#but i think my favorite part is that this environment allows me to easily find people who are the true two feet on the ground people like m

[whiskeyswifty]

.

[daimyosprincess]

For our lovely ex libris librarian and devilishly handsome professor Boba: Who wakes up early/Who sleeps in late?

How often do they say “I love you”?

What songs remind you of their relationship?

How do they say “I love you” non-verbally?

Who’s the better chef? Do they cook for the other?

How do they feel about having kids? Are they in agreement?

Ship ask game

Hehehe devilishly handsome is right because I'd sell my soul to him any day (as well as a bunch of other parts of my body, ANYWAYS)

This got long so the rest is under the cut 💖

2. Who wakes up early/Who sleeps in late?

Miss ma'am is definitely the later sleeper lmao. She does not understand the point in getting up at the ass crack of dawn like her boyfriend but does appreciate that it means that she often gets breakfast in bed on the weekends (followed by dessert of course 😈)

Boba has always been an early riser by necessity and habit, but now he enjoys waking up early and enjoying the warm intimacy of his princess sleeping next to him. The way she seeks him out even in her sleep positively melts his heart 🥺

7. How often do they say “I love you”?

Due to the fact that Boba doesn't feel as comfortable expressing his emotions verbally, library princess doesn't say it as often as she would normally because she doesn't want him to feel pressured to say it back. In tender moments or times Boba needs reassurance, however, she will whisper her love to him as many times as he needs to hear it.

Boba wishes he could more easily verbally tell his princess how much he loves her even though she tells him that the way he cares for her says it all for him. Also he'd rather die than admit it but he's tried practicing saying it in the mirror to get more comfortable doing it 😭

15. What songs remind you of their relationship?

I really need to sort through my Ex Libris playlist and post it but for the dramatic angsty choice for how Boba feels, there's Angel by the Weeknd (don't @ me about the Weeknd I know I'm basic 🙈). But for the more upbeat, joyful way Boba makes his princess feel there's Heaven is a Place on Earth by Belinda Carlisle

27. How do they say “I love you” non-verbally?

Lawd where do I even begin with this one sdfjsljflsk because there are so many ways 🥺

Boba shows his love rather than says it so the ways he communicates his love for his princess is endless: filling up her car's gas tank and adding air to her tires before she wakes up on the weekends, walking on the car/road side of the sidewalk, and watching her favorite show with her even though he has no idea what any of it means (and if were up to him, all her bills would be paid and she'd worry about nothing except being happy but he respects her desire to be independent).

Princess puts flowers in his home and office to brighten the space, reserves new research materials she thinks he would find interesting/useful, and forces him to slow down and take care of himself instead of pushing himself all the time (for example, enticing him into a hot bath after a long week by sauntering into his home study with nothing on but a smile).

Another very important way the two of them communicate their love is through their time in the bedroom. Exploring their BDSM relationship builds and reaffirms their trust and allows them to physically and verbally show their love for each other in new ways as they strive to make each other feel amazing. It also allows them to be their most vulnerable selves in a safe and loving environment.

28. Who’s the better chef? Do they cook for the other?

Boba can cook but he's used to being more utilitarian with his meals while princess is all about saucing it up to make a meal fun. She likes to cook and enjoys making them a home-cooked meal on the weekends (not in the least because it drives Boba wild to see her all domestic in the kitchen 🤭)

Boba is not all practicality when it comes to meals, though. He makes a killer breakfast because quote "breakfast is important 😏" (iykyk hehe) and because it's another way he can spoil his beloved.

36. How do they feel about having kids? Are they in agreement?

They haven't seriously talked about it yet in their relationship as far as the Ex Libris story itself goes, but neither of them are opposed to children one way or another but hoo boy does that breeding kink jump out of Boba sometimes sksksksksk

Taglist 💖

(if you don't wanna be tagged in ask stuff just let me know!)

@agirlnamejacq @burningfieldof-clover @marierg @dukeoftheblackstar @imarvelatthestars @saradika @baufraus @historianwithaheart @andrakass2 @samspenandsword @liadamerondjarin @sleepingsun501 @sgt-morgan @rescuethewretched @rexxdjarin @ladytano420 @writingwintermoon @pheo-nixpas-calian @acatalystrising @erinthevampire @xxladysquishyxx @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @kimiheartblade @shinyshayminflower @wings-and-beskar @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @wolffegirlsunite @echocola @100lxtters

[spiraledfaun]

Please can you tell us the way you brainwashed yourself to drop for trust in me bc Im sure im not the only one who wants to drop to it as well?

Okay so before I tell you this I need to be really clear that conditioning yourself needs to be done *with* subject agency firmly in the front seat. If you don't know what that is, please feel free to ask, or read sleepingirl's Learning Hypnokink overall.

So, the best way to brainwash myself, I've found, is to increase the number of altered states. So, if I can be high, horny, subby, trancey, and so on, it allows me to pare down to the "programming" mode.

I then find a Spiral I *really* like, one that captures my eyes easily and doesn't want to let me go. That's how it should feel when looking at this. Please have artificial tears on standby as needed.

Then, cue up the song you want to use. For my part, I used the version on Spotify which contains instrumental and only Sterling Holloway's voice. Wear headphones for maximum effect. Put it on repeat, and watch the Spiral.

Or, alternatively--and I do tend to alternate myself for fun--read some smut. Just leave it on in the background and try to make yourself horny in other ways.

The most effective part for me was that the version I had only had vocals about halfway into it, so I could do a sort of resistance play. I would do anything I wanted during the pure instrumentals, knowing I would start falling into trance once the vocals came in. Every single time, I dropped even harder, and harder, and found it simple to follow the instructions.

What I'm also doing here in increasing the modalities: I'm invoking visual fixations, I'm invoking auditory fixations, and next, I'm going to invoke kinesthetic input.

Now, your mileage may vary, but one may also want to include some sexual component or erogenous zone stimulation. One may want to use the rhythm of the chosen song or audio to inspire the intensity or pace of the stimulation. Tying one's climax or denial to parts of the song will intensify the conditioning. Exercise caution.

And then, uh, recheck in about it over the next few days. Allow it to happen, don't necessarily try to make it happen or fight against it (if this is, indeed a trigger or conditioning you want to make stick). If you need to, repeat the process as many times as necessary.

And make sure your safeties are woven into the things you think during the above process. Remind yourself that you will only do this in situations and environments that you deem safe. Remind yourself that no one can take advantage of you with this unless you decide they can. Remind yourself that a good hypnosub only does exactly what they decide to, and you're a good hypnosub.

And then practice self-care! Go get some food after, snuggle somebody or your favorite pet, or find a comfy blanket, and just have good happy feels following it! Play safe everybody ^-^

[tritagonist-in-motion]

It starts with a dream, so vivid that I almost believe it to be reality, and my tiny room to be illusion. Like the philosopher -I can’t remember who, but one of the early Taoists- who could not say whether he was a man who dreamed of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming that it was a man. I don’t usually learn about that navel-gazing sort of thought, but for once, something from a solipsistic tradition is kind of relevant to me. 

With that said, well, I’m definitely going to keep acting as if the boring part of my conscious experience is the real one, and the more exciting one is the false one. It’s much longer, for one, and I’m too cynical to trust an exciting life. Okay, I’m getting sidetracked. Where was I? 

Right, the dream. It was a beautiful scene, and unlike most dreams I have, the details were easily remembered for days afterwards. I assume my subconscious took inspiration from my favorite environments; it was a whirlwind mix of nature, in all its variety and beauty. All, that is, except other animals. The birds and mammals and insects, where were they? Nothing moved except me. 

I remember running through dense forest, moving over soft, light green moss, the majority of the sun captured and scattered by foliage. What remained dappled on the ground, providing variety in the lighting. The leaves were plump, growing strong and so abundant that they brushed against me as I ran, the sensation refreshingly grounding. 

I remember a shift in the forest, as I traveled along my chaotic path. Like the spectrum redshifting as one’s velocity climbs, the forest slowly transitioned into one dominated with red, the leaves now colorful, as they would be in fall. The rest of the place followed suit, no less beautiful for its imminent death- or at least, that’s what all this would normally signify. It remained unmoving.

While still lovely, it felt like things were not right. A feeling in my gut that things were not yet in their final place. As I moved on, this was proven right. There was another shift in the forest, beginning with the ground this time. It changed in texture, in material, no longer a light fluff. I instead stood on an expanse of raw flesh, undulating like it was living, but not enough to unbalance me. To the contrary, it helped me stay upright, almost cradling me with what little it could move. 

The trees were not plants anymore. They were limbs, an overwhelming variety of extremities everywhere I could see. Arms and legs and wings of all kinds, skin and fur and feather covered, all held each other together as they rose up, opened out to hands, paws, claws, standing in for leaves. Eyes beheld me as I observed them, placed in whatever crevices allowed them to observe as much around as possible. I knew now, why the forest had no animal life; it was one animal, one being composed of dizzying variety. 

It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Everything fit together right, even if it was from a thousand different species and a hundred anatomical pieces. It didn’t matter where it all came from, the arrangement had a harmony and cohesive nature that made it so incredibly scenic. It felt right, to me, and that’s not just a result of the dreamy mind-state I had then; When I picture it, I still love what I saw then. Maybe I’m weird for that- okay, no, I’m definitely weird because of it. Doesn’t matter, I still find it compelling, something I want to experience again with all my heart. 

I want to be a part of it, I think. The flesh and the sense of belonging I felt, it was all wonderful. But no matter how close I got to it, to everything, there was always a disconnect: I was still myself, and still a distinct person. Consequently, I would always be another being, not one with it, nor could I ever be. 

As I was struggling with this, the dream ended. Abruptly, I was awake, and once more in my terribly mundane, unfortunately quiet, bedroom. My alarm beeped at me insistently, and my day pressed upon me, all the things I had to do cropping up in the back of my mind. 

I pushed it all away, focusing on my dream for a moment. It was completely unattainable, I knew, but I wanted to believe it for just a moment, to melt away into something so much more than myself. For a second, I felt something warm, pulsating on my hand, but it was gone in a flash. Just a tactile hallucination, I told myself. The result of still being half asleep, and coming off of a very immersive dream. 

But it felt real for a bit. It gave me hope, that I could feel it all again, and I could not, would not let go of that. 

[mavisamankwaah]

Entry 5 : RESPONSE TO TEDTalk ‘How games make kids smarter’ by Gabe Zichermann

Growing up, l have engaged in different kinds of non-electronic games. l didn’t have the opportunity to play electronic games because it was believed children should not own phones or ipads and it wasn’t easily accessible. My favourite non-electronic game  was the ludo and oware game (in local dialect). Oware(pit and pebble game) was basically an abstract strategy game that originated from the Ashanti origin of Ghana. l use to play it for fun l guess but listening to  TEDTalk video( how games makes kids smarter) made me recall how i used to play oware and how it might possibly helped me in my learning. I remember my mother will call me to stop playing and read my books. Looking at this modern times as compared to fews years back, parents didn't know much about computer games and how it supports children’s learning but there has been increasing knowledge on computer games around the globe.

Even as a teacher, I haven't had a deep thought about how computer games improve students' overall development. As a mother, I had stopped my girls from playing computer games before but listening to Gabe Zichermann has opened my eyes when it comes to computer games. I liked it when he said video games are a ‘’continuous process of learning ’’. As I reflect on this phrase, computer games serve as a teacher which gives feedback, scaffold learning and challenges learners to think beyond. My perception about computer games was just having fun but l believe it's more than that. There are so many benefits of children playing computer games and adversely roles games play in education which includes:

Bringing creativity to kids.

Social Interaction; It brings kids or gamers together like it creates a community of gamers where everyone can make friends even if it is not a physical friendship.

Brain Stimulation/Challenging: it keeps the parts of the brain that permit memory complications vigorous and keen.

Increase in acuteness, adaptability and resourcefulness/adroitness and problem-solving.

Games also improve fast body reflexes as children move their whole body

 Games can operate as distractions from agony, discomfort and psychological trauma. Games help people who are dealing with mental illnesses like anxiety, depression, and any other anxiety disorders.

 Entertaining and relaxing and preventing boredom.

As l research further on the benefits of computer games, l find that computer games have so many benefits and elements which give endless benefits for the learner. Computers and video games are humankind's most enthralling entertainment. And it is caused by M.

Prensky twelve elements:

Games are a form of entertainment.

Games are a form of playing.

Games have rules.

Games have goals.

Games are interactive.

Games are adaptive.

Games are the results and feedback. Fig. 1. (a) Elements of games

Games solve problems.

Games have representation and story.

Games have interaction.

Games have conflict / rivalry / challenge / opposition.

Games can win.

(Prensky cited in Simkova 2014, p.2)

Even Though computer games can expose children to toxic gaming environments, become addicted, violence in some games and might get children to cyberbullying and scamming, the benefits outweigh the limitations.

In early childhood education, children are not allowed to stay on the screen thereby, children can’t play computer games but i believe we should think outside the box and introduce computer games to our young learners which l believe it’s going to help them immensely in their education journey.

My favorite Oware game which l used to play almost everyday in my childhood days. Very entertaining and educative as well. I am going to introduce this in my kinder room. I believe is age-appropriate when l teach the basics for them to start with counting the pebbles for their numeracy skills development as a starting point of introducing games in my classroom.

References

Simkova, M., 2014. Using of computer games in supporting education. Procedia-Social and Behavioral Sciences, 141, pp.1224-1227.

[dillon-swiers]

So project 8x is a passion project of mine.  I have been a game dev hobbyist for a while starting different projects and multiple platforms.  As a solo dev these required more time and energy than I was able to give these projects.  All and all I enjoyed most of my time doing these things and I learned many things while doing them.  But every time I would run into a wall where I needed to learn a whole new set of skills like making music, which is not one of my strong suits.  And projects would kind of die.  

I found that my favorite part of trying to make games was the art aspect, from the images to the fx. So I really want to lean into that and share with the wider game development community.  I started Project 8x about half a year ago when I had started yet another game.  I am still working on that game but more or less very slowly and more in the background of other projects when I have time.  The tileset has a very clear method for being made with its color pallets that allows me to make tiles and characters easily readable while in the game.  and is heavily inspired by classic Nintendo games.

The Project 8x tileset currently is being worked on as a top down rpg style tileset. But should be usuable for other projects and if I ever look for a change in pace I may try to do a few other things such as space ships or some platformer tiles that also work with the tiles.  I enjoy making new environments so  if things go to plan there will be many different regions that will be able to be made with this set.

I chose 8x8 because I enjoy the challenge of trying to represent something in an incredibly limited space.  Each pixel has so much weight that I have to think carefully of how to represent an object.  Its a great challenge and a lot of fun.  I have worked in the past with other formats up to 64x which at that point pretty much becomes less pixel art and more drawing for me.  If I can maintain this project and find a bit more free time I would like to do things in the other sizes as well.

There is already a lot done that I have yet to share.  I have found that the hardest part to this endeavor is getting everything rounded up to share this with others.  Seriously fell flat on my face on this one.  Creating a web presence, packaging the tiles in a way that is useful and easy for others, and keeping a structure in the project that I may not have if I was just tinkering around with on a game.  These things while not what I would consider a wall to the project were for sure a headache.  But now that the project is structured on my pc, I'm looking at the best way to share this project on itch in a reasonable way for people to find.  Currently looking at a single project page with multiple downloads for each of the regions and characters and armor.  Or breaking the project into tilesets, character sets, monster sets, and item sets. 

[sunkendiaries]

Blog Post #3

"Pressure”(Ezra Clayton Daniels) "The Most Strongest Obeah Woman of the World"(Nalo Hopkinson), Ouanga/Love Wanga (1936) Candyman (dir. Bernard Rose) Candyman (dir. Nia DaCosta)

I lived in Chicago from 2010 to 2022, during that time I received my undergraduate and began a true deep dive into horror. I had dabbled a little while as a teenager watching what I could find at the time on cable network television primarily Wes Craven, John Carpenter, and Stephen King but not till college …studying photography…taking a Porn and Censorship course … did I watch French Extremist Horror for class and finally think I was brave enough to dig through my schools extensive DVD collection for all the horror I could find.

I found the original Candyman my Junior year, I was still living in the dorms then off State St in the center of the Loop in Chicago. I accidentally had a streak of watching films I didn’t know took place in Chi … I had watched The Relic and then Child’s Play (for the first as an adult) and was shocked to realize both films had been shot just only a few block away from where I was living at the time. That hardly compared to the genuine fear I had watching Candyman and seeing that the architecture of the dorms mimicked that of Cabrini Green and Helen’s Apartment complex - down to the restrooms and the mirrored cabinets that could easily allow access to neighboring dorm rooms.  CHILLS. I had learned a lot about Cabrini through the mandatory Chicago history reading pushed out to all freshmen but hadn’t heard about the movie. 

For me the first film from a white perspective gets the tone right … for the most part, a lot of my rich white and sheltered peers at school looked at Chicago as a predominantly black and brown city and stepped outside either in fear or sought to analyze Chicago as an anthropological research site. So though it may not have been purposeful Bernard Rose paints an experience I lived through like Bernadette working through financial and racist bias within academia while next to white peers who believe they are making groundbreaking work still seated within their white guilt, privilege, and bigotry. Candyman has always been about art, writing, and the historical discourse of redlining, gentrification, hate crimes, and the consumption of the black body and black trauma for white audiences. I once had a screening (24-hour Horror movie marathon) themed around The Lips, The Teeth, The Tip of the Tongue. Link It was split across three days Taste, Chew, Shallow - the last day Swallow I pair Candyman with Ganga and Hess and it opens up a dialogue connecting the two films around martyrdom, transformation, and the use of spiritual transcends.

Nia DaCosta’s spiritual sequel is hands down one of my favorite films. Prior to/during filming I was working at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago, had curator friends who lived in the Marina Towers, and had become friends/acquaintances with featured artists in the film. It was so eerie to see my world once again reflected at but now with more knowledge about myself and the world. It was and still is dizzying and nauseating to watch I have rarly experience watching cinema. While also being so powerful narratively, metaphysical, and thematically. Not to mention it boosting the careers of real-life young black artists and cementing their work within the history of Black art and Cinema.

The mirroring structure, the callbacks, the new black perspective on Cabrini, The black female lead, the equality and diversity of the cast (specifically having queer actors play queer roles), the READING of the art world, and the pigeon-holding of black creatives - all brilliant, considered, and still truly terrifying. 

Lastly linking the two films to Pressure also opens up a lot of the same points and I kind of imagine that within his pressured familial environment may reflect some of the same insecurities and concerns Anthony may have that lead to a different type of internal dismantling and enviable combustion. 

[robinsontenea]

chapter 13

Last summer, I met this guy named Philip. He was my friend’s cousin, from Jamaica, who had to come and stay with them over the summer. Sometimes when I would go to my friend’s house, his cousin and I would speak and I’d ask him random questions about his life in Jamaica, what was his usual routines, what he liked, a general day in a life of a Jamaican, etc. I learned a lot from him speaking on his experiences and shedding light on things I never knew about Jamaica. Hearing his thoughts and opinions on America was the most interesting part of our interview.

There are people in this world that can’t see themselves build a life in America; however, there are people who see America like a rainbow with gold at the end of it. “America is the place to be, you know what I mean. Because all the opportunities that are provided to you are countless,” Philip says. There were many reasons why Philip come to America for the summer. One of the main reasons why Philip leaves Jamaica is to make money. In Jamaica, he did work study. He was enrolled in college, studying to become a “professional coder” and working in computer-programming. The exchange rate in Jamaica is very low, so their economy is doing poor resulting in having unstable sources of income. “I can work here and get paid almost seventeen dollars an hour, back at home, it was going to be about two fifty,” says Philip jokingly. Having to go to school, pay for school expenses, pay for possible home or car expenses, and just random wants was too much to juggle when the pay was too low for anyone. Another reason he leaves is to get away from the bad climate and environment down in Jamaica. I asked him was it more dangerous for him to live in America or in Jamaica and he responded Jamaica. He then explains to me that their justice system is so corrupt that you could easily pay off the police. Most people can’t walk outside late at night because you could possibly be killed with a machete for petty reasons. I knew that Jamaica had issues, but I didn’t really know the severity. When I think about Jamaica, I think about the nice clear water, the nice music, the delicious food, but certainly not crime. This made me think about how the world will portray countries as a beautiful place and block out the negative events happening during our everyday lives. 

Another reason Philip came here was to spend time with his family. I asked him would it have been harder for him to come here if he didn’t have family here. He explains to me this is his bridge to a better life. The danger and low-income status pushed him to leave Jamaica and come to America to better his chances of having more opportunities. Philip already had a passport, so. Traveling to America was easy for him. His mom paid for his flight to come here and at the end of the summer he’d pay his way back using the money he earned by working. His family is his bridge because without them, paying to stay in America to make more money would decrease his chances of success in his goals. After landing, it was hard for him to find a job but then he was hired at Island Quizine, working for fourteen dollars an hour as a cashier, scheduled to work at least 8 hours a day, with at least a day or two off out of the week.  When he isn’t working, he enjoys his time with his family, especially with his cousin. At first Philip was intimidated by his cousin, but then as they started hanging more and that built a strong relationship with them. Although his aunt rarely allowed him out the house unless to go to work, him and his cousin would hang in the backyard and just talk and smoke for hours. Spending time with his cousin was his favorite thing to do here. 

Leaving your country for anyone can be scary and hard sometimes. I personally believe that this is a courageous thing for anybody to do. One of my major concerns, if I had to move to a different country, would be me knowing if this would be good for me and if it would be good for my family. I asked Philip did he miss his family and his response was a general response, nyet surprising. “Oh of course I miss my family but seeing everyone struggle down there including me is a load. I rather leave them to chase and obtain wealth for us forever and achieve at it. My family will never have to worry about worrying about our next meal again,” he says. I believe that he was strong and adamant about knowing exactly what he wanted for his family. This interview taught me that even though life can be challenging, it doesn’t have to be hard.

[killian-whump]

Okay, so here’s a post of GIFs from the first sexual assault scene in What Still Remains...

And I found something adorable in them. Yes, adorable.

‘Cos remember! These are professional actors on a set performing a scene together. Yes? Scenes are like... intricate dances. And ones with heavy physical components, like this one, are even more so.

One of my favorite things to do is watch for the little nuances of a scene that show how the actors/crew use subtle little tricks to fool the viewers’ eyes into thinking things are happening that aren’t or, as in this case, thinking things are more violent/uncontrolled than they actually are.

We’re looking at the first GIF here, and I hope @pirateherokillian​ doesn’t mind me posting it here to illustrate what I’m talking about:

At first glance, we see Peter pull Anna’s leg out from under her and yank her across the carpet by it. Ooh. Violent. Primal. *shiver*

First, look at the carpet. Beyond Lulu’s body, just shy of the end of the rug, you can see a small valley between where the carpet sits atop the other carpet and where it lies directly under where she falls. The part where she lands has something else under it besides just the Oriental rug in the background. Also, notice how easily it buckles and pops up in the very bottom left corner of the GIF. The rug is lying on something smooth, not something with a rug-like or napped texture that would grab or “hang onto” the fabric of the rug. Which, really, is more of a blanket. A blanket laid over a gym mat. 😉 Remember this.

Now look at Lulu’s fall, itself. It’s a pretty standard backwards stunt fall, for the most part. Her right leg kicks back to slow her fall and her knee bends. She essentially crouches, drops her butt a couple inches onto the cushion beneath the blanket, then uses her arms to roll her upper body onto the ground.

Finally, we’re gonna look at Colin’s right arm. Not his left arm. His left arm is making up for all that hiding it had to do in Once Upon a Time here. It’s acting, people! Like Colin’s expression, his left hand is providing the visual cues that tell your eyes that Peter is violently yanking Anna’s leg out from under her and dragging her by it.

Colin’s right arm is pulling all the weight in this scene. Literally. First, his arm comes down with Lulu, essentially spotting her stunt fall. Then, once she lands... Regardless of his left hand and upper body going through the motions of yanking her leg - when you focus solely on Colin’s right arm, you can see that’s where he’s actually applying force. And he’s doing it to pull the rug under Lulu towards himself. He’s not pulling on her at all; he’s simply giving Lulu a carpet ride across the floor 😂

This is also why the camera pans up at the last second (seeing the entire rug move would ruin the visual effect) and why Lulu raises her arms (even her shoulders a bit) right before the drag (whee!) - her weight is the same in any case, but less contact with the carpet means less friction for the dragging part, allowing Colin to yank her a further distance.

This is what I do for fun, you guys. I overanalyze GIFs 😂 No, but seriously... I do find it fascinating to look for the little tricks actors (and stunt-coordinators, directors, editors, set dressers, etc) use to turn a safe workplace environment into a thrilling, chilling scene ❤️

[dothwrites]

15.20 coda--at the end of the world

author’s note: while i am still reeling from the finale, this was my way of making some kind of personal peace with it. don’t mistake this for me agreeing with the choices made <3 

---

“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”--Madeline Miller

---

Castiel opens his eyes. 

All around him is green. A moment later, he hears the soft sound of birds chirping in the background; from further away, the faint sounds of children laughing. The air is ripe with the smell of growth, damp in the air and life underneath his fingers. 

He sits up. The sky is a perfect shade of blue, the kind found only in poet’s and painters imaginations. A few feet away, the shrubs grow, flowers spilling over themselves in their enthusiasm to be born. Everything is a riot of life and color. 

“Cas.” 

Castiel’s heart thumps against his ribs. He knows that voice. 

He whirls around, already knowing who he’ll find. Several feet away, Jack waits, one hand raised in a short wave. 

Castiel finds himself up on his feet, and within two short steps, he’s enfolded Jack in his arms. For a moment, he forgets about everything which came before, and allows himself this sheer comfort. If nothing else remains, then Jack is here. 

Jack hugs him back, twice as fiercely, before they separate. Castiel holds him at arm’s length, trying to find injuries or hurt on him, but there’s nothing. In fact, it’s almost as if...

“Jack,” he says slowly, his arm falling away from Jack’s shoulder, “what happened?” 

Jack smiles, a little lopsided, but still his boy. 

“Well,” he says, gesturing towards a bench, “It’s kind of a long story. 

---

For all that Jack said it was a long story, it ends up being remarkably quick in the telling. Castiel listens, sometimes grieving and sometimes proud, as he hears of how Sam, Dean, and Jack ultimately defeated Chuck. His heart grows in his chest as Jack recounts Dean’s words. 

That’s not who I am. 

A small part of him wishes that he could be there to see it, but he tucks that part of himself away. He said his piece. He relieved the burden which has been pressing down on his shoulders now for years. In his lifetime, it was nothing more than a blip on the map, but those years have made all the difference in the world to him. Finally, he can look back on them now without regrets. 

“And so, I came here,” Jack finally says, shifting a little on the bench. He looks oddly guilty, like the times Castiel would find him sneaking snacks back into his room. “I thought...” 

“What?’ Castiel prompts, after a few moments when it becomes clear that Jack has no interest in speaking. 

“Sam and Dean don’t really need me anymore. I mean, I know that they want me, but the world is bigger now. And the people up here need me too.” 

It’s then that Castiel looks around, scrutinizing his environment more closely. The nagging sense of familiarity hits and then he wonders how he didn’t see it before. His favorite Heaven, caught in an eternal Tuesday afternoon. 

“It’s not right,” Jack says, his forehead wrinkled into an earnest expression of worry. “The people here are stuck. While I was on earth, we all talked about free will, but the people here don’t have it. They’re stuck forever in an endless loop of memories, and it’s all just...empty.” 

Jack looks at Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t see God. He doesn’t see a divine being, or Lucifer’s son, or even an angelic being. He just sees his boy, lost and confused, but still so pure, still wanting to do the right thing, no matter what. 

“Cas?” Jack asks. “Will you help me?” 

---

Rebuilding Heaven is slow work, but time doesn’t really mean anything here. It’s delicate to rebuild the walls separating billions of souls so that nothing collapses. Castiel works alongside Jack, making suggestions as his mind trips along to potential problems. 

Though it’s never said aloud, Castiel knows why Jack is working tirelessly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the knowledge sits that Sam and Dean are going to die. One day, they will pass from the earth, and come to Heaven, and on that day, Castiel wants everything to be perfect for them. He wants to show them a true paradise, a place without walls or barriers, a place where emotion is genuine and not just a manufactured memory. Rebuilding Heaven is his last chore, the last of his penance to be performed. 

He does make one stop, however. 

When he walks in the door, Kelly’s head lifts up from the book she’s flipping through. Her smile is a balm to the hurt places inside him, the ones that he likes to pretend don’t exist, because he was happy, yes? That was the whole point of everything, was to be happy. “Hey, Cas,” she greets him, shifting over and patting the couch next to her. “I was wondering when you’d be by.” 

“I’ve been busy,” Cas says, settling down on the cushions. In Heaven, his body is easier than it was on earth, more flexible, and he wonders if that’s because after all these years, he’s finally returned to where he was supposed to belong, or if it’s because he no longer has the shadow of his love pressing down on his shoulders. 

“Jack told me. Rebuilding Heaven? Sounds ambitious.” 

“The old Heaven was...not ideal,” Castiel says. “I thought it was at the beginning: each soul gets a paradise tailor made to them. But then, I realized that human life is meaningless without the connections we form along the way. Each soul, stuck forever in its own loop is...” 

“It’s lonely,” Kelly says, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Castiel returns the gesture, grateful for the connection. Her eyes are kind as she moves closer to him, her shoulder pressing into his. 

“So what happened?” 

---

In their time together, Castiel never told Kelly about Dean, at least not explicitly. But she had a brilliant mind and was able to see the threads of his longing woven into everything he did. Relating the story to her comes easily, and he tells her things which he would never tell Jack. 

“And I was happy,” Castiel says at the end. “I was.” 

“You trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Neither,” Castiel replies, bristling slightly. It was true that he might have been happier--he had performed a willful obfuscation of the original terms--but that doesn’t negate what he felt in that moment. The sheer love, the overwhelming gratitude, the incandescent happiness of being able, one last time, to proclaim to the world Dean Winchester is Saved. 

Everything else is unimportant when viewed through those lenses. 

“Why haven’t you gone to see him?” Kelly was always good at cutting to the heart of the problem. 

“Dean has his life on earth. I have my work here in Heaven. I don’t...” Because, of course, he’s asked himself the same question many times. Why doesn’t he go find Dean and tell him of one last, improbable miracle? 

“Cas, let me tell you: I didn’t know Dean all that well, but I didn’t need to if I wanted to know how he felt about you. It was all over his face.” Kelly turns to face him, suddenly serious. “Cas, you should go to him. At least allow him to speak his side. If he doesn’t feel the same way, then you’ll know. And if he does...” 

Castiel shakes his head. Happiness in the being is what he’s told himself ever since he awoke to find himself in Heaven. Happiness doesn’t come from the having. He will live with himself and find contentment in the works which he does. 

Kelly looks sympathetic, but doesn’t say anything as he walks out. 

There’s work to be done. 

---

Castiel sighs with satisfaction as he walks through Heaven. Slowly, the walls are coming down. Souls are mingling and interacting. There’s joy in the once quiet halls, the giddiness which comes from freedom after too long without. He moves through the different realms, silent as a thought, and goes unnoticed, at least until a gruff voice catches his attention. 

“What the hell are you doing here, boy?” 

A wide grin splits Castiel’s face. Only Bobby Singer would think to call an angel ‘boy’. He walks towards the old hunter, who looks the same now as he did in life, and is surprised when Bobby sweeps him up in a hug which would threaten to crack his ribs, were he human. 

“You did good,” Bobby whispers, his voice thick in Castiel’s ear. “I heard what you and that boy Jack did, and you did real good.” 

It means more than he would have thought, to have Bobby’s approval. After a moment’s pause, he hugs Bobby back. 

When Bobby pulls away, he quickly knuckles his eyes, before clearing his throat. “So, you fixed Heaven on top of everything else? What do you have planned next?” 

Castiel’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “There’s always work to be done maintaining Heaven. We don’t know what, if any, effects the restructuring will bring, so I suppose I will be traveling and making sure that everything is stable.” 

“If that ain’t a load of shit,” Bobby scoffs. “From what I’ve seen, your boy has enough power in his pinky finger to do just about whatever he wants. Stop making excuses and get your feathery ass back down there.” 

Castiel swallows. “It’s not quite as simple as that. Sam and Dean have a chance to live their lives, the way that they would wish for them to be lived. It’s not fair of me to intrude.” 

“Now, if that isn’t the biggest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” Bobby’s mouth twists underneath his beard. “Only one thing keeping you from going back down to see those boys, and it sure as hell ain’t concern for Heaven or some BS notion that they’re better off without you.” Castiel opens his mouth, but Bobby speaks over him. “And don’t tell me that you’re just waiting either. Something I learned a long time ago--you never have as much time as you think you do.” 

Castiel closes his mouth and says nothing. 

---

Bobby is wrong. 

There’s still time. He doesn’t have to go yet. There’s still work to be done in Heaven, souls to be guided, walls to be broken. Jack still needs him. 

There’s still time. 

There’s still time, until there isn’t.

---

Castiel feels it before he knows what’s happening. It’s a rift, a tear, something which ripples throughout the universe and comes to hit him in the chest. He staggers backward, hand clutching at his shirt. 

His first thought is that Heaven is under attack, but a second’s observation tells him that’s not the case. Everything is fine. The fabric of Heaven remains secure, the souls are unbothered. It’s only him that feels the blow. 

With a flutter of wings, Jack appears beside him. His face is a mask of distress, tears welling in his eyes. “Cas,” he cries, clenching his hands into fists at his side. “Cas, it’s--” 

“Dean,” Castiel says, finally understanding the bolt of pain which ripped through him. 

It was too soon. He doesn’t know how much time has passed on earth, but he knows it was too soon. 

It’s always too soon. 

“Cas, what do I... I can heal him. I can go and heal him now. I can save him. I can...” Jack trails off, his feet still pacing in desperate circles. “What do I do?” 

It’s a child’s question, and Castiel has no answer. 

“Free will,” is all he says. “Whatever you do...It’s your decision.” 

---

Castiel feels when Dean Winchester’s soul enters Heaven. He held that soul within his grace, he snatched it away from the filth and flames of Hell. He cradled that soul while he was reassembling Dean’s body, pulling atoms out of air to create skin, flesh, and bone. He would know that soul at the end of everything, and he knows it here, when it settles into the place which was created for him. 

It was as perfect as Castiel could make it; down to the Impala sitting in the Roadhouse’s parking lot. He created every inch of Dean’s Heaven in homage, in apology. 

It wasn’t fair. Dean deserved to live to a ripe old age. He deserved to enjoy the world for which he fought so hard. He should have grown old, should have found peace, should have discovered the foibles and pitfalls of normal, human existence. Dean worked too hard, for too long, and he deserved a kinder, softer fate. Instead, he’s here, and all Castiel can do for him is to craft his Heaven with painstaking care. 

He pauses on the boundaries of Dean’s Heaven. Every fiber of him yearns to go forward, to rejoice in Dean’s presence, to see that beloved face again. He wants it so badly he can almost taste it, leather and gasoline and whiskey mingling together until he’s back in the bunker, listening to the sounds of his family--

Castiel takes a step away from the border. First one, then another. After three steps, it becomes easier. 

Dean has his paradise, and Castiel won’t interfere. 

---

Heaven moves as it always does, timeless and changeless. There is no turn of the earth to mark the passage of time. Instead, it moves like the ocean, rolling waves which are always moving and yet the surface remains the same. Castiel travels through various Heavens, observing the newly liberated souls, and taking his peace from their newfound enjoyment. It eases something within him to see his former home restored, better than it ever was before. 

He’s inspecting a field of sunflowers when the sound of a car door closing surprises him. Immediately, his heart lurches in his chest, dipping down to somewhere around his knees before hurtling upwards to lodge in his throat. He swallows before he turns around. 

Dean Winchester is there. 

Castiel’s heart, always out of his control, performs a quick dance against the confines of his ribs. Dean looks...He looks whole and wonderful, vibrant and alive. The lines around his eyes look as though they’ve been carved through laughter instead of despair. His shoulders sit easier, no longer pressed down with the burden of the entire world. 

Castiel licks his lips. “Hello, Dean,” he finally says, when it becomes obvious that Dean has no intention of making the first move. 

Dean’s lips quirk up in a grin. “Cas,” he says, not moving from where he’s leaning up against the frame of the Impala. “You’re a hard guy to track down.” 

Layers upon layers of subtext are placed within the seemingly simple sentence. Castiel remembers Purgatory as well as anything else, the desperate year of keeping one step ahead of Leviathans while close enough to Dean to protect him if need be. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says faintly. “I wasn’t aware anyone was looking.” 

Dean’s face performs a series of interesting maneuvers, dropping and rising and twisting. It finally settles into an expression like stone as he pushes off the car and storms towards him. Castiel waits, caught up in breathless anticipation of the oncoming storm. 

“Look,” Dean growls, reaching out and snagging the lapel of his coat, almost like he wants to ensure that Castiel doesn’t escape. Castiel doesn’t even dream of it; there’s no other place he’d rather be than caught in Dean’s grip. “There was a lot of shit going on at the time, so I didn’t get to say it then, but there’s nothing happening now, so you are going to sit here and listen, all right?”

Castiel nods, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe you didn’t...” He runs the hand which isn’t still wrapped up in Castiel’s coat over his face. “You idiot,” he finally breathes. “A couple of dumbasses. You’ve had me, Cas. All along, you’ve had me.” 

Castiel looks up at Dean in sharp surprise. When he meets Dean’s eyes, there’s nothing but the infinite compassion which he fell in love with. “You... You’re this force of nature that came bursting into my life. All this time, you’ve always been there, always helping, and I took that for granted, I know I did. But, god, Cas, I should have told you every day how thankful I was to have you there with us. I should have let you know what a miracle you are. You never gave up on me, not once, not even when I deserved it.” 

Castiel’s breath hitches in his chest as Dean lets go of his coat. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he reaches up to cup Castiel’s cheek. “You never stopped believing. You never stopped trying. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Dean.” The name bursts out of Castiel’s chest in a harsh breath. Dean’s words are working their way underneath his skin, to the point where his body can’t contain them. 

“Cas.” Dean gently angles his face up so that there’s no escape when he says, “I love you.” 

“I’m sorry,” explodes from Castiel’s chest, the helplessness and grief he felt when he felt Dean’s soul leaving earth erupting in a single quick sob. “Dean, I’m so sorry, I should have been there, I should have done something, I never should have left you alone--” 

“Cas.” Dean’s fingers press into his cheek, not hard, but firmly enough to get his attention. “It sucks, all right? There was so much I wanted...” The corner of his mouth drops. “I was going to get you out, and you, me, and Sam were going to head to the beach. I was going to get you drinking out of a coconut, maybe a Hawaiian shirt. We were going to do Christmas, I was going to take you to a theme park and see if you puked on roller coasters. I wanted...” For a moment, grief so overwhelming that it can’t be touched crosses Dean’s face, but then, with effort, he pushes it away. “There’s so much that I wanted, but it’s done now. And besides, you’ve been busy.” Dean raises his eyebrows. The grin on his face invites Cas to smile as well. “Reforming Heaven?” 

“I wanted...There was so much I did wrong here. I thought if I could make it right, that maybe...” Castiel leans his cheek into Dean’s hand. “I wanted it to be perfect for you. You weren’t supposed to be here yet.” 

“I know. I know. And it’s not okay, but you’re here, all right? Mom’s here, Bobby’s here, Charlie, and Jess, and Kevin, and Ellen and Jo...They’re all here, and thanks to you, I’m going to see them. You did that, Cas.” 

“Jack did most of the work--” Castiel begins, but he’s cut off by the soft press of Dean’s lips against his. 

Sparks burst in his chest as Dean’s hand slides around to the back of his neck to cradle his head. His other arm slides around his waist, and suddenly, Castiel is held by Dean Winchester, by this miracle of a man. Dean’s kisses consume him, until he’s no longer Castiel. Instead, he’s heat, and friction, and more. 

“You and me,” Dean pants against his lips, pulling away just far enough to run his nose along Castiel’s. “We’ve got time now, Cas, we’ve got so much time. I’m going to take you apart, going to show you how much I love you, every single day. I’m going to show you everything.” 

Castiel is drowning in the outpouring of Dean’s devotion. He’s helpless in the riptides. All he can do to save himself is kiss Dean again, tasting salt on their lips from where their tears trace down to their lips. Castiel cries partly for Dean’s missed opportunities and the fact that life is so cruel. But he also cries from happiness. Dean is right. Here, they have all the time they could ever want. There’s time to explore every feeling and desire, time for them to become themselves, without the pressure of the world around them. 

They part. Somehow, Castiel’s hands have found their way onto Dean’s waist. One of his thumbs is braver than the rest of his whole body, as it sneaks underneath Dean’s shirt to touch bare skin. Dean grins at him. 

“Hey, Cas,” he asks, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “Do you want to take a drive?” 

Their fingers entwine as they walk towards the Impala. Castiel’s chest feels light, like Dean’s hand is the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. “I’m still trying to figure out the roads here. It felt like I was driving around for forty years to try and find you.” 

They settle into the Impala, where they’ve been so many times before, but now Castiel can enjoy every squeak of the leather seats. He can revel in the imperfections of the car because of the perfection that’s next to him. Dean Winchester reaches across the seat and takes his hand, as easy as breathing. 

“I can’t wait to show Sam everything,” Dean says, as he guides the Impala back onto a road which Castiel is almost certain wasn’t there when he arrived. “I, uh...Hope it takes him a while to get here. But. Yeah, when he gets here, I can’t wait to show him everything.”

“We’ll see it all together,” Castiel finally says. It’s all he can say, his heart too busy dancing in his chest. 

They have all the time they want.

---

Time slips and passes and stops. In between his time with Dean, Jack, and the rest of the residents of Heaven, and performing maintenance throughout Heaven, Castiel watches the earth. He sees those left behind grow older. Claire and Kaia start a family, Claire finally having set aside the kernel of anger in her heart. Castiel watches Sam and Eileen’s family grow, smiling when Sam finally goes back to law school and gets his degree. He spends the rest of his career fighting for justice for children lost in the system, those who can’t fight for themselves. Saving people, hunting things, indeed. 

Several times, Castiel thinks about going to visit Sam, if only to assuage the grief he can still see the man carrying, but each time he stops. It hurts, but grief is a facet of life. This grief is natural. It comes honestly. It’s not manipulated by a sadistic higher being for a voyeristic pleasure. 

Eileen comes out to the Impala and brings Sam back into the house with gentle touches. Throughout the years, she’s learned how to navigate Sam’s moods, and knows how to bring him back. They lay in bed, foreheads pressed together, Eileen’s body curved into Sam’s. 

“I just,” Sam begins, twisting slightly so Eileen can read his lips, “I just miss him so much sometimes.” 

“I know,” Eileen answers. It’s all she needs to say. 

After a while, Sam gently wraps his fingers around Eileen’s wrist, partly for comfort, partly to grab her attention. “Dean’s baseball game is next weekend. Do we know yet if it’s going to conflict with Beth’s dance rehearsal?” 

“It shouldn’t,” Eileen answers, and with that, the normal routine of their life is reestablished. The grief is always present, but it’s part of the human condition. 

Castiel turns his eyes back to Heaven, where Dean waits for him. Despite it being Heaven, he insists on making repairs to Bobby’s house as well as the Roadhouse, even when Castiel reminds him, for the hundredth time, that if he truly wanted to, he could fix these imperfections with a thought. 

“Sometimes, you just have to do things the hard way,” he answers, through a mouthful of nails. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and goes to help him. 

---

The morning dawns, quiet and gentle. The dawn is silvery-gold as it stretches across the grass leading up to the cabin. In the distance, the birds start singing. Castiel can smell the fresh scents of spring, dew clinging to the grass, the clean, bright potential in the air. His toes stick out from underneath the comforter, but a quick flip of his foot flicks the corner of the blanket back into place. 

A warm, heavy arm winds over his waist. “Babe, it’s too early,” Dean mumbles into the nape of his neck. “Go back to sleep.” 

Castiel strokes over the back of Dean’s hand. The words are tempting, but something has woken him up, and now that it has, he wants to know what it is. He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the chill of the air as it bites at his bare skin, and concentrates. After a second, he startles. 

“Dean,” he says. 

Though he doesn’t put urgency or fear into his voice, something about his tone makes Dean open his eyes, suddenly alert. Castiel looks at him, and Dean rolls over onto his side. After their time together, they’ve mastered the art of the wordless conversation, much to the chagrin of Charlie, Kevin, and anyone within ten miles of them, at least according to Jo. 

“It’s time?” Dean asks. He rolls closer to Castiel, stealing his warmth, as he trails his fingers over Castiel’s ribs. 

“Yes,” Castiel answers, taking Dean’s hand in his and pressing kisses to each of Dean’s fingertips. “Won’t be long now.” 

Dean’s fingers slide across his cheek before he curls his fingers around the bolt of Castiel’s jaw, pulling him down. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss which still manages to make fireworks explode in the pit of Castiel’s belly. He doesn’t think the thrill of kissing Dean will ever fade. Castiel doesn’t want it to. 

“I should get going,” Dean murmurs, rubbing against the bristles on Castiel’s cheek. “You want to come along?” 

Castiel relaxes back into the mattress, only reluctantly parting from Dean. “No, you go. I’ll be here when you get back.” 

“I know.” Dean slides out of bed, and Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the play of his muscles underneath fair skin. He lets out a small, disappointed noise when Dean slides into a pair of jeans and a jacket, causing Dean to roll his eyes at him over his shoulders. “Yeah, keep it in your pants. Definitely wearing clothes to this particular meeting.” 

“Shame,” Castiel murmurs, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Shameless,” Dean corrects, leaning over the mattress to kiss Castiel once more, short and sweet. “We’ll be back before too long.” Another kiss to Castiel’s forehead, and then Dean murmurs, “I love you,” into his hair. 

Castiel smiles. Much like kissing Dean, hearing those words will never grow old to him. He’ll revel in them, roll in the simple syllables, allow them to sink into him, with the simple truth that Jack tells him, that Charlie tells him, that Kelly tells him, that even Bobby and Ellen and Jo tell him. 

You are valued. You are loved. 

He smiles at Dean Winchester, this impossible, miracle of a man. “I love you too,” he replies. 

Dean out of the bedroom. The door to the cabin opens and closes. Castiel rolls over onto his back and stretches, staring up at the ceiling. 

There’s work to be done today. He’ll need to travel through Heaven, informing the various interested parties that Sam Winchester has arrived. There will be a party tonight at the Roadhouse, a celebration instead of mourning. Then he and Dean will get to show Sam their Heaven, will listen to Sam relate through his years. 

There is so much work to do. 

But they have time. They have all the time they need. 

---

“Life never ends when you are in it.”--Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Waking Comfort (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence (in a flashback), implied/referenced trauma (unspecified) Warnings: N/A Summary: Unable to sleep on a cold day, Bela Dimitrescu tries to find comfort in her favorite servant... only to end up being the one doing the comforting. Notes: This is super self indulgent, because my dreams have been murdering me recently. Reader is a selective mute/partially nonverbal, implied neurodivergent (unspecified), gender neutral but written with a non-binary person in mind, with non-specific past trauma. Basically this is somewhat of a self-insert fic but I've smudged some lines to make it more relatable for other people.

----------------

In the early hours of the day, when the sun had yet to reach its peak, a cold quiet fell over Castle Dimitrescu. Most inhabitants were of a nocturnal persuasion, and lay sleeping soundly at this hour. Those few that thrived in the sun moved softly, with caution, daring not to awaken their masters. Oh, if only they knew that one Lady of the house was awake, prowling the corridors with marked intent. What a chill it would send down their spines- what lovely fear would permeate the household.

Ah, but that was not what Bela Dimitrescu desired, at least not for now. No, what she needed was something she would never admit out loud. It was a “base” need, one that all humans felt, and so she feared that it was beneath her. There was only one person that she could trust for this: A servant, experienced in all matters needed of them, level-headed, compassionate… and, most importantly, selectively mute.

Over the past year, Bela had found herself growing closer to you, much to her own surprise. The two of you had started to bond through reading, after you had helped her reorganize a mess in the library (left by none other than Lady Daniela). Since then, you had proven to be a valuable ally, always finding creative solutions to the family’s problems. From jury-rigging a set of climbing gear for repairs, to proof-reading all formal letters, there was hardly any part of Bela’s life that you hadn’t assisted with. All while only ever saying two or three sentences- short ones, at that.

Neither of you would ever forget the first (and only) time you spoke out loud. A would-be hunter had infiltrated the estate, through a damaged skylight (which you later repaired), intending to prove his worth by killing the nobility inside. By the time Bela arrived, after being notified by a terrified maiden, she found the situation had already been aptly handled. There you had stood, clutching an ornate, bloodied cane like a club. In front of you had been the unconscious hunter.

“You could have been hurt!” Bela had snapped, unable to stop herself, glad that her sisters hadn’t arrived yet. Then you had glanced at the man, then her, then back to the man. Something uncharacteristically dark had danced in your eyes.

“He said he was going to save me… from you. Called me defenseless,” you had snarled, poking the man with your cane as you did. “Rude.” Before Bela even had a chance to react, her sisters had appeared, disappointed to find the fight already over. They had fought over who would get to kill the hunter, and somewhere in that chaos you had slipped away without another word.

That day had replayed itself in Bela’s mind hundreds of times in her mind. Though she would not readily admit it, that had been the day that her casual affection for you had started to turn into something more serious. These days she didn’t even know how to describe your relationship- after all, you had never told her how you felt. But you had held her, closely, fingers running through her hair while she fought off memories from someone else’s life. Held her in your arms, as she held you, staving off the cold like it was all you had ever known.

This was what she wanted. Your touch, your comfort. All that stood in her way was a familiar question: Where were you? Master of your environment, schedule constantly in flux, you were rarely where anyone expected you to be, especially when you were prone to taking on whatever tasks others hadn’t had time to finish. So Bela searches, quickly, around places the day-shift tends to gather. She’s careful not to be seen, even though she knows the maidens aren’t likely to gossip where her family might hear. In the end she catches a hint of your scent near the servants’ quarters, and curses herself for not checking there sooner.

Your room is one of the only single-occupancy rooms in this wing. Only senior staff were allowed within these places, most of them rotating out as they “lost their usefulness”. The fact that you had slept in the same bed every night for six months was a testament to your skill. It’s the kind of thought that brings Bela some semblance of warmth in her chest. Still, the thought alone is not enough, so she slowly eases your door open.

Her ears strain against the silence, listening for the pattern of your breathing, or the telltale murmurs that would announce your awakening. Instead, the first things she hears are little gasps, then the shifting of fabric. Dreams of some sort have you turning and tossing, lungs getting hungry in their pursuit of air. It’s not immediately clear whether or not you are enjoying the dream. Were these good gasps, like those that Daniela often cooed about when she praised her maiden? Or were these the same kind that sometimes haunted Bela herself?...

A whimper cuts through the air, and suddenly Bela loses all patience. Practically running, she crosses the room in an instant, concern etched into her brow. One hand cautiously reaches for your blanket, pulling it back enough for her to slide in next to you. It’s a risk, one that could make you wake up with a panic, but it’s one she’s willing to take. After all, she had asked you about this sort of thing before. Though you couldn’t form full sentences, you had experience “miming” things, and Bela was quite clever with her “yes or no” questions.

When she carefully wraps an arm around your waist, she does so with confidence. Beneath her touch you stiffen, back going as tense as possible, but you stop shaking. A few more gasps leave you, and Bela wonders whether or not she should wake you up. Less than a minute later the decision is made for her. All the sudden your gasping turns to a sharp exclamation, body jerking hard, eyes snapping open. Tension coils through your muscles, driving your already overstimulated brain overboard.

Before Bela can even try to comfort you, you sit up, quickly turning so your legs dangle off the edge of the bed. Muffled sobs pass your lips as you hold your face in your hands. Memories struggle against each other behind your eyes, blocking out every other sensation. Your jaw is clenched, hard, and you struggle to breathe between shakes. A hand touches your back, but quickly moves when you flinch in response. It takes a minute for you to even process who else is with you. Once you do, some of the tension bleeds from your body.

“If you’d rather be alone right now, I understand,” Bela says, quietly, as soon as she thinks you’ll be able to understand her. For a moment you can’t bring yourself to respond, and you can feel her side of the mattress shifting, like she’s getting ready to leave. Panic springs up in your chest again, so you quickly reach a hand out in her direction. Thankfully she knows what to expect at this point, easily finding your hand in the dark, gently taking it within her own. “One squeeze for yes, two for no?”

You squeeze, once.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Bela asks, trying to hide the hopefulness in her voice. It makes you pause, considering, even though you’re still overwhelmed by your sensory inputs. In the end you squeeze her hand twice. “No worries, my dear. Don’t be tempted to push yourself just for my sake.” Somehow she always knew how to read you like an open book. Even with the… difficulty of communicating with you. Not that she had ever complained, or even thought about it. Knowing you, and caring for you, made any effort feel as easy as breathing.

A few minutes pass without another word being said. Sometimes Bela gives your hand a little squeeze, just to check in, and you always return it. Soon enough your brain starts to relax, loosening its vice-like grip on your motor controls. Once again you can ease the tension in your muscles. Then you find yourself rubbing your thumb against Bela’s hand, moving in soft circular motions, head turning so you can smile at her. Even if it’s too dark for you to see much, you know that her eyes see you just fine.

“Feeling any better?” She asks, donning a smile of her own. One squeeze. “Is there anything more I can do to help?” A pause, then one squeeze. Now that your limbs don’t feel as staticky, there’s only one thing on your mind: Cuddling. You’re moving before you know it, briefly letting go of Bela’s hand so you can get closer to her, pressing your face into her neck and giving her a soft kiss. Then you’re falling against the bed, on your side, looking up at your partner with a grin. It doesn’t take her long to get the message, shifting back onto her side so she can hold you for real this time. One of your hands goes to rest on her back, to serve as your translator for the rest of the night. “I love you,” Bela says, without even thinking.

She freezes up afterwards, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever said the words out loud to you. For a moment she’s scared, a feeling alien to her, but she refuses to back down. It pays off a few seconds later, incredibly so, when you return the words the best way you can: One squeeze.

[skelemira]

Horrorfell Paps x reader?? Feel free not to (also you're a cool person and I'm glad you exist)

Oooh my first time writing Horrorfell Paps!!!

And just bc you didn't specify (and bc u deserve the best~) imma give you both hcs and a lil drabble!!! (Also bc writing hcs first might get me in the mindset to write Horrorfell Paps for the first time!)

(After note: imma do the drabble another time bc I got home late and I'm super drained lol but someone feel free to remind me to do it!)

Kinda long so I'm gonna put it under here

Horrorfell Paps x Reader! (I don't have names for the Horrorfell bros yet so I'm just gonna call him Papyrus)

Hcs:

*He is not one to mince words. He is going to say exactly what he means to say and he is going to give you blunt honesty. He's not going to be malicious about his honesty, and he still knows when to be tactful in revealing information, but if you ask for his opinion he is going to be honest.

*But that makes compliments from him all the more flustering, because when someone unflinchingly honest tells you that they think you did (insert hobby or skill here) very well, then that is high freaking praise and you know they mean it with every bit of their being.

*He's fiercely overprotective for obvious reasons. In the starving Fell underground, you had to fight for everything you had constantly. So when you find something as precious as a mate? You protect that to your dying breath and Papyrus is not only very strong and fast, but he is insanely clever and creative in coming up with ways to protect what is his. It can get a little much sometimes, like when you want to go to your friend's house and he doesn't want you to leave the house without him, or when you want to go grocery shopping when he's at work, but he is rational, so most times you can explain how you have defensive weapons and him on speed dial and how this location is well lit and has security in place, and he will see reason. He's not trying to keep you from the world he's just... Seen the horrible things the world can have in it and he wants to keep those things from you as much as he can.

*He's romantic but is often pretty subtle about it. There was no room for big gestures in the Underground, so the ways you showed your love (besides with food) were with small gestures, by moving the sofa you see your partner keeps stubbing their toe on, or fluffing the pillows on their bed when you've noticed they had a long day. Little things that you could easily write off as something other than romantic gestures. His love language is mostly food, but every once in a while you'll come home and your sheets are freshly laundered or your favorite fruit is freshly cut up on a plate in the kitchen or taking your car to go get groceries and filling it up on the way back. Small things that are practical but help make your day better.

*He's not really opposed to touch (read: this mans is touch-starved as all heck) but, bc of the Underground, he was taught that touch was for harming, never for showing affection. So when you first reach out to hold his hand or put your hand on his femur or something he tenses up. Almost imperceptibly, but you notice. You're a little hurt until you realize what I said above about how he probably wasn't used to showing affection through touch. (Some might say that he just isn't affectionate but you've seen the little signs and ways he shows his affection that may not be obvious to other people, but with him you notice everything.) So gradually you help him grow comfortable with touch. (Normally you wouldn't push, some people aren't okay with touch, that's fine, but you saw him hiding just how desperately he wanted physical affection). You, of course, stop if he ever gets uncomfortable but it goes quite well and eventually he feels comfortable hugging you out of the blue and even holding you while you both sleep. He's still not initiating a lot of physical touch, but he is receptive.

Wow that was a long hc lol uhhh onto a couple more then the drabble!

*He likes to be the only one to handle food. He's not obsessive about it (he nearly is but shhh he's working on it) but he likes his kitchen a certain way and it's just... It's easier for his piece of mind if he decides how much of something is made and how it is made. Sometimes he lets you help cook or bake (baking isn't his strong suit) but most times it's him in the kitchen or (on the rare occasions that you have takeout) you get it at the restaurant or it's from a restaurant he trusts.

*When he does eventually get comfortable enough for physical touch you are ever ever allowed to touch his cracks or scars. The first time, when you do it unknowingly, he actually flinches and gently explains to you (with his body tense and his fangs gritted tightly) to please never touch those parts of him. (He doesn't explain this to you, but he doesn't actually mind the scars, they show he's tough and they show he's a fighter but..... He doesn't want your perfect innocent fingers having to touch the flawed (in his mind) parts of him.

*His ideal date? Doing a puzzle with you with gentle jazz playing in the background. Though he "complains" about it "not having enough spikes to truly be fun" you can tell that he's enjoying figuring out something with you like this in a calm and peaceful environment where he knows he's safe. He makes a meal and, instead of eating at the dinner table, he declares it a special occasion and has you both at on the couch, chatting about the puzzles and each other's day. He's still watching you eat carefully, though, and making sure you get plenty of healthy food to eat.

*On that note, if you aren't at least a little chubby he considers himself to have failed in his job of feeding you, regardless of what those ridiculous human beauty standards say. (If you have trouble gaining weight for whatever reason, though, and you explain that to him, he understands and will back off a little and will stop trying to give you extra portions at dinner.)

*He signs sometimes because his jaw aches, of course you help him get to a dentist and an optometrist to get glasses and braces (though it's a battle of wills to get him to admit he needs help), but some days his jaws ache too much to talk, so he taught you sign language, writing down what he was saying in the early days of you learning.

I hope you enjoyed the headcanons Kat, sorry I couldn't finish the drabble tonight but I will write that as soon as I can!!! It was fun getting to know Horrorfell Paps and maybe one day I'll name him lol!

[burythelightdeepwithin]

free to thirst huh👀? what are your favourite things about Vergil and the things you find hot about him? I personally love his voice because it softens the intimidating side of him i guess? like if i were to meet him i would stay the fuck away from him until he would speak lmao.

Aaaaaaaah, favorite things about Vergil? Honestly I was very drawn to him first because he’s very funny from an outside perspective. Something about a super-threatening dude on a monobloc kept me wanting to learn more about him; something charming about how the mundane neatly folds into his extraordinary nature, how fans understand he’s powerful and complicated but can easily insert him into familiar environments that make him hilarious. That was the starting point, his very nature entertains me.

And then... watching him as a playable character... this applies to all DMC combo videos but the motion in the animations are so fluid and mesmerizing to watch. All the weapon strikes and poses and visual effects give a very satisfying weight and momentum to follow, and the showy action just seamlessly translates well to the character himself. Like watching players refine his moveset to the maximum works exactly with Vergil’s character as a very efficient and capable fighter; you can simply understand what feeling he’s meant to evoke by watching and playing him. It’s almost like a stim video I think? The feeling of fluidity is really satisfying to watch which kind of multiplies the experience of Watching Vergil; it bolsters the infatuation.

And then I actually look at him closer... and it’s like, some renders and screenshots aren’t that flattering; the spiked-up hair IS a little bit strange. But Vergil’s face is very handsome. He kind of has that robust, strong facial structure that isn’t ultra-masculine like Dante’s is. There’s a little bit of openness in Vergil’s eyes in comparison that makes him more endearing and enticing to look at. He has a very cute bow on his lips that’s wonderful to trace with your eyes. A lot of rounding out where Dante’s is angular that I find more appealing really. (And at this point I’m like, oh no, Vergil really is attractive to me.)

His outfit’s probably my favorite thing, to be honest. The one in 5, obviously. There’s so many lines on his vest that are drawn inwardly and downwards which reinforces a ‘V-like’ rhythm in his torso and actually I think it’s working like a necktie thing where it subliminally suggests you to look down his body to his crotch, but in general I think it forces a triangular look to his chest, which gives him that fit, athletic look. I’ve said before how the parting on the blue and darker blue parts of his vest tricks you into imagining a crop-top segmentation on him which are very tantalizing articles of clothing by emphasizing the chest.

He has a zipper lying right on his throat that draws your hands to a space that is so intimate and tender. And he’s wearing leather pants. Oh my God he’s wearing leather pants so tight  that putting a phone in its pockets would leave an impression if it had any. I don’t think I need to explain why form-fitting leather on long legs are sexy. The half-chaps allow for an uninterrupted flow of the length of his legs (where boots would be) that make him look even more graceful when you see it stand out from his coat. And all those buckles on his chaps? so careful and form-fitting, already a free set of motion-lines that aligns with the movement of his legs. The thin pointed end of his boots, long legs, oblong coattails AND the Yamato’s sheath all add to a very lovely rhythm of a free-flowing tassel to his body. He really has a graceful silhouette in 5 that just makes him inherently interesting to look at.

There’s just so many things about that him are SO subtly erotic, nothing really outright sexy about him but just a very careful construction of his coolness present in his design. It’s probably why I was so caught off-guard with my infatuation -- I couldn’t recognize I why I kept wanting to watch and read more about him until it’s too late.

[sweetfierceimagines]

PART1/ It was supposed to be simple.  Ricky x Reader (HSMTM)

Hello everyone, I’ve been trying really hard to write lately, and it has been very complicated. I think you all understand, when everything is not ok in someone’s life, that someone kind of loses it.

But I decided to fight that, I least trying !

I discovered the series High School Musical the Musical and even though I’m 24 and supposed to be over this kind of drama, I’M CLEARLY NOT.

Synopsis : Reader is a student, she’s not technically involved in the Musical like everyone else, but she helps with costumes making and set management. Ricky gets to know her and even though he really wants to get Nini back and has a whole plan for it, life decides to mess with him, and he gets involved in a new sentimental obsession.

Warnings : none. Probably not my best writing, please be kind to me.. Just a lot of fluff and teenage drama ! Enjoy <3

Tell me if you want this to carry on ! I’ll be glad to write a part 2 if you like it :)

RICKY POV/

Here he was, playing Troy Bolton in this Musical. He would never have done it if it wasn’t for Nini.

He understood her, understood her pain, understood why she chose that stupid E.J. But he was not going to abandon. It was not because he didn’t reply that he didn’t mean it. 

So he enroled (quite amazingly by the way) in this musical. He was dancing, singing, acting.. He never thought it could actually be this fun and exhausting. He seemed to be reaching Nini’s heart more and more each day, as she was also realising that EJ was not as perfect as he pretended to be.

But something was about to mess up all his plans.

READER POV/

The school was all about that Musical. It seemed as if every other activity and class was less important and didn’t deserve that much attention. Y/N was not a singer, not a dancer. She didn’t play any instrument, she didn’t like to be under the spotlights.

She was all about reading, writing and creating. So when the art class shut down for “fund purposes” (basically meaning this musical was costing the school too much), she had to find another way to create. 

So she went for it. Asked Miss Jenn if she needed someone for her costumes and decor management, and simply started to work on the set. She wasn’t the only one working on costumes and on stage management, but she clearly was the best of the team.

And it was appreciated.

After just a few weeks, she was named “stage and costume director”, whatever that means. Even though she was pretending she didn’t care, it sort of made her feel validated, and allowed her to create as much as she wanted to, which was pretty amazing. 

RICKY POV/

It was one of these days.

Everything seemed to fall apart. His parents were ending their relationship, his mom would probably leave for a long time, Nini still supported EJ even though he was making mistakes for which she would have dumped him..

He felt like everything he was doing was not good enough and it was hard to deal with. He was not usually shy with his feelings, but this time he didn’t feel like sharing. So he stayed late, very late, at school, and waited for everyone to leave stage to show up.

He was sure no one was there, so he let his emotions speak and just let it out. He started by talking to himself, making moves and being loud. He was talking about his family, his fear of being abandonned, his fear of never being loved again, the pain of knowing he lost Nini because he didn’t deserve her back there, the impression that EJ was a better man than he was.. he could go for hours.

And then he started singing.

A couple sentences from numerous songs. Songs about love, songs about pain, songs about courage. He closed his eyes and sang his heart out. It was beautiful, strong, sincere. It would have tear anyone’s heart.

And it did.

READER POV/

Y/N was staying late, as usual. She had a special authorisation from Miss Jenn and the Dean to stay extra hours backstage, working of costumes or just on personnal projects.

At school at least, she didn’t have to deal with noise, with family issues of with anything that could poison her creativity.

She was painting when she heard a noise.

Startled, she sort of went in panic mode, imagining a hundred scenarios in which she would get in troubles. She walked smoothly to the stage entrance and remained out of sight while looking at the boy who played Troy basically loosing his mind on stage.

She could have told him that he was not alone, she was actually about to signal her presence out of respect for what he was revealing, when he started singing.

It made Y/N go numb, as if she left her body and could feel her soul burning of compassion. His voice was everything, his face was everything.

She didn’t realise, but she was crying silently.

After a couple minutes, she realised she was actually holding her breath. She breathed heavily and stumbled, making Ricky realise he was not alone at all.

The boy jumped and fell down, hurting himself quite badly.

Y/N came rushing at him, feeling terribly sorry for what happened.

RICKY POV/

- Man ! Couldn’t you say you were here?!

Ricky was flaming red, embarrassed that someone heard everything. He looked at this girl’s face and it honestly took him a few seconds to remember who she was. Yes, she was on stage pretty much each day, but at some point he got so obsessed with the Musical and Nini that he completly forgot about the environment he was evolving in.

She was pretty, her Y/E/C eyes looking terrified and guilty, and it seemed as she cried recently, her eyes a bit red.

He stood up and winced, lifting his shirt a bit to realise he was going to get bruses all over his chest and stomach.

- I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to interrupt or even listen. Seriously, I was going to tell you, i’m not a creep. Well, not that kind at least..

- Yeah? You were going to? Seems like you had plenty of time.

He sighed and headed backstage to inspect his clothes and body in the miror, assessing at bad it was.

Y/N followed, staying a few meters away to give him some space. She didn’t say anything, feeling guilty enough.

Ricky took his shirt out completly, looking at his body. Y/N could tell he was contracting a bit his abs and arms and let out a silent laugh. She observed for a couple minutes and finally talked.

- You riped your shirt a bit.

Ricky turned, facing her, looking anoyed, and lifted his arms.

- No joke ! Who’s falt is it?

- You’re the one who fell dude.

He opened his mouth to answer right back but her cheekiness cheered him a bit, and he simply nodded his head.

- Yeah, I’ll blame gravity next time I see her. A real troublemaker that one.

He looked at his shirt and sighed. He didn’t know anything about sewing and his mom would probably have other things to do. Too bad, it was his favorite old school shirt.

Y/N stretched her hand toward him and he gave her his shirt. Still shirtless, he looked as she sat down where it seemed like she was staying most of the time, in a corner with painting all over, needles and fabric. She grabed one needle, easily got the thread in and started sewing, with a hand technique that showed how used to it she was.

He looked around, noticing one painting that seemed to still be in progress. He got closer, reaching his hand to it.

- Don’t ! It’s wet, I was on it when I heard you.

He turned around, looking at her in another way. She was pretty impressive, painting stuff, sewing shirts and managing a stage so well people didn’t even realised she was here.

- That’s sick.

He said with a smile.

She looked back at him and nodded, smiling at him too.

- Thanks. I usually plan what I’m going to do but this one.. it just came to me.

He looked closer, noticing a female silouette, somehow looking cut in some parts. Not cut as stabbed, but cut as split in different sections.

- What do you think it is?

Y/N said while carrying on her sewing. She acted as she was not looking at him, but each time he got his attention back at the painting, she would look at him, trying to anticipate his reactions.

- Hum.. It’s a.. it’s a woman? Right?

He would turn to her, as if he was looking for her validation for each word he said. She simply nodded, encouraging him to carry on.

- It’s a woman, and this woman is split. She.. Maybe because she went through a lot, maybe the different sections represent different emotions? Different moments of her life?

He remained silent for a second and looked with intensity at the painting. His eyebrows frown and he suddently looked sad.

- Maybe because she can’t be whole again. She has to be split. She has to try to deal with these conflicting emotions, these ups and downs. Maybe people tell her she should be grateful, and happy, and she should move on. But she can’t, because life cut her in several pieces.

And a tear rolled down his cheek.

Y/N stood up, mooving carefully toward him, and put a gentle hand on his (still naked) shoulder. She could feel him shaking a bit, deeply moved by what he felt from the painting. 

- Ricky.. it’s ok.

He turned, facing her, his eyes still filled with tears. He didn’t quite knew why, but he didn’t feel like looking anything but himself with her. After all, she knew how he was feeling, she heard what he said, and she felt what he felt.

The way she was looking at him.. Conforting, warm, yet terrifying. She understood.

He put his hand on hers, squeezing it as if it would make him feel better. He was here, facing her, hand on hand, eyes to eyes.

Suddenly, the speaker went on, the voice of a security guy telling “Miss Y/N, time to close the school. Sorry”

This sort of broke the moment. They broke the physical contact and she gave him his shirt back. They both gathered their stuff and silently headed to the front door, thanking the security guard for his patience.

They smiled at each other and Ricky waved goodbye, whatching as she was quitely leaving of her bike.

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 5)

I'm back on my bullshit. I decided I'd post these, once a day, four days a week. Then I'll go on breaks for the weekend to let interested readers catch up while also further writing more entries. At the time I'm posting this, for example, I'm in the process of analyzing Chapter 39. That way, it's easier for everyone to enjoy this essay. Which I hope people do.

Anyway, this can finally truly be called a ship essay, because one of our key players has FINALLY developed feelings! Going forward, Natsume's behavior will heavily feature his growing affections for Mikan. We'll be analyzing Natsume's self-preserving hesitation as well as his immediate instinct to give up any chance he has from the get-go.

Chapter Seventeen

Natsume next shows up to walk into Class B during a commotion of Mikan’s retelling of the Reo incident. The kids all gather around him now too to ask questions and press about his condition. One kid even asks if he should teach Mikan a lesson for bragging about his rescue. Mikan smiles at him, under the assumption that their shared trauma has brought them closer and maybe even made them friends, but Natsume’s response is to simply turn away and ignore her.

He’s still Natsume after all. This is the first girl he’s ever liked, and she used to be somebody he despised, so the change in feelings is probably very strange to him. He’s confused and possibly embarrassed. He doesn’t know what to say or how to act.

Can't have her getting any ideas that he's completely changed his mind about her or anything.

Most of the people that Natsume likes at the school (although that is just Ruka and Youichi… so… you know) know that he likes them. He spends time with them, is gentle with them, does things for them, and can openly say kind things to and about them. Mikan is different. He used to be her number one enemy, so all of a sudden switching gears and becoming her friend would be quite odd.

Over time, Natsume will find ways to be gentle and sweet to Mikan, but for now his crush is brand new and he doesn’t know how to act quite yet. He’d rather avoid her entirely, or pretend like nothing happened, than openly approach his new feelings.

Furthermore his behavior is always and under all circumstances inseparable from his status as Persona’s favorite and as the Black Cat. He may have some loved ones, but he keeps the number low and tries to avoid getting close to people for a reason. Naturally, nobody could ever really understand his experiences so there will always be a divide between him and the rest of his peers, but even more than that is that considering people precious turns them into targets.

Natsume has probably learned the hard way that displaying closeness and affection for his friends can have dangerous effects, so he might now think of showing that kind of affection as selfish or even cruel. Why subject somebody to something like that, merely because he has feelings for them? It’s not fair.

In either case, it’s really not that Natsume is naturally mean and cold. He just doesn’t trust his situation enough to properly act. It’s safer in every way to just pretend like nothing changed. It’s too much to deal with otherwise. But sooner rather than later, the hard thing will be staying away. Eventually, maintaining coldness with her will be almost impossible.

Chapter Eighteen

This chapter further touches on Natsume’s new-found crush and its consequences.

Class B is used to being in an environment where Natsume hates Mikan and is bothered by everything she does. He gives in to her slightly, in small ways, and it shocks his classmates. Now, it’s understandable that, even if he hadn’t developed a crush on her, he might still be softer to a girl who risked her life to save him, but it’s still odd.

Mikan recalls asking Natsume for help training her alice. She needs an offensive alice to nullify, so Iinchou or Hotaru’s would be ineffectual in training. Natsume is really the best person to ask, and, to everyone’s surprise, he actually agrees to help.

Natsume doesn't need any convincing to help her, but what did she think practicing with a fire alice would entail?

And yes it does seem like he’s only doing it to torture her, because his alice is capable of genuine bodily harm and his admirers snicker with amusement at his antics, but I can’t help but assume there’s more to it.

He doesn’t really hesitate to help. He doesn’t need convincing at all. In some ways I think he did genuinely want to help. Her alice helped save his life, after all. Why not repay the favor by using his alice to help her train? To him, there's a lot of value in her alice, so training it is beneficial in his perspective as well.

And later still, Mikan spots Natsume sitting amongst the principal students. He stands out, as an elementary student next to upperclassmen. This moment is a good introduction to the arc. His crush on Mikan only grows stronger as the festival goes on, but there’s something looming over him too--he’s different from the rest of them. He stands out so much during the festival. He’s a dangerous ability type who’s not allowed to participate while also being a principal who has to sit on the stage for the opening ceremony. That's horribly ironic, but also shows just how singled out and under the spotlight he is. It’s a huge part of why he acts the way he does, so cold and mean and distant despite his growing affections. It’s all he can do.

He may see potential for a future, but he’d be foolish to think he should be able to acquire it, because his current circumstances have not changed at all.

The chapter ends with Natsume being asked by Koko if he wants to try out the special ability class event. He’s looking towards the special ability area, and we can tell the next chapter will be fun.

Chapter Nineteen

And how!

Natsume is here to see Ruka, his best friend, but he’s also here to catch a glimpse of the girl he has a crush on.

Sumire is also there, and it’s interesting to see that Natsume hasn’t changed in his attitude around her either, even though she also helped save him. She tries to embrace him and he dodges her.

This catches some people’s attention and they start to whisper about his presence.

In the anime, this moment is a bit more potent, hearing the murmurs and seeing a darkness over the gossiping kids, but the manga still establishes that the people waiting in line are by-and-large unhappy to see him. They whisper amongst themselves, rudely asking why he’d bother to come here, but that gloom only lasts for a moment (one singular panel and then Natsume’s responding bitterness) before Mikan appears jumping over the wall, calling his name and even smiling.

It’s almost like she was waiting for him to show up, running off from her post the second she heard Natsume was there. The dark looming screentones are replaced with flowery ones, and it’s hard not to think of this as his perspective: all is gloomy and then there is Mikan. All of a sudden, after hating her for so long, he thinks of her as bright sunshine, and he must have showed up just to see her and feel nice for a change.

It's Natsume seeing Mikan through floral-filter lenses for me...

Of course, he ruins the mood. It feels almost as if he does it solely because he knows it will upset her. She was so excited to see him, and he manages to completely turn her mood from eager to angry, just the opposite of how she was able to unwittingly turn his mood from gloomy to... as close to content as he can get.

He’s okay now. He doesn’t want her getting any ideas.

Now, in my opinion, his method of bothering her could be anything and the plot would remain the same. What matters is that he wants to piss her off, and this just so happens to be the way he does it, partially because it’s intended to be funny. Mikan has to get angry at him for this chapter to progress the way it does, but his actions could have been replaced by any other irritating action and it could’ve gone the same way.

Tsubasa then appears, drawn to the sound of a loud commotion. He sees Natsume and vaguely wonders why he’s there. Everyone knows Natsume, at all grade levels, because he’s famous. For Tsubasa, whose only real knowledge of Mikan’s relationship with the kid is that he causes trouble in Class B, it would be strange to see him at the RPG.

Natsume, meanwhile, has no idea who Tsubasa is. Seeing Mikan crawl all over her senpai, seeing him easily comfort her, is something that bugs Natsume. He glares at Tsubasa, somebody whose name he doesn’t even know, and then starts leaving with Ruka.

At first, Tsubasa is confused to be treated like this, until he hugs Mikan tighter and sees both Natsume and Ruka turn in jealousy. Tsubasa gets it immediately. Thus begins a strange and tumultuous frenemy relationship between Tsubasa and Natsume, where they both begrudgingly understand each other while also irritating each other beyond belief.

Natsume is not interested in playing the game, insulting it and wondering how anyone could get hooked on it. Ultimately, it’s not even Mikan who convinces him to give it a shot; it’s Tsubasa taunting him, “then you should be able to win, no problem, right?”

Tsubasa will come to regret saying this, because the answer is yes.

The RPG is designed to be tough. Nobody has won the whole game yet. Beating one or two students is one thing, but being able to outsmart or outmaneuver the entire special ability class is a difficult feat.

Natsume agrees to play, and gets a robot cockroach as a weapon.

Tsubasa is hugging Mikan as Natsume is about to enter, and that pisses him off even more. He decides that Tsubasa will be his slave, his motive being get your hands off her. This is silly considering that just a short time ago, Natsume hated Mikan. His feelings really did a 180.

The challenges pick up in difficulty as he goes on. The first one is effortless. He doesn’t even move from where he’s standing. The mirror-alice girl just freaks out about the cockroach and sends him on his way after two seconds.

The next one is trickier, and Natsume will need to put in more effort than just standing and waiting for the cockroach to do its job. But not that much effort. He sits next to Megane, lights a fire, and waits. It’s a scorching flame, and although Megane tries to tough it out, he gives in with two seconds to spare. Natsume, a smartass, quips sarcastically that he’s sorry--he really can’t tell how hot it is. (This is not actually important or anything, it’s just interesting that Natsume is not affected by his own flames and can’t feel the heat of them. I might end up referring to this a couple times.)

With the exception of the first and last challenges, Natsume uses his alice to beat the maze; either by heating Megane up so his soul goes back into his body, or by writing with fire instead of chalk. The next challenge is the one Natsume has been waiting for and he’ll use his alice here too.

Tsubasa is shocked to find Natsume has progressed so quickly, but he proceeds with the challenge: Natsume has to touch him in thirty seconds, but it’ll be tricky ‘cause he’s held in place by his shadows. He toys with Natsume’s shadows a bit, which really pisses Natsume off. Tsubasa even apologizes nervously, even though he’s the one in control. Or he is, until Natsume uses his alice again and gets rid of the shadows.

Natsume’s anger towards Tsubasa all stems from jealousy. It’s not just that Tsubasa was hugging and comforting Mikan, it’s that he can. Natsume needs to distance himself from Mikan in order to keep her safe, and he’s aware of that right from the start, but there’s more to it. He’s busy establishing himself as an enemy to Mikan, doing things to bother her to make her angry with him, but nobody rushes to their bully for comfort, and Natsume knows this. It’s not just that Tsubasa was hugging Mikan; it’s that he feels like he will never get the chance.

And so the next and final challenge is where he gets to be selfish.

Mikan is aggravated to see him, obviously not thrilled that he was able to make it in such a short time. Her task is that he has to get her off the carpet in thirty seconds. He can’t hurt her or force her off the carpet, and because of their alice training together, he can’t use his alice on her either. (They’d apparently practiced so much that she was able to sharpen her skills significantly. Before, her alice was a wildcard and she struggled with using it, but now she’s able to use it with relative ease. That’s a lot of training in a short time, and I’m sure Natsume wasn’t upset at all the time they had to spend together as a result.)

Natsume must feel relief regarding Mikan's nullification alice. She's nullified his alice in pretty big ways already, one time to save his life. The girl he's crushing on is capable of turning off the thing that decreases his lifespan. She really is a breath of fresh air, in more ways than one, and his appreciation for her alice, even if he doesn't voice it, will only grow. This is important, but I'll talk way more about this in the other POV.

He tries the cockroach, but she’s a country girl and unaffected.

Natsume is genuinely stumped by her challenge, admitting to himself that it’s a tough one. He then comes up with a risky idea, no doubt influenced by her rescue of him when they were kidnapped by Reo. He plays sick. This act only works if Mikan falls for it and is concerned enough to jump off the carpet, but he’s a good actor on account of all the sick experience he has and she does fall for it in no time. Her being concerned was a given.

She jumps off, meaning he’s won the game, but that’s not enough of a victory for him. He acts sick until she’s closer, so he can grab her and put his arm around her. Yes, he calls her an idiot, but this is the closest he can get to a hug… for now. It doesn’t matter that she’s annoyed and dismayed that he won. All he cares about is that he got to touch her.

She jumped down. He won already, but it's not enough! (Also sorry about two pictures. If it ruins the format, oh well.)

Natsume was jealous that Tsubasa got to do something he thinks he'll never be able to, and so he got a taste of what he wanted some other, convoluted way. He gets angry that Tsubasa is so touchy, but that's only because he wishes he could be touchy too. Natsume will get bolder and bolder with his physical affection, because he will want more and more to show it. When he starts being honest about this affection, she will be more eager to return it.

Natsume is the first winner, and Tsubasa admits it was never expected for somebody to be able to pass all the challenges. Part of the appeal is that it’s an unbeatable game, but Natsume’s feelings of jealousy and spite were enough to get him over the finish line. Though perhaps knowing it's beatable but only one person could is also appealing. It's possible to pass, but very rare for somebody to be able to, so they can draw in crowds by capitalizing on kids who want to the next person to beat the game.

He gets to choose a lamp, but he has no idea which one is whose. He cheats by asking Koko to tell him which one is the right one, but he ends up picking Mikan’s, because Koko assumed that’s the one he wanted. After all--Natsume was thinking about her. Natsume is lucky that Mikan was too anguished at being a slave to care about Natsume thinking about her, but it’s interesting to know that even when he’s supposed to be angry at Tsubasa, he was only thinking of Mikan.

Chapter Twenty

This chapter’s premise is pretty simple and light: Natsume can’t think of any use for Mikan other than to follow him and Ruka around the festival and carry their stuff. They navigate the technical ability class area and even encounter Hotaru, though only for a short time because she’s quite busy.

Most importantly, their time in the technical area makes Mikan insecure. Everyone in the tech class seems to know what they want to do with their lives, with their alices being perfect for research or creation. I’ll go into more detail with this during Mikan’s essay, but it’s important to note that Mikan asks the people around her if they’re prepared for their future only to see that they all are. Hotaru, Sumire, and even Ruka all have dreams for the future, even if Ruka won’t share his. Natsume has decided to leave the conversation and we don’t hear what his dream is, which makes sense because he doesn’t have one. Natsume doesn’t think he’ll live long enough to graduate, so why even bother wasting his own time and getting his hopes up for something unattainable?

It’s then revealed that Ruka is also a triple, and Mikan can’t tell, but the mood has been soured for Ruka. His triple-star status is a touchy subject that he’s unhappy with. His star rank is representative of Natsume’s suffering and he doesn’t like talking about it. He only says that he didn’t mention it because he didn’t get it on his own talent or effort before Natsume forces Mikan to walk in another direction, claiming to be hungry.

This is literally just a scan of the TokyoPop version, which is better than the other version I see floating around.

He can tell Ruka is uncomfortable and is ready to step in so that his friend can feel better.

As a result, they end up at the cafe where Anna is working (after all, Mikan has been perfecting her puppy-dog eyes routine and I think both Ruka and Natsume are affected, even if the latter would never admit it).

Natsume takes the first bite of Anna’s hell pie, just to see a rot demon (or whatever that thing is) taunt him about the trouble his stomach will be in soon. He really doesn’t have a choice but to throw the tea over the pie. Ruka is grateful, but Mikan is outraged at how rude Natsume is acting, and even angrier when Natsume explains that the pie was horrible. She demands he apologize but Natsume simply walks away, content to be the bad guy because he saved his friends from getting food poisoning while also sparing Anna’s feelings and reputation at her cafe.

"Your stomach will writhe" is such a potent threat. I feel sick just looking at that demon/scoundrel/rot thing.

This scene has more substance than in the anime. In the episode, Natsume sees the rotten scoundrel (or WHATEVER IT IS) before he can take a bite. He tosses the tea for all their sakes and ultimately nobody is hurt. But here, in the manga, Natsume has already taken a bite. We see the missing part of the pie, the residue on the fork. Natsume is already screwed. He's going to have food poisoning from Anna's pie, and he still puts her feelings before his own. He'd rather say that the pie is terrible according to his own tastes than to let everyone around know that she made such a health-risking mistake. He drenches the pie so that Mikan and Ruka don't get food poisoning, even if it's too late for him. Natsume leaves, knowing he will look like an asshole, AND with stomach problems on top of that, but at least he's the only one who will be seriously hurt.

This is a pretty insignificant example of a trait that we have seen before with Natsume but haven't really fully explored. It's going to play a major role for the rest of the manga, because Natsume has something of a martyr complex, where he is quick to sacrifice himself because he sees little to no value in his own happiness. This is a small example, and I'm not saying it's not kind of him, but there are consequences with his line of thinking. He's fine with looking like an asshole to protect people, or giving up things he wants so someone else can have it, or blowing himself up so two girls can escape safely. Whenever there's a chance to sacrifice himself, Natsume will take it every single time.

This may seem noble or romantic or admirable but it's not healthy at all. The way he was raised (no shade to Papa Hyuuga and Kaoru but also.... tentatively side-eyeing them for putting so much responsibility on him) and the way he is now tortured by the school has put him in a position where his self esteem is horribly low. This complex of his results in suicidal tendencies, even after he falls in love with Mikan (and even exacerbated by that love). For Natsume, love is sacrifice. He simply cannot love without feeling like he has to give something up. Ideally, he would grow out of this and maybe start seriously choosing himself sometimes. It's not evil to want yourself to be happy and to choose your own well-being, even if it occasionally makes others sad or upset.

In the context of the actual story though, we have yet another glimpse of a complex that will cause a LOT of trouble down the road for Natsume and Mikan.

Conclusion

Natsume has new feelings for Mikan and is having trouble navigating them. They will cause even more trouble in the next essay. We also touched more on Natsume's self-sacrificing tendencies and how devastating they will turn out to be. These tendencies will be consistent and persistent throughout the manga in regards to NatsuMikan's relationship, and cause more problems. These problems will pop up a bit in the next part, so stay tuned!

Also, small note: I call him Ruka and not Luca because I got used to it after watching the anime and through scans and fanfics. I heard his name pronounced that way and at first thought it was a Japanese name so I simply copied the pronunciation. When I found out it was supposed to be Luca, I'd already been using Ruka for a while. I don't really want to switch to using Luca most of the time because I know people in real life named Luca/Luka and I talk enough about GA on the daily where it might feel strange to me. I use Luca sometimes when I'm talking to others who prefer it, but Ruka is what I'm used to. I hope this isn't frustrating, but understand that I pronounce Killua's name (from HxH) like "Ki-ru-a" as well and in my head "Gakuen Alice" is pronounced "Gakuen Arisu" because I pronounce things based on what I hear when watching the anime ;-; These are things I have no real desire to change because they sound right to me. I'm sorry. (Nobody has said anything or complained, and this is not a vague or anything like that! I just wanted to say that I know it's supposed to be Luca and it's not my intention to be disrespectful when I pronounce/spell it Ruka. I am fucking crazy, but I am free.)

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[dangermousie]

Look at those arms! MMMMM!

You know, I really like Gilina. Or, more correctly, I really like what Gilina represents, both in terms of Crichton’s development and in his feelings for Aeryn. Gilina is Earth Crichton’s dream girl: she is blonde, pretty, sweet, and plucky (she is no push-over). She is also a girl geek, and a techie and for our scientist, that’s quite irresistibly appealing. (Btw, let me take a moment to note how much I like that the show showed us that Crichton had a type in women, B.A. (before Aeryn): they were blonde and sweet and had a certain safe niceness to them. Aeryn is not blonde, not sweet, and not safe at all. And neither is his feeling for her). If Gilina was a girl working for a research institute on Earth and she and John met at some party, I can easily see them talking, dating, falling in love and getting married. And having a happy married life. And the John of ‘PK Tech Girl,’ despite some unpleasant encounters in the Uncharted Territories is still enough of the Earth John to be attracted to Gilina, to be at the very beginning of developing something for her. He is still enough of an innocent, with enough uncomplicated and sweet left in him, for Gilina to be his type. But of course, that is not the case any more when they meet again in ‘Nerve.’ When they meet again, Gilina has had a fairly uneventful PK tech existence. She hasn’t changed much. But she is not Crichton’s type any more. Not after Maldis and finding out firsthand that there are psychopaths that will just enjoy watching you die for the fun of it, not after Crais and finding out that no, if you only explain the truth, it won’t make it better. The person will still want to kill you even if they believe you, even if it’s wrong and irrational, and there is nothing you can do. Not after ‘Jeremiah Crichton’ (my least fave ep of the whole show, but whose theme of Crichton’s long isolation is well taken). Not after finding out the truth about Zhaan, or almost dying out there in space with Aeryn. Not after the mind and soul fuck of ‘A Human Reaction.’   Gilina is not for this John. Not any more. And it’s not just that in the meanwhile he’s ceased to see anyone but Aeryn. It is also that his character has changed. And that is only the beginning. When he meets her in ‘Nerve’ it is pre-Scorpius, pre-Aurora Chair, pre-everything in S2, 3 and 4 (I’d do a list but it would take too long to type). If Gilina met S4 Crichton, she’d freak and run away and rightly so. A digression, but I find it fascinating how John's non-Aeryn women reflect his change. We have his ex-gf on Earth who he was serious enough to apparently want to propose to, before they went their separate career way. She is sort of like Gilina only blander, less engaging (Earth Crichton strikes me as someone who's had things come to him too easily because of his intelligence or what not. His passion (for whatever) was never truly engaged to the full, and the gf reflects that.) There is also Caroline (who we meet in Terra Firma) with whom he had something or other, but she is rather like his Earth-ex and it's clear the Crichton of TF doesn't even have anything to say to her any more. From them, we progress to Gilina (about whom see above). In first half of S2, there is the PK Disruptor. Now, she is a lot more edges, more hardness. If she is like anyone, it's a female version of Bond. And Crichton sleeps with her, because hey, he's tried everything to get Aeryn to admit any interest, he's beaten his head against the rock and he's beaten it and beaten it. But she refused and she's conclusively walked out of his life for good (not even came to see him for the very last time, when he needed her most). And also, girl can kill him, good to stay on her good side. There is no Gilina sweetness in her, at all. PK Tech Girl Crichton would annoy her and be intimidated to be with her, not so much Crichton of that s2 ep arc. But interestingly, that is the last time he even looks at another woman, no matter the circumstances. Once Aeryn and he admit their love to each other at the end of S2/beginning of S3, that is it. Even at the second part of S3, when Aeryn is off with Talyn-Crichton, Moya-Crichton goes deep into his obsession with wormholes, not any girls at all, and he is just as obsessed with Aeryn as ever. Even after the end of S3, the beginning of S4, even after he tells Aeryn "I can trust you with my life. But not my heart" and he locks himself away, he still does not look at anyone else. He cannot. And even the drugs cannot knock her out from his mind. Which is why his last non-Aeryn woman is Grayza, who rapes him while at the same time telling him if he gives her the wormhole stuff she will help him find Aeryn (OMG, that bit is seriously the worst in the whole scene). I think the darker progression of these women-others mirrors the darker and darker universe. OK, digression over.   I find it interesting that in S1 we have a number of people (beings, whatever) whose life is affected, changed by Crichton and who are grateful for that and thank him for changing/opening/saving either explicitly, or it’s implied. But after S1 this slows to a trickle pretty fast and then stops almost entirely. Crichton is such an innately kind person, and one of the saddest things in the show is seeing this kindness leach away under the tortures (literal and figurative) he is subjected to. I find it so sad and so significant that in the S3 finale it’s Aeryn who brings up the fact that the command carrier has a lot of lives which John’s plan might end. Aeryn. Not John. She’s become more compassionate (she, who started out saying ‘I hate that word’) and he’s become much less. These are both reactions to their environment, to events they are in (When they initially meet, she is a product of an individuality-less, soulless scenario. Even if he is wrong in reading her at the very very first in Premiere during intros, he is not wrong in reading her potential, in recognizing she is a person, and even as early as Premiere she proves him right. I also love that for Crichton, she is always her own person, not a preconceived notion of what she should be. He loves her for being Aeryn, not for some idealized being in his head). And yet it is never completely suppressed, it is always there, however muted and downtrodden, however circumscribed. He had to jettison most of it in order to stay sane and to survive, but somewhere deep inside he is still the guy who, in a completely strange world, took the time to fix the eye-stalk of a mechanical critter thingy he didn’t know at all.   And of course, part of the reason he jettisons it is also because whenever he tries to save someone or make it better, it often ends up making the situation worse. I am thinking for example of S3’s lovely ‘Different Destinations’ which turns a beloved sci-fi trope on its head and he has to live with it and he can barely bear it.   And I love how the show never lets us forget the cost this takes on him, that he is not a power-hungry psychopath, a cavalier callous being only caring about his small group of friends. That coda to S4’s ‘We Are So Screwed’ where he is with Aeryn, and he breaks down, and he can’t help it, and he weeps for what he’d done, for what he almost did (and it’s going to be small fry in comparison with PKW) is just brilliant and heartbreaking and one of my favorite bits (and I love that she is there, and she silently comforts him, and he clutches her arm as a lifeline). And that is why I actually liked the drug storyline in S4. After all the stuff that Crichton been through, I am surprised he didn’t end up going on something earlier, just to deal with it all somehow (I love that the show brought up earlier that he has nightmares, feels tremendous guilt, and that was mid S2, I am sure they are much worse now). And it also made sense that when his number 1 obsession, Aeryn, told him to give it up, he did, as he’d pick her over anything. She’s his number 1 drug. Basically, he needs Aeryn desperately. She is what allows him to function, allows him to stay (relatively) sane, what holds him together. When he can’t have her, or doesn’t have her, he falls apart and needs something else to get through the days (wormholes in S3, lakka in S4). I do find it interesting that Crichton keeps his compassion, however tattered, but he develops absolute priorities, as a result of choices he shouldn’t have had to make. Most people don’t really analyze whether they will pick the woman they love or selling one’s soul and giving up something which earlier, to protect, you didn’t give up even when tortured or hunted or broken. They don’t have to. Crichton’s developed rigid priorities are a result of the environment where he had to confront those hierarchies in himself. Crichton’s earlier ‘purity’ and goodness and optimism exist in part because he is a product of a relatively sheltered life (compared to Uncharted Territories). But that early cleanness allows others to see a better or at least a different path for themselves and so they repay the favor later by pulling him out when he is on the brink of succumbing to all these horrors (which really do seem to be scarily disproportionately triggered at him). One of the things I love about Crichton is that even after he’s seen and dealt horrors, he has a certain moral absolutism to him (however broken it gets at times) and a pure refusal to give up, and strength even if only to make the least worst of two bad choices presented to him. Something untainted is always there, maybe a legacy of his initial idealism, and so he never breaks, not permanently, not irreparably, though he comes very very close. Throughout the show, even as that world bends and molds and twists him to its own parameters, he manages to make the world somewhat bend and mold and twist to himself.   Do you know what I really really wish for John and Aeryn and the kid after the end of PKW? A few years of total peace, where they can just travel the space in Moya, and John can do his research, and be with Aeryn and watch their child grow, without having to worry about saving his and their lives every other day.

OK, these are getting epically long omg.