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lxmelle · 2 days

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Just some thoughts on 270

Yes the end is near.

Yes I almost threw up when I saw that unmistakable hairstyle...

Yes I was a bit disappointed that there were no visible satosugu crumbs - or are there? More on this later... and the it overall just felt a little bit 😔 empty 😪

Nevertheless, I want to just blab about a few things.

First, is it Geto/Kenjaku?

If we think about how Yuta’s copy CT works, Rika would need to consume a viable part of the sorcerer. The only part of Kenny left was his whole brain. He was the brain. The rest is Geto. We have not seen any evidence of Yuta having CSM, so it can be assumed that Yuta did not have Rika eat any part of Geto. Otherwise, it’s be Geto’s CT and not Kenjaku’s body-hopping technique.

Imho: The person with Takaba is not likely to be either Kenny or Geto. Geto cannot function without a brain, there was none “spare” either, so the theory of a spirit entering the body is going to make it alive again - no, it doesn’t. There is no other living sorcerer who can do that - Ui Ui maxed it out with the number of times and there is no other person to swap with. Just. Not. Possible.

And Kenny was seen to have told Mimiko and Nanako that he took Geto’s brains out to inhabit it.

So. My conclusion is that Gege is baiting. Just as he did with the “we have to help Yuta!” And the rude yelling that got so many of us wondering just who would speak to roughly to Yuta and what warranted it. We were all asking: who calls Yuta “Yuta” and not “Okkutsu-senpai” etc. I even thought it was Shoko, assuming that Maki was in the same hallway as the others, but the main culprit was of course the most obvious, Maki herself.

And that baiting thing with the clock theory about 2:21 pm linking with chapter 221 of Gojo’s unsealing - I theorised it’s about having presence (like how spiritualists, and in Shinto, believe that spirit is all around us) despite being dead and his soul with Geto.

And goodness know what other theories there are out there about time and Gojo revival. I’ve said before that I don’t buy into it, but it is interesting.

So is it Geto? Kenjaku? I 80% think not but... yeah, I am worried. To be completely transparent, I’m so scared that it is.

Because I’m in the camp of: please please Gege, please please please let Gojo and Geto be at peace in their eternal afterlife until they’re ready to be reborn and let them find each other over and over and over again.

So rationally, I doubt it is. But I’m worried. I’m worried for reasons like: why aren’t the bodies and resting places of Gojo & Geto still not mentioned?

Next thing to I have some thoughts on are about Itafushi. They’re really good friends and I think it’s also just one of those things Gege is doing because it’s JUMP and he doesn’t want to just pretend the Hana -> Megumi thing is forgotten. It also shows some character growth.

So overall, I’m rather neutral about the Megumi + Hana thing. They’re still kids, and Yuji + Megumi are compatible but they’re also not quite Satosugu, so their relationship will be undeniably different. Friends or otherwise.

It’s nice to see the Megumi is taking initiative and finding novel ways to make new meaning & connections. I wouldn’t read too deeply into it, especially since Hana obviously read too deeply into it and got it all wrong.

I will say that it feels cliche maybe. Again it’s maybe a JUMP serialisation thing shonen mangakas do, since a big portion of the fanbase are young boys too. Gege can’t be doing too much for lgbtq+ too obviously after all.

So it leaves me feeling it is a little reminiscent of the Sasuke and Sakura pairing in Naruto - as if it could become something seemingly out of convenience/settling/making do, but what do I know? Sometimes relationships in life are like that. I’d rather marry my best friend, but you know... different strokes for different folks. As they say.

Now it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t find a way to make it about satosugu. I’m imagining collective groans from people who may be reading this... so please skip if you’re bored of me now, lol. Or read on if you like to be in satosugu delulu brainrot like me.

One of the satosugu-related takeaways from this recent chapter is that it seems to reduce the possibility of interpreting Gojo not allowing Shoko to process Geto’s body as being out of consideration for her.

Her saying that the idiot should have let her process Geto’s body pretty much says Gojo took matters into his own hands. Not only was it protocol… but she also personally thought it would be a privilege. But Gojo did not let her.

We ofc don’t know the details.

So it leaves us with: He did it for his own reasons, or reasons at least relating to Geto. Kenjaku thought it was out of consideration. And Kenjaku is not a reliable narrator, nor was Geto... who tended to think he didn’t matter.

You know, as a person who can quietly just swallow vomit and shit rags without complaint. As a person who could practically transform the filth, negativity, evil, and darkness of the world into power that he could use for good - he was vessel of sacrifice.

Anyway, I digress.

It seems to indicate that Gojo kept his body to himself ... for his own reasons, breaking protocol.

And referring back to 270 again, for Shoko to talk about the afterlife right after preparing the body -> cremation is strange. Does preparing the body and cremating it have anything to do with the afterlife? 🤔 so somehow, prepare body -> cremate -> mourn/afterlife?

Interesting in that Gege is giving us yet another example of how everyone has a different reality / belief. If we believe what we saw in Gojo’s death, then there is one and Shoko will be proven wrong when her time comes like how Gojo was wrong about dying alone.

And it is also interesting in the sense that it’s familiar…

Something about how she said prior to Gojo’s unsealing, about “I couldn’t love either of you like you loved each other, but I was there too.” - am I reading too deeply? Probably. But it’s there for me to read.

Shoko prepared Tsumiki for cremation. She was made her beautiful for the afterlife - even if she was to be cremated, there was something about giving her something (dignity?) before she turned to ash. And those left behind can send them off into the afterlife feeling they did their best.

I think you’d need a certain level of trust for someone to hand your beloved over. Or at least feel like they would mourn the departed like you would. Or faith that your beloved would be happy with entrusting you with that decision. In some cultures, the family wash and swathe their dead in cloth with their own hands where possible.

So Shoko. Shoko could do it for Geto, for Gojo. She was there. She was willing. But. It was almost as if saying that Gojo 1. could not allow someone else to prepare Geto’s body, and neither did he seem to have mourned because 2. Geto was not cremated to be sent into the afterlife. As if he didn’t trust anyone. As if he could not let go.

Again, Rika kept Yuta’s body “alive” too. Parallels are paralleling.

I don’t know how Geto regenerated or if Kenny was responsible for it. Or if Gojo somehow did. But those are just unnecessary details at this point.

And again, Shoko was there but she could not be like what Gojo was to Geto and what Geto was to Gojo.

How complicated.

I’m reminded of that scene where he says to ichiji and Shoko: “There are just 3 of us remaining huh.”

In agreement to Shoko acknowledging that Geto’s body needed retrieving from Kenjaku, it was quite a pregnant pause from Gojo before he goes, “………yeah.”

He seemed surprised Shoko brought it up and decided to just gloss over it.

To me, it collectively implies that Gojo doesn’t let Geto be anyone else’s but his.

His friendship was his one and only. His loneliness was his. His dreams were his. His love was his. His life was his. His body was... his. And his soul was his too. As was his satisfaction.

I think Gege wants us to understand something here. By what he is showing and not showing us.

If I think about the exclusivity that they shared... the whole, “we are the strongest (together)” and “it wouldn’t be bad to be killed by you” or even “I’m jealous but if you were satisfied I’m glad for you.” and then “if you were there to pat me on the back I’d be satisfied.”

It’s a lot like... only YOU can be the one. And therefore I think Gojo kept Geto all to himself. Maybe thinking Geto would only want HIM to touch his body.

It was his exclusive right. And that was mutually shared... because Geto wasn’t really pleased with Gojo getting satisfaction from elsewhere (lol, you know, the “jealous” 妬けるね that got the fandom in a frenzy).

I’ve mentioned it in another post... link: https://www.tumblr.com/lxmelle/758015943938113536/i-love-the-idea-of-mutuality-that-is-deeply-rooted I really do like the idea of Gojo and Geto just teaching each other things. Like selfishness and love. Binding each other to the other. Selfishness and selflessness as part of being human.

Was this an act out of the side of Gojo that was “a little selfish, a little inhuman but a little too human”, and he wanted to keep Geto all to himself? Despite not giving his best friend a proper burial?

When I think about how he normally did what Geto approved of (you can dispute this if you wish) and I think back to how he might’ve really given Geto’s body back to his family- but what we saw in the manga seemed like they didn’t have much involvement either. Surely they’d have wanted Geto cremated?

So it leaves me with the idea that it was Gojo acting out his secret feelings.

Just Gege and how he shields Gojo’s privacy. Secret words. Secret thoughts. You know. Gege being Gege letting Gojo do Gojo things.

I think we might need to accept that Gojo and Geto just have this exclusive thing we aren’t privy to.

That’s all for now. Abrupt ending 🫡

Thanks for reading my rambling if you made it this far 🫶

Feel free to share your thoughts/comments/criticisms 😄

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soscarlett1twas · 2 days

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Been thinking about Andrew and Luca.

There’s something so special to me about these two men — outwardly, very different people, but they’re just so alike internally: both having a pretty isolated upbringing with little to no friends, then being thrust into college life and discovering love… and that’s where we see a rift. The outcome of that relationship diverts the course of their emotional journeys. That is, until they meet eachother.

Luca found success where Andrew did not. Luca’s college relationship landed him a fiancé, while Andrew’s was the first in a long chain of loneliness. Isaac left him, then his brother did, and all Andrew had was the choice to either drown in his feelings, or drown in work. He chose work. And that pivoted them to meet, as without Andrew’s drive, he never would have become the young professor Luca TA’d for. He built himself wax wings to soar; but we all know the end of that myth.

Luca, meanwhile, was with the love of his life. Someone who supported him relentlessly for simply being him. It’s pretty clear they have a set-in-stone happily ever after, for as much as even I don’t believe in them. But what’s interesting about this is that Luca is the abandoner. He left his family back in the US. He is happy without them, but he is also not the person who stayed. And we know he was going to — he admits to having planned returning to the States after uni. But he didn’t, because he found love. Love he figured was worth (physically) leaving his family and life for.

Sound familiar? Takes a similar bent to a certain twin’s, doesn’t it.

So it’s those choices which force them to meet. Andrew’s delve into work and Luca’s “running away.” Luca is initially terrified of Andrew while Andrew just sees Luca as his new TA. Both completely fair POVs.

That works for like a week, then Andrew and Darling’s scandal breaks. (An affair which I will say only happened because of Andrew’s crippling loneliness. Andrew wouldn’t have broken his morals so deeply if it weren’t for that fact he literally had nobody else, so desperate for some form of love that he turned to a damn student.) Darling, in the heat of their argument, pins some blame on Luca, accusing Andrew of having a fling with Luca. It’s ludicrous, and I doubt even Darling actually believed that, but it strikes a nerve with Andrew.

Something similar happens with Luca and Babe later. While it’s not as severe an accusation, Babe is jealous of the blooming friendship between our dear Marston and Pearce. Luca assures them that there is nothing going on because literally nothing is, except for the fact that both of their listeners have only observed these two lacking in something, which can be described in a lump sum as friendship.

It’s a rare moment of almost… misunderstanding? For the listeners? Luca and Andrew are both made better by their listeners. ‘Better’ in little, esoteric ways — parallel to the nature of love itself, because is love if not for the little things? — but better nonetheless. So I think to see that little spark of fulfillment in your partner fueled by another person was a moment of yes, misunderstanding.

Because they do begin to fulfill eachother.

Luca calls Andrew more of a ‘big brother’ than anything else. Andrew is the family Luca left behind. And Luca is Andrew’s friend, a role once taken by the people who left him, and it is not a job that can be taken up by a partner — romantic and platonic love are not the same, after all.

This all comes to a head when Andrew and Luca have their talk. The details are a little obscure, but from what I’ve picked up, it seems they spoke about engagement. Luca’s proposal to Babe, specifically.

This is the climax of two things: first, the building of a friendship between two people who spent their lives pretty devoid of that and two, their crossroads. Luca wants to have his family again, only this time, with the person he loves more than anything. Andrew is going steady with Darling and is in the position to have a heart-to-heart with someone who is coming to him as a friend, as a brother, even if Luca never fully expressed that to Andrew.

And it works out. Even if hidden in the vibrant hues of an Icarian crash and burn from Andrew (him losing his job), there are still strokes of bliss. Babe says yes. Luca and Andrew’s friendship grows. Darling and Andrew living peacefully, above all else, together.

Luca and Andrew aren’t even amazing friends, but still, they’re parallels and foils all at once.

They are eachothers closure and openings to a new life. They are brief moments, those passing friends who you see only so often, but still the shifting in a current. Because you don’t need some big, romantic love affair to be changed — you don’t even need a really good friend, you just need a friend.

Somebody.

And I think that’s neat.

#sakuverse #zsakuva #scarlett’s ramblings #andrew marston #zsakuva andrew #zsakuva luca #luca pearce

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talenlee · 2 days

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Game Pile: Kentucky Route 0, One of Three Games About America

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Script and Thumbnail below the fold!

Kentucky Route Zero is a magical realist point and click game of what I’d normally call Narrative Adventure, which came to kickstarter in 2011, then came out in 2013, 2014, 2016, and 2020, because you can’t have nothing for free, even things you pay for. The game is a text-driven game without any of the trappings of your typical point-and-clicker where you jam a ladder in your pants and try to work out why you want to put green dye in the water fountain. Instead it follows the haunted mind of Conway, a trucky driver and his interactions with small handful of people on a part of the Kentucky Interstate, while he to find the place he needs to do his delivery, despite being utterly lost.

I enjoyed what of Kentucky Route Zero I played, but the thing that stands out to me in hindsight is its sound design. It’s a beautifully defined game, audio-wise, with all sorts of thoughtful foley for its environments, and the way that even the pieces of the interface that Conway interacts with have their own sort of specific authentic sounds, chonks and thunks and ch-zzzzses.

It’s also visually splendid, beautiful in what it tries to represent in the heightened reality of its setting but also the format of a videogame. These places look good from the angle that’s chosen, creating lines of artwork and bars of cages, depending on what you’re focusing on, and by being a fixed-camera story of its type, Kentucky Route Zero takes on traits of theatre, with blocking and careful positioning and timing all making up part of how the story unfolds.

A story I haven’t finished.

See, I don’t feel like playing Kentucky Route Zero Act V.

Sit down, traveller. Let me tell you a story.

There’s a chance you’ve heard this story before. I’ve anonymised it here, not because I think you shouldn’t be able to work out who it is, but because the idea of focusing on the who runs the risk of ignoring the what. Plus, I don’t want to direct anyone to a person who said something stupid and encourage fights. That’s not the important issue.

This is the story of when someone perfectly represented something, and probably never realised it.

You will sometimes hear me talk about the take that ‘there are three games about America,’ with a tone of utter revulsion and derision. This is from an incident back in 2020, when a game developer and advocate for inclusive games, had an opinion, on the internet. This advocate is well-established and has a big audience, but also, he’s crucially, not a white guy, not a Christian guy, and not an American guy. These are factors that play into what he said, which was, in summary, that while Kentucky Route 0 was no doubt phenomenal, he wasn’t interested in playing it right now.

To this, an actual adult responded with:

This is legitimately the worst take you’ve ever had. There are only about three games that are actually American, and this is one of them. Everything else is designed for export. Kr0 is a precious and valuable thing. It is of immense and intense personal importance.

Now, resisting the urge to argue with a tweet, which is just generally a bad practice that leads to doing things like wanting to be on twitter, and setting aside this tweet conflating ‘this is of personal importance to me’ and ‘this should be of importance to you,’ this position describes the idea that there are only three games that are ‘actually American.’

What does it mean to be ‘actually American?’

America is a pretty pervasive presence, if you’re not aware of it. Most people in the world have to know about what’s going on in America. We know about your Presidents and your Senators and your Constitution, to the point where people can be more aware of how your country’s laws work than their own country’s laws. I’ve often seen it held up as an example of how poorly educated people in say, Canada and Australia are that we believe we have, say, a ‘first amendment right,’ but the thing is you have to ask why there is that.

We watch so much American TV.

We listen to American music.

We try to make our news broadcasts look like yours, because that’s what real and legitimate news looks like. We try to retell your stories in our local languages because that’s what real media looks like. Our children sing songs in your accents because that’s the culture that a multi-trillion dollar economy has pumped into the whole world.

America demands we attend their wars and surrender our living to become their dead and when we are done America sells the survivors a cheeseburger.

This is not a remarkable or controversial statement. You must know, this is not even vaguely challenging to know about. Everywhere in the world is replicating parts of the American empire, because America exports and enforces the vision of the American empire. McDonalds may sell curry in India, but it’s very important that the curry being sold is McDonalds curry because that is how you know it’s an American style curry.

What this means is when someone tries to assert there are only really three games about America, that’s a kind of specialised brain rot that requires you to consider games that are very much about America as not being really about America. And thus we see the other thing about America, which is it’s not enough for America to be the most important place in the world that everyone else in the world needs to recognise, but also, most of America is inadequately America for this vision of America. You saw this in the wake of 9/11, and the election of Barack Obama: huge amounts of American media resurged in extolling the values of ‘real’ America, as opposed to the parts of America where the vast majority of Americans lived, which just so happened to paint a lot of marginalised people living in the cities as ‘fake Americans.’

I am not bringing you unique information. This is just obviously true things if you don’t live within the boundaries of an environment that flatters you as the most normal thing in the world. The vast majority of the world is not America. There are eight billion people in the world, more or less, meaning that America is about 4% of the world, and yet, it is catastrophically, overwhelmingly, deleritously the common touchstone for how things are ‘supposed’ to work. This is through media imperialism, which is mostly supported by American companies exporting all their media to foreign markets extremely cheaply.

‘about three games that are actually American.’

This fascinating piece of doofusry still, even now leaves me agog. ‘Actually American.’ Kentucky Route 0 is actually American, you see, as opposed to… what? Is America’s Army one of them? You know, the game financed by the American Army? What about Call of Duty, a franchise that is in part subsidised by American military complex manufacturers? What about Grand Theft Auto, a videogame that tells the rags-to-riches story of American excess in criminality, setting aside the way it’s made by a Scottish company. Actually American, because American doesn’t mean America, it means one tiny little pool of ‘America’ where the speaker can imagine there’s a realness and an authenticity to the America-ness that doesn’t involve all the messy realities of what it is to be America. It’s the towns of hard-working people, that suffer under your particular description of oppression, whether that’s cities full of nonwhite people or corporations bleeding the country dry, always eliding the social cruelties and terribleness of these places, as if giving people money stops them from being bigoted (for example).

This is then used to recruit these poor, superior Americans, the you know, America Americans, whose sufferings are noble and whose authenticity cannot be impeached and they are then used as a defense against criticism of, you know, America. It’s the same speech Charlie Daniels gave about how foreigners may think they could push around Barack Obama (a dude who bombed a lot of shepherds with the most elaborate and brutal military ordinance in the world) but they were going to have a harder time taking on Americans who wrestled alligators, who at this point have exactly zero recorded drone strike kills.

This is because America America isn’t real.

‘Real’ America is a nebulous nothing that you can project whatever you want onto, and which is also not responsible for anything terrible that America does. It’s not the American Empire, it’s not the exporter of culture, it’s somehow purer, better, a sort of individualised folk who are to be protected and extolled, shriven of all the things about America that make it anything but its perfect idealised form of America.

I could go on.

I really could.

This is something that defines the world I have to live in. I speak English. I’m white. I’m from a coloniser state. I should be able to integrate easily and smoothly into the white supremacist capitalist hierarchy of American culture, but we are told, that no, we are not acceptable. We are only valid as long as our differences are invisible. We, a real people, do not get to have opinions on America, because we do not know True America. When you spell colour wrong in a chat message, when your accent isn’t quite right, when you don’t know the difference between junior and sophomore year of high school, then you are shown, you are evinced, and you are made very aware that you are other, you are outside, you are wrong.

And really, there’s no good reason for it. We send our soldiers to America’s wars, we buy America’s submarines, and we sing your songs. Our currency mimics America’s, our culture permeats with America’s, we even have such a crushing inferiority complex about the empire that there’s an academic term for what we feel about our own media compared to the media of the truer, proper empire to which we are vassal.

The term is ‘cultural cringe,’ and it was coined by Henry Lawson, who you, odds on, have never heard of. In 1894, he wrote:

The Australian writer, until he gets a “London hearing,” is only accepted as an imitator of some recognized English or American author; and, as soon as he shows signs of coming to the front, he is labelled “The Australian Southey,” “The Australian Burns,” or “The Australian Bret Harte,” and lately, “The Australian Kipling.” Thus no matter how original he may be, he is branded, at the very start, as a plagiarist, and by his own country, which thinks, no doubt, that it is paying him a compliment and encouraging him, while it is really doing him a cruel and an almost irreparable injury. But mark! As soon as the Southern writer goes “home” and gets some recognition in England, he is “So-and-So, the well-known Australian author whose work has attracted so much attention in London lately”; and we first hear of him by cable, even though he might have been writing at his best for ten years in Australia.

This is imperialism. This is a way in which we have been induced and brought by the empires around us to accept their ways as correct, as the normal, as default. And that is the mindset you must have if you want to look at the breadth of videogames, with their American ideas like health insurance, readily available guns, the importance of freedom, the ubiquity of air travel, the branding and iconography of types of food and the sports metaphors and then say ‘yeah, this doesn’t have anything to do with America, not really.’

Anyway, this thread, this incident, was a big deal at the time, in that there were a lot of people from within the community of game developers and journalists who seemed very happy to line up and get mad at a brown foreigner for being inadequately enthusiastic about the possibility of playing a videogame. But don’t worry, after a day or two, an apology was forthcoming for all of this fracas, by which I mean, the original developer apologised for being so thoughtless as to, again, express honest lack of enthusiasm in a videogame.

For me, this was a kind of break point, where I started just blocking indie devs on sight. I don’t want to know what they’re involved in, I don’t want to promote their work, and I will hold tiny grudges against them that I do not seek to transfer or encourage in others. This was one silly incident in which a lot of people said something silly because they don’t know better, or they’re arseholes.

None of this is fair to Kentucky Route 0. It’s a game with its own intentions and its own perspective. It’s not trying to make this conversation happen. Kentucky Route 0 has been choked and gripped by this position around it, where to talk about an American game, someone put a cross on it that made it the avatar for All Things America. The wild thing to me is that I had, prior to this point, played two episodes of Kentucky Route 0. I thought it was pretty good, and I liked what it did with the negative space of dialogue options – when a character you’re controlling makes excuses, the excuses you choose show you other things you could be making excuses about that you, the player, didn’t know beforehand. That’s some good Narrative Storytelling Design, I like that a lot. But now I can’t really engage with Kentucky Route Zero because the main thing it makes me think about is how this final chapter, meant to round out the game’s story and present a conclusion and a point, became this flashpoint for a lot of people to be very casually racist.

Which kinda poisons the whole thing for me. It’s an authentic thing, I’m sure, it’s a thoughtful thing, too, but the people stepping up to say I should care about it did so in a way that made me hate them.

Any time you see me say ‘three games about America’ I’m talking about this, and the attitude of a particular kind of American that America is, as always, exceptional. It’s real easy to not realise when you’re just voicing your self-centeredness and how easy that is to ignore the opinions of people around you and what they’re saying. This is what I’m talking about when I mention ‘the three games about America.’

[fade for credit text]

By the way, the three games about America are Crash Bandicoot, Sam & Max Hit The Road, and Bust A Move.

#Game Pile #Games

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neyafromfrance95 · 19 hours

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as much as i want galadriel to stay with sauron, willingly or unwillingly, i do have reasons to believe that they won't go there, after all. let's talk about it so that we don't come out of s2 finale too bitter.

other than them saying that sau/gal dynamic is going to be central throughout all seasons, what gives me hope is that they have said sauron "groping" for galadriel was an inspiration for s/g relationship in the show (and i think of the story itself). it means that the creators are aware of the same thing we know - in order for trop to make sense in regards to lotr, sauron has to still covet galadriel at the end of s5, and galadriel still has to struggle with his temptations. so their push and pull has to continue till the end.

now, i think unlike the lorebros, the show isn't in a hurry to introduce celeborn (and if he is introduced, he is gonna be like molly from hannibal, lol) and a lot of timelines are going to change for convenience so that 8ep format is more or less neat for the gen audiences. i think this is an opportunity for them to re-establish the mind-palace. still not sure if they are intending to, but how else is sau going to grope to see gal's mind if they aren't in a close proximity? and also, how else is galadriel going to struggle with the darkness (bc again, even without succumbing, it wouldn't make sense narratively for her struggle to end yet)? how else is she going to become a powerful elf-witch and what of the dark!galadriel from the 3rd age? even more importantly, while she isn't even close to admitting to her greatest desires rn, she does in the 3rd age. so we need this development.

ofc sauron "stealing" galadriel like morgoth stole silmarils would create a perfect parallel, and give the writers an opportunity to explore a very interesting circumstance, to actually bring galadriel as close to the darkness as possible without making her fall into it. but i doubt the execs would allow that to unfold so literally. the star wars and marvel formula is still policing our mainstream media, after all.

doesn't mean that the finale is going to be bad for us shippers. it might be confirmed more clearly (for those who need it) that sauron indeed loves galadriel, and that galadriel has feelings for him too. i personally love the whole one-sided pursuit of marriage + one-sided hunt for slaying slow burn of an unresolved tension, it's the most lover/enemies dynamic of them all, after all! makes haladriel into a fantasy au hannigram, haha.

#sauron x galadriel #haladriel #saurondriel #the rings of power #trop #sauron #galadriel #galadriel x halbrand #rop

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moodymisty · 1 day

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I've had a dark and intriguing idea swirling around in my head for the past month. It came to me after the wonderful fic where Cato catches Roboute and Lady Guilliman. Roboute's first act was to protect his lady's honor. And then I had a thought. It's Roboute. But some primarchs would hardly stop halfway because they don't care what their sons think. + let the rest see how wonderful you are. Let them envy him.

This idea was especially fueled when I remembered a scene from Robin Hood 1991:

And now I'm wondering which of the primarchs would react like that?

Perturabo 100%. He'll just glare at the unfortunate Iron Warrior and growl "don't you see I'm busy" while continuing to pound into you while you're burning with shame. Or he strokes your head and just treats you like an animal if someone dares to enter his chambers without warning before his caresses turn into actions.

Ferrus Manus and Lorgar will stop, but they are unlikely to leave your body. Which is rather awkward. And knowing Lorgar, he will most likely be interrupted at the earliest prelude. Kissing on the shoulders, caressing the legs. And this means that he will continue to do this …

Horus and Fulgrim depending on the situation. Fulgrim before the Heresy will protect your honor, but after you will always have the doors to the bedroom open. It is more interesting with Horus. On the one hand, he is a Warmaster, he can do whatever he wants. Let everyone envy and be ashamed.

But on the other hand, he can also be vulnerable. Do not forget that although he was wounded by Anathema, he still initially had doubts, fears. And he, like all primarchs, is a legalized war criminal. So in moments of solitude, he just wants to bury himself inside you and never let go. And let anyone try to interfere.

Of the other primarchs, I can only single out Konrad. But that's Konrad. There's no point in explaining.

Perturabo and Konrad do this for sure. Russ is another one I instantly thought of. Horus also, because he’s a massive show off and yeah he can do whatever he wants.

Lorgar would but I think only if he’s very pent up from being gone for awhile. I think if it’s just a normal night he would stop, but if he just got back from a crusade, head between your thighs, nah he isn’t going to stop only to tell them to leave him be.

#reply #Misty’s book club

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ruegarding · 1 day

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You know, if they’re going to show us Percy killing himself to get into college, can they at least tell us what he’s going to study, and let us see him feeling somewhat excited about it?

yeah, as far as i can tell the general consensus that percy is going for marine biology is bc of annabeth's throwaway line. if percy's major has been confirmed somewhere, i'd love to see it.

it's weird that rick hasn't written percy actually liking any of his classes since...mr brunner's??? which percy didn't even find the specific material interesting as much as he found mr brunner to be engaging. the lack of focus makes sense, at least, in pjo and hoo bc their focus is less on school, so percy's classes are on the backburner after tlt (outside of acknowledging he's not experiencing straight-up ableism and is therefore doing better), but w the focus on college in the new marketing trilogy, percy's lack of interest stands out. it would be so easy to have percy say that he really enjoyed x class or lecture or assignment and wanted to study it more/focus on it in college. instead, rick has written percy to be slacking off in class, as if that was his problem and not, you know, the ableism he was experiencing (which is why mr brunner was the exception) and the fact that he had to miss a year of school bc of hoo. also, i'm unsure what accommodations (if any) alternative high is making for percy...considering he says he can quote sparknotes instead of shakespeare makes me doubt they're giving him audiobooks for his dyslexia...but the fact that percy is written to be struggling in his senior year bc he's lazy and not disabled is literally just ableism.

it makes it difficult to see college as a "good ending" when percy 1) has never showed an interest in pursuing a specific field of study (outside of him technically being a published author in-universe, which i'm not sure counts bc it's not referenced in the series...? is the implication percy writes the books after going to college? idk.), 2) is working himself incredibly hard to the point where's he's falling asleep in class, and 3) has to leave his mother/family behind to live across the country. rick also changed it so that demigods don't really have to worry abt monsters once they're 18 (which is coding for their disabilities...) and retconned nru so it requires good sat scores and isn't a full college (it's a satellite campus w uc berkeley and annabeth goes to classes at berkeley bc they don't have what she wants at nru???), so there's really no unique incentive for percy to be going to college at all, let alone in new rome. it's a series of very strange writing choices. to say the least.

#do i think percy could enjoy college? yes #do i think w the way rick is writing him like percy would enjoy college? no #am i frustrated w the way rick is handling all of this? yes #does that one blog post abt percy thinking college is a breeze make any of this better? no #does rick even write the blog posts? i don't pay attention tbh #but it would be funny to me if the only good thing to come out of this isn't even written by rick #wottg spoilers #rr crit #queenmorganlafay #answered #disability #marketing trilogy #<- also i've decided to call these books this

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ladykailitha · 5 hours

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Eddie and Nancy

Just giving my brain a break from the Secret Tunnel (aka the game show) story. I still have two chapters to get through and my brain needs a cool down.

I've seen a lot of headcanons that Eddie is the Wheeler children's older half brother because of how much they look like each other.

But may I propose instead: cousins.

Hear me out.

You have first born, Elizabeth. Absolute hippie child. All about that free love, sex, drugs, and rock and roll. She learns how to play guitar, falls in with the charming and cool, Al Munson. They plan to tour the country his beat up old truck. But before that can happen, Elizabeth gets pregnant with Eddie. So she marries Al.

Then you have Karen, the younger sister. Bright, demure, absolute golden child. She dyes her hair and blows out the curls to more like waves so she doesn't look like Elizabeth anymore.

She does what she was raised her whole life to do. Get married to a good boy so they can have good children and pay taxes and never do anything fun.

When Elizabeth dies, Karen refuses to go to the funeral, hates that her name is even in the obituary at all. Then three years later when Al is sent to prison, CPS calls her first.

She's the boy's aunt. She has a comfortable home, and bringing him in would barely dent their finances. But Karen refuses. She won't have that delinquent anywhere near her children.

So they go to Wayne. Wayne who really doesn't have the space or the money to take care a little boy almost teenager. But he looks into those big brown eyes and can't say no.

They keep apart until the murders in town start in Wayne's own god damn trailer. He keeps his mouth shut when Nancy comes up to him asking about Eddie. He would like to throw it in her face that he knows who she is and that he knows full well that Karen would throw a fucking fit if she found out where her daughter was. But he won't. It's not the girl's fault her mother is a bitch.

After Vecna (and Eddie NOT dying) Nancy is sent to the attic to see if she can find some of Mike's old things to donate as a lot of Nancy's went to Holly. She finds an old trunk and though locked it comes apart in her hands. In it she finds dozens of pictures of her mom with beautiful girl with flying dark brown curls and sparkling eyes.

She smiles as she reminds her of Eddie.

Her mother calls out for her to hurry and slips one of the pictures in her back jeans pocket. Nancy closes the trunk and hurries back to her mother.

Then because Nancy can't leave a mystery well enough alone, she goes digging. All while Eddie and Max are in a coma, Nancy works on her mystery.

She finds her answer in the most unlikely of places. Joyce Byers's year book. She had it out showing her boys the outrageous hair styles they had in her day.

There two rows down from Lawrence Byers is an Elizabeth Childress. She's got ribbons in her hair and smiling brightly at camera. So full of life.

Childress.

She closes her eyes. There is no doubt this is her mother's sister. A sister Nancy never knew anything about.

She points her out to Joyce. "Oh, I remember her. Such a sweet girl. It's really too bad she fell in with that Munson boy. Or rather the wrong Munson boy."

She flips the pages and on the same row as her, is Wayne Munson staring up at her. So happy and free. The Vietnam would too soon take that from him. "That's Wayne. Such a good boy. Elizabeth would have thrived with him. But Wayne was shy and more interested in getting good grades than girls."

Joyce flips back to the seniors with Jim and Lonnie and began searching for the M's. "There." She pointed at another boy. Alan Munson. "He was trouble from the moment he was born. But he had a motorcycle and a leather jacket. Lizzy fell hard. They got married right out of high school, I heard."

Jonathan and Nancy share a look of shock.

"What happened to her?" Jonathan asks.

"Cancer," Joyce says sadly, "poor thing."

Armed with her knowledge and a borrowed yearbook, Nancy marches right up to her mother and slams the yearbook in front of her. The picture Nancy took from the attic serves as bookmark and she shoves both at her mother.

There is no denying it now. All the proof is right there in black and white.

"This is why you didn't want to join the D&D club my freshman year, isn't it? Because it was Eddie's club?"

Karen buries her head in her hands. And the truth just starts spilling out.

"And that boy is just like his father!" Karen cries. "He might have not have killed those kids but he was a drug dealer."

"To keep the lights on his trailer!" Nancy yells back. "If you and Dad had taken him in maybe he wouldn't have turned out the way he did. Maybe he be a better person."

"Or maybe he would have dragged you other children with him!"

"If you really thought that Mike wouldn't have been allow in Hellfire either!"

It's at this point Mike walks in and suddenly Karen is caught.

She breaks down and explains that Eddie had helped her with her car right before Mike started high school. So as a way to return the favor she let Mike join.

Nancy heads to the hospital and manages to get into see Eddie.

Wayne tells her only family is allowed to see him and Nancy smiles.

She knows.

Then Eddie wakes up, falls for Steve, the whole party teases Steve about keeping it in the family and Karen gets her head out of her ass and everyone lives happily ever after.

The end.

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #new headcanon #mike wheeler #karen wheeler #elizabeth munson #wayne munson #al munson

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joekeerys · 2 days

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I find it interesting how we’ve never seen Jacaerys show any interest in women. Even in being betrothed to Baela, they act more like cousins than anything. His dance with Helaena was done almost entirely out of spite for Aegon, whom we’ve seen him show more interest in/affection toward as a child than anyone else. Then we have Cregan, whose relationship with Jacaerys in the book is…a whole other story. Jacaerys seemed quite fond of him in the short scene we got in the show too.

i’m gonna make a lot of people angry by saying this but i agree. i don’t think it’s any fault of the actors but jace and baela do not come off as a romantic couple at all. that’s entirely due to how condal & co chose to write them and their lack of scenes that would imply they’re anything other than close family. it’s unfortunate because i’d really like to see them explored more and they’ve already treated baela’s character poorly enough as it is. i highly doubt we’ll even get a kiss between them before jacaerys dies.

it’s obvious i’m a big jacegon shipper and, regardless of whether you view it as platonic/familial or not, the way they acted together as kids and the tension between them during the dinner because of that fallout is undeniable. we haven’t seen jace act the way he did with aegon with anyone else. i think some people downplay how much he looked up to aegon as a child (as they do with all of aegon’s relationships), especially considering it’s the reason why things were so tense between them after aegon very publicly betrayed him in 1x07. i’d argue that “everyone knows. just look at them.” coming from someone he admired so much is one of jace’s biggest reasons for feeling so inadequate his whole life. this got out of hand lmao but YEAH i think it’s interesting how affected jace and aegon are by each other and i do not see it as entirely platonic.

jace and cregan are a whole other story indeed. i’m not much of a jacegan shipper but cregan’s devotion to jace long after his death is interesting to say the least. i never bought into the whole sara snow thing and the absence of her in the show doesn’t bother me since it’s up in the air whether she existed at all and i take everything mushroom says with a grain of salt. i like the ship more as an idea. them seeing themselves in each other, jace finding someone he can be more comfortable with, and them finding a sort of intimacy in that. another instance where the he chemistry between them is pretty apparent and it helps that harry and tom are such good friends outside of the show.

i think there’s a reason why jace is normally written as gay in fanfics where he’s paired with a man, while the other party is usually written as bisexual. i wouldn’t go as far as to say that the showrunners write him that way intentionally because that would be giving too much credit to someone like sara hess who has called hotd “the gayest show on tv” for reasons beyond explanation.

i’ve always seen show jace at least as being more interested in men because that’s what we’ve been given. book jace is another story and harder to pin down. ultimately, i agree with you!

#i could go on about this for hours but i’ve gone on enough of a tangent already 🙂‍↕️#jacaerys velaryon #jacegon #jacegan #hotd spoilers #f&b spoilers #answered

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shroomyifiy · 21 hours

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Hello DRDT fandom! Here’s yet another person throwing their hat into the ring about the Chapter 2 culprit.

Spoilers for Episode 14 below.

Yeah no Ace is probably the killer.

Now before anyone comes for me, hear me out!

We know that, currently, the culprit is between Ace and Eden. One of them definitely took the tape, no doubt about that, and is most likely the killer. You could argue the existence of a third party culprit, but currently, it has to be one of them. So we are going to ignore that for now. I will now break down why I believe Ace is the killer.

Step 1: Tape

Okay, first off, the tape. That motherfucking tape.

The tape is located directly in front of Ace’s feet, and disappears the moment he gets up and exclaims he’s alive. At this moment, he also knocks Eden to the ground, making it just a small amount of time for either of them to grab the tape.

Now, we don’t know where anyone directly is besides Ace, due to the way the series is presented. Meaning, we have no idea where either Teruko or Eden were standing relative to Ace revealing he was alive.

A big point for the Eden truthers is that when she was knocked over, she picked it up. Now, it’s possible that she could do so without either of them seeing her do this (Ace was currently bleeding and Teruko wasn’t paying attention to the tape). But, I feel like we need to look at the crime scene.

Teruko specifically tells Eden to “Not touch anything”, so we can assume that Teruko wouldn’t have moved anything around too much during her original investigation. So then that leaves us with an interesting thing.

Teruko and Eden both have to be standing by Ace’s body when he gets up (Eden because he pushes her and Teruko because she is mentioned to have touched his neck, and realized he was still alive). But one thing to note is that the area around Ace is rather messy and cluttered. Meaning, there are likely two spots that Eden could be standing at (3 for Teruko, but we will ignore that one for now).

Visually speaking, Eden needs to be standing in spots 1 or 2 to fit the criteria. If she’s in spot three, she’d have been pushed over the bench, and most certainly couldn’t have gotten the tape, and also would have made more noise. (side note: Teruko is either in spots 1 or 3, but currently, her position isn’t as important. For Culprit!Eden to work though, she cannot be in spot 2, which is the most unlikely spot anyways)

If Eden was standing in spot 2, she would have been more likely to be able to grab the tape without issue (as it would be right in front of her feet). While spot 1 could also work, Eden would have had to reach a much farther distance to grab it, and given she’s not knocked down long, I feel like Teruko would have noticed Eden crawling to grab it more than spot 2.

For Ace to grab the tape, we already know where he is relative to the tape, so we don’t need to explain that.

Now, when either of them got up, it’s likely they would have used their hands to push off from the ground near their feet, which is what they would have to do to grab the tape without being noticed. Otherwise, it would be impossible to grab it without being noticed.

You might be asking yourself, “Shroomy, why the fuck does it matter where Eden (and by extention, Teruko) were standing? That’s such a weird and minor detail!”

THE FUCKING TAPE DISSAPEARING WHEN ACE GETS UP/KNOCKS EDEN OVER IS SUCH A MINOR DETAIL TO START WITH!!!!

Ahem… I mean, clearly, the crime scene of Ace plays a part in Arei’s death. And since such a major piece of evidence comes from such a scene, doesn’t it make sense that eventually, body positions would come up? Especially considering just how cluttered the area was. It’s so minor, but it might be the smoking gun to solve the case.

Now, why would either of them pick it up in the first place?

With Eden, she has to be actively making a decision to grab it for whatever reason. Same with Ace, although you could make more of an argument that he grabbed it either a: help his wound or b: by accident, grabbed it and didn’t realize due to the whole murder thing. Also option c: to murder Nico with it, but that’s less likely.

Honestly, despite being what ties them both to the crime, I really don’t see why either of them would grab the tape, especially since, given how fast everything went, I doubt it was either of their first thoughts to recreate Nico’s murder attempt for their own murder, at least in the moment.

Moving on!

Step 2: The murder method

One of the big pieces of evidence against Ace right now is that, “Oh, he was just attacked. There’s no way he would have realized how he was attacked and would know how to replicate it, he’s not that smart!”

First off, let’s address Ace and his stupidity. Okay, yeah, he’s not the brightest person, but saying he’s not smart isn’t accurate. There are no truly “dumb” characters in drdt, at least in my opinion. And Ace has been shown before to have some intelligence.

For one thing, he is on Teruko’s side during the scrum debate in episode 8 of Chapter 1. Which might be weird to call out, but seeing as a lot of the “smarter” characters were on the other side (namely David [being a xander simp as per usual] and Veronika), Now while this isn’t enough to prove it and he did argue with her before in this same trial, it’s definitely noteworthy to mention.

And also, the carousel thing. The fact that it keeps being Ace that corrects Teruko on what it’s called is funny, but it’s also heavily linked to the murder.

Also also, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for yet another person in this cast to have been keeping a mask up. Someone is making a heel turn between these two, so realistically, this could be Ace’s. And also, despite being shown as “dumb”, Ace at least has some understanding of shit, considering his whole monologue about Levi. I’d have to rewatch a lot of episodes to further confirm this, but I doubt Ace is as stupid as some people think.

Now, the second problem. Ace being almost murdered and then using that same method to murder Arei seems like a bit much, doesn’t it? How could he have figured it out the second he woke up?

He didn’t. He would have fully figured it out AFTER he went back to his room and stopped trying to murder Nico, when he calmed down. (Which is what I think happened with Eden if she is the culprit, mind you)

Because, logically looking at the crime scene, ain’t no way either of them figured it out just by looking at it for like what? A few minutes? No way, I don’t buy it.

But here’s the thing. Ace does have an advantage over Eden here. That being, he woke up during the murder attempt, as confirmed by Nico in the latest episode. Huh. After Ace had claimed to not remember the method because he was unconscious the whole time? Hmmmmm?

No way that little piece of info isn’t going to be important. Especially considering this is the first time we’re hearing about it.

“Shroomy, that’s still not enough to prove Ace over Eden!” I hear you cry out.

Time for the smoking gun.

You know why Nico’s drop hanging attempt failed? It’s not because Ace was too heavy for the fan? No.

It’s because Ace was able to fight back when he woke up.

And what is one of the big differences that hasn’t been brought up yet in this case?

The fact that Arei’s wrists were bound at some point, to keep her from fighting back.

Nico and Ace are the only people who would know about this. Because, again, no one knew Ace woke up during the attempt. So, if Ace were to recreate the murder for Arei, he would know to bind her wrists so she doesn’t fight back. Because it’s why he survived in the first place.

Moving on, using this method would work for Ace, because 1: frames Nico who he hates, 2: Ace is probably a little weakened from almost dying, using a pulley method would be easier than risking Arei escaping.

Now rapid fire mode!

Why use fish from the relaxation room? Frame both Nico (primary) and David (secondary).

The killer probably used the ball of clothes to get the rope up and broke the lights doing so. Eden is the weakest one there, and Ace could have the strength to do so.

Why target Arei? Ace probably didn’t care who he killed, he doesn't care about anyone there.

How would he know about the conversation in the infirmary? We cannot deny that someone could have overheard it. Also, Ace has already been established as eavesdropping earlier in the trial. (this happens the same day as his murder attempt, btw)

Ace has spent most of the trial pointing fingers at others (even in the investigation, he’s the first to draw attention to Nico trying to kill him and Arei dying; knowing the cases are connected, this is interesting).

Wow, that's crazy. Loose connection but still.

He’s also the whole reason David had his magical girl transformation, giving the smoking gun evidence that he and Arei met up.

Which, you know, derailed the trial a lot. Like, 2 or 3 episodes worth of time that could have been used to solve the trial faster?

Huh. Now it's that something.

But, what does this mean for the story?

Step 3: Arei and Ace; Teruko, Eden, and thematics

Both start off as unlikable assholes. But Arei wanted to change, and both Eden and David gave her a hand to begin that change. But she’s murdered before that could happen. Ace rejects anyone’s hand, not trusting anyone and causing more issues. One who tried to be better, and one who got much worse. In a way, they’re parallels in this instance. Two parallels getting killed in the same chapter? Where have I seen this before?

Yeah Min and Xander (i miss you both ;-;)

This is the part where I talk about Min and Eden parallels.

Ain’t no way drdtdev is going to make the same repeat of the last trial’s conclusion. The hugs!!!! The crying!!! Teruko, who points out when Eden tries to investigate with her in this chapter that Min did the same thing to deceive her. Eden, who was crying for someone to believe she didn’t kill Arei. Teruko, who decides to trust Eden, the same way that Eden was the only one to believe in Teruko in the last trial.

Eden, who would be able to prove David and Teruko’s points wrong. Who believed in Arei, that she could be her friend! Eden, who if was revealed to be the killer, would likely send Teruko down a worse path, being betrayed for the third time now.

Ace, who shares Teruko’s views that no one can be trusted, and who isolated himself from everyone. Ace who, despite how much I love him, would show Teruko how isolating herself from everyone else would lead to her death. Ace, who would be a dark reflection on what Teruko could have been, had she continued down that path. Both were almost killed, but one who tried to murder everyone to get out and the other who saved everyone from getting killed.

The narrative themes of trust and distrust.

Teruko’s secret quote for god's sake!!!!!

It’s too much to not go anywhere guys!!!

Okay, I think that’s it for now. Sorry if this sounds like I’m rambling too much, or if it doesn’t make much sense. First time posting something here lol. But this series makes me sick!!!!!/pos

I like both Eden and Ace, and don’t want it to be either of them, but I doubt it’s a third party at this point. And between the two, I think narratively, it makes more sense for it to be Ace.

And also, guys, we NEED more positive characters going into chapter 3, after how many mentally ill people are around rn. We have enough asshole men now (cough looking at you, Mr. David Chiem cough). Whit is too sus and is either dying or about to get hit with a truckload of emotions to stay stable long enough.

Also, Teruko learning to trust while Eden learns to distrust!! Teruden!!!! YURI NATION SWEEP GUYS!!!!!

If I’m wrong, I might die on the spot (please Eden I need you to stay alive!!!!)

#danganronpa despair time #eden tobisa #ace markey #drdt #drdt theory #can you tell I'm so normal about this series?#Might post more theories and other stuff because boy oh howdy do I have thoughts about this series #I am open to criticism. This is just a theory and my own (delusional) thoughts about themes and parallels and gay people #this chapter really is about to bury one of these gays #rewatching the investigation episode is crazy because both Eden and Ace are so sus in it now with context #I didn't even mention how Ace is the first to volunteer to guard the crime scene and Teruko points out how he could be the killer #like he does it so causally wtf?#Teruko called them both out within seconds and that's crazy to think about

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anxiousxowl · 1 day

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Episode 61 - i have a bit to say about this episode.

Spoilers ahead!

Sahejul is back and i couldn’t be happier! But i didn’t just like this episode because they seemed to be fixing their differences… BUT did you see how quick Sahed forgive and believed her!? This boy is down bad for our girl Julia!

Aside from all of that, i was very interested in Tonny and Dotty’s reaction.

1. I don’t think Tonny doesn’t know what the ah’kon looking god in the pillar is. He at least has an idea of what it is. But i’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt because he was jotting some notes down. Hopefully it is to help Julia break her contract. I also want to mention how I liked his reaction to Julia deciding to help Sahed. I was waiting for his reaction specifically, and i’m glad to see he seemed happy with it. I still don’t trust him, but he definitely won a few points with me this episode.

2. Dotty’s reaction wasn’t unexpected, but I still don’t get what her problem is. I also don’t believe she doesn’t know much about the monster in the attic, but because i don’t have any proof, i have to believe her. But for all we know, the back story could be fabricated. I wonder if she could be the third person, assuming the monster isn’t the third person Miriam mentioned. She is definitely going to be trouble for Tonny & Sahed’s plan and those who decide to help Sahed.

3. I’m just happy people are joining the cause, and i hope to see Sahed interacting more with the members of the circus. That’s all for now!

#marionetta #julia lazarrett #sahed marionetta #anthonn gremminger #dotty marionetta

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writingcold · 3 days

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Chapter Eight - Internal flaws and internal conflicts will lead the way

Content Warnings: I need to put this here - this is a work of fiction. There will be imagery of violence, character deaths, inequities, poverty, heavy angst, and adult sexual situations throughout the story. Please read at your own discretion. All characters are fictional, though some of the big events that are shown are historical, but may not be historically accurate.

Thank you to @edgingthedarkness for all of her help as my all mighty beta for this fiction. She listened to me drone on and on about it for months on end. She really took a bullet for this one! She created the banner for this story as well! Also thank you to @katuschka for her amazing skills in bringing our hero Jakub to life. Divider art by @ firefly-graphics.

The Dead

Jake X Fem!Reader

Chapter Eight word count: approximately 6000 words

Warnings in this part: Sibling arguing, feelings of self doubt, grief.

Chapter 8.1: Swansong in the Graveyard

“Spill it,” Owen said as he stared directly into his phone.

Fighting the urge to laugh, I found distraction in yanking the pan of eggs from the stove before they burned. “Spill what?”

“Gran says that you’re still in Frankenmuth.”

I nodded as I plated up my breakfast. “So?”

“I don’t know when the last time you were in a single place that long just to do research,” he jabbed. “If you wanted a dude in lederhosen, I could’ve flown you here to-”

I grumbled, bobbling my plate and coffee to the table away from the phone. “It’s just more than I planned on. That’s all.”

“Still not talking about the story is what is bothering me,” he admitted, turning back to the screen just as I returned to grab my phone from the counter. “Typically you’re done with research and writing by now. How interesting can that touristscape be?”

I rolled my eyes and moved the topic away from me but it boomeranged back within minutes.

“What about that literacy bit you have - isn’t that coming up?”

Eating slowly, I explained how the conference would traverse across three days and many state-based authors and educators of all levels teaming up for more impactful and meaningful methods of catching the interest of kids and adults …

“Stop,” he growled as I finally hit the bored button. A twinkle in his eye caught me off guard as he leaned in close. “You gonna take the cute pilot to the conference?”

I blinked. I blinked again as my brother’s grin grew smug. “Pardon?”

“The pilot? Maybe he can fly you two out and then-”

“Owen,” I tried to break in, but he continued to ramble. He spoke unabashedly. “Owen, please.”

“Come on, Y/n,” he jabbed. “He’s a good looking guy. How could you not-”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No! What the hell is going on?”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

He sat back in his chair. When I finally looked at the screen and took in his expression, I knew he got it. Maybe.

“Since when?”

“Since when, what?” I dodged.

“You’re not seeing that guy.”

“Well, since it wasn’t anything but fun anyway-”

“Jesus,” he huffed. He did not bother to wait for my response. “When are you gonna give this up and take meeting someone seriously?”

“Maybe when you-”

“Dumbest argument ever.” He flipped me off and my jaw dropped. “I at least got married. Divorced, yeah. But I was married and loved it, remember? You won’t even try for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m just saving a whole lot of trouble for someone.”

“Bull shit.”

“You’re not my therapist.”

“Considering you don’t have a therapist, I kinda am, sis.”

“Owen, let it drop.”

His eyes pierced the screen and hit mine and my cheeks colored all the more. It was the same look mom would deal out when we were caught avoiding chores or doing something naughty.

“I just want you to be happy.”

“I don’t need to be in a relationship to be happy.”

“No, but you sure as shit deserve to be happier.” He fell quiet and I picked at a bit of dry skin on my palm. “I know this year is hard. Shit, every year has been hard.”

I swallowed. He looped us back to a conversation from my prior year’s birthday. I had officially out-lived my mother. To think that by the time she was thirty two, Corrine had lived her whole life. The notion made all the bruises of losing her and Dad all the more fresh. Grief is strange that way. Loss does not get easier as the years pass. It doesn’t heal. No. Those are the kind of wounds that are permanent. They rear up every day and your brain just puts the pain into a box with a lid and a label to remind you. But it never goes away. Owen was the only one who knew who Mom and Dad were for us. Gran might have been her mother, but Corrine was our mom. That kind of permanence doesn’t go away. Not ever.

Feeling wrung out and done, I told my brother that I loved him and would talk with him in a few days. Upset was not the right word. It was easy to brush others off as just not understanding the situation. With Owen, hiding was not an option. What was an option was to shove the whole conversation to the side and ignore it for a few blissful hours to focus on research.

“Fuck,” I sighed as I looked at my scattered pile of notebooks and the singular tab that was open on the laptop.

What was there really to research? I had followed the thread of Jake Thomas and of Yakov Petrov to its end. Whoever the hell it actually was in that cemetery was just as elusive as the story itself. Was there a pirate? Yup. Was there a love story right out front and center? Yes. It hurt my head all the more that both were dead and stuck in a cemetery trying to figure out how to ‘move on’ but not leave each other.

“God, this sucks balls,” I griped.

How dramatic would it be to torch a manuscript? Would it hurt? Would I laugh maniacally as I dropped it page by page into the open flame? Or perhaps let it spoil in the rain. Ah, even better - cast it to the wind off some mountain would be delightful, I would imagine. The writers of old must have relished in the self murder of their work, unlike what it takes today. Striking a simple delete key does not seem to have the same killing stroke.

My vibe must’ve been casting a bat signal as a text came through from Vin, scheduling a check in in a few days. I grimaced. I was going to have to get my shit together and make my story the best ever gothic pirate romance. Fuck my life. In truth, I was at a dead end. No pun intended, of course. Guitar Jake or Yakov the Artist. There was no real way to incorporate them in the story either. Maybe they could be side characters? The dynamic could add to a comedic element. Twentieth century hedonist rock star meets nineteenth century hedonist artist from deep in his own family tree…

“I have officially lost my shit,” I muttered as I made myself move away from my perch at the table.

Truth be told, if my research was complete, there was no reason to stay in Frankenmuth - was there? The idea seemed wrong. The thought was frayed at the ends like it was trying to stop me from leaving. I melted into the soft cushions of the sofa. Funny idea that was - but why? My fingers found the comfort of the tangled, corded fringe of a pillow as my mind began to drift.

⭒☾ I smoothed the scratchy lace down across the bodice of the dress. The pit of my stomach bristled with opposition. I did not need another party. I did not need to dance and smile and laugh falsely. I did not need to breathe in smoke and the same conversations over yet again. I wanted to lay with my Jakub and feel his warmth around me. I wanted to read to him and him to me and listen to his breathing with the crash on the velvet shore as the sun cast its last rays to the sky. I wanted to feel his strength and bask in the heat of us.

However, there I was, walking down the grand stairs, eyes cast to me as if I were some entity to be in awe of. Father was clapping his hands and his voice was booming across the house guests in a tone of celebration. The players began to draw their bows across their strings in a lively jig that tugged the gathering to the wide planks of the ballroom. I blew out a breath that was sour as I cast a wary eye at the backs of my guests. I took refuge with my lovely sister-in-law, Celeste, in the sitting room where voices were hushed and tempers were placid. Somehow, she had hidden a tiny book of sonnets in the folds of her skirts. We read together and kept out the voices of those around us.

“Have you seen him? Has he been here to call upon you?” she whispered, her voice full of conspiracy wrapped in grace.

I nodded as I turned the page. “Been here two days and every moment he can, he is here.”

“I thought I had caught a glimpse of him on the beach when Astrid and I were at the market this morn,” she said. Her smile was dreamy as she leaned into me. “He’s so handsome. If all you say is true, Maéva, he is a good man that you love.”

The words shivered across my skin and tingled in my breath. Celeste was my only confidant. She was the only one that knew of how my heart fluttered and my smile sparkled any time my Jakub was near. She was the only one I knew would not cast judgment to his station in this world, as she herself was the daughter of a stablemaster. And she was just as giddy as me when it came to my tales of how we would dance in the tide as it tumbled ashore, or the little trinkets that he would bring to me from his ports of call. She would swoon just as much as I would over the pretty little rock or the pressed flower that would remind him of something I wore or made him feel.

“Dance with me.”

I looked up to find Matthias hovering above me, his hand, although turned up for me to take, was kept against his hip bone. I did not like his face. There was a darkness about him that he did not shake, nor did he try to truly hide. His status as a future viscount was his bank that he had overdrawn upon to make himself elevated over the rest of us. We all knew why the viscount had brought his family to this place - he was poorer than those that made their way on the beaches and on the ships of the harbor. He only presented lavishness and superiority due to the blood in his veins. Looking into his dead eyes and his flat mouth, I made my apologies that I was not well enough to dance. Celeste slid her fingers through mine to hold me close.

“I am sorry, sir,” she said as if her tone was filled with silk. “But our Maéva feels a fever coming upon her-”

He reached for our joined hands and separated us. “She looks plenty strong enough.”

I searched for my father, but he was too busy clapping Matthias on with encouragement that I knew any argument would be for not. The anger toiled under my breath as I voided my expression. One dance. And then I could build upon Celeste’s fever fib. My eyes stared forward while my feet and frame moved in time with the players. I imagined my Jakub, dressed in the fine fabrics that Matthias wore, showing off the strong body and grace he had been blessed with. I saw him with his hair drawn back and his hands polished. But that was not him. No. My Jakub was wind blown and wild and hardened by work. His mind was open and his words were shaped by his experiences. That was the man I loved. Threadbare and hungry.

Father and the viscount were close, talking with wide smiles. Their words were fast and glib looking. Father’s excitement was palpable. His hands were like two excited birds flitting around him. I gave the man I danced with no satisfaction of words. But then he gave me only silence anyway. It was as if he and I were in unvoiced agreement to pacify the patriarchs that were obviously so much more aflutter over our nearness. Soured thoughts were bending the joyful notes that filled my ears. Each face that I looked upon held anticipation and cheer. Anxiety stabbed at my feet. My limbs turned heavy as I turned away from him to give me some distance from his nearness. Celeste hurried towards me, her pretty face stretched with concern.

“Come. The air grows too close for us here,” she was saying as Matthias reached to catch my shoulder.

“They expect us to dance, madam,” he said, voice icy and hand heavy on my skin.

“They can be disappointed then,” she remarked.

My feet fumbled forward. I was thankful for the full skirt to hide such ungainly steps. My breath felt hot in my mouth and my stomach lurched. Everything felt woozy as Celeste maneuvered us through the tangle of guests. I wanted my rooms, but instead, she drew me to the parlor where she could shut away the eyes and wagging tongues but get me to sit.

“You do have a fever,” she said as she cast the window open.

“No,” I said, wiping at my mouth. “I was just faint. Perhaps his sickish perfume was too close to my nose.”

“He really is a brute. I heard Abel saying some rather unkind statements about that one.” She was pouring a few drops of wine into a tiny glass as I tried to compose myself. “We can hide here for a while. I’m sure Papa will be on the hunt for us, but I say let him hunt. I do not trust him when he is with the viscount. He changes when that man is near.”

She was correct. Father changed in the face of bred privilege. My soul quivered across the notion. My father’s intentions were becoming very clear. It sickened me. I wondered if they were in negotiations for my hand already, or perhaps still in the discovery phase like two dogs, sniffing at each other to see if the carcass of the other was willing to submit. Tears prickled at my eyes at the thought. I had no control over this and it was as if I was a prized bitch looking to be sold. Celeste took to my side, but I could not be consoled. I wanted my Jakub. Such a simple dream to love him and be with him… ☾

My lungs burned like I had been under water too long. I sputtered and coughed through emotions as I pushed away from the couch. I was crying. My cheeks felt hot and sticky and wet with strangled cries that I had just been having in my dream-state. I was quick to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water to cool the effects. The dreams were getting harder to take. I had tried to write them down as is, but they were like smoke through my brain, too thin and elusive to really record. Although, I was discovering that elements of these pieces were landing more often into the story. Spooky. It was the sense of my brain leaking out uncontrollably onto the proverbial page that bothered me more than the gothic pirate love story as a whole.

I needed out of the rental for a bit. It was too late for lunch, but early supper wasn’t a horrible thing. Deciding on the diner, I packed up my bag and thought perhaps I could tuck into a corner and proof the last few pages over coffee and sandwich without having to hog a booth or table during a rush. I was correct that it was not busy, but there was a rather large, loud group that had pushed six tables together in the middle to accommodate their numbers. By the look of it, it was a men’s group that was meeting for their afternoon dose of gossip.

I slid into the booth that the server had waved me to. My eyes rolled closed over the first sip of steaming coffee. God that was good. I tucked behind the laptop, fighting to keep my expression blank as I read over the squishy words that I was daring to call worthy of a story. I sat back as the server returned to take my order. As I handed her the menu, I noticed a set of eyes I had seen before - faded blue jean colored and a very sun weathered smile met my gaze. I grinned at the kind man from the park who had been working.

Dinner finished, and some hot gossip taken in with hearty laughter, I decided to walk through the park by the library, and perhaps step foot inside as it had been a few days since I had looked across the books and care that Becca and the others had helped me through. Stopping at the florist, I purchased a few large plants to take along in thanks. It would be my first step in severing the connection here. I owed them so much, even if it did not amount to what I would really be using in the story.

“I come bearing gifts,” I announced as I struggled through the door.

Becca was quick to help. “Oh, these are lovely.”

“I thought a little more green in here would keep you bright,” I said, smiling across the wide range of plants and live displays that would carry the library through the winter.

I helped her put them close to the windows by my workstation. I grinned as I looked at her. “I’m afraid I’m nearing the end of my stay,” I admitted, my fingers drifting across the huge binding of the newspapers.

She smiled. “You’ve found what you’ve come for.”

I nodded, though reluctance swam across my heart. “I believe that I have. You have been so good to me here.”

Emotional outburst aside, it was going better than I planned. We chatted a bit before I set into the books that had become the path of my story that made my fingers itch, despite not really liking the plot. Perhaps I will settle into it at some point.

“Oh my goodness,” Becca exclaimed from behind the glass of the back office.

I was not the only one to sit up, prairie dog style looking for the source of upset. She was making her way towards me with a look that might have been inspiration. I glanced around to find that other patrons were just as puzzled as I was.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before, Y/n,” she proclaimed as she had eyes cast down on her phone, scrolling. “What was I thinking? Or… well. Not thinking is more like it.”

“Uh, wanna catch me up here, Becca? I’m not from here, remember,” I laughed at her flustered state, sure she was thinking full sentences, but what was coming out made no sense.

She grinned as she waved at me. Her exuberance washed over me and it was hard not to get caught up in it, even though I had no idea what was going on. “I have someone I need you to meet.”

Chapter 8.2: Swansong in the Graveyard

“We need to run.”

The words blazed in my thoughts as I watched the creature rise from my grave once more. I had come to the decision that this feminine form could not be Maéva. If the memories that had been shown to me thus far were true, then this thing could not be her. If this thing were my soulmate, there would be no hesitation within and know me for what I am - hers. And the truth would be the same for me, but all I could feel towards it was… curiosity. Perhaps anger. Jealousy, even. How such a creature could be doomed to repeat or seem to repeat the same construct of a path over and over without meaning… Wait. What am I if that road of thought were true? What am I in this half existence but the same as the creature - am I nothing more than goo from the ether that has been chained to a strip of ground because of some man’s greed and foul nature? For lack of a better phrase, I closed my being off from the lights of the world as the creature slipped away once more. Could something such as myself be petulant? The stray thought struck as the gate whined to its closed position.

“We need to leave.”

Her hands were shaking against my chest. Whatever had happened had just occurred. She had run to me still dressed in her fine cream and olive green gown. The lace puckered and draped across her breasts and dripped from her shoulders. I could not stop myself from dragging my fingers across her collarbones and up along her graceful neck. I tried to soothe her with my words and touch and kisses, but she whipped herself away from me.

“Jakub!” she cried, her delicate fingers tucking into tight fists.

“Just tell me then what has happened,” I said, unable to keep the edge of impatience from my tone.

She withdrew a few steps. Her features slacked with an expression that made me quiet. “I am to marry.”

The bottom of my very shallow world fell away. I could not understand her words that she continued to speak. Every bit of me was frozen on the notion that she was meant for another.

“Jakub,” she whispered.

I kissed her. It was all I could do. Our dream was to be severed. I pressed my fingertips into the plump of her blurred out cheek and the hardness of her back as if I could force her to be part of me through this mourning. She reeled back from me with a frustrated cry.

My thoughts thinned and I found myself kneeling, hands dug into the darkness of the dirt. I begged the cosmos to allow me to see her - to see my Maéva. To know her features, her expressions, her… her soul and how it resided in her eyes. I could feel her innocence. I could feel her goodness. It danced across my fabric. But to just glimpse her eyes and know her. My chin tipped and I looked into the velvet of the night sky and the swirl of songs and begged for that scrap of memory.

“No- no, Jakub,” she stammered. “We can leave this place - together. We can go to the east! We can build our lives there!”

“Maéva, you don’t know what it’s like-”

The sound she made hit me. I had insulted her.

“I don’t know what? How to live without my family? Or do you mean to say I do not know how to live without my family’s wealth?”

I felt a sigh bubble through my chest. “You don’t know what it truly means to be cold or hungry. Despair is not what I ever want for you.”

“If it means we are together, I would gladly show you what strength lies in these bones of mine.”

She was so resolute. So sure of herself. It was the trappings of her always having what she needed that gave her that kind of confidence. I felt small for these thoughts. She possessed such knowledge, such a drive to learn - but this. What she was asking would take away the shelter that allowed her to thrive in that world.

“Jakub - you could learn to farm, or build ships or apprentice in some other trade,” she was explaining. “And I could teach!”

“Teach?”

“I taught you. Surely there is no other more stubborn student!” Her laugh was pulling at my resolve. “Or I can learn to be a clerk, or even farm at your side if you are willing to have me.”

She was reaching for me once more and I could not keep my hands from passing across the fine fabric that held a menagerie of flowers and moths and swirls of colors that I could’ve studied for days to pick out all of the finer details. She knew there was nothing I would not do for her. But this - to just run. To leave them all behind and live in this world together - as equals.

“My mother,” I whispered into her hair.

“Of course we will bring her,” she said without hesitation.

Her exuberance was hard not to purchase in to.

“You have been to Boston and New York. We can make our life there. We could be free there,” she continued on.

I paused, knowing that no ship would be leaving any time soon. “When does your father expect this wedding?”

“June.”

The lake ice would have the harbor locked up for a few more weeks. If LaBeau was willing to wait to give his daughter away, that gave us the opportunity to book passage. My purse was too light to do this - to make our escape. I was already a beggar. How was I to do this without coin, without…

She kissed me and led my hands against her fine dress. She was shivering with cold. I folded her close knowing that I needed to return her to the cage of her rooms - at least for now. I wrapped my coat around her, the bite of cold nipped at me but she allowed me to hold her close as we began to walk. Maéva was like a bird, chirping out plans and flittering with excitement.

The doubt attacked in the silence of my brain once it was alone. How could I care for her? Surely she would come to regret stepping so willingly into the depths of poverty and find her love turning to resentment when the realization came that her belly was empty and her body exposed to the true harshness of this world. To know that she would willingly walk into the sheer unknown only because she loved me, set my brain on needles with thoughts of unsureness. She trusted that I would provide what I could and in trade she would care for me. Though these lands of the new world were framed as obtainable dreams, that was still only true for those of wealth. Maéva would grow tired of the scrabble to just survive on the daily means of hard labor. Perhaps I should walk away and let her to her path of husband and titles and …

My gaze turned to the way the tops of the trees bent under the angry gust of wind. It matched my own thoughts. I had entertained leaving her behind? I wanted to leave her to a fate chosen by her father? If an entity such as myself could feel shame, I am sure I was feeling it the only way I knew how. The waves of color that thundered around me, billowing into storm clouds, were gathering to punish me. Fun was on them - apparently all of this was punishment across all time.

I had watched the ice slowly crush against the shore. Maéva fought with me to take her purse and purchase three tickets on the first ship that could carry us east. It was going to be hard enough to try to get her aboard without recognition, but to be forced to use her own money - it was not the start to our lives that I wanted and it bruised my ego in a way that was difficult to swallow. After years of watching my mother struggle to keep us alive, then adding my hands to the work, it was beyond hard to take her money, no matter the cause. I had fought my way through this life. I would fight my way to get away with her, even if it meant I had to take her as a married woman - take her from that rogue of a man her father deemed better.

It was bitter. My need to stand in our way because of some perceived notion that I had to be a man for her was dragging upon us, threatening the tender thread of a chance that waited for us. What a fool I was.

Another grand ball celebrating the engagement roused me from my sulking, for that was what I really was doing - acting like a child who had been scolded and paddled. I snuck up onto the side patio, staying to the shadows with my eyes searching for Maéva. There were musicians playing and people moving around with huge smiles that oozed privilege. I saw LaBeau waving his arms around and acting like he was the rooster on the field while his daughter stood at another man’s side. I hated it - the sight of that man, that Matthias, being so close to her made a rage boil in my belly that I could not tolerate.

Their hands met and he guided her through a dance that made the guests of the party clap their hands and smile their most beautiful smiles. No smile was upon Maéva’s mouth, however. Quite the opposite. What more, Matthias mirrored her hard expression. I watched as she turned, full of grace, full of beauty while her father beamed in his greed and lust for title for the family. And the man who was equally bright - that must have been the viscount. He was practically leering over the merchant’s purse that swung so heavy at his side and dripped from the walls of his marvelous manor house. They were the mechanism that drove this union, surely.

I caught Maéva’s eye, but withdrew deeper into the shadows. Amongst the smiles and delicate music, I solidified my presence as an outlier. I would free her from this fate that her father wanted more for himself than for her. To know that he would damn her for a few scraps of veneration was sickening. Was his wealth not enough, must he really have a title to put before his name as well?

Pathetic.

The veil of clouds streaked across the velvet of night, curling and swirling through the air like the smoke from Monsieur LaBeau’s fine pipe. I could feel the anger I had felt across the expanse of time. If that was a lesson that I needed to learn from, then in my stubbornness, I never learned to let that malice subside. I could feel it still bubble and toil on my echoed thoughts.

I stole away from the manor house like a stray cat turned away from its supper. I lingered on the edges of the beach, not wanting to be seen by anyone for fear of seeing the toil of my struggle over her. I had sequestered her coins under the floor of my bed. I would collect those coins and find a ship to the east coast. It would be easier to hide in a city. Perhaps we could get to Savannah. I had listened to a fellow deck hand ramble for hours about the warmth and wild beauty of the near tropical port. Or maybe Philadelphia. There were many, many people there making hiding amongst them easier.

I knew she would be in the market the following day with her matron. We’d found it easy enough for me to shadow her for a chance to talk. It was always near the baker when Leila would have her attention pulled enough away from her charge that we could sneak away for long enough for the woman to take no notice. The morning found me lingering amongst the fringes of the market square, my stomach empty. Mother had used the last few coins for medicine for the woman next door. The babe had been sick for days. Mother had been trying to apply the typical remedies, but the fever was slow to break and it was obvious that the child's needs were beyond her hands. She bartered where she could, but when there was nothing left to barter with, she would turn to what her body may earn. I would be sure to beg the stable master and the blacksmith for work, even if it meant for a few scraps to get us through a few days.

And there it was once more. I hid this from Maéva. This aspect of struggle. I wondered if I did it to protect her or keep her blind? It did not matter. She would hear me once more lay out what was ahead, but I knew in my heart that she would not listen. She would have to learn hunger and need through experience and I would have to keep my tongue about me as she waded through the mire in hopes that she would not wake and realize the horrible mistake that she was making on loving me.

Close to midday, I was near giving up that she would arrive, and getting more frustrated as I knew I should be finding work for my hands, not standing idle. Finally, she appeared, fresh and bright amongst the damp and dingy pier. I fought my heart from just running to her. How foolish would that be. No. I waited and quietly watched as she looked over the wares she was there to procure for another day in the grand house. Her matron was already looking thin of patience. I wonder if Maéva had deliberately worn her through before even reaching the market for the sole purpose of this visit. I bided my time, moving slowly and making sure to look at the different vendors before stopping once more before the baker’s stall. My stomach stabbed and complained. I was fighting the urge to snatch a lump of bread that had been cut apart and tossed to the side as stale as it was easier to feed it to the birds than a human in need. I dug my fist deeper into my torn pocket in hopes that it would keep me from the easy notion of theft. She approached, relieving my thoughts of my hollow belly.

“Good day,” she whispered, hiding her mouth in her outstretched arm.

I smiled and nodded as I looked for the matron. “Talk?”

I moved away as was our warrant in such affairs. I would find her once more closer to the beach once she was able to slip the eye of Leila. There was a spot under the well trod boards of the pier that was in between the massive pylons where the boulders sheltered the land. I waited, breathing in the soured, fish riddled air. Maéva appeared in all of her faceless brightness, but I could feel her smile radiating off all of her body. It was always the same without fail whenever she came near. I could only imagine what I actually looked like, but on the inside - I swooned over her nearness.

She took my hand and I leaned in to kiss her mouth, but I stopped before the sweet crush touched my lips. “Will you want to go to Savannah?” I whispered.

Half of a breath later, her arms were thrown around my neck and her lips to mine with a trill of laughter. I found myself caught up in her exuberance. My love for her was absolutely consuming and yet so strong that I felt as if I could sustain on our love alone.

Coyotes chirping in the distance drew my eye back to the present. The creature was once again laying upon my grave. It was torture not knowing the significance of this being. Or perhaps it was the anguish of knowing this lingering was my form of purgatory. I was languishing across centuries of time that I should have been with her - with my Maéva.

Yeah. So where do we go from here? 💚

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