 x18 but I really felt like the show was getting STRONGER as it neared its finish.

I was so excited for 15x19. I read so many posts from fellow fans, destiel and antis alike. There really weren’t a lot of bad emotions running around. Everyone seemed hopeful and excited like me.

I probably don’t need to go over 15x19 emotions but im going to anyway. I was disappointed. I was confused. I was angry. we are in season 15. The last season ever for this show that has had a HUGE following of fans who have loved it, sometimes unconditionally, sometimes even though it wasn’t the best (and sometimes less than good). A season and show that had just announced YES. CAS LOVES DEAN. ITS REAL. And I shouldn’t have to go over the nuances of why we would expect more after this, with two episodes to go before the show is done forever.

But I will bc im mad af.

Like I said in the beginning. Dean’s character arc has been incredible. His emotional growth – as subtle as it might’ve seemed – has been amazing. And dean has always been an emotional, loving person. he just felt like he wasn’t because the world made him feel that way. And that’s sad, y’all. Dean deserves to realize he DESERVES happiness. And in 15x18, we were finally heading basically directly there. With destiel, yes, but even if you’re anti, what cas said to dean about who he is and why he loves him obviously struck a fucking chord with dean. It obviously changed the way he viewed himself (RE: “that’s not who I am, that’s not who we are”).

But for WHATEVER reason that’s ALL we got in 15x19. One fucking SENTENCE about dean realizing maybe he’s not just built to kill people. And then jack leaves without a single mention of Eileen or cas or Charlie or literally anyone they ever cared about and dean rode off into the sunset alone with his brother while we watched a fucking FIVE MINUTE MONTAGE that made me want to hurl my own body into the sun they were driving toward. And cas is STILL DEAD.

BUT THERE’S STILL ONE EPISODE LEFT AND FUCK ME IF I HAVENT BEEN PAINTING ON MY CLOWN MAKEUP ALL WEEK. SO WHAT DO I WANT????

ONE: DEAN DESERVES HAPPINESS. REAL HAPPINESS. What the FUCK supernatural??? Wasn’t this the whole point of his arc??? And don’t get me wrong I REALLY want that happiness to come from Cas and a real spoken relationship of some sort between them bc it also ties in with my second point but tbh just PLEASE let dean be happy. Dean is a loving person and does everything for love as we JUST FOUND OUT. Dean would NOT be happy with everyone he’s ever loved gone for the rest of his life. I just don’t believe that’s fucking true. h elp him pls.

TWO: CAS DESERVES HAPPINESS. I know we got this whole speech about “happiness isn’t in the having it’s simply in being”  but like. Really. Castiel was supposed to be a throwaway character no one was supposed to care about. But we all cared SO MUCH that he lasted 11 SEASONS longer than intended and became a main character and an integral part of the story. Cas has arguably sacrificed more than anyone on this show. His last act was to sacrifice his life to save the man he loved. He knew where he was going. He knew he was finally going to be able to tell dean he loved him and then immediately be taken by the empty where we know now thanks to season 15 that everyone in there just gets to dream forever about their regrets and sadness. HOW IS THAT FAIR. HOW IS THAT A GOOD ENDING FOR CAS. HOW DO YOU EXPECT ANYONE – CHARACTERS AND FANS ALIKE –TO BE HAPPY ABOUT THAT. Its messed up, supernatural. Y’all KNOW it is and I hope to HIGH HEAVENS this is going to be corrected in 15x20.

THREE: give sam Eileen back. 

Well that’s all I’ve got in me, folks. I’m absolutely and intensely dreading Thursday. Im scared and nervous and obviously still angry that this is absolutely going to be the opposite of what they promised – another “game of thrones” ending. Some of y’all are giving me hope with your posts about maybe they’re trying to keep the ending a surprise and maybe cas is coming back and how can they not and why else would they have done the second to last episode like that and I hope yall are right.

Either way, im glad I am not alone with my feelings. Thanks yall for the experience of this fandom and show. Let’s stick together on Thursday, no matter our differences.

 PS stop calling jensen ackles a homophobe or ill hex you. 

[mc-doppomine]

My Ranking of Matenrou Songs

All done in good fun and is just my silly opinion. Music is totally subjective and what I find to like may not be what you come to like. So take everything with a handful of salt. Includes all of their album songs. I’m not including the battles as that’s probably deserving its own listing. Will throw Wrap & Rap and Lesson in there for fun too.

Overall, I think Matenrou is sort of hit or ‘eh, it’s fine’ for me. It’s either such a bop, that’s all I’m listening to for weeks. Or it’s one that I might go seek out either for researching purposes or it’s just specific mood. No real in between. And that’s probably because of the major differences in their members. It’s clear they were formed because of Jakurai’s eccentricity and fondness of it. And with any of the crews, I tend to like the team ones. I just like hearing different voices coming together. Especially when theirs is made to sound nice together. So yeah. 

13) Welcome U - It just didn’t feel like a Matenrou song for me. I’m sorry! I have no idea what Matenrou songs are but this just wasn’t it for me. I just didn’t vibe with it. Which is weird considering this was the first major song of Matenrou and technically my first since I did do the anime series first. But let’s put it like this, I can literally remember every other thing of the entire episode that featured this song...besides the song. Everything. But. The. Music. Of a series where the music is the focus. That’s not good. But to be fair, I more or less like one song from each team from the anime and Welcome U was not it for Matenrou. 

12) Papillon - Mmm, I dunno. I like the song in theory since it is very much them just kicking back and that’s cute. In practice? I don’t know how it didn’t click for me. I don’t think it was because of the talking because that was done in Ohayo Ikebukuro and I like that one. And I do find it fun as it absolutely sounds like them talking in the car. Maybe it’s just which styles blended together? I really can’t place why I do not like this one as much. Don’t hate it, don’t love it.  

11) Champagne Gold - I know! I know! I don’t know how we came to this considering I like Hifumi over Jakurai. But I just couldn’t get into this one! Maybe it was at a disadvantage because it was such a stark contrast with the others on the album. I have no idea. I do know I was a little put off by call back since it really just sounded like him in a higher pitch...which is fine but I’m pretty sure they just used a girl’s voice in an earlier part of the song and I just don’t get why didn’t use something like that for the call back. And too many champagnes. I am concerned for your liver, Hifumi.

10) The Champion - Poor frickin’ Hifumi. I’m sure he had to despair when he was looking through the verses of his teammates. Like do you guys know how to write a victory song??? Which is a shame because Hifumi’s verse and style was so suited for this sound. I honestly I don’t think it was the the verses so much as the chorus though? I know their voices generally sound deeper than most of the other divisions but felt like worked against them in this song. 

9) Lesson - And I think this is the last of my ‘I probably wouldn’t look it up too often’ songs on this list. I honestly thought Ramuda took the show in this one but I mean it kinda makes sense since this was him teaching Jakurai and of course Jakurai is gonna sound clumsier than him. I find this one really cute. It also was fun listening to how the beat switched up for every lesson. I think it’s only lower because I don’t have a way to listen to it consistently. But I do think of Jakurai actually ‘putting up his white flag’ to Ramuda and Ramuda able to point out Jakurai’s strengths was also super cute and also super sad thinking about what came after this. 

8) Party wo Tomenaide and You Are, Therefore I Am - Yes, I had a tie. Mainly because they have the same reasoning for being here. And that’s that they both have tripped me into their arms and not let me go. I wasn’t too into them before but both of them have grown on me. Ah, I think Party wo Tomenaide’s lyrics just ends up attacking my feels and it’s one of those pop songs that are actually sad and I don’t know, somehow that’s a subset of my music tastes. Meanwhile I wasn’t into the ‘being taken to church’ songs that are usual in hip-hop genre but I was really surprised by the content of the lyrics and it honestly sounds like Jakurai’s happy in this one. 

7) Fallin’ - This may have a slight edge just because I just think of that entire frickin’ episode when I listen to that song. And I dunno, anyone else feel like this was like them testing out if Matenrou could do the pace for what would be Tomoshibi? That’s what I feel like with that one. 

6) Labyrinth Wall - I feel like not a lot of people like this song. And I mean, I guess if I had think about the lyrics for a long time, I probably would be like ‘you okay over there Jakurai?’ But I dunno, the pace and the off-vocals? Banger. That swell into his chorus? Absolutely fucking great. Naaa...! Shindara doko ni--I chose this over frickin’ Tigridia for my ringtone for that part.

5) Tigridia - I originally had loved Tigridia first and that’s mainly because it was the first song I was listening to that used Doppo’s ‘natural’ voice all the way through. He has a nice voice! The sax is hella sexy in the background. Nice little bit of jazz. I’m surprised this wasn’t my friend’s favorite track tbh. But it eventually got beat out as my knowledge of hypmic grew.  

4) Wrap & Rap - Look. Look you can judge me all you want but this is one of those songs that could be played while I’m at some of my worst and I can’t help but smile at it. It’s my Sugar Song and Bitter Step. It’s a dose of seretonin and has to be parsed out because I have to go looking for this song if I wanna listen to it.  

3) Black or White - Yeah yeah, go ahead. Be unsurprised that my fave is at the top of the solos. But to be fair, I fell in love with Doppo’s verses and songs before I fell for him. Black and white ended up a hit for me with its vibe (although I admit I found a cover first and only realized when I going back through songs). When I learned the lyrics, I can’t help but smile and feel those words in my bones of miserable workdom. It makes my terrible shifts bearable.

2) Tomoshibi - I get so emotional over this song still. And it’s just. So. Vulnerable. I don’t know how to describe the feeling I get of actually thinking about the lyrics. And then just the music itself. It’s like a drive in the evening or early morning as it starts raining (I actually do often listen to this song on my morning drives). I’m never gonna stop getting got by the interjections of their teammates within their verses and how their tone changes after being picked up by that person. I can’t even with that--! It isn’t so slow it’s ballad-y but it’s not a dance thing. Which may be why it is just below my number 1. 

1) Shinjuku Style ~ Don’t Make Us Laugh ~ - If it hasn’t occurred to y’all by now, I’m a being in love with vibe of let’s fuck shit up and being a bad bitch. And that’s all I got from this song. Like how no one heard this song and didn’t go for the throat with these bastards is anyone’s guess. Especially since that Hifumi’s best diss verse and he chose VIOLENCE. And they just? Had such strong boss energy??? I don’t know how to put it! I love the mania of Doppo’s verse and also I continually laugh because he and Jakurai literally call Doppo and Hifumi some psychopaths. Like you wouldn’t think that dealing with them. Then you meet them on the battleground and you know it’s not an idle threat. This is one of those songs that if I had to get pulled over, let it be while I’m peeling down the highway to this. 

[wkngsnds]

So remember when I published “Whether You Fail or Fly”? I rewrote it! Well, some parts of it; I tried my best to reach the dark tone I was aiming for, fixed some things I thought were awkward, and so and so forth. I hope y’all enjoy it all the same.

I’ll post it on here too under a read more.

Title: Your Side

RATING: Teen and older audience

Two weeks ago, he never wanted a tool. Tonight, he’s grateful to his hitwoman.

Fuyuhiko had not been the type to black out during his fights; in fact, he savored every cut and bruise that he could take before Peko eventually intervened. He exists in a constant state of irritation with his anger never falling far behind. Despite being a yakuza, or perhaps that is exactly why, his anger was his weak point— almost as blinding and fervent as Kabukicho during the night. Just like his parents, he got hot under the collar relatively quickly and chose to focus all his energy on his victim, so he’s an extremist in his own right too. Fuyuhiko preferred to handle things “a man’s way”: being direct as possible instead of exhibiting a passive aggressive attitude. He believed he could smash his way through his opponents as he refused to lose sight of his goal.

Tonight was no different.

Peko never got hit during a fight— she was fast, strong, and cunning. However, it would be more accurate to say that she couldn’t afford to get hit; a thousandth second too slow, a single hair strand out of place, and it would all be over. She exists in a hypervigilant state even within the confines of the Kuzuryuu manor. It is not that she lacks trust in her “coworkers'', per say, but protecting Fuyuhiko is the only thing she finds herself capable of doing. Truth be told, even with a small army of guards roaming the grounds it does not guarantee his safety, but by acting as his shield he’s all the more safer. It’s why she keeps her mind blank, but never loses focus; that is not to say she does not think at all— if anything, she is the type to overthink matters more than someone in her position should. These constraints both forced upon her and self practiced are why her rage is restrained. She’s not the type to anger easily, but when the emotion visits her it must be leashed and kept within bounds.

Tonight was no different. 

An ocean of alarm and disquietude drowned the underground of Tokyo, and nearly flooded the overground the day after Fuyuhiko confirmed Natsumi’s corpse. It had not been long until civilians heard of the misfortunate incident, and they took it upon themselves to go home earlier than usual as a precautionary measure. Even if they did not know Natsumi, her surname carried all the weight it needed to: it was not just a member of the clan who died, but someone with a direct relation to the leader. This action of avoidance, of course, did nothing to deter the Kuzuryu clan from their own private investigations; they were a 24/7 kind of business, after all. Each family belonging to the Kuzuryu-gumi had crawled out of their own holes-- those who supported Natsumi above Fuyuhiko worked especially hard to find their princess’s murderer. Then there were those, in their true yakuza nature, who wanted to take advantage of her death to strip the Ultimate of his inheritance. For them, it had not been a simple preference of the younger sibling, but instead a dissatisfaction and disfavor for their patriarch’s son. By extension, Peko received the same condemnation if not to a worse degree. Those in Natsumi’s faction who were slightly sympathetic to the heir blamed the bodyguard for his physical weakness and lack of will; her entire presence caused his spoiled and rotten nature. Put simply her existence, they thought, hindered his bloodlust. Others argued that the main family was not meant to kill as they were an ‘invisible hand’ which directed them all. A minority thought Peko to be a better yakuza than him, but they were smarter than to voice that opinion. There were also a few who thought him cursed— a way of karma for all the blood the clan spilled since its early days, and that blood most certainly flowed like a river. Nevertheless subsidiary matriarchs and patriarchs respected him as their heir at best, but they would not hold their breath for him either.

The funeral service would bring out the worst in the family.

Nastumi died in less than a week of attending the academy, so the two knew their investigation was limited to this timeframe. After confirming her corpse’s identity, the next step was to speak with the custodian who found her; if he had decided to keep information from the police Fuyuhiko had no qualms in using extensive methods of extraction. Meanwhile, Peko worked to address the rumors of a supposed pervert who was thought by the students to be the perpetrator. The mysterious figure had stolen one girl’s swimsuit, and then planned to violate the young mistress (the disgusted rage she felt momentarily dulled the pain in her wrist as her hand formed into a tight fist). Peko knew she needed to focus, so she took a deep breath and went to look for the first girl whose swimsuit had been taken; if the two were both victims to the degenerate, then it was important to establish a possible connection or a pattern. On the hand, if the attacks were random, it would have been hard to track down a possible suspect with the incredibly vague information. They also did not allow Fuyuhiko, understandably, to enter the crime scene, so her chances of success in that area were virtually zero. On the other hand, if this were a targeted attack, then there was a greater problem to be dealt with, and this girl might be connected.

She could not recall any subsidiaries with the name Sato, but it was also possible her mother married out of the respective family. Furthermore, Peko had not been ignorant to the clan’s...favoritism, but she would not be convinced by the apparent blind adoration; it could have been the start of a coup d’etat, and her young master would be the next target. Peko already failed both Fuyuhiko and Natsumi by not protecting the latter, failure to aid him in apprehending her killer or letting him die meant she truly was useless. Therefore, finding this girl and ‘speaking’ to her took over all her priorities. The kendo athlete scans the morning cafeteria until she spots her suspect (someone had kindly described her appearance) sitting at an empty table near the large windows. Like a tiger, she moves carefully to disappear from the girl’s direct line of sight and peripheral vision; she intended to take her by surprise— using that confusion to assert dominance in the conversation and as momentum for a potential confession. However, before Peko could get any closer Mikan had unfortunately bumped into her; like always, the nurse made a scene whenever she apologized to someone, and blew Peko’s cover. To make matters worse, she spotted the injured wrist she acquired from punching the wall yesterday, and became shockingly insistent on treating the wound. Mikan did not yield to any of her protest, and all but dragged her out of the cafeteria to the nurse’s office. For a weak willed clumsy girl, the kendo athlete did not expect her to be as firm in her handling.

True to her sensitive nature, Mikan noticed Peko’s state of irate despite the latter having a stoic face, and began to apologize once again. Stuttering throughout her explanation, it appeared as though she hardly slept the prior night. Mistaking the red eyed girl’s neutral, if not apathetic, question for sympathy the super high school level nurse rambled on about doing an emergency shift at a nearby clinic. Yet, even for Peko who was only half listening something felt off.

‘What you just said...was a lie, wasn’t it?’ A tit for tat question. 

‘H-Huh?! You w-were able t-to tell?’ She focused on the splinting for a moment, ‘U-Um...Pekoyama would it be too presumptuous to ask...if I could c-confide in you with s-something? I-It feels like my chest is going to explode if I can’t g-g-get it out.’

She’s weary of agreeing, but slowly nods her head nevertheless. 

‘I...I saw the body. Kuzuryu’s little sister...W-We found her in the music room l-last night.’ 

‘What did you say?!’

‘Eek! I..I’m sorry!’

‘Tsumiki, you need to explain to me exactly what happened. What do you mean ‘we’?’

At 7:30 pm, both yakuza convened at the heir’s off campus apartment to consolidate all the information they gathered. After deeming that he had nothing left to hide, Fuyuhiko “convinced” the custodian to allow him into the music room. There’s a tight feeling in his chest at the sight of the white tape— he had seen it plenty of time, but knowing it was his sister’s outline made him lightheaded. However, he knew there was no time to be distracted by his grief; he needed to devote all his energy on finding her murderer. Fuyuhiko mentioned to Peko that he saw the broken glass from where, according to the police report, the criminal had escaped.

‘It also said a nearby guard heard the sound of the glass breakin’ but never saw or heard anyone runnin’.’

‘That’s suspicious.’

‘Yeah, and there ain’t any security video footage of a shady person walkin’ ‘round campus. Not to mention, that hole in the window don’t look big enough for someone to jump through. None of this fucking shit adds up!’ He viciously kicks the low table before falling onto the couch behind it, rubbing his eyes and groaning loudly as he did, ‘Either this sick bastard is crafty as hell or...or someone who knows this fuckin’ school’s layout did it.’

She assumes a pensive position, ‘So, someone within the school is the culprit...? I believe that is an accurate deduction. There are even suspects to support your theory.’

‘W-What? Suspects?!’

‘Tsumiki, Koizumi, Hiyoko, Mioda, and a person by the name of Sato were at the crime scene. As it were, those five were the first to encounter the young mistress, and most likely—’

‘The ones who started the rumor of a pervert going around.’ His fists tightened to the point where his fingernails cut his skin and he began to bleed, ‘Those cunts...those goddamn fucking cunts...if it turns one of them killed Natsumi...I will never fucking forgive them. If all five of them were in on it...I don’t care how much blood is on my hands I’ll slaughter them all.’

Peko could not bring herself to calm him down; she shared his sentiments, after all. 

The next day went by in a blur. For the first time in a long while, the two yakuza were on the same wavelength: Peko advised him to avoid confronting any of the suspected girls without enough proof less he scared them away losing their only lead. Conceding to her counseling, he keeps his distance from them and their own classmates in general. However, he did not stand by, and instead went to question a few of the students in 77A. In return, he asked her to monitor the behavior of those four— they were citizens who, more than likely, had never dealt with corpses or killings in their life which he thought gave Peko a great advantage. Bluntly put, it takes a killer to know a killer. 

At the end of the day, when all was said and done their respective tasks were successful enough to narrow down their suspect list quite considerably. Fuyuhiko learned that not only was Sato with his sister on the day of the incident, but the two often bumped heads with one another. Concurrently, Peko overheard an anxious Mahiru mumble about needing to meet with the same Sato during their lunch break, so she messaged him those details when Koizumi had left the classroom. Although he didn’t find them in time to eavesdrop on their conversation, he had caught a glimpse of someone (he assumed to be Sato) throwing away what looked like paper into the garbage. At first he made sure to stay out of sight, but as soon as the coast was clear he made a beeline for the trash bin.

And just like that the number of suspects dropped from five to two to one.

In hindsight, investigating Sato and Koizumi should have been their first thought, but both were neglectful towards Natsumi’s own complaints and scheming. They had not noticed the particular animosity she held towards the photographer, and instead considered it yet another part of her antics. With Fuyuhiko constantly running away from all criticism and Peko mindlessly chasing after him, they never once considered looking behind them to see if she needed help. However, why would they need to? She was strong, probably stronger than the both of them combined and more than they’ll ever be. It is why she had been so reverend throughout the clan-- the reincarnation of a legend or perhaps something even greater than that. Where they both lacked brutality, bloodlust, and pride Natsumi made up for it a thousand times over. Fuyuhiko could still remember the day his father scolded him right after Peko rescued him from the man’s chokehold; it was a heated argument over something senseless the teenager had done earlier that week which left the patriarch a mess to clean up. 

‘This is why you need a fucking tool and your sister doesn’t. Maybe if you had your act more together like her, you would be half the fucking yakuza she is!’

Whether or not they moved forward is debatable, but they left her behind to fend for herself. Natsumi was a tough girl in a league beyond their own, and they were too wrapped up in their selfish problems. Truthfully, Fuyuhiko and Peko knew they were as responsible for her murder as Sato was. 

‘I will NEVER FORGIVE YOU!’

-- 

When the two finally returned to Fuyuhiko’s apartment they sloppily kicked off their shoes, and collapsed from exhaustion in the seats of the sleek black dining table. True to their upbringing, they had chosen a seclusive section of the nearby riverbank as the dumping ground. The route from the school to the river was relatively light, but the combined weight of the corpse, adrenaline, and guilt made it all the more treacherous to walk. Initially, Peko suggested contacting one of the nearby families who worked in construction to place the cadaver in concrete, and then toss it into the river. After a few moments, however, he refused. Fuyuhiko did not want to hide the body; he wanted her to rot for as long as possible before she was found— maggots crawling in and out of the holes they made of her. Normally, he wasn’t the morbidity type, but it would be a lie if he were satisfied with her death alone. Again, it was the first time in a very long while that they were on the same wavelength. 

Fuyuhiko could only watch as Peko stood, unsurprisingly, before he did; she had greater stamina and...experience than he did in all of this. She left his direct line of sight, but kept herself in his peripherals. For him, once the adrenaline of killing passed, the soreness dropped upon him like a ton of bricks, his muscles were tense, and it felt as though the slightest movement made his joints crack. He could feel the phantom force from swinging the corpse back and forth before throwing it down the bank. He rested his forehead on crossed fingers as his eyes briefly crossed over; part of him felt ashamed for feeling so weak-- what did that say about his future as a patriarch? He only did the killing, but Peko, like always, ended up cleaning his dirty work. In this case, she was the one who quite literally carried dead weight on their walk to the river. He did not argue when she picked up the corpse like a sack of rice and arranged it to fit in her kendo. The angles were awkward, but after breaking some joints here and a few bones there the corpse fit perfectly. All he could do was watch her. What could he say that would not end with him being in her way? He knows he can trust her to handle this, but what gave him the right to sit back and do nothing? He can do with expressing gratitude towards her or, at the very least, express a greater sense of gratification at avenging his sister. 

But all he felt was exhaustion.

 “You need to bathe.” It is rare for her to speak with a semblance of authority in her tone towards him, so she captures his attention quickly. On any other day, he might have told her kick rocks for treating him like a child, but he can only put up half a fight tonight. 

“It can wait until morning.”

“No, it cannot.” He heard her reach into a separate duffel bag she left in his apartment earlier this morning, “The stenches of blood and death are ones that linger if you do not remove them immediately. I am sure the doorman noticed, but kept his mouth shut.”

From the bag, she first pulled out a loofah and an antibacterial wash set. Next, there was a roll of black bags, a bottle filled with what he assumed were cleaning chemicals for the bat, and a cardboard box. He handed over the baseball cap at her request; she placed them in one of the aforementioned black bags along with her own and instructed him to throw his personal trash in there as well since she would burn everything later. He could also hear the crinkling of the paper that was used to wrap the corpse being stuffed into the bag. Watching her fix the box and line it with another black bag— the way her movements were quick and sharp nearly gave him vertigo, but it’s her calm demeanor (as if doing everything from muscle memory, which was most likely the case) that causes all his hairs to stand. This...this was her true speciality, wasn’t it?

Still not being able to raise his head, he asked if his own clothes needed to be burned as well, but the kendo athlete reminded him of the suit’s hefty price tag, thus intended to send it back home to be thoroughly cleaned. However, in all her fretting of his needs the realization hits him,

“What about your clothes?”

“Please do not worry about that.” 

“You just said we have to get rid of the stench, so do you have clothes of your own--”

 “Young master. Please go bathe.” Her voice initially sounded strained, then slowed down as if she were controlling her breathing. Not only was this a part of her speciality, but it was clear she had a method for her work that she hadn’t been too keen on straying from-- it was the same inflexibility (one not so different from the blond) that would get her killed on Jabberwock Island. For all the exhaustion Fuyuhiko felt, Peko silently masked her oncoming mental fatigue whilst also trying to ignore the ton of guilt weighing on her. From her perspective, she had just failed for the second time in a row: first, by allowing Natsumi to die and second, by allowing Fuyuhiko to kill by himself. It was not as though she could rid herself of any culpability, because she has disobeyed him in the past for the “sake” of his protection. So why didn’t she refuse him now? He had instructed her to act as if they were fellow high school students, so she would have been well within her orders to randomly check on her-- if not as the young master’s sister, then as a member of the Kuzuryu family she was owed the respect of being welcomed. What made his order so particular this time around that she found herself unable to deny? To make matters even worse, she allowed him to sully his hands with death while she stood and watched the bat crack Sato’s skull open. If she were forced to make an excuse, then it was as if some external power prevented her from interfering. Maybe it was a part of her, the human part, that understood it had not been her place to interject-- that she knew him well enough to know this revenge and avenge was to quench his heart from the sorrow plaguing him. No, perhaps this humanity of hers knew from the very beginning that he would not have been satisfied if Sato died by anyone's hands but his own, so she took the extra precautions to protect him throughout the conspiracy. Taking this into account, it was only natural that the tool she considered herself to be would come into conflict with the meddlesome human she actually was. 

As per usual, his movements drew her out of her spiraling thoughts; his stumbling did not go unnoticed, but before she could reach him to help stand, he had already taken the wash set, grabbed his nightwear, and headed towards the bathroom. 

 “There’s a washer-dryer set in this closet. Wash your clothes.” The door shut promptly behind him

Normally, it took him 15 minutes to get himself clean, but the falling of hot water on his back kept him in for five minutes longer. For five minutes longer, he mulled over his ambivalent thoughts— remembering how Sato’s face contorted into shock, and then overcame by dread and terror at the sight of him...it elevated him. The way she tried to run from him, but Peko threw her to the ground; kept down by an elbow between the shoulders, yet her head kept up by her hair. He’s never felt that kind of power: having everything and everyone in his control. For once, they feared him and not her. For once, someone begged at the feet for his mercy and not his father. 

Did Natsumi beg for her life?

Was she afraid?

Did she call out for him?

Then came the boiling rage once again; the jarring reality that it didn’t matter if he killed one person or left an entire town to die, he still had to bury his little sister. He knew her death wasn’t his fault, he’s not that delusional, but he thinks he could have stopped it. If he stopped running away from being compared to her, would she still be alive? He could have been a better brother if he had not been such a damn child. Would she have come to him for her personal problems if he was? If he had convinced their father that she needed a bodyguard if only to keep her out of trouble would that have kept her safe? If he let Peko go check on her, she would still be here, wouldn’t she? He watched as the blood from his hand (there’s only a crack on the tiled wall) washed down the drain, and then turned the faucet off altogether. As he dried himself, he noticed the basket he left in the washroom before the shower had almost been emptied save for his underwear and socks. He only rolled his eyes at this; she did this every once in a while when they were at home, and he grew tired of chastising her to let the maids do their jobs. Fuyuhiko could not begin to understand why Peko did these silent and small acts for him-- her only “job” was to follow his commands; going beyond that just seemed unecessary. It only dumbfounded him more when he realized, at some point, that she’d done more for him in a single week than he’d seen his parents do for each other since he was born. Of course, it was twice as aggravating when she opposed him returning those small acts every once in a blue moon. 

He exited the bathroom with his pajamas on and towel over his head as he found her meditating in the same clothes she arrived in. Everything around her had been prepared: the box of his clothes was closed ready to be sent home, the ‘burn bag’ was placed into her kendo duffel, and her black yukata was folded neatly next to her. 

Truly, that was what a professional looked like. 

“There’s an extra clean towel in the washroom. ‘Left the soap and shampoo inside the shower for you.” 

“Thank you.” Her weakened voice does not go unnoticed by him-- in fact, much of her behavior and mannerisms are more observed than she thinks. Though Peko believed herself to have spoken in perfect monotone, Fuyuhiko was able to hear the falter in the middle syllables*. It had been easier for him to count the days they were separate than together, so it would be highly alarming if he couldn’t pick out some difference in her attitude. Of course, recognizing the problem and doing something about it were two different objectives; furthermore, doing the obvious by asking her what was wrong didn’t seem like the right answer either. How many times has she asked him, and he’d brush her off at best and yell at her ‘to leave him alone’ at worst. What right did he have to interrogate her when he wasn’t the talkative type himself**? 

Besides, the yakuza heir knew the kendo athlete well enough to sense that she would also brush him off in return just so that he would not worry about her. In this regard, he understood how she felt: just like him, she hated when people fussed about her or gave her any more attention than what she could tolerate.  Peko was simply better at masking her disdain than he was; not that Fuyuhiko tried, of course, but still better nevertheless. In fact, this had been one of the many traits they had in common; regardless of surface level differences, Peko and Fuyuhiko were more similar at heart and at will than other people, or themselves for that matter, tended to realize. It’s why they were able to coordinate manslaughter so well.        

She cleared her throat which snapped him back to reality; it’s clear he had been staring at her for far too long causing her to become both concerned and uncomfortable. She tried not to express the latter, but, again, he’s well versed in her micro expressions. 

“Is there something you need, sir?” Now it’s her turn to watch his movements as he made his way to his bedroom, hands fumbling with the towel still on his head as he slid it down to his neck. 

 “It’s nothing. Go bathe while the bathroom is still warm.” And with that she disappeared, the door shutting quietly behind her.

Fuyuhiko released a tense sigh as he sat heavily on his bed. He could feel the conflicting twitch of his nerves; his muscles ached now that the adrenaline passed, but the near state of silence save for the hum of the shower relaxed him. If he has access to a mass fortune (legality of said money’s source notwithstanding), he might as well spend it on a condo away from the loudmouths that inhabited the Hope’s Peak Academy student dorms. Slowly, he picked his feet up onto his bed and laid down on his pillow; it felt like his head would explode with all the pulsing in his veins.

2:20 AM.

In three and half more hours, he will be awake for twenty four hours— nothing unusual for him, but worth noting in silence.

He breathed. 

Shuffling was heard in the background. 

 2:36 AM

Fuyuhiko was half asleep when Peko finished showering, and caught her trying to leave quietly. He slowly got up and made his way to lean on the doorframe, hand lazily stuck in his jinbei, and watched her. Despite all her yukatas being black, they had subdued patterns on each of them if one looked closely enough-- the blond was trying to discern whether it was her plain one or one that he bought her. He had gotten two of them for her birthday and Christmas last year, and all but screamed at her in an attempt to convince her to keep them.  

He speaks up “That’s the birthday one, right? Your yukata.”

“Yes, it is. Thank you greatly once again.” With a towel in hand, she continuously wrung out the excess water out of her hair, “The material is incredibly comfortable and breathable.” 

Recognizing his semi consciousness, Peko seemed more relaxed under his watch; though it wasn’t her place to understand, she remembered him doing this when they were children. On the worst days (i.e the patriarch and matriarch endangering his life during their fights), he would not fall asleep despite being put to bed first by the maids. Instead, he would watch her nestle into her spot beside him, and only then could he fall asleep. She just like then, she told him to put his worries aside, sleep for the rest of the night, and advised him to take today off as no one would dare pester him over his absence. Though, for as long and as well as she knew him, it was ironic how concerned Peko was for Fuyuhiko yet remained oblivious to his deeper troubles. It’s why she mistook the worry in his apprehension at her leaving for a sense of weariness and exhaustion to which she promised she’d quickly leave him to rest. Of course, her words only inflamed the expression on his face (that was not ironic, but instead typical) while his arms crossed in a defensive position.    

Even if she knew her heart to be kind, she could not comprehend why that kindness would be extended to herself, a tool, and therefore she could not understand why he protested her leaving.

“I-It’s the middle of the night in Tokyo; there’s some pretty drunk bastard roaming out, no doubt.” 

“I will avoid confrontation.” 

“Didn’t you say the lock at the girls dormitory is super loud? Wouldn’t you cause a scene entering this late?”  

“I can move quickly before I am spotted.”

“Gh-- Your hair is still wet, and then you’ll get sick dumbass!”

At this she looks at him directly with a raised brow, but he doesn’t meet her gaze. Her hand rested on the string of her sword bag, “Please do not worry me. I will be fine.”

He seemed to have no more arguments.

 “Then, if there is nothing else you need of me, I shall leave you alone now.” Just as she headed to the door and reached for the handle, Peko paused. Perhaps what he needed now was...comfort, though the bodyguard is not confident enough in doing such a thing-- at least, not in the way he may need it, if at all. Who could fault her hesitation? The last time she tried to ease his worries she let too much of her own weakness show and it worsened the situation.

But if she could provide him some closure...

“What?”

Her posture straightens to face him, “Sato deserved to die-- no, she deserved a fate worse than death. Even Koizumi should...” She stabilizes her breath and unclenches her hand, “I digress. You did it: with your strength and your wits, you killed Sato. That being said, accepting the fact you’ve murdered another person is not without trouble. Regardless if they deserved to die or not, regardless of how strong or skilled you are, regardless of premeditation or in the heat of the moment. Someone’s blood is now personally on your hands.”

“And there’s going to be more in the future.” 

“Yes...I suppose that is inevitable. Please forgive my impudence, young master. Sleep well.”

Just like that she messed up again; she wonders when she’ll learn to just keep her mouth shut instead of trying to comfort him...or whatever that pathetic display of encouragement-- if one could call it that. Peko reckons that life would be easier for the both of them if she were a simple yes man. As per usual, being so wrapped in her worries of offending him she failed to perceive the true problem he was facing at hand. When the yakuza heir said there would be more bloodshed, he did not intend to brush her off, but meant that the responsibility and weight of killing was something he needed to adjust to sooner rather than later. Of course, his usual poor communication which fought with a trepidation he tried to hide from her did nothing to help her understanding.

Sometimes, Fuyuhiko forgets that Peko isn’t a mind reader, so there’s no possible way she would know he feared losing her the same way he lost Natsumi if she walked out the door this instance unless he spoke bluntly.

“Stay with me.” 

The blond wasn’t sure if the words even left his mouth, and if they did he had not been sure if she heard him. Even though he had always been told to command her, he could never bring himself to do it-- there schools lives notwithstanding as he convinced himself it was for both of their sakes. It wasn’t like Peko’s...circumstances were unique to her; in fact, there were plenty of subordinates throughout the gang who shared her position, her ‘status’ as an object. The self-justified feudal system the clan upheld made bile rise to his throat each time he thought about it. Fuyuhiko has witnessed firsthand the horrid treatment of those people (tools, as they were denoted): the fear in their eyes, the way their bodies are thrown like rag dolls, and the absolute aura despair surrounding them. He doesn’t want that for Peko, he doesn’t want her to be his victim anymore than she already is.

In the end, it seemed that she did hear him, but not in the way he expected when she kneels with her back to the door placing her shinai on her lap. 

“I don’t mean guard my door. I meant that I want you to spend the night with me.” 

So much for speaking bluntly.

“Young master...?” 

“Fucking hell-- look, what I meant was,” He exhales forcibly, “What I mean is...remember when we were really small, and I had those shit fucking nightmares? How I wouldn’t sleep until you climbed into bed next to me?” 

He relaxed when he saw her relax. 

“I understand.”

He speaks slowly hoping to regain some composure, “I know this kind of thing is inappropriate even if we’ve done it already. I-I mean, we’re high school students now, ya know? Even if it’s just sharing the same bed space, this isn’t something teenagers should be doing. But I...I just--” 

“It’s fine. You do not have to explain yourself to me.”

“So you’re okay with doing it? Sh-Sharing the bed, I mean. And don’t say just yes because I asked you, got it?!”

For the third time, “I understand.” 

Now it was Fuyuhiko’s turn to overthink their conversation; he knew neither of them were the ‘heart on the sleeve’ types, but he wonders how much exactly she keeps to herself. Whether she thinks him pathetic or weak, but wouldn’t dare tell him directly to his face. Whether she truly hated his existence, and put on a front because she had no other choice. Theoretically speaking, it was a silly thought to worry about. He knew she all but worshiped the floor he walked on-- excused his behavior when it shouldn’t have been excused, took all the cursing he threw at her without blinking, and so on and so forth. But knowing all this and hearing her curt responses did nothing to ease the tension of his nerves.

If Peko thought him incompetent, was there truly any hope for him?

 It doesn’t take him long to set up a makeshift divide on his queen size mattress with an extra pair of flat sheets. Fuyuhiko was in bed before Peko as the latter made sure to lock the door; just like earlier, all he could do was watch her move about doing her own security check. He doesn’t think he’d ever find a justifiable reason for all his starring-- perhaps hypnotism would be the closest explanation. She does everything from opening and closing the window (checking it’s bullet resistance and angles for assassins, no doubt) to leaving the room to make sure the front door and balcony door were properly locked. When she returned, Peko looked over the bedroom; with a small sigh, it seemed her rigid inspection was finally finished. 

Seconds after this, the lights were turned off as now the soft glow of his bedside lamps filled their portion of the room. The mattress dipped when she sat down, and Fuyuhiko heard the faint sound of the silver haired girl fixing her bamboo sword between the bed frame and the nightstand. Her glasses were the last to leave her body, and joined the lamp on said stand. However, before she could lay down Fuyuhiko stopped her with a sudden jolt that even caught her off guard. The yakuza heir reached under the pillow to find the tanto knife he always kept hidden. She had lent it to him long before they arrived at Hope’s Peak Academy— when they went to different high schools; if she were to be separated from him, then at least he could use it to defend himself. Obviously, there were no qualms of ‘packing’ in the estate, but no one bothered to give him a weapon in the first place-- he even had to use part of his allowance to buy his favorite brass knuckles. The clan members assumed with her by his side she was the only weapon he would use. Nevertheless, there had been a sense of satisfaction for Peko that he had kept it with him for the past two years. She had selected the knife from her collection based on what she assessed of his skills and strength.  Once he placed the weapon beneath his pillow, their bodies collapsed on top of the blankets— each letting out an exhaustive sigh. It was the kind of exhaustion that made it impossible to sleep despite a long day of physical labor. Neither of them could be bothered to switch off the lamps, so they laid in silence for a few moments, eyes facing the smooth ceiling above them.

“Hey, Peko. My bad for cutting you off like and saying shit like that.”

Peko was never sure how to take his apologies; she was not the type to hold grudges, and she had never done so with him. They were unnecessary, as she thinks she would forgive him no matter what he does (to her or otherwise). Therefore, she took a moment to choose her words carefully; perhaps if their relationship were better, she would be able to speak more comfortably around him. 

“You needn’t apologize. You are correct: once you ascend to your role as the patriarch, you will have even more enemies.” Her tone becomes more assertive, “Rest assured, I will be the one to dirty my hands and cut them down if they oppose you.”

 “I still should let you speak.” He stared back at the ceiling,  “You said something like that before, ‘Someone’s blood is my hand now’. What were you gonna say after that?”

“Simply...that it would be wise to detach yourself from what you’ve done. Regret is futile, but to associate this with any kind of pleasure is dangerous as well. If you let Sato haunt you it will be as if you never killed her at all.”

“I-Is that what you do?”

Peko eyes darted across the roof above them as if looking for something that wasn’t there. She was a child the last time she gave too much thought into her first assassination; she’s more ashamed for allowing her emotions to seep through than the killing itself. 

“I don’t feel anything when I do. Not anymore.”  

“When was the first time,” Why does he keep pushing her about this, “That you killed someone?”

How could she forget, “When Mr.Hiromitsu notified Lord Raiden that his team identified our kidnappers, I was instructed to dispose of them.” 

He could only stare horrified at her. How does one respond to that? To be told that the person laying next to you, who you grew up with and were closer to anyone else in this world, had been turned into a murder at the age of six. He knew his father wasn’t a saint and in fact might have been the devil himself, but there was something particularly putrid about involving children with his bloodthirst. What was the point of having a code if the boundaries were blurred altogether? Sure, Peko had stained her hands with blood now, but what was his father hoping to accomplish by sending her out to do something so dangerous at the age of six? What if Peko failed and died? Did his father, or his mother for that matter, think they could just replace her without him noticing or caring? His parents should be smarter than that. His parents should know... 

He might have been foolish enough to fear her as children, but they should have known how worse everything would have turned out if they let her die.

 “Young master, I am sorry for my failures on that day.” Her voice brought him back before he spiralled into an abyss.

 “Huh?! Peko, what the hell are you talking about? We’re both still alive ‘cause you were the only one who had any sense left.” 

The swordswoman sat up, feet swinging onto the floor— he couldn’t see the expression she was making, but he didn’t need to know she was blaming herself. Again.

 “My inability to control my emotions worsened our predicament. If I had controlled myself as I was supposed to,” Her fingers gripped the yukata, red eyes dulled and downcasted, “Then perhaps we would have returned to the manor sooner. If I kept my head clear…it is my fault we were lost in those woods for so long.”

He quickly sat up, “Peko, we were six! I’m pretty fuckin’ sure any normal six year old-- hell, any normal person would have also been scared out their fuckin’ wits. Weren’t you just on my case about letting shit go?”

“That is…” What he didn’t expect was for her to turn to him with a pained expression; somewhere along the lines of pleading, regret, and shame all bundled into eyes that once, unwillingly, struck fear into him, “I’m...not...a normal person, I’m-- I am my young master’s tool, a tool to protect you and to kill for you. That is my only purpose. I should never make you doubt your safety. This also means that I must protect what is precious to you, and Lady Natsumi...if I were not so useless she would still be alive and you would not have dirtied your hands.” 

It returned again: the heavy feeling in his chest that was filled with remorse and his self-loathing. He knew she was right, but not in the way she thought. How many times had he pushed for her to be independent of him, to express her opinions and insight? Then, the one time she did as he asked he proceeded to not only dismiss her altogether, but brushed off her rightful concerns for Natsumi’s adjustment into Hope’s Peak. He knew his sister better than anyone, knew the type of trouble she would get into in a normal high school; sure she could throw her weight around ordinary bastards, but this school had its fair share of freaks and superhumans. He also knew that she had Peko run her a few favors (both normal and yakuza related), so it would only be natural for the swordswoman to investigate her transfer even if had no desire of doing so. 

“You...you can’t blame yourself; you were just following my orders. Natsumi was my responsibility and mine alone, and I fucked it up by not checking in on her.” 

But Peko, as stubborn as Fuyuhiko, would not hear it.

“Sir, you mustn’t blame yourself. If I were a tool capable of being trusted, then I am sure your orders would have been different.”

“Why don’t you get it already? Out of everyone in this world, you’re the only person I can trust. Everyone else is willing to kill me without a second thought.” It felt like he was suffocating, “You’re always putting my life first with no damn regard to your own. You're not invincible, Peko!”

“That is exactly why I intend to fulfill my purpose as your tool until I am a corpse at your feet.”

“Goddamnit, we are done with that crap!” He’s grateful that the room was sound proof, “I don’t want a tool! Tools can’t die. They become dull, they break, and you replace them, but they definitely cannot die. If some fucking rotten cunt smashed your skull in you’d die!”

“I-I wouldn’t let that happen, I assure--!” 

Peko’s eyes widened when he suddenly gripped her shoulders; shaking her not violently, but almost desperately as if she would have disappeared into thin air if he didn’t cling onto her that very moment. She had not realized the full look of anxiety and fear on his face until she fully met his stare for the first time that night.

“But you can’t know that,” His voice broke, “You can’t possibly fucking know that! What the hell’s the point if you’re dead?! Natsumi thought she was untouchable, that’s why she was all starting shit with everyone around her. And now what? Now we have to cremate her.”

Finally, his guard breaks and he rests his forehead on her shoulder,

 “So, please...stop saying you’ll protect me until the day you die. I don’t...you can’t expect to keep going with whatever life you give me. It’s not worth it, because if I have to bury you too—”

“...Young master?” Peko remained as still as she could; his voice was so weak that she feared he’d fade away from existence if she made any sudden movements. He was so close to her she was sure he could hear, if not feel, her erratic heartbeat-- not that he fared any better than her at the moment, of course. Since neither were the hugging type (at least not openly), the silver haired girl thought to support him through a light touch on his arms.  

“Please don’t leave me. I’m so afraid. I can’t do this on my own, Peko, I need you.”

Suddenly, his confession sparked a fundamental shift within the two. From her shoulders, Fuyuhiko’s hands now clung onto the fabric of her back leaning into her more, and Peko welcomed him without a second thought. Relying more on her instincts, one arm supported his weight while her other hand rested below the nape of his neck. An outsider looking in may think it a fond scene: two high school sweethearts expressing their love for another in the middle of the night. However, that sort of naivety could only last so long. What the outsider misunderstood was their embrace had not stemmed from affection or intimacy, but possession and obsession as they clung to one another.

In other words

“I will never leave your side, young master. There is no other place for me than by your side. If you wish for me to stay next to you for all eternity then that is where I shall stay no matter what. Even if the world turns upside down, I will stay beside you.” 

“Good.” He pries away from shoulder just to meet her ever intensive stare; it doesn’t affect him anymore (he welcomes it), “Peko, from now on it’s just you and me. Not as master and tool...just together, okay? We live together and we die together.”

“Then let us die of old age and nothing else.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

 Finally, they laid down embracing each other and fell asleep.

 ———

[elrondsscribe]

So! Let’s talk about this Jedi Code for a minute.

From what I have absorbed through social osmosis (I’m not terribly familiar with much of the EU material), the original Jedi Code went like this:

Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.

But by the time of the prequel trilogy and the Clone Wars, the Code appears to have been changed to this:

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.

Unfortunately, the way the Jedi Order amended the Code and were practicing it is in many ways similar to my own evangelical/Calvinist upbringing. Let me illustrate, one by one:

There is no emotion, there is peace.

This point I feel has already been well talked over, so I won’t belabor the point too much, but there’s definitely a deep problem when you systematically raise an entire order to fundamentally distrust their internal compass (because that’s how emotions often function).

It’s also the most destructive kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. Raising an entire subculture of people to be suspicious of emotion in the abstract leads to an environment where you can’t examine or interrogate your emotions. And, paradoxical as it may seem on the surface, a culture raised not to examine or interrogate their emotions (and whose primary way of dealing with them is to expel them -- I mean, ‘release them into the Force’) is a culture who will be up to its neck in self-deception, hypocrisy, and unacknowledged constant fear. On the other hand, a culture that is conditioned to be emotionally aware and intelligent is, paradoxically, in much less danger of actually being ruled by their emotions.

Trust me, I know a thing or two about being raised to deal with emotion by pushing it away in a religiously sanctioned manner. It does not lead to whole, healthy persons who are at peace.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

This point holds more interest for me than it seems to hold for most people, so I wanna park here for a moment. You know what it sounds like to me? A fixation with certainty. Now, evangelicalism does not have a monopoly on certainty, but the form it takes in evangelicalism is what I have experience with. I also think it’s quite useful and instructive in examining where the Jedi went wrong.

In an ideology that prizes certainty, religious advancement is closely correlated with acquiring correct information and refuting incorrect propositions. By the time of the prequel trilogy and the Clone Wars, experimentation in using the Force was forbidden, or at the very least highly discouraged, at a systemic level. You do things one way because it’s the Right Way, and anything outside of the Right Way is automatically suspect and probably Bad. If the Right Way is painful or difficult for you, that’s because there’s something wrong with you, and it means that you need to work harder to conform.

For both the Jedi and evangelicalism as I knew it, actual curiosity and creativity are explicit threats. You don’t ask why we do things one way. You don’t ask what other ways there are of doing things. And you definitely don’t entertain the notion that a voice outside the approval of the order is capable of speaking truth. 

Actually, I’m going to have to do the unthinkable, and give the edge to evangelicalism here. At least evangelicalism doesn't say that if you so much as start down a ‘wrong’ road, it defines you and you can never come back. But so far as the Jedi are concerned, you can’t even touch the Dark Side without becoming irrevocably consumed by evil.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

Basically, in my opinion, the hypocrisy-slip is really showing here. The Force is wild -- if it really is ‘that which is between all things,’ then it’s just as present in the storms and high seas and exploding nebulae as it is in stationary rocks. I don’t think it’s possible to interact with the Force at all without inviting some amount of chaos. And that’s not even touching the fact that some amount of chaos is just inherent in being human.

Also, as a piano major, let me let y’all in on a little music theory secret: there is no such thing as music that has no dissonance, no sonic ‘chaos.’ You can’t even have chords, the basic building blocks of harmony, without some dissonance between the notes. Part of what constitutes harmony in music is an agreement between composer and listeners (and performer/s, I guess) as to how much chaos is acceptable before the music becomes meaningless noise.

What I’m saying is, you can’t have harmony, you can’t have music, without inviting chaos.

And, infuriatingly, I think they know this. Both Obi-Wan and Yoda in ANH both tell Luke that when you tap into the Force, it flows through you. So it really looks to me like what they’re really doing is denouncing anything they can’t control and calling it ‘chaos,’ while allowing contact with whatever they can control by calling it ‘harmony.’ That’s really what it’s all about for them, it’s about control.

And oh boy, do I know what it is to live under a religious order that pays lip service to internal harmony, but is actually all about control.

There is no death, there is the Force.

Well, I’ll give the Jedi this much: unlike evangelicalism, they don’t bring up their littluns to believe that someone who doesn’t accept their version of reality is damned to eternal torment.

However, there is a larger problem where you’re refusing to let people deal with death honestly. At some point when dealing with a loss, you’re expected to be able to say: “Yes, I will miss them, but they’ve gone to be with Jesus and they’re in a better place now.” You don’t really have any help in processing the fact that, whether or not the person you lost is in a ‘better place,’ you still had to figure out how to move forward with that loss. Especially not long-term.

And that’s what I’m so painfully reminded of when Yoda tells Anakin in ROTS not to mourn or miss those who have died, to rejoice that they’ve joined the Force. Recall that, at that point in Jedi history, nobody had EVER heard of someone dead remaining personally accessible to the living in any way. ‘Become one with the Force’ holds about as much meaning for people in the Star Wars universe as ‘gone to heaven’ holds for us.

And hey, again with me grudgingly giving an edge to evangelicalism: they allow you to have human ties! At the very least, they let you cry at the funeral. They let you say “I miss them.” But the Jedi, for all their bleating about ‘compassion for everyone,’ are very un-compassionate toward their own chickadees when it comes to letting them process death.

Now why did I choose to say all this?

There is, floating around some corners of the PT/CW Star Wars fandom at least on Tumblr, a certain idea that we should withhold sharp criticism of Jedi practices and beliefs because some aspects of Jedi-ness as shown in the films nominally resemble some points of Buddhism. In the eyes of those who hold such sentiments, criticism of Jedi ideology as practiced during the PT/CW reveals our true colors as white Christian imperialists unable to conceive of any other way of life being functional.

Well, being a degenerate and a daughter of slaves myself with no love of white Christian imperialism, and being a survivor of some very specific forms of religious abuse, let’s just say I know a super dysfunctional religious subculture when I see one. And the prequel-era Jedi definitely fit that bill.

In other words, there’s a little more going on with my critique of the Jedi than the ‘no attachment’ rule. It’s a whole system that’s gone wrong, and I’ve only just gotten started in talking about how.

[aithrauniverse]

Chapter 3- Astra

I assure you, never once in my life had I ever thought I would get the chance to work peacefully alongside a nephalem and an angel. 

And to be honest, I never actually wanted to. I had endured enough teasing from the other creatures even before I got to Almoria High to know mortals like me were not exactly appreciated.  Yet here I was, with Aithne and Laila, coming up with random theories about what the challenges could be! Aithne had some of the craziest ideas I’d ever heard of, while Laila’s theories were about the brain and mind.

“So, do y’all wanna form a group?” Aithne drawled in a fake Southern accent, leaning over the edge of her chair. Laila and I giggled.  

“...Sure,” Laila glanced at me, “Why not?” Still a little uneasy around an angel, I just bobbed my head.  

“Well, then what are we waiting for? Let’s go write down our names!” Aithne beamed and flapped her wings.

“Wait... I can’t fly..." I softly pointed out.

“Oh yeah. Silly me!” she sheepishly apologized and touched down onto the ground. All of us kept up a quick pace as we walked to the station, Aithne walking backwards and Laila bouncing along (I was fairly sure she was using her wings. Just a little bit.)

Then Aithne decided to fangirl. Again. (What was it with her and fangirling?) This time, though, it was about Harry Potter. I was surprised to find that Aithne didn’t drop it after, like, five seconds and we merrily chitchatted all the way, even stopping to DEBATE on whether one of our challenges was going to be like in the fourth book, where the characters had to dive deep into the sea to rescue their friends who were tied up at the bottom. (Hey, I love a good debate. Especially one on Harry Potter.)

As I was in the middle of pointing out that the ones dragged under wouldn’t remember anyway, Laila broke in, “Um... what’s... Harry Potter?”

Feigning shock, Aithne gasped loudly.

“You’re in our group and you don’t know Harry Potter?!”

“Huh? Am I supposed to? I’m sure I paid attention in class...”

Aithne slapped herself. She dragged her palm down her face, opening her mouth to say something (probably sarcastic), but a snotty voice cut her off.  

“Laila? Did I hear right? You’re grouping with...  them?”  One of the angels that had been sitting behind us demanded. Laila jumped and shrank away from the angel’s furious expression.  

Another angel stuck his head in, “Seriously? That new girl’s a mere measly mortal. And she’s a new student! Did she meddle with your brains or something, Laila?”  

A third spoke up, “No, she’s too weak. Must have been that devil who took over her mind.”

Aithne retorted, “For the record, I’m not a devil. Looks like your little brains can’t absorb that fact, can they?”  

A fourth angel, Evan (I think his name was), took a step forward, his arms outstretched, looking like he wanted to stop his friends, but then reconsidering that decision. He dropped his hands to the side and sheepishly looked down, leaving Aithne to fume silently.

The first angel glared at Aithne. “No one asked for your opinion, you filthy devil’s spawn.” He turned to smirk at me.

“Feeling scared, aren’t you? Cat got your tongue?”  

I chewed hard on my cheek, willing myself not to say anything.  

But the second angel continued, “I bet she’s not just a mere measly mortal, she’s a mere measly mute mortal.”  

The rage brewing silently in the pit of my despair was roaring to be let out. Every single time someone had teased me about my lack of magical prowess, I pushed all that anger into the same abyss, refusing to let it show, refusing to release. It didn’t make sense to start a fight over such a small thing, anyway. They were just being petty.

But this time, the rage struck. Hard.  

“Have you angels ever tried to read a fairytale? Because I’m sure angels are meant to be kind and caring, not these toxic beings that refuse to mingle with anyone other than their own kind. You guys are just disgusting,” I spat, my eyes darting back and forth between the stunned angels.

“I’m done with these fake ‘pure-bred’ angels. I’m done with you and your sickening attitudes. If only I could show you how a real angel is supposed to be. But, alas, I’m just a mortal,” I seethed, placing emphasis on the last three words.

Suddenly, Aithne gave a loud gasp. “Astra...  your back!”  

“What?” I snapped, whipping my head around, nearly falling over.  

Laila cupped her mouth with her hands, “W... Wings..?”

Sure enough, there were a pair of soft, shimmering, galactic wings sprouting from the middle of my back. (Strangely enough, it did not hurt? Like, at all???) They were beautiful hues of ombre indigo to violet, the tips fading to a clear, pure white.  

“I-I’m not supposed to-I'm a mortal!” I whispered, staring at the graceful curve of the wings.

The angel standing beside Laila screamed, “She’s an angel?!”  

Laila shook her head, “Not just any angel. I mean, look at the colour; she’s one of Almoria’s Guardian Angels!” Around us, every single head snapped around, and a ripple of gasps went through the students.  

Shaking her head, Laila turned to Aithne. “You said before, that she was a mortal, though?”

“I didn’t know! Astra said she was mortal!” Aithne protested, frowning at me. “How could you keep this hidden?”

Everyone turned to stare at me. “Trust me, if I’d known, I would never keep it hidden,” I promised, “I mean– it's never happened before, so–”  

“Whoa, is it true? Is she really...  a descendant of the guardian angels?!” one of the other angels asked, eyes wide and staring at the pair of indigo and violet wings in awe. “Aren’t they one of the rarest and most powerful kinds to ever exist?”

“Yes, yes she is!  Now you know never to mess with us. MWAHAHA! " Aithne cackled, grinning at me.  

I didn’t really register her words. How could I be a guardian angel? I thought back to a book about the rare angels I’d read before... It seemed than guardian angels usually only manifested in their teenage years... I guess it wasn’t that surprising that I’d only found out today.

Laila placed her hand on my shoulder, facing the gawking angels, “Tease my friends again, and I’ll make sure your little furry wings are gone by midnight.”  

[incarnateirony]

One of the funniest things I’ve encountered recently is antis, from multiple fandom lanes tbh (lbr, they’re usually alternate-ship motivated), but one in particular this last few weeks, being absolutely incensed that I will not argue with them, and have zero reason to prove my read to them.

Various conversations have gone:

Me: “Listen, you can have your read and I can have mine. In the end, one will be right and one will be wrong. Or hell, maybe we’re both wrong. But we can argue circles all day about kiss vs true love or whatever the timeless stupid debate is until we’re blue in the face and nobody is going to be able to change the validity of anybody’s read, especially contingent on the material anybody builds their read from. If your read works for you, so be it.”

Them: “EXCUSE ME?”

Like, what, I’m sorry, does it bother you that I literally don’t have to run the same argument for the thousandth time with you as your predecessors? They went off on a rage fest after that and I’m just sitting over here with my coffee mug like-- I’m sorry, you have me confused with someone who cares. I already said you have the right to your read as long as it works for you. The simple fact is, even if I could demolish it to your face 17 ways to sunday, I won’t, unless you come chumming to try to slap me with it, and even then, I’m not gonna do it in the standard method of piss warring that goes on here and reduces complex texts to My Ship > Your Ship. If you get this mad about it, I’m going to have to assume that somewhere subconsciously, your read isn’t working as well for you as you want, and it bothers you that someone else’s read is securely working for them, because that’s all that really reduces to. And that’s not my problem or responsibility.

This ironically comes to heads of them claiming you think your read is better than theirs. I mean, well, yeah, implicitly; but just as implicitly the sheer tonal offense that I feel no need to justify anything implies they feel theirs is better too. Of course we think, silently at least, that our reads are right. If we didn’t see them, they wouldn’t be our reads. That’s kind of how this works. 

Other ones that piss them off seem to be not even bothering to rehash things I’ve blogged about for years. “I don’t think Dabb is using that theology!”

“Listen, whether you understand it or want to learn it or not is up to you. If you never read the content presented to you for fear that it may have Destiel Cooties, you’re never going to learn what, why or how. Neverminding of course that the better part of my meta orbits around concepts like souls, cosmogenics, and aeons -- you’ve already allocated what you think my meta is about and thus you will never read it. In never reading it, you will never consider it. I can’t force anybody to educate themselves on what this philosophy in play is, but trying to call it just interpretation at this phase in the game is tantamount to calling it Just Interpretation that seasons 4-5 had heavy christian influence and was loosely following the book of revelations as its source despite all the dogma, quotes, symbolism, verses and everything else.”

“EXCUSE YOU?”

I mean-- it is what it is. 

“How dare you sit so smugly!!”

I mean, um. Yeah. If one of us is “the broken clock is right twice a series run” in spec and the other one is prewriting entire episodes or mytharc runs, I really don’t have to sit here and pat-slap around anybody else’s stuff. Even if they’re really, really mad for some reason. Cuz here’s the trap: I pat-slap it around and they get mad about DiFfErEnT oPinIonS. 

In fact this, too, happened.

There’s a multiship server I’m in where everybody has their own sandboxes to play in. While people from a few given ships haven’t figured out how to not be hostile cross-area (though tend to be dealt with swiftly when done so), generally--you stay in your sandbox, you’re left alone.

Now, someone came with very (Ship A) goggled lenses. They could have stayed in their ship corner, squii’ed with like minded people. But instead, they came into a general/spoiler room yelling their idea. Now quite literally, their idea doesn’t add up, not remotely. If someone politely says, “I disagree, and here’s why,” especially without directly attacking a ship but rather the premise of the presentation as it stands within the sum of the mytharc, and doesn’t even have to evoke their own ship into it -- that’s not ship warring. And hell, that’s not being mean. You go to a general discussion area in a server that’s intersectional and you’re going to get general discussion from people with other perspectives. Why this basic self care is beyond them, I’m unclear. 

That’s not being bullied. It just means there’s other takes out there, and if you choose to present those takes in general zones, people can and probably will politely disagree with you. Emphasis on “politely.” Now, polite doesn’t mean putting squishy words and cowing to a way where everybody’s take is completely untouched and everybody floats in their own conversational bubbles never really actually encountering each other’s points of view. It means not extremizing it and trying to warp social justice narratives (eg, ableist, whatever) off of the first impact. It means not reading everything in absolute bad faith. It means not calling people cunts or whatever. Those things clearly aren’t polite. But if you’re going to go to a general speculation zone, you have to be prepared for other forms of speculation.

Now, that doesn’t mean you have to argue with the other forms of speculation. Nobody’s entitled to your time. But the simple acknowledgement that there may be other speculation is how this works. You can’t yell “all interpretations are equal” and then rove through general areas, demanding half cracked thoughts of impulse and wishlists that you throw out like law never be presented with another point of view. If you want that, go to a location, or a channel, or whatever where people are literally coalesced that have similar POV/wishlist/egregore/whatever.

Why. Is this. Hard.

When it comes down to it, we’re in the final run. There are seven episodes left. When this is done, what’s done is done. While there may be several ways to interpret the final product, most spec and arguments about who’s gonna die and who’s gonna come back and who’s the endgame XYZ be it unit/pair or family or whatever the FUCK else? Those are gonna be pretty well defined. There’s no infinite extension, no way to extend it to next year while people’s reads stretch more thin than Sam’s rubber band soul. No way to manipulate theories over and over again. That theory you’re sitting on? You have a few episodes left to build on that. After that, it’s done. 

I can’t emphasize enough how pointless it is to argue with people and their various overstretched theories in any given lane. Because what’s gonna happen is gonna happen. Now, if you’re confident in your read, rather than making confused noises or rejoicing overloud because the clock finally appropriately tolled twelve for the first time in 5, 10, 15 years for you; that’s fine. Sit confident.

You know what isn’t confident?

Aggressively feeling the need to prove your worth or merit against reads, a large sum of which in this fandom are outright comical. And let’s face it. We all know it. Somewhere even within your (character) or (ship) lane you’ve even found some sort of spec or opinion that even you kind of hide your face in your hand in embarrassment behind your screen. So why the hell are you contending with opposite points just as ridiculous?

Come on y’all.

If you can’t have nuanced intersectional conversation to safeguard your opinion, don’t go to general areas. If you can’t have that intersectional conversation without turning into a kindergarten slapfight, why even bother? 

I’m not saying to not ideashare or whatever. But this fandom pretends to have no idea what that is anymore, even though most of y’all are grown assed adults or at least pretty damn close. If your read is so sensitive and fragile that the slightest breath contrary to it sends it and you shattering and off into a hysterical frenzy of being offended, maybe it’s better to not try to engage in those areas.

The louder anyone crows in someone’s face trying to incite fights, the less confident they are. It’s that simple. It’s a simple validation thing, “VALIDATE MEEEE FIGHT MEEEEE” we see it all the time even outside of fandom. Why everybody thinks human psychology is so vastly different between fandom and political twitter is a mystery. So why the hell.

It’s not your responsibility to bring down your level of confidence to someone else’s just because they refuse to recalibrate and figure out why they’re so dependent on argued validation, and it’s not wrong to be confident, especially if you have damn good reason to be confident. Confidence does not come in the claim of confidence, but in the principle of behavior around the material in which you are confident. Everything else is disingenuous hot air that bloats the sum of our fandom conversation and sets it on volatile explosion risk on any given day.

[duocreatix]

Ok, can I talk a little thing (or two) about Good Omens impressions?

Or actually, can I talk a little about the development of their love story as shown in the (glorious) third episode?

I was re-watching the series with my husband and, when it came to this specific episode, some things came to my mind while watching the marvelous half an hour of it that I’d like to put into words for a better understanding, for me and for y’all that maybe agree with me.

First of all, I’m gonna start from the idea that Crowley wasn’t primarily in love with him since the Garden of Eden, but acquired a heavy interest, almost an obsession, towards Aziraphale (the first angel that treated him as an equal) that slowly translated into pure affection (and eventual love) throughout 6000 years together. Where this transition occurred is not clear during the scenes, since the whole flashback is told from the angel’s point of view… except the 1967 scene, and this is important.

Secondly, I’ve already seen many people discussing that, in the 1941 church scene, Aziraphale didn’t found out he was in love with Crowley, but that he was being loved back, and I personally agree with this thinking line. This is also very important.

Why? Let’s go back a little bit…

(This is gonna be long, please bear with me…)

So, based on what’s written in the book, Aziraphale and Crowley agreed on sealing the Arrangement in 1020 AD, and the series showed very well the changes in their dynamics between 537 AD (before the Arrangement) and 1601 (after the Arrangement), where I’ll start.

Aziraphale leaves this marvelously obvious when he basically smiles at the sight of Crowley (even though he also smiled when saw him at Rome in 41 AD) and, well, asking for extra favors with that puppy eyes of him…

(and Crowley accepting, which is adorable in my opinion)

They’re doing favors to each other for almost 600 years by then, seeing each other more frequently than ever, so yes, they’re already seeing each other as friends (or at least kind of coworkers). Is Crowley spoiling the angel and said angel is starting to take advantage of this demon’s tendency? Absolutely. But romance…? Maybe not yet.

And then, well, comes French Revolution and Aziraphale is locked in the Bastille in the verge of being discorporated and Crowley comes to the rescue. Maybe the angel hadn’t fallen in love yet with the demon, but I’m in favor of the theory that, being the bastard that we already noticed he can be, Aziraphale walked into France aware he wasn’t appropriately suited for the historical moment (and with a miracle restraint) hoping to run into Crowley. So, yeah, that would justify the literal stars that shone in his eyes when he listened to his demon’s voice:

I could screenshot this entire scene piece by piece to prove my point, but I won’t, ok? The entire development leaves clear their mutual pining and how used to Crowley being always there Aziraphale became in those 770 years of Arrangement, to the point of risking his human form in the name of gluttony, almost in a leap of faith because he was sure Crowley would save him at the end.

(Aaaand he does all this not so little selfish things conscious that they could bring problems to Crowley, as he mentioned during the Globe Theatre scene, but the demon keeps doing anyway just to please his angel… Is Crowley already in love? Probably yes)

And then we arrive in 1862, and that for me was the breaking point in their relationship. Up to now, as I mentioned, Aziraphale always had the certainty that Crowley would be there for him, but this drastically changes here. I have my own thoughts about the holy water situation, and what amazes me the most is the fact that, instead of reading Crowley’s request as “I want holy water so I have a weapon to use against other demons if they ever come to me”, he read like “I want holy water to end my own life in case everything goes wrong”.

You can see, right here, his change of posture:

What does it mean? Simply that, for the first time in 5840 years, Aziraphale felt the fear of really losing Crowley, forever, no coming back, and panicked. The panic was big enough to label their relationship as other thing than friendship (probably as a defense mechanism against the fear of losing, even what they have done all those millenia is, indeed, fraternizing), which enrages Crowley: So what you’re saying is that I’ve been fooling myself all these centuries thinking of you as a friend, as someone I could trust my fucking demon life???

Thinking about it while writing, the whole “I-don’t-need-you-And-the-feeling-is-mutual-obviously” sounds like pure bickering from both sides trying to hurt the other. Do they succeed into it? Marvelously: they stop talking to each other, Crowley probably goes to his century-long nap (while hating himself for the fact that he knows he loves the angel, otherwise he wouldn’t be so angry with the fraternizing thing), and Aziraphale starts attending Gentlemen’s Clubs to forget his sorrows and try to detach from Crowley (any ficwriter can insert Oscar Wilde right here in Azi’s life). Their relationship ruins from here, and they’ll never be the same.

So, we arrive at 1941, both angel and demon living their lives fully apart from each other… but Crowley is unable to refrain himself from worrying about his angel. And then, that pathetic excuse of a demon, aware that Aziraphale was manipulated by the Nazis to hand over his precious books and was about to be discorporated again, enters a church, steps on consecrated ground and diverges a whole enemy attack to save the angel he loves.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale really considers he’s totally alone this time (i.e. without the guarantee of Crowley being around, because he barely knows if he still exists), doomed, forced to being discorporated and having to deal with celestial paperwork… Look at the despair in his eyes:

Thankfully, things go well and the two escape miraculously from the explosion, and Aziraphale can breathe again, like things can almost go back to how they were before. Almost.

 And then comes The Scene:

And that’s here, the exact moment, when Crowley, more than saving his life (which, btw, he had no obligation to do), also saved his books, that Aziraphale actually feels Crowley’s love for him emanating for the first time, and it leaves the angel absolutely astonished. His feelings are being returned for real, and he honestly doesn’t know what to do about it.

Look at him, look at his eyes and dare to tell me this isn’t pure love??? He thought he lost his friend, but in the end he came back in his aid, like some sort of knight in a shining armor… and also saves everything he cares about!! (bonus points for the romantic soundtrack, Mr. Arnold)

Poor Aziraphale. (evil laugh)

Finally, we arrive at 1967, where this whole consideration came from. As I said, this is the only scene from Crowley’s POV, and there’s a reason to it: up to this point, Aziraphale is finally certain of his own feelings and that he’s actually being reciprocated, but the other side isn’t. So, while Crowley keeps going with his plan, the angel decided to pay back the gesture from 1941 by providing the Holy Water he needs so much.

What does it mean? It means for Aziraphale an opportunity to stop Crowley from hurting himself again or being caught by Heaven’s lot during the robery (even if providing said water causes trouble to himself), but mostly is another leap of faith to both sides: Aziraphale is willing to trust that Crowley won’t kill himself with Holy water while asking Crowley to trust his word and keep the fucking tartan thermos closed until it’s needed (which he actually does).

So, what I really, really wanted to reach is this specific point:

Tbh, their interpretation was crucial to me here because, let’s be real, the dialogue in this scene is very subtle in its real meaning. This moment is Crowley’s time to realize and understand what’s going on with Aziraphale through the last hundred years, and it hits him like a rock: his angel loves him enough to go against his own principles to attend his request, sacrificing his rationality and risking being discovered. He’s right there, by his side, raw and truly open like he wasn’t for centuries, letting the demon sense his own feelings for the very first time. So yes, after everything he said, Crowley, he loves you back.

And, interesting enough, what’s his first reaction after acknowledging this fact? Offer a ride, wanting to spend some time with his beloved angel and, who knows, make up for lost time. But Aziraphale feels too fragile, too uneasy, about the fact that he opened himself for Crowley and now the demon truly knows his feelings, and needs time to rebuild his walls and create a convincing facade that’ll deceive his lot he has nothing to do with his hereditary enemy. He wants to reciprocate Crowley, but now like that, it’s too early for him yet: Don’t expect me to accept your advances right away, I’m feeling too vulnerable right now and I’m afraid that I’ll let you consume me completely if I surrender in my current state, so please respect my time.

Interesting enough, Crowley actually kept his cool facade in 1941, when he let the angel see his true feelings, something that seemed impossible to Aziraphale when he did the same. He’s an angel, after all, he’s unable to lie!

This way, he’ll probably only understand Aziraphale’s insecurities when he goes through the same situation, or at least the closest he’ll get: while the angel feared losing the demon, the demon really lost the angel, and with him his stability, his other half, his world:

And suddenly, running away from the Apocalypse didn’t matter anymore, to the point the sunny ballad of “You’re My Best Friend” turns into the anguished prayer of “Somebody to Love”.