#choosing the options that reminds him that yes. yes you view him as your equal just as much as he does you

[linktoo-doodles]

dig me up, let me go

[askthekuvaqbrothers]

Seagull giving Rufus hell over wrecking sth. and the brothers (and Hermes) reacting to that. Your choice if you make it angsty, mischievous or hurt/comforty

(TW: Blood, Injury, Child Abuse (Seagull is a bad human))

“Now, this is going to the mayor-”

“I'll take it!!"

Rufus leapt from his seat, dashing and jumping for the box that was much too high to reach.

“Now Rufus, this is fragile, so I don't think-"

“Pleeaaaase! I promise to be careful! Promise promise!"

Cletus swung his legs, absently patting Poisonous, “Why do you really want to go?"

“I wanna go see the Mayor! He's a big important guy who found clean water and made all of Kuvaq! Dad says we should be thankful to him for giving us a home, and I bet he has all sorts of neat stuff in his house.”

“And there it is, stuff.” Cletus rolled his eyes at his brother’s kleptomaniac tendencies, but Rufus seemed undeterred.

“Pleeeeeeese!”

Hermes stared down into those pleading eyes and felt himself melt. He knew he’d gotten soft after building the prototypes, but playing the role of Father to these three had been swaying his objective views to subjective ones.

“Alright, but be careful.”

He rested the item in Rufus’ hands, not letting go until he was sure the boy had a secure hold on it. Rufus grinned up at him, and with a small skip in his step, hurried out the door. Neither Cletus nor Argus spared a look, but Hermes' gaze lingered after.

“…Could you two please follow after him? I worry-”

Cletus sighed, “That's all he brings-"

Argus snagged his brothers’ sleeve, fixing him with a ‘don’t start’ look.

“We'll go.”

With an audible groan, Cletus let himself be dragged out the door. The two didn’t have to travel far to catch up with Rufus, who had quickly given up on the more energetic movement, and was now slowly strolling across town, twisting his delivery in hand.

“If you break it, Dad won’t trust you with anything anymore.”

Startled, he almost dropped it, but managed to resecure his grasp and glare over his shoulder.

“Why are you here?”

“Dad sent us to keep an eye on you because, you know...” Cletus made a general gesture to his hazardous brother, though Rufus didn’t look to understand.

“He doesn’t trust you.”

Argus’ blunt words got through faster, and now Rufus chose to get upset.

“Why would he not trust me?! I’m SUPER trustworthy!”

There was an intake of air from Cletus, which was quickly stopped by an elbow to his ribs. Choosing the option of least argument, Argus pushed Rufus and dragged Cletus along, following the most direct path to the mayor’s private residence. It was a separate building behind the Town Hall, though almost equally large, apparently filled with belongings that didn’t fit in his office. A steep ramp angled up to the front door, where Rufus stopped their parade at the bottom. He turned to his brothers, and pointed to the ground.

“Wait here.”

“What? After coming all this way?!”

“Yes, Dad put me in charge of this, and I don’t want you messing things up.”

“Me-?!”

Cletus got a hand over his mouth, while Argus’ other hand waved Rufus on.

“Yeah yeah, hurry up.”

With a wide smile Rufus dashed up the ramp, knocking on the mayor’s front door. After a moment, it was opened by the mayor’s secretary Plovera.

“Delivery for Mr Mayor!”

The lean woman stared down, expression entirely blank, save for the eventual twitch in her eyebrow.

“Oh, please come in. The mayor won't be long.” She ushered the boy inside, “Please refrain from touching anything. You may wait on the chair over there.”

She pointed to a lone chair next to a statue of a large, furry beast. As Rufus wandered in, completely distracted by everything before him, Plovera closed the door behind them.

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

Time was passing slowly without their whirlwind of a brother around.

Argus kicked at the dust and Cletus plucked at a loose thread on Poisonous, neither particularly focused. Due to the heavy metal sheets that built up the walls, they hadn’t heard anything from inside, though normally not even the laws of nature could prevent the sound of Rufus’ destructive force. Cletus opened his mouth to suggest they wait in the comfort of their own home rather than the filthy outside-

There was a ground shaking THUD, ringing through the metal behind them. The two shared a look at finally hearing a typical Rufus caused noise, though the sound of someone else shouting was growing louder too.

As Argus and Cletus turned towards the mayor's dwelling, the door flew open, and the body of their brother came tumbling down the ramp, stopping as an unceremonious heap just past the end.

“YOU INFERNAL LITTER BUG!”

The booming voice of Mayor Seagull called out as he stormed down toward the boys, furry in his face and posture, and a sudden burst of flames licking at his heels from the building behind. Both Argus and Cletus recoiled at the unbridled rage he radiated, stepping back in time with his own steps forward. When their heels collided with Rufus’ twisted limbs, they both snapped out of their trance.

Argus turned enough to check his red-haired brother, carefully making out the shaky rise and fall of his chest. Alive- good, but hurt, the sight of blood and fast forming bruises triggering something in his mind. He glanced up to check on Cletus, but his green-haired brother was already gone, so his attention returned to Seagull. Something deeply ingrained in his core was telling him how to act, reminding him of the two things he’d always been aware of;

Directive One: Protect and Serve Elysium(?) Hermes.

Directive Two: Protect and Serve the Organon(?) his brothers.

At this moment, with his brother lying still, Directive Two was compromised, so counter action was called for. Argus knelt and plunged his hand off the side of the walkway, clenching a fist around the first thing it touched, wrenching a piece of metal free from the rest of the junk. It was rough edged and not very long, cutting into his own hand, but it classified him as armed and that was all he needed to run at Seagull. The man seemed to startle at the intended attack, but quickly recovered and stepped aside, easily avoiding the boy’s short reach.

They both turned back to face each other, and Argus charged again. The large man was ready for him this time, kicking as he came into reach, foot colliding with the boys’ upper arm and sending him flying.

“The INSOLENCE, the AUDACITY! Has no one taught you MANNERS, BOY?”

Argus picked himself up, adjusted his grip, and charged again. Seagull didn’t move this time, grabbing the arm with the weapon when it came in reach, holding it out to the side as he glowered down at the struggling child.

"Pay attention when your elders are talking, boy.” He twisted the limb enough to make him drop the improvised weapon, “I should have recognised from the start that your family was more trouble than it’s worth. Nothing but discarded scrap!”

He had nothing to say to the man, and his wriggling failed to loosen the grip, so instead Argus curled himself in on Seagull’s arm. He dug his free fingers into the soft joints of the trapping hand and wrapped his teeth around the largest soft space, earning him release and a shout of pain. In the free moment, Argus retrieved his weapon and swung it with all his strength into Seagull’s thigh, breaking through fabric and skin.

“YOU MONGREL!”

Seagull swung downwards, fist colliding with Argus’ brow. Skin split and flecks of blood flew, but Argus caught himself before he completely dropped, glaring up through the haze of red slipping into his eye. Seagull pulled back and moved to swing a kick, but found a weight around his ankle.

Looking down, Rufus was awkwardly wrapped around the mayors’ leg, uselessly biting into his pants. With a growl of frustration, Seagull added enough power to swing the boy along with his leg, colliding brother with brother to send them both tumbling away. When they came to a rest, Argus forced his clear eye to open, only to see the mayor swiftly approaching again. From his position sprawled over his chest, Rufus coughed, showering Argus’ arm in red flecks.

Seagull was towering over them again.

Metal piece still in hand, Argus threw it at the man’s head, hoping for the throat or an eye, but only managing to catch him in the cheek. In response, with a loud growl, the man drew a leg up and brought it down on the two of them, drawing out a strangled noise as the air was knocked from their lungs.

“What is going on here?!”

Hermes and Gizmo arrived on the scene, with Cletus closely trailing behind. Both men looked shocked at the sight before them, with Hermes paling when his eyes fell upon his bloodied sons. Gizmo hesitated in the moment, but when Seagull went to swing at the downed children again, he flicked to law enforcement mode and stepped in to restrain him.

“Stop! This is excessive force!”

Seagull writhed in the hold, pointing towards Rufus, “This is self-defence! That one almost killed me!”

Gizmo did spare a look between the child and the flames still flickering in the building, but he remained firm in his first choice.

“Hermes, take your boys to my clinic and do what you can while I secure the mayor.”

He snapped out of his shock, “R-right, of course.”

He quickly moved in, stooping down to pick up the worryingly still Rufus. Cletus moved with him and offered a hand to Argus with controlled reluctance, lifting his brother to his feet. Hermes spared one look up into the face of the man who had once offered shelter and work to a complete stranger, before the hateful glare became too much. He stood without further delay and headed directly to the ever-familiar clinic.

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

Hermes fumbled with a roll of bandages, muttering under his breath as he failed to untangle the length. There was a shake in his arms, and his old heart felt as though it would give out if it continued to beat at its current rate. He couldn’t get that angered face to leave his mind, and it was dredging up memories he’d longed to forget.

“Dad?”

He was doubting everything again, all his life choices he’d made to this point. He was trying to do better, trying to do what he could to better the lives of those around him, but still he couldn’t find a solution to make everyone happy. If he couldn’t even help this settlement, how could he find a new solution to save both Elysium and Deponia-?

“Dad…”

A small hand laid atop of his own. Hermes stopped fiddling, raising his gaze to Argus. He was sitting on the edge of the examination table, eye swollen closed with blood still dribbling down to stain his now torn shirt. Despite his injuries, his expression remained determined, and his posture was taught, ready for another fight.

“…I don’t believe it’s safe here.”

“What tipped you off?”

Cletus was seated on the floor by the clinic's entrance, similarly ridged with Poisonous in a death grip. His eyes flicked wildly anytime there was a noise.

“It’s okay now, Gizmo is handling the mayor. We’re fine.”

Neither of the boys relaxed. Seeing them like this truly reminded him what they were: children in form, but programmed soldiers, made to serve their purpose to the death. It had been wishful thinking they would break their instilled nature with a bit of civilian life. He rolled the ball of fabric in hand, and it unravelled.

“To remain would be too great of a risk.”

“And where do you suggest we go? Find a hole somewhere?”

They spoke around him. Standard Organon would follow procedure and upper command, but these three had more free thought that conflicted with each other, letting them discuss and plan. He carefully began wrapping Argus’ head, the boy ignoring the action.

“There are other settlements.”

“That are very, very far away. And could potentially be worse than here.”

“A potential threat is better than an imminent threat.”

“A hundred potential threats are MUCH worse than one manageable threat. Besides, you haven’t really proven yourself capable of even defending one little idiot from a threat.”

As Hermes tied off the bandage Argus dropped his head, glancing back at Rufus who was lying behind him. His external injuries were covered, but he was still breathing shallowly. They had to wait for Gizmo before they could find out what internal damage there really was.

“…”

After checking the damage to his boys, Hermes understood what they were talking about. He’d put trust in Seagull, and ignored the man’s shortcomings over the generosity of a home and job, but he knew deep down there would be no forgiveness from the mayor. He would now be a constant antagonist in their lives should the grudge hold, and they’d have to watch their step at every point in town. Perhaps it really was time for them to move on. The only settlements he knew were close to Ascension stations, and therefore Organon bases, but maybe this was a sign he should return and try to convince Ulysses and the Elders once more. The only problem would be what would become of the three-

Rufus groaned, which suddenly became coughing as he stirred. Argus spun to inch closer to his brother, putting his hands down to stop him from trying to sit up. Hermes did similar, though he chose to rest a hand on his head, avoiding the suspected broken bones and bruised organs.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just stay there, don’t move. We’re here.”

The coughing continued, and when he managed to turn his head a trail of spit and blood ran from the corner of his mouth. Hermes grabbed a rag to wipe it away, waiting as seconds ticked by before the coughing subsided into shaky breaths. Argus remained still watching closely, and to Hermes' surprise, Cletus was now standing by the bed too. Finally, Rufus managed to open an eye.

“… ‘s wr-ng ..ur face?”

Cletus snorted, though his shoulders relaxed a little, “Should I fetch a mirror?”

Argus made a shooing motion, but kept his eyes fixed on Rufus, “Can you tell us where you’re hurt?”

Lips twisting into a slight pout, Rufus subjected his family to an agonizingly slow blink, long enough that Hermes almost considered shaking him to check if he was still conscious. Once they were open again, his gaze fell somewhere in the distance.

“…’vrywher-?”

“Very helpful.”

Hermes allowed himself a small smile, glad to hear his son's banter again, but his nerves were still running his heart. They were made to be hardy, but internal injuries were still a potentially fatal thing, and Gizmo was taking longer than he’d hoped. He patted Argus on the shoulder.

“Don’t let him fall unconscious again, best to try to keep him talking. I’m going to find Gizmo.”

Before he could turn a hand grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, while another balled around his trouser leg. The looks of concern he got were both heart-warming and eerie, with even Rufus managing to swing his eyes over. They were probably worried about him coming across Seagull.

“Please, it’s okay to worry about yourselves, I’ll be fine.”

Their looks continued, tiny fists grounding him on the spot. The longer he looked, the more their wide eyes shimmered, flicking to each sibling briefly, and after a long moment it began to dawn that he was wrong.

They were worried about themselves, about each other.

And they were looking to him for guidance, for reassurance as a figure of authority- no, as their guardian.

He’d thought he’d gone soft and was playing the father role well, but it was now clear that wasn’t true. He’d still been Hermes the Engineer this whole time, trying to do his old work in a new environment, still hung up on his past failures, still seeing his creations as things when right now it was clear that they were children; hurt, scared, unsure and looking to the one person who had always been there for them.

He had to realise that he wasn't responsible for the world’s problems; he had his own little world right in front of him.

And he needed to make them his priority right now.

He needed to be their father, first and foremost.

[sweetsforhikari]

Happy Birthday, Sakuya 🌸

Without you, there won’t be Mankai Company and our story together wouldn’t have begun. In honor of your birthday and the release of your second solo song, please read the letters that I wrote for you about how the troupe members think about you.

a.n. 

I know the format might be weird, but I wrote this addressing Sakuya, so the ‘you’ here refers to Sakuya. I just thought of writing something for him to read so yes, do take note that you need to read everything below as if you’re Sakuya!

Masumi Usui

Your days of taking care of him as a leader, as a friend, as a brother really made an impact to him. Although Masumi never explicitly reciprocated your love, he has grown to listen and respect you. Allowing you to be involved in his business, hugging him, choosing to depend on you, and taking the time to listen to your words are mere proofs of him considering you as part of his family.

Both you and Masumi never really knew what true family should be like, but I’m sure your time together made both of you understand what it meant to have a brother who would stick by your side no matter what.

Tsuzuru Minagi

He has immense faith in you, Sakuya. All the scripts he had written for your role have definitely been adjusted to suit you and you alone. He would have never written a role where he knew you couldn’t perform in.

Without you as the leader, he would also have gone mad dealing with the antiques of the other members. As much as he acts as the mediator, the middle ground of the chaos ensuing in Spring Troupe from time to time, he appreciates your presence as the leader who has grown so much more dependable throughout the years. 

Dare I say, sometimes, he glances at you and smiles softly, proud you as one of his little brothers that he cherishes deeply.

Itaru Chigasaki

Sure, he might view you as a token of gacha luck to bring that SSR home, but you’re definitely more than that. Him accepting his role as the father of Spring Troupe was his way of committing to the found family that he has now. The family that you have established.

Deep down, he’s eternally grateful for your ceaseless attempts to convince him to stay and perform with the troupe during Romeo and Julius. Without you, he wouldn’t have met this group of people with whom he could drop his mask and completely be his true self.

Citron

He enjoys seeing your face light up with wonder and excitement not because he takes pleasure in teasing you, but I believe he wants to preserve that childlike innocence in you as much as possible.

Despite what others might think, I genuinely believe Citron only wants you to feel happy and ignore the negativity and evil that lie in this world. The greatest pleasure in his days has always been to see you smile right after you wake up and before you fall asleep at night. Don’t you think that’s why he enjoys telling you those magical, bombastic, wonderous stories?

Chikage Utsuki

Admittedly, he still enjoys tricking you during your daily coin toss, but he will stop at nothing to ensure you do not need to worry about a thing in life.

After all, you were the first to not give up on him and still saw him favorably (or should I say objectively without any judgment) despite his actions towards Izumi and Mankai in general.

Putting all the other troupe members under the cut so this won’t get too long! 

Tenma Sumeragi

You do know this child actor genius took the audition for Mankai because of you, right? You, who thought your acting was sub-par, turned out to inspire a veteran to face his fears and took that step.

How could Tenma ever thank you properly for that? That’s why as a fellow troupe leader, he would make sure to practice often with you, giving you acting pointers whenever he could. Not to demean you, but to lift you up so both of you can bloom together on stage as equals.

Yuki Rurikawa

He comments about your naivety, but I dare say he actually envies you for it. Being part of the minority and adopting a cynical approach to life proves to be tiring at times. The positive outlook in life despite your background is definitely something that he has considered to adopt at some point in time.

To him, you’re a reminder that being positive is an option. As much as he seems baffled by your innocence, he is part of the crew that does his best to preserve that side of you.

Muku Sakisaka

You two are angels! I can only imagine both of you continue being the precious babies that you are. Muku adores you and definitely considers you one of his precious older brothers.

His enthusiasm is reciprocated with you around and your presence lifts up his spirit as well. You are each other’s healing spirit in a way. Always be there for each other, and just by being together, both of you remind all of us that staying pure is a choice and such sight heals us on a daily basis.

Misumi Ikaruga

He’s off on scavenging triangles for your birthday! Apparently, he heard the cats sang praises about you the other day. As thanks for being his friend and for being kind to the kitties, he’s going to find a special triangle just for you.

Thank you for being so kind and understanding to him, and for becoming his faithful friend, one of his precious treasures in life.

Kazunari Miyoshi

How many times have you appeared in Kazu’s Inste feed, I wonder. He always seem to find joy in sharing what he found that might be of interest to you.

Both of you are expressive so it’s no surprise either when Kazu wants to hear your opinion on anything. Hope you find those times to be exciting. It is after all, quite rare, to find someone to be candid with these days.

Kumon Hyodo

Both of you are quite literally sunshine in human form. At times too bright for some, but that’s why both of you should continue being you.

Even Kumon admits watching you lifts his spirits, can you imagine the influence you have in improving the mood of those around you? Sakuya, as Kumon said, please stay true to yourself and keep being you. Your smile and positivity radiate and I honestly think we all need someone like you in our lives.

Banri Settsu

Don’t feel bad if he lets you borrow his clothes, or if he buys you stuff! It’s his way of letting you know he cares deeply for you. Please don’t think that you’re not worthy of receiving such gifts or even having his company.

If anything, all he wants is to see you all happy with that beaming smile. Keep being the sunshine that you are because I’m sure that’s what Banri wants for you!

Juza Hyodo

The passionate duo; both of you talk about acting a lot and I’m glad you have someone to share your thoughts and passion with.

Juza considers you as a companion of some sort, he seems to always asking you to practice or do etudes together. Just knowing that both of you can support one another in your endeavours is heartwarming. But, please don’t eat too much sweets if you can’t take it. I’m sure Juza would understand.

Taichi Nanao

He likes to try out new things and he’s grateful that you are always open to his idea and agrees to accompany him whenever he tries them out.

Thank you for being a great friend for Taichi, but please make sure that you guys don’t go overboard and hurt yourselves. Wouldn’t want that to happen when you’re having fun, right?

Omi Fushimi

How’s the Neapolitan that he cooked for you today? It must be delicious! All the love and affection he has for you has always been included in his cooking.

Thank you for being the best at helping him out in the kitchen and actually doing the chores. He appreciates it a lot, especially since the dishes don’t clean themselves and with more hands on deck, he is eternally grateful.

Sakyo Furuichi

Both of you really have come along way, from him being doubtful about your potential until today. You did it, Sakuya! You proved him wrong, alright.

I believe you are his reminder to stay true to what your dreams are. In both of your cases, you both want to be an acknowledged actor. What a long way you two have come. Remember that you have the power to prove people wrong with your earnest determination and always remember that you manage to get Sakyo’s approval on your leadership and acting skills! 

Azami Izumida

This kid needs to learn a lot from you and he knows that even though he doesn’t readily admit to it. Being a leader isn’t a walk in the park, he realises that as soon as he meets the other troupe members.

Although both of you come from an entirely different background, with him being rebellious and all, he is bound to understand that being earnest as Sakyo has said, will benefit him in the long run. You are a great example for him to follow, and don’t need to feel the pressure! You’re fine the way you are, and this kid will soon learn so both of you can bloom together!

Tsumugi Tsukioka

I’m pretty sure the cherry blossoms in the courtyard are well taken care of by Tsumugi because it also reminds him of you.

He looks out for you in the smallest ways which you might not have noticed. I’m pretty sure you realise by now that you can talk to him whenever you’re troubled, right? He will listen and he will be grateful he could be an emotional support for you.

Tasuku Takato

Have you been working out a lot with him? I could start seeing those muscle lines on your arms and legs. Keep up the good work!

He cheers you on by always thinking of training menus for you, knowing that your motivation to be stronger is to build your stamina for better endurance while acting. Tasuku might not say anything, but deep down he appreciates you depending on him for such matters. (Don’t tell him I said this, please. He’ll deny it anyway)

Hisoka Mikage

Being in the Christmas play together must have made you guys closer. Hisoka even mentioned how he looks forward to acting with you again.

Your caring nature did not go unnoticed. I believe he even gave you some marshmallows to try? And if that’s not him accepting you as one of his own, I don’t know what is.

Thank you for always looking out for him. He has you to thank for all the times he slept and was protected by the cold weather. 

Homare Arisugawa

I’m curious whether you actually understand Homare when he’s gushing about an inspiration for his poems. But, you always seem to listen intently and take the time to attempt at digesting the verses. 

Homare adores you for that; not everyone can appreciate his poems, he knows that very well, but those who put in the effort to understand his world will always be remembered. And you, Sakuya, are one of them.

Azuma Yukishiro

Being one of the oldest members of the company also meant that witnessing youth in action is always something that he looks out for everyday. This might explain why he’s a bit sad you’re one year older and more mature now.

His wish for you is simply to let you have no worries in life as you experience youth and the splendour it brings. You’re still young, so many doors of opportunities left to open. With that in mind, feel free to embrace your passion and continue pushing forward to reach your dream, Sakuya. He has your back and nothing will ever get in your way anymore.

Guy

Honestly, please convince him that you enjoy Citron’s company. I’m confident that you never once considered Citron to be a nuisance or burden of any sort.

Just know that Guy is at your service for all the trouble that Citron has caused you. And in times of need, he will always be ready to assist you.

[snkpolls]

SnK Episode 69 Poll Results (for Anime Only Watchers)

The poll closed with 85 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Please note that these are the results for the Anime Only Watchers’ poll. If you wish to see the results for the Manga Readers’ poll, click here.

Anime only watchers, beware of spoilers if you venture over to the manga readers’ poll results.

--

RATE THE EPISODE 81 responses

Another episode with no negative ratings from respondents. MAPPA seems to be doing a fantastic job!

Loved it! 

epic

WHICH MOMENT FROM THE PRESENT TIME WAS YOUR FAVORITE? 83 responses

It was relatively close for the top 2 choices that respondents picked, but the scene that caught the most eyes was Eren quickly escalating the conversation with Hange (30.1% of the vote). Right behind that scene was the conversation between the 104th about Eren and what to do about him moving forward. Distant favorites were Hange questioning Eren (14.5%), seeing Historia (9.6%) and the small Levi and Zeke crumb at the end of the episode. 

Adult Eren was the best thing.

WHICH MOMENT FROM THE KIYOMI FLASHBACK WAS YOUR FAVORITE? 83 responses

The largest piece of the pie that was chosen (36.15) for the Kiyomi flashback was the moment where Historia agreed to inherit the Beast Titan only for Eren to passionately reject that plan. 24.1% of viewers most enjoyed the moment between Historia and Mikasa. At a tie, 15.7% either enjoyed Hange agonizing over sacrificing Historia, or Mikasa revealing the clan symbol tattooed to her wrist. A small handful most enjoyed seeing Kiyomi and Zeke meet in secret. 

Pixis gigantic head. What was that all about?? Lol

WHICH MOMENT FROM THE RAILROAD FLASHBACK WAS YOUR FAVORITE? 83 responses

Nearly 40% of respondents were most thrilled with the moment where Eren confesses to his friends how important they are to him and the subsequent blushing. 22.9% enjoyed the moment prior to that where the 104th were debating on who’s best suited to inherit Eren’s titan. 21.7% enjoyed seeing Levi being visibly irritated about everyone’s height, and 10.8% enjoyed the background moment where Armin was chasing after Sasha. 

I loved the train scene so so much!

MIKASA REVEALS THE AZUMABITO CLAN SYMBOL AS A TATTOO ON THE TOP OF HER WRIST. THIS IS A RETCON FROM SEASON 1 WHEN WIT REPLACED THE BRANDING WITH EMBROIDERY INSTEAD. THOUGH THE TATTOO IS WHAT’S FAITHFUL TO THE MANGA (MIKASA’S MANGA COUNTERPART HAS ALWAYS HAD THIS), WAS THIS A GOOD DECISION ON MAPPA’S PART? 81 responses

28.4% of respondents felt that the retcon wasn’t really a big deal, considering that the family symbol had already been alluded to previously in the series. 21.% didn’t care about this detail at all. 19.8% believe it’s a bit of a “yes and no” situation as both faithfulness to the source material and continuity are equally important to them. 12.3% supported the retcon in the name of faithfulness to the source material, and another 9.9% were supportive because they felt the embroidery was “lame and forgettable” anyway. 

it was something useless that turned out to be important

We might get to know more about ackerman

HYPOTHETICALLY, IF ONE OF THE 104TH WERE TO INHERIT EREN’S TITAN POWER, WHO DO YOU THINK WOULD BE THE BEST OPTION? 82 responses

More than half of viewers feel that Jean is most suited to inherit the titan power from Eren. Trailing behind him, 22% feel that Mikasa would be the best candidate. 11% feel that Armin would be ideal (possibly due to him already having titan powers) and 8.5% felt that Sasha would have been the best candidate. Only a handful feel Connie is suited to the role.

WHICH “SHIPPY” MOMENT FROM THE EPISODE WAS YOUR FAVORITE? 81 responses

This episode had a lot to give in terms of endearing moments between the characters, so we asked which ones stood out most to you! 24.7% didn’t want to pick just one, and felt that all the “shippy” moments were equally good. 13.6% were swooning at the blushy glance between Eren and Mikasa. 9.9% most enjoyed Sasha and Connie’s increasingly awkward conversation about who’s the bigger idiot. 8.6% enjoyed the sweet moment between Historia and Mikasa, and another 8.6% enjoyed Jean heckling Eren over getting his hand-me-down, only to blush later at Eren’s confession. Relatively even amounts enjoyed all the other moments listed. 

Let the shipping wars commence!!!

WHICH REVEAL WERE YOU MOST SHOCKED BY? 81 responses

The largest amount of respondents (38.3%) were most shocked by the revelation that Historia is now pregnant in the present time. 17.3% felt that Mikasa being the descendant of a shogun was the most shocking reveal. 14.8% had already been spoiled on all of these topics, and 8.6% found that Kiyomi’s alliance with Paradis was the most shocking revelation.

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE REVEAL OF MIKASA’S ASIAN HERITAGE? 80 responses

The reveal of Mikasa’s asian roots comes with mixed opinions. 22.5% are enamored at the idea of “princess Mikasa.” 18.8% just feel happy that Mikasa is getting some importance and focus. 16.2% didn’t really think much about Mikasa’s asian heritage, but think the detail is kinda neat. 12.5% wish the series had done a better job of reminding the audience of the family symbol beforehand, and another 11.3% felt the opposite, stating that they knew this old plot point would be revisited again someday. 10% didn’t care about it at all.

IS EREN BEING TOO HARSH ON HANGE? 82 responses

Overall, the vast majority of respondents feel that Eren was much too harsh on Hange when they went to visit him in his cell. Though, 20.7% felt that he was justified in his anger toward them. 

He could have talked nicely also

well yes as she came to have a friendly chat but he was technically in prison for wanting to protect his friends

Yea he did way to much

Yes and No...he was being a lil extra, but I don't know why Hange came to his prison cell heckling him like that

HANGE SEEMS TO THINK ERWIN CHOOSING THEM AS COMMANDER WAS A MISTAKE. DO YOU? 82 responses

The fandom shows almost unanimous support for Hange as the 14th Commander of the Survey Corps, with 91.5% stating that Erwin didn’t make a mistake in choosing them as his successor. A small handful feel that Hange wasn’t the best fit for the role. 

I don't think there was a better option for Commander at the time of Erwin's death, but Hange isn't suited to the role (doesn't mean they won't try their best!)

Hange is definitely capable of leading, but I doubt that's a position they want to be in

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON HISTORIA’S PREGNANCY? 80 responses

Historia’s pregnancy came as a huge shock to the fandom. It seems as though it’s hard to feel positively about it with the information we’ve been given so far. 30% solidify that thought by stating they feel just as miserable as Historia seems to look. 20% responded more light-heartedly and stated they just hope this was Ymir’s “big dick ghost energy” at work. 13.8% are certain there’s more to the pregnancy than meets the eye, wanting to wait for more information. 13.7% feel that regardless of the situation, Historia would inevitably have to produce an heir anyway, so it is what it is. 

The harshest violence in this manga : putting a lesbian in a non wanted pregnancy. 

My heart breaks for Historia. She looks absolutely miserable. Seeing her so happy in the flashback and then seeing her now makes me so sad. Girl deserves so much better :(

DO YOU THINK SHE’S IN LOVE WITH THE FARM BOY? 80 responses

A rather uniform opinion arrives here, with 87.5% stating that they believe Historia does not love the farm boy, in contrast to the 12.5% who do. Happy belated Valentine’s Day!

NILE STOOD UP FOR HISTORIA WHEN THE OTHER MP WAS DISPARAGING HER. THOUGHTS? 80 responses

Nile has consistently been portrayed positively throughout the series and him standing up for Historia is just another aspect of Nile’s portrayal. About a third of respondents stated that their respect for Nile increased substantially because of this. Another third noted that they thought it was a nice detail, but it didn’t really make them care more about him. Finally, another third or so said that they always liked him and appreciated more reasons to do so. A few were indifferent.

WHAT DO YOU THINK, IS THE WINE SUS? 81 responses

Aside from those who were already spoiled about future happenings, the vast majority of anime viewers think that there is definitely something off about the wine that Nicolo offered. 9.9% aren’t sure, and small handfuls either think it’s just a red herring or wish we would not have used the term “sus.”

DO YOU THINK HIZURU TRULY WANTS TO HELP PARADIS, OR ARE THEY JUST USING THEM FOR THEIR RESOURCES? 80 responses

55% of respondents feel that Hizuru is not being honest about wanting to help Paradis get out of their dire situation, instead only wanting to use them as a resource for their unique iceburst stones. 31.3% think that it’s half-and-half, they want to help, but also want something in return for that help. Absolutely no one felt that Hizuru’s primary motivation for coming to Paradis has to do with wanting to aid them.

CONNIE IS FURIOUS WITH EREN FOR HIS REACTION ON SASHA’S DEATH, AS WELL AS THE FACT THAT EREN DRAGGED THEM INTO THAT DANGEROUS SITUATION IN THE FIRST PLACE. DO YOU THINK HE WILL HOLD THIS GRUDGE FOREVER, OR EVENTUALLY FORGIVE EREN? 80 responses

Connie suffered a near breakdown in this episode, courtesy of Eren and Sasha’s death. As such, one wonders what’ll happen to their relationship afterwards. A plurality (43.8%) think that it’s really just up in the air and also depends on what Eren does moving forward. 22.5% believe that he won’t be able to forgive Eren, but will move past it in some sense. Finally, 20% simply think that this’ll forever remain something embedded in Connie’s view of Eren. A select few did state that they believe Connie will forgive Eren in time, however. A couple more were also spoiled about this development’s future. 

When Hannes died, Eren laughed as well. This is probably just how Eren is. 

Connie is right and he should say it. As far as forgiveness goes, i dont think Eren has passed the point of no return yet, but he's pretty damn close

CONNIE ALSO STATES, “THAT WASN’T EREN.” DO YOU THINK THAT THERE IS SOMETHING WEIRD GOING ON WITH EREN? 80 responses

Eren does not exactly appear to be as he was in his prior appearances and Connie states so. The respondents were rather split when attempting to figure out Eren. Just a little over a third thought this simply was the real Eren, but one who gave into his dark side. 27.5% weren’t sure, but did note that Eren was truly acting differently than usual. 15% thought that he might have been influenced by previous Titan shifters, while 10% believed that Zeke might have taken some control of him. A select few were either spoiled or simply had no clue. 

Eren is finally standing up for himself and fighting 

The pressure of trying to make the world a better place is driving him mad I guess

I go back and forth on this, because on one hand, yeah, this seems like a really drastic shift. But on the other hand, rewatching previous seasons and seening some of the impulsive/extreme shit he's done and said, his current behavior doesn't seem TOO out of the realm of possibility

MIKASA ARGUES THAT EREN’S ACTIONS WERE FOR THEIR SAKE AND THAT HE ONLY DRAGGED THEM INTO THE ATTACK ON LIBERIO BECAUSE HE TRUSTED THEM TO SURVIVE. JEAN, ON THE OTHER HAND, ARGUES THAT EREN IS NO LONGER THE PERSON THAT THEY KNEW AND DIDN’T CARE ABOUT THE RISK TO THEIR LIVES. WHO DO YOU AGREE WITH MORE? 80 responses

It would appear that the majority (65%) sides with Jean, thinking that Eren doesn’t really care about the lives of his friends any longer, in contrast to the 35% who believe that he still does and he was simply trusting them to survive the Liberio raid.

JEAN STATES THAT EREN IS “SUDDENLY ON BOARD WITH ZEKE’S PLAN,” AND THAT WHATEVER THEY TALKED ABOUT IS “SOMETHING ONLY THEY KNOW.” DO YOU THINK THAT EREN AND ZEKE HAVE THE SAME GOAL? 79 responses

There appears to be next to no consensus on what exactly is going on between Eren and Zeke and why they appear to be working together. 24.1%, the largest chunk of the pie, feel that Eren still doesn’t agree with Zeke’s plan, but is rather using him for his own goal. 4 more options came in at a tie. Aside from the 13.9% that have been spoiled, the others feel it’s either a mix of some of the options presented, or that the Yeagerbros have come up with a plan together that they intend to keep a secret, or aren’t sure how to answer and simply put “I don’t know.” 11.4% believe that Eren, left with no other options, has fully agreed to Zeke’s plan - but that Zeke’s true motives are still yet to be seen. 

I’m excited to see all the reasons behind Eren’s sudden change and his true motives.

We need to find why eren acting like this and am i the only one who saw trouble coming because of him

IF EREN HAS ACTUALLY TURNED HIS BACK ON HIS FRIENDS, WILL MIKASA CONTINUE TO DEFEND HIS ACTIONS AND PROTECT HIM? 80 responses

Mikasa has shown unconditional loyalty throughout the series toward Eren, but are his current actions enough to shake that loyalty? 41.3% don’t seem to think so, believing that Mikasa will ultimately still support Eren in whatever his future actions may be. 32.5% think that she may continue to stick by him, but don’t want to say for sure. 26.3% feel certain that Mikasa would ultimately choose her other friends over Eren if push really came to shove.

ARMIN INSINUATES THAT SINCE PARADIS NOW HAS ACCESS TO SERUMS, THE MILITARY WILL TRY TO HAVE SOMEONE MORE “TRUSTWORTHY” EAT EREN TO TAKE HIS POWERS. DO YOU THINK HIS HUNCH IS RIGHT? 79 responses

Few, if any, militaries in the world tolerate insubordination and the Paradisian one is no exception. The majority (67.1%) believe the military will attempt to have Eren fed to a more trustworthy individual, in contrast to 10.1% who believe that they won’t. 22.8% simply aren’t sure.

WHAT DO YOU THINK WAS THE POINT IN THE FLASHBACKS THIS EPISODE? 80 responses

This episode’s flashback was received rather positively, but this series does not include any flashback for no reason and this one is probably no exception. The majority (60%) believe it’s there to showcase the glaring difference between Eren’s current and former demeanor. In contrast 35% think it’s there to reiterate the idea that Eren still loves and cares for his friends. A select few also noted that perhaps it’s there for exposition/angst or were simply unsure.

It just gets better; the flashbacks are definitely important to show Eren's progression and his seemingly contradictory actions, but I definitely feel like the emphasis on how much he cares for his friends is more important than it currently seems.

LOOKS LIKE WE’RE GOING BACK TO GABI AND FALCO NEXT WEEK. HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT IT? 80 responses

Many are looking forward to seeing Gabi and Falco’s Bizarre Adventure, with 77.6% giving it a rating of 3 or higher. Are you a proud member of the Gabi Gang? Wow! Let us know!

Gabi sucks

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE?

People who spoil, dig a grave and crawl in it and die please

Awwwww why are Levi and Hange not included in the "shippy" moments? I like how Mappa balances out the heavy and light stuff and showed how different Eren is from before and how it makes people keep on thinking if he still really care for his friends, but the previous episodes have been better for me, maybe just because of the content. I did not really fell good seeing the scene of Eren and Hange. I think he couldn't be like that had Levi been there. Also, I think farmer boy is the real father. Isayama just didn't see the importance of revealing it and what with only 2 chapters remaining and people still really curious about it, this chance has come up.

Kind of slowish. I appreciate the big plot points, but I always want to see more of Levi.

Again, back to not knowing what the fuck is going on...so many flashbacks and plan details. Imma still watch tho !! Thanks MAPPA for the food <3

Eren is hot (lmao sry but he didnt really catch my interest UNTIL this episode)

Honestly loved it,like i loved every other episode,i just hope that no one else dies but i know they will

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 76 responses

Thanks again to everyone who participated!

[ohmylove--mydarling]

It’s true what they say about your early-to-mid 20s. This particular span of ten blissful, wanton years is the only time in your entire life where you will ever feel truly invincible. And yes, you absolutely better enjoy it while it lasts. Lithe-bodied, hopeful, capable of both pounding an entire handle of rail vodka all while making it to your 8 am sociology class the next day, they’re a little like your teen years, with one prized difference. Your early-to-mid 20s are blessed with the seemingly novel, universe-bending element of freedom.

And freedom doesn’t simply mean the ability to make stupid decisions without the fear of getting grounded. It also means the freedom to live in an idyllic sort of vacuum, where you’re surrounded by friends – if we’re being honest, the family you get to choose – and cradled in this serene philosophy, this security blanket of an idea that hangs in the air but is never outwardly or directly expressed, that this, all of this, will last forever. That these people will always be there, they will always be around, floating with you in this bubble, as free and easily accessible as a coatrack or your neighbor’s WiFi. Always holding your beer, always holding your hair back (while you puke, or maybe while you cry), always holding your hand. Always at the very least in the peripheral, if not the forefront, of your vision.

During these years you know everything, and yet somehow you know nothing at all.

***

Like most of the sorority sisters I grew close with – and as is probably true with anyone else who pledged a very tiny chapter at an equally tiny school – I don’t remember much about how I met Taylor beyond the first night she “rushed.” Rush is an interesting social phenomenon, for multiple reasons. Picture a gaggle of young college-aged women who typically spend every waking hour of their day primping and glossing and adjusting for the sole purpose of the male gaze. Except this time, their attention is entirely drawn to a smaller group of girls (not that much smaller of a group, if we’re lucky this semester) that they want to impress instead. A frenzy of compliments and genuine interest, a dormant volcano of estrogen and hot girl energy and reciprocation, madly overflowing in a span of two hours over something as innocuous as an ice cream social or tie-dying a pile of crewneck t-shirts (I think we did the “hippie” recruitment theme every other semester). It is one of the very best parts of what is an often problematic-at-best Greek culture, and this rush was no different.

I’m not sure what my first impression of Taylor was, other than that we obviously had the same first name, and oh yeah, she was beautiful– effortlessly pretty but not the least intimidating. I could approach her and talk to her and not feel like a complete toad. She was a little soft-spoken, incredibly polite. I think she wore navy blue. And an aura of genuine kindness seemed to radiate from her with the soft glow of candlelight.

After rush ended and Taylor chose to join our ranks, where she belonged, it felt like she had been in my life from the very beginning. And, though this idea was never spoken, it felt like she would never leave.

***

In a sorority, there is sometimes a tendency, however unintentional, to categorize your sisters, and to turn to certain ones for different needs at different times. There’s the sister you study with, the sister you go on your morning run with, the sister(s) you are always down to party with. There’s the sister who makes amazing grilled cheese, the sister whose dorm is the only place you’ll binge-watch Supernatural. When you’re riding the waves of a breakup, you got mad options: There’s the sister who brushes your hair as you ugly-cry and choke on your own snot, the sister who pledges to hook you up with her brother’s hot friend the moment you’re ready for a rebound, the “dump him sis” sister who yanks your phone out of your hand in the middle of what is probably a very unwise text and threatens to stab him with her eyebrow razor if he so much as looks at you again, the sister who makes you forget the whole thing ever happened, that it ever even mattered.

There’s the maid of honor sister, the future fun wine-aunt sister, the sister you have on speed-dial even though speed-dial isn’t a thing anymore. There are the sisters who teach you how to do winged liner, how to hide a hickey with coral lipstick and concealer, how to chant, how to chug, how to memorize the Greek alphabet and the …numbers (at least for the ones who are most definitely going to ask). There are the sisters whose weddings you bawl at, whose babies you hold and immediately love as an extension of the incredible mother who brought them into this world.

And there are the sisters who teach you grace and humility, strength and resilience, kindness and self-love. The sisters who changed your life for the better the moment they put on your letters, the sisters who hand you the mirror and force you to see yourself just as they see you.

The thing about Taylor was that she was all of these. The whole package. Everything good, all in one.

***

Though our friendship was at its strongest during my college and immediate post-college years, Taylor remained a calming, grounding presence in my life. She married an incredible man who loved her for all the reasons we did and plenty more, and I went to her wedding and cried. She got a job as a nurse at the local hospice, a profession she seemed put on this earth to do. I could picture Taylor in her element there, literally surrounded by an entire ocean of grief, serving as an island of hope, a beacon of light and love for those who so desperately needed all those things, the things she provided us without question even when our lives were comfortable. Soon after – and this thought still makes something in my throat ache – she brought life into this world, a beautiful daughter with both her mother’s eyes and her genuine love and gratitude for life, a joyful curiosity coloring everything she did.

Taylor’s life, we knew, was finally the one she had always deserved.

***

I won’t, and can’t anyway, get into the details of Taylor’s passing. I can say that nothing about it was expected and literally every detail about it is horrific. Personally, it feels like a robbery, like something was taken from me; but on a grander scale, on a scale that actually matters, it is simply heartbreak. Riding the waves of grief not only for my own loss, but for a husband, a child, a family, a community whose lives were upended and whose hearts were crushed by something that simply should not have happened in a universe where they say justice and kindness exist.

Frankly, this grief is unlike any other I have experienced. It has a way of blanketing everything around me, like mosquito netting. It is as thick and choking as a cloud of black smoke, permeating my clothes, filling my lungs, making it impossible to see, so all I can do is desperately cling to whatever gives me the slightest amount of peace, no matter how fleeting. As someone who has always struggled with my faith (and moments like these certainly do not help), I try to remember Taylor’s. It brought her comfort and strength, the belief that God loves everyone so naturally she was going to love everyone, too. And all I can hope is that this belief of hers, this faith, manifested in her final moments. That there was a light, a voice, a presence, something there that reminded her that she was loved. That we knew she loved us, that her family will never be alone, that we will desperately miss her. That her legacy is as wide and expansive as all the oceans.

Her funeral is in a few days. Her funeral, a concept still as foreign as my own.

***

At this point it’s probably clear, but the things I want people to remember the most about Taylor are, quite simply, her kindness and her intrinsic ability to love. She was kind without questioning. She loved without strings or conditions, tirelessly and endlessly. At a time when an icy, impenetrable layer of cynicism seemed to blanket so many of our hearts – including my own – Taylor managed to crack it a little, to let just enough of her light and her warmth in to make a change.

I teased her often – probably too often –  for her unbreakable habit of bringing home literally any stray cat she ever found (and then naming it something either really cute or painfully dumb, like “Moe” or “Cheese”). But even as someone who unapologetically hates cats, and more honestly as someone who spent most of her 20s thinking that if I hardened my exterior and never let love in I was somehow protecting everything it surrounded, I viewed this habit through a secret lens of adoration. I adored Taylor’s heart. I hoped to absorb some of it, its ability to love everything, to find beauty in the darkest and loneliest spaces and to also force people to see it and feel it for themselves.

I felt Taylor was going to be around forever. It was a selfish thought. I hadn’t physically seen her in over a year (there was a pandemic and she was a nurse and I was subsumed by my own now meaningless world). I am filled with an omnipresent regret that I have no control over. I miss her so much my heart feels swollen and achy with a pining, a real grief.

There is no happy ending to this, no concise, comfortable, heartwarming way to wrap this all up in a pretty package, though Taylor was the type to want everything to have a good ending. So instead I cling to the memories, the photographs. Our banquets, homecoming, Lana del Rey, cherry blossoms. The way she rapped that entire A$AP Ferg verse one night. The way she looked in her wedding gown. The way she talked about charity and good deeds. The way she talked about God. Her love, no matter what transgression I made or no matter if I failed to give it back. I hope to love harder now, and if I can, it’s because Taylor taught me how.

I love you, Taylor. DZLAM.

[angrylizardjacket]

mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 4

4. i wanna know what’s your quietest feeling

Summary: So you’ve met his friends, and now his daughter, who’s the only other person who knows that this whole thing is a setup. But all she wants is to make sure that you’re not gonna break her dad’s heart; it shouldn’t be too hard to convince her that your intentions are good.

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples @oopsiedoopsie23 @mayaslifeinabox @mrs-machinegun-norris @hxbbit

----

Colson writes. A lot. You’d noticed it here and there being close to home, being close his studio, he’s buzzing with new ideas. There’s a ratty notebook that he keeps in the front pocket of his suitcase, held together by fibers and hope, that seems to be worth it’s weight in gold to him, full of lyrics and ideas that he’s been hoarding for as long as he’s been writing. About ten percent of the book has actually come to fruition, but that’s not what’s important about it, it’s that it’s positively brimming with potential as much as it is memories.

It’s been less than a year since his last album, and he’s made a few songs here and there, but now he writes, when inspiration strikes him, after work, or between takes. He’s in talks with Motley themselves, apparently, working on a part for one of their songs, rereleasing with the release of the film. For now, he writes, and he hums, and tests out lyrics under his breath.

“That sounds good,” it’s Sunday morning; he’s up earlier than you, which isn’t necessarily an unusual occurrence. He’s wearing sweatpants, hair curling a little at the ends where he’s letting it air dry, sitting up beside you on the bed. He’s got his notebook balanced on the one knee he’s got drawn up to him, while the other leg is kicked out in front of him, and he’s humming something while scrolling through his phone. He’s muttering something, lyrics you’re pretty sure, while something plays from his phone.

He seems a little surprised, like he’s coming out of a trance that the music had put him in, and smiles with an honest sincerity.

You yawn, and wiggle a little beneath the covers to properly face him, face half-smushed into the pillow. For a beat he looks at you like he wants to do something, like he wants to reach out and touch your cheek, trace his thumb across your lip - 

Wishful thinking. Probably.

“Rook’s been working on some stuff; he sent this through last night,” and he tapped away at his phone for a moment, replaying the track on his phone. It’s an instrumental, beat-heavy and the bones for a solid bop. You nod along to it, and he starts rapping under his breath again. 

“I think it could be something good,” he sounds quietly hopeful; he doesn’t sound like that often.

“Of course it’ll be good,” you say around a yawn, and this time he does reach out. 

“Go back to sleep,” he pinches gently at your cheek, and a warm rush of affection floods through you. Without thinking, you turn to press a quick kiss to his palm, a moment of gentle familiarity, and turn away, to go back to sleep, without thinking to watch for his reaction. You hear a faint, almost disbelieving huff of laughter, before the music starts back up again.

It’s not long before you’re ingratiated with his friends, who’ve all taken you and Colson in stride. Mostly it’s drinking and smoking and making music and playing video games, so even your initial anxiety is quick to fade.

That first morning, Wednesday, cool but sunny, it’s easy; Rook’s the only one awake when you and Colson arrive. He’s sitting at the kitchen island, perched on a stool with a pen stuck in his mouth, and a laptop and drum pad machine sitting on the counter, and when you walk in, he gives you a long, evaluative stare, a joint in between his fingers, idle.

“Hey man, this is Ducky,” Colson doesn’t seem to notice how you’ve frozen awkwardly in the doorway, moving past you to start searching the cupboards for food; Rook nods to him, before looking back at him, “Ducky, this is my man Rook,” and at that, he holds out his hand for the joint, and Rook passes it over, before looking back at you. You give a little, uncomfortable wave.

“Ducky?” He asks, curious rather than hostile, and you let yourself breathe, stepping into the room.

“Or Duck,” you explain, heading to the counter where Colson’s now wrestling with a packet of Doritos, “or [Y/N].” And you put your bag down, taking the seat beside Rook as Colson passes the joint back to him to get a better handle on the bag.

“Tight,” Rook says after a moment, apparently finding something in you that he approves of, because he follows it up by turning the laptop towards you, asking if you were into music. Of course you tell him you are - who isn’t? - but you don’t have a lot of experience in the production side of things.

“I mean,” you concede briefly, “about two years ago there was a trend going around on YouTube where you make a diss track about yourself -” Colson’s entire face lit up.

“You wrote a diss track about yourself? Don’t you do like cutesy vlogs and shit?” He asks, and it’s not meant to sound as unkind as it’s worded, though you still roll your eyes.

“It pays to be on trend,” you shrug, still a little embarrassed at the memory, “but it was fun.” 

Colson is looks actually impressed, while Rook is still chewing on the end of his pen, typing away frantically. After a beat, Colson turns to him -

“Her channel name is DuckDuckBooth -”

“I’ve already found the video,” Rook says with a smile, and you have to hide your face in your hands as they watch with equal parts fondness, and a little bit of second hand embarrassment.

Colson posts to his Instagram story a video of Rook jamming out to your self-diss track, before the camera swings around to see you flipping them both off with a fond smile. Your video is the only sound that can be heard for the full duration of the ten second video -

“Too scared of you’re face on the big, big screen, you think YouTube’s gonna be more stable / even though you use your bro for views every chance that you’re able. / With all of the time that you spend around sets, they all think you’re a professional stalker / and you spill you’re guts when you’re NDA free; you’ve made a career as Hollywood’s biggest talker. / [As if! Who asked for the Perez Hilton of the production crew?!]”

He tags both you and Rook, and captioned the video with a question: Should we remix Ducky’s self-diss track from 2016? With two options for fans to choose: Yes. or Definitely.

But Rook’s not who your worried about. None of Colson’s friends really worry you. 

Casie arrives a week and a half after you’ve all moved locations, to see her dad, to meet you, and to sit in on production for about a week. 

When you finally meet her, her cocked hip and crossed arms reminds you of Colson; she’s four and a bit feet of skepticism and an unmatched, effortlessly cool energy, and you realise too late that you’re kind of intimidated by an elementary schooler. 

“I’ve seen your videos,” is the first thing she says to you, and you find yourself smiling, bewildered. 

“Cas -” Colson’s voice holds a note of warning where he’s currently getting his tattoos covered. He’s standing with his arms out, looking straight ahead while Corey, the key makeup artist, and his team, airbrush and colour correct like their lives depend on it.

“I’m making sure she’s taking care of you,” Casie, unwavering in both her conviction and her loyalty, shifts her weight to her other foot. “The drum video was cute.” And you’re not quite sure if it’s a compliment, judging by the cool tone of her voice, but she’s wearing a slight smile that you’ve seen on Colson far too many times to not recognize it. This feels like the first of many tests.

She’s adamant that she’s not someone to be bought, though the thought had barely crossed your mind. When she nods approvingly at your dismissal of the suggestion, you can’t help but frown.

“How many girls have tried to get on her good side by buying her stuff?” You ask Colson quietly, out of Casie’s earshot later that night. For a moment, he looks as close to guilty as you’ve ever seen him.

“Not a lot, like one or two maybe; not a lot of girls meet her,” he admitted, “but the ones that try and buy her gifts and shit, they always turned out to be the worst ones,” and perhaps the guilt intensifies a little more, “she’s a good kid; always saw that before I could.”

“She’s a good kid,” you repeated, softer this time, with a faint smile, and when Colson comes back to reality, he gives your shoulder a squeeze.

She’s on set a lot for the days that she’s staying with you all, and when she sees you at work, she appears to warm to you; you’re not sure when you forgot that she was just a child trying to protect her father, but you’re reminded when you see the starry-eyed look she’s giving the makeup artists.

“Hey Corey,” you ask, smiling a little, and the makeup artist who had been in the middle of his lunch looks up from his phone with wide, alert eyes, “could one of your people give Casie here a little bit of 80s glam?” You ask sweetly, and his expression tuns fond as he nods. Casie turns wide-eyed and a little abashed at request, and murmurs that she doesn’t want to be any trouble. Both Corey and yourself wave away her concerns, and Amy, one of the makeup assistants, is more than happy to give the young girl a bit of glitter and gloss to the excited young girl.

She’s got glitter on her eyelids, and blush and highlighter adorning her cheeks, and a shiny, clear lip gloss making her smile that little bit brighter by the time the makeup woman is done with her, and Casie is practically glowing.

“How in the hell,” Colson starts with a grin when she goes to him to show off, “did I end up with the most stylish kid in the world? Cas, you look like a model.” Pride is radiating off of him in waves, and he pulls out his phone, “babe, get a picture, she looks so fuckin’ cool,” he enthuses, and if your heart skips a beat as his casual use of a pet-name, you’re enough of a professional not to let it show. Casie is calling him embarrassing, but is still beaming, and with him in full costume and her all made up, the picture you take - he’s standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders, and she’s got her arms crossed, both of them looking serious and menacing at the camera - you think they might be the coolest people you’ve ever met. Certainly one of the most photogenic father/daughter duos you’ve ever come across.

“Do not make it your phone background,” Casie presses her embarrassed smile into his shoulder where they’re reviewing the photo back in his trailer.

“But I’m not allowed to post it, and I wanna admire it every day - look at you!” He’s pointedly zooming in on her stony expression in the photo.

“[Y/N], tell him he’s being ridiculous,” Casie implored you, and you threw your hands up in surrender.

“I’m not allowed to say what is and isn’t a ridiculous phone background,” you say automatically, which piques both of their interests, and you immediately regret saying anything.

“Babe,” Colson says, prompting you, and you feel yourself growing flustered, both because you’re going to have to admit that your background is a photo of you two, and that he’s called you that twice in about half an hour. Casie’s amused now, smiling, her arms crossed as she raises her eyebrows at you expectantly. Taking a deep breath, you unlock your phone.

“I’m just trying to be a good girlfriend,” you say, avoiding their gazes as you show them your home screen, and your background; the paparazzi photo of you and Colson beneath the boardwalk.

“Is that how you organise your apps?” Is what Casie has to say, which has Colson snorting with laughter, though when you finally look at him, you see him wearing a weirdly pleased little smile.

“Ducky, that’s weird and adorable -”

“It’s not weird!” You protest, snatching back your phone, flustered, but Casie just rolls her eyes, pulling out her own phone.

“Come here, both of you,” she instructs, sounding terribly put upon by the both of you. You both crowd around her, with only slight confusion. “Look convincing.” She holds up her phone, and you both frown a little.

“What?”

“Look convincing,” she insists again, gesturing between the two of you, and finally coming to understand her meaning, Colson gives her an endeared, almost proud look, and you in turn are looking fondly at him. Neither of you have noticed that she’s already taken the selfie. After a beat, she lowers the phone and starts looking at the few photos she’d taken, and both you and Colson seem a little surprised at her speed. “Dad, I’ll send it to you, you send it to her; you can have a photo of both of us looking cool, and a photo of your ‘girlfriend’,” she explains with implicit air quotes, “and [Y/N], you don’t have to have a creepy pap’s picture as your background.” She taps away for a moment before swiftly sending the best photo to Colson, “plus you’ll match.”

“You’re a little genius,” you tell her once Colson’s sent you the photo. Casie beams at you.

“I know.”

And the way you’re smiling in the photo is more than convincing.

[ID: A series of three tweets from @machinegunkelly:

1: Retweeted with the caption ‘🥰🥰’, originally posted by @duckduckbooth with no caption: Two pictures of Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn 99 holding a golden retriever puppy with an edited caption reading ‘I’ve only known CASIE BAKER for a day and a half but if anything happened to HER I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.’

2: Tweeted: when me n my girls (my daughter and @duckduckbooth) hang out i realize i’m somehow the least fashionable in the group. when did that happen wtf 😳😳 

3. Tweeted: maybe you'll skip to the end and pass all the irrational decisions, patch up all the passion that was missin'. i think that's enough. i'm feelin' lovesick.

End ID.]

Maybe it’s that she likes you, maybe she’s just trying to keep an eye on you to make sure you’ve got her dad’s best intentions at heart, but Casie takes it upon herself to almost shadow you while on set, at least when she’s not with her dad.

“What’s your next video going to be?” She asks one afternoon when you’re both waiting for Colson in his trailer as he gets his makeup removed for the day. She’s watching a video on her phone and you’re reading emails on yours, and you look up, interested. After a moment, she pauses her video, looking up, looking back at you, “I like your ‘day in the life’ ones.” 

“I didn’t realise you liked my videos,” you said with faint amusement, and she gives a small smile.

“I’ve been binging them,” she admits, and shuffles a little, sitting up further where she’s reclining on the uncomfortable little sofa, “your editing is really nice; I liked your Euro-Disney video, it was really pretty.”

“Thanks,” you find yourself a little humbled at her compliment, and find yourself musing that you’d like to get back to that style of video, “hey,” you find yourself coming up with an idea, something Colson had said during your first actual date, and with Casie herself now here, it was the perfect opportunity, “do you wanna be in a video?”

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! I’ve been feeling rather nostalgic for some of my older content, and was inspired by none other than Miss Casie Baker, so what better day than this beautiful Friday afternoon, to take you all along with Casie, Kells, and I as we head to a boardwalk fair.”

It’s a short drive to the boardwalk, and once you’re there, it’s almost unbearably cheesy. Rides, candy, you and Colson in competition trying to win a prize for Casie at one of the cheap game booths.

You’re filming on and off the whole time, getting aesthetic shots, your heart growing warmer with each genuine smile you manage to catch on camera. You take endless candid photos of Colson and Casie, and even though you know you can’t be out too late because you and Colson are due on set at eight, you make the most of the time you have.

After an hour and a half, you stop at the food vendor, craving hot chips, and Colson orders, while Casie takes your hand, the two of you hanging back.

"Can we go on the Ferris Wheel?"

"Just a minute kiddo, food's almost ready," Colson tells her over his shoulder, but she tugs at your hand, making her meaning more clear.

"You can catch up, we can go around twice; I wanna talk to [Y/N]," she tells him plainly, and you give her a smile, already acquiescing to her suggestion. Colson makes a noise of gentle protest, but he sees her hand in yours, and the reassuring look you've leveled at him. 

"Take care of my girl," he tells you with a faux seriousness, and Casie gives a small grin at that.

"I'll protect her with my life," you promise, leaning in to kiss his cheek. 

"You better," he grinned, tone fond and a little teasing, before assuring that he'd meet you both up there, and you're left wondering what about you screamed 'let's have a serious conversation on a Ferris Wheel' because if it happens again, it goes from a coincidence to a pattern. Casie drops your hand and trots easily through the crowd to the Wheel that had cast the rest of the fair in shadow as the sun set behind it. The ride operator gives you a toothy smile as she secures the door behind the two of you, and Casie links her fingers, resting her elbows on her knees, and her chin on her hands, evaluating you with an inscrutable look. She waits until the basket is about a quarter of the way around before saying anything; for your part, you’re silent, she’s the one who wanted to speak after all.

“Dad doesn’t do fake,” she says finally, sitting back, and lets you wonder in silence for a few moments, what that even means, “I know he did, I’m not blind or deaf, people… people talk to me. A lot. About things my dad’s done.” This piece of information has your expression souring - she’s just a kid - but she doesn’t seem bothered by it, she just seems… almost confused.

“I’m not going to -”

“I know.” She cuts you off before you can even voice what reassurance you could manage, “I’ve gathered that; you’re good. Better than probably any other girl who’s gotten with him for clout.”

“I’m not -” You try to protest and she does look a little apologetic, but after a moment, you stop yourself, and let her continue, trying to understand where she was coming from.

“I know why he likes you, I get it, you -” she averts her gaze for a moment, suddenly a little embarrassed, “you’re actually really cool,” she admits, and your heart softens, but you keep quiet, and let her build back up to her bravado, “but back when his manager had him with like, models and actresses and things, they were all - I mean sometimes they were nice, but they always thought they were better than him, or they just treated him like dirt when people weren’t around, so now, dad doesn’t do fake.” It’s said definitively. You’re at the top of the Ferris Wheel now, stopped for a few moments, and she looks out at the  rest of the fair, and then down to the base of the ride, letting herself smile when she spots Colson at the bottom, giving him a wave. 

Somehow, sitting in this basket in the sky, it feels like a mafia movie, like this little girl is implying she’ll break your kneecaps if you hurt her father. Or she’s implying something that your heart dare not read into, lest you get your hopes up.

“Dad doesn’t break his rules for just anyone,” Casie finally sits back up, and there’s a new, kinder quality about her voice, before it turns young, turns plaintive, and you’re reminded that she’s just a child looking out for her dad, her hero, “please don’t make him regret it. He’s a good person, I know what people say but he’s -”

“Casie, I care about him. A lot.” You tell her honestly, gently, and she blinks wide and surprised for a few moments, before her expression turns to almost weirdly pleased, maybe even a little smug.

“Good.” She says with conviction, before looking out at the horizon, “this would be a nice shot.”

“It’d be nicer with your dad,” you hear yourself saying, and Casie huffs out a laugh that sounds so much like her father, agreeing quietly. When your basket stops at the bottom of the wheel, Colson flashes his ride wristband to the kid operating it, and he slides into the seat beside you. Casie’s still smiling as she takes a chip from where he offered them.

“Nice chat?” He asks, and offers you the chips too. 

“I like her,” Casie announces, and you grin to yourself, “dad, I love you, but you’d better treat Duck right; we’re friends now.” Which sets Colson off laughing, and you turn on your camera.

“You were meant to be on my side,” he laughs, and Casie shrugs.

“I am, I’m on both your sides.”

[tuliharja]

Oh, the otp asks are so interesting! Would you consider for HashiMito answering the following: 3, 9, 12, 21 and 24? I hope it's not too much, but with canonical, and so politically-involved couple those are super interesting.

Thank you so much from the ask @olliya!

Yes, I agree to you! OTP asks are always so interesting~. And I don’t mind at all, since HashiMito is one of my otps, so I was really happy to receive this ask from you! Not to mention the fact you picked very interesting ones. Thank you again from the ask. ^^

(The asks can be found from here.)

Alright, let’s put those shipping goggles on! *Cue for a very long post.*

3. If they complimented each other, what would they say?

Hashirama would probably try to write sonata to Mito and once he would realize it’s much harder than it seems, he would end up asking Tobirama to help. With the help of Tobirama, Hashirama would make most brilliant sonata ever, but once he would present it to Mito…she would be left highly unimpressed.

 “Hashirama, did you perhaps ask help from Tobirama?” Mito questioned from her husband, before she sighed. There wasn’t any reason to ask that question when she already knew the answer, yet watching her husband turn into a spluttering mess brought her some sort of amusement. Deciding to be merciful, Mito gently cupped Hashirama’s cheeks, giving him kiss to his forehead. “Hashirama, you don’t have to make me sonatas, poets, or anything that would be too elaborate. As long as it becomes from your heart, I don’t mind even if your compliments would be extremely tacky.”

She watched how her husband slowly turned into a sobbing mess, gently brushing his hair as she merely allowed him to relax in her arms.

After that incident, Hashirama would gift Mito flowers. Being the expert, anything related to plants, he would know each and every flower and those meaning. He probably wouldn’t be best with actual words, but each bouquet would hail Mito’s beauty, kindness, power and how lucky he was when Mito did choose him.

Mito would had mastered the use of words, because she would know how valuable the talent of speaking would be. She could make even most praising comment sound like most wicked insult ever. That’s why, she would rarely compliment Hashirama as she knew her husband already received lots of compliments as he wasn’t any ordinary man. Repeating those same compliments would sound just hollow, empty and she didn’t want that. She would also know repeated words would turn meaningless, so she would rarely use endearing words about Hashirama.

To everybody else she would seem cold as ice, but in those rare moments when she would compliment Hashirama, he would take those into his heart and cherish those. Such occasions would be when Hashirama would manage to genuinely surprise her, show genuine understanding about her feelings and hopes, and take into consideration her wishes. But the most cherished moment would be when Mito would finally admit to Hashirama she was pregnant, while she was a Jinchuuriki. Hashirama would reassure her he wouldn’t leave her and make his best to ensure both she and the child would be safe. After she would calm down, she would spill her heart to Hashirama, telling how blessed she was to have such wonderful husband that would still stand next to her even when she was carrying Tailed-Beast. She would hail his strength, kindness, understanding and way too big heart. Later on, that night they both would compliment each other’s bodies in very sensual manner. ;)

 9. Have they made each other cry?

Yes, since what would marriage be without any tears? There have been happy tears, but also sad ones. Happier tears have been in happy occasions, such as when they got married, when their first child did bear and when Mito would tickle the hell out of Hashirama. Who said Mito couldn’t be mischievous when she would want to? They’ve also been crying tears of joy when they got their second born (because it’s kind of their own fault they got a child, now isn’t it? xD)

There has also been tears, when Hashirama has tried to cheer up Mito when she has had extremely bad day when dealing Nine Tails just to see her wife happy. But there has also been tears of sadness as at times Hashirama’s gambling problems would be too much for the stressed-out Mito. She would hide her tears, but Hashirama would know. He would eventually weed out his gambling problem, when they were at the risk of losing their home and the tear-streaked look Mito gave? Yeah, absolute broke Hashirama’s heart. There would also been tears when each of them would get so badly wounded, they would be at the brink of death. One of such was after Mito sealed Kyuubi inside of her. Hashirama was sure Mito would perish as it seemed holding down the beast was too much for her. Hashirama’s eventual death also made Mito cry as she felt like her whole world collapsed at that exact moment, but such is life: many different types of causes which can make one cry.

12. Do they have differing political opinions?

Many people think they would have, but in reality, they don’t have expect in minor businesses. The political field can be extremely messy, especially when considering the fact Hashirama was doing something (building first ninja village) that hadn’t ever been done before.

Before Mito married Hashirama, she understood right to way for things to work she had to do some groundbreaking thinking. She knew if she married Hashirama, she wouldn’t just switch her Uzumaki family to Senju family, like in old times. No, what Hashirama was offering was that, she could still be Uzumaki and Senju. In old times, when one was wed to some more powerful clan, you had automatically become part of that clan. You had to basically throw everything that you had been before, expect your ninja talents. While you could gain a new and possible better family, there was always that fear if your spouse would die. If your spouse would die, you would automatically become an outcast. Just fodder to be used in next fight against some other clan, unless you would marry someone else or become a concubine. The option to go back to your old home wasn’t anymore an option, since you had quite literally been kicked out from there. Of course, some bigger clans treated this possibility much ‘nicer’, but the fact was, your position would still be bad compared to anyone who had born in the clan.

Now this Hashirama was offering something else. A village where you wouldn’t be an outcast, should such a thing occur. Hashirama painted all pretty pictures how they all would be one ‘big happy family’. Of course, Mito knew such thing would take time. But the possibility was tempting and since Mito didn’t want to forget her roots even if she would marry someone, she agreed upon this. She even went so far as convince Uzumaki clan to make their own village, Uzushiogakure, as the Uzumaki clan wasn’t yet ready to be part of some other village. In that way, Mito could keep one leg in her home and one in her new one. It also served as a way to ensure she wouldn’t be treated poorly in her new home, since at times when one would be married to some other clan, the new clan could treat the new spouse extremely badly. Of course, she didn’t have to worry about that (given the fact Hashirama was Hokage).

As time went on, Mito started to see better Hashirama’s views. She liked quite many of those as if those all would become true, there wouldn’t be anymore war, everybody would be treated equally and the children would be taken care of by everybody, even if their parents would die. Of course, she disagreed upon some things her husband suggested, such as sharing Tailed-Beasts between each newly formed village, but to make things work she understood everybody should have equal power at the palm of their hand. She also disagreed when some clans that joined Konoha would get some privileges such as Hyuugas, but since they were newly formed village that was striving for something new, even she understood some sort of bait was needed to get them join them. Things like these made disagreements between her and Hashirama as at times she felt like Hashirama didn’t care or see wrongness that he tried so much to weed out. Times like those, she felt like the village mattered more to her husband than anything else… in those darker times, she would deliver some cold facts to her husband that would make him despair over some of his choices. In those times, Mito would see the man behind the God of Shinobi whom she would comfort as she knew for things to work, they had to stand united together or watch the world burn.

21. How have they changed each other for the better/for the worse?

Hashirama believes his actions toward Madara did drive Mito to seal Nine Tails inside of her which basically did change her in more ways than anyone could had at first believed. While that was true, what Hashirama had hard time to grasp was the fact Mito did it willingly. Hashirama felt incredible guilt about that, because that event made Mito more prone to display her negative emotions. While that might sound like a good thing, because before that Mito tended to hide her negative emotions, it wasn’t at all fun and games when Nine Tails’ negative chakra was leaking out of Mito and she was trashing Hashirama around their house like a ragdoll. In those moments when Mito was very upset or angry, she reminded more a wild animal more than a person.

At first it was very hard, since Hashirama quickly learned Mito had tons of pent-up anger in her. His paperwork being late? Angry kyuubi-Mito. Him forgetting the dishes? Angry kyuubi-Mito. For a while it felt like there were two people inside of Mito, which was true. It took lots of patience, motivational talking and reassurance from Hashirama to make Mito understand not to hide her ire, no matter how small it would be. Eventually Hashirama managed to make Mito embrace her more ‘negative’ self that actually improved their relationship greatly. It also helped Hashirama to understand Mito better.

While Hashirama was already a stunning leader even before Konoha was founded, he was extremely poor what came to social skills. He could give motivational speeches to anyone, but if he had to make deals, small talk, simply listen or anything that would need any kind of ‘fine’ talk, he would more than often ask Tobirama’s help. Yet that behavior wouldn’t anymore cut when he become Hokage. He couldn’t anymore push Tobirama to deal with the stuffy, boring affairs and go train with their students. Which is where Mito stepped in. She put Hashirama through a mini hell to drive into his thick skull at least the bare minimum of social skills. It opened a whole new world to Hashirama. While before his overbearing personality had made some people feel uneasy and even that, he didn’t realize they might actually have brilliant ideas, he would now calm down and listen them. His relationship even with Tobirama did improve, because now he would listen his little brother giving him a speech of his latest invention, that actually made Hashirama understand Tobirama and him weren’t that different. They both were passionate people, yet because he barely before did stop to listen his brother’s ‘odd ideas’ he never knew.

While Mito’s social skills course did bring lot of good things out of Hashirama, it also brought his darker side. Hashirama could now use his ‘happy-go-lucky’ character at times as a façade to gather information and later on use it against Konoha’s enemies as most of his opponents only saw a fool front of them. But Mito teaching how to wear a mask in important meeting? Hashirama was eternally grateful to his wife about that.

 24. What is something they have each had to forgive the other for?

When Mito married Hashirama she vowed to herself she would protect Hashirama, no matter what. But to do so, she had to do it while remaining hidden. She would protect Hashirama from the shadows, even going so far as kill someone if they threatened her husband. She would even create secret service, ANBU, just to protect her husband. They were an organization that worked in the shadows, that no-one knew, especially Hashirama. Expect, Hashirama did knew. He knew exactly what his wife was up to, yet he never addressed it as he waited Mito tell him about it. When years went by and Mito still didn’t tell him, Hashirama started to feel uneasy. He would drop intentionally questions or make scenarios that could make a perfect opportunity for Mito to tell about her role in ANBU and the organization itself. But she never did. It started to eat Hashirama in and out. While he knew Mito had her best intentions toward him, it still made Hashirama feel like unworthy of the truth. Didn’t Mito trust him? Did she think he was still that fool that she had met those years ago? Hashirama wanted to trust Mito, but he didn’t want to confront her. It wouldn’t had been same as if she would tell herself the truth.

To numb the pain Hashirama turned into drinking and gambling. With a good buzz he could make his doubts away as it would leave his core thoughts: that which were love. Gambling also brought a thrill to him that he hadn’t felt ever since he had become a Hokage. Maybe Mito wanted simply feel thrill? The adrenaline that would pump to his veins when he would bet everything to win or lose was just exhilarating. Though each time when he would lose and face upset Mito, he would feel a sting of guilt just to remember his wife’s secret. So, another night with gambling it was! Hashirama’s actions were slowly spiraling out of control and he only came into a rude awakening of reality when he faced tear-streaked Mito. She told him they were about to lose their house and everything, if he wouldn’t just stop. It was that moment the two realized they had to change, or they would lose them. Mito was stressed over the fact she tried to keep Hashirama safe, but it was harder than she had first believed, while Hashirama had tried to escape his problems with drinking and gambling. This event was one of those turning points with them as they slowly started to unravel those all. Eventually Mito told Hashirama the truth which lead into his own confession, making both of them to forgive each other and slowly strengthen once again their strained relationship. But even though they had managed to tackle this particular obstacle on their married path, there was still one big obstacle that had been slowly marinating.

While Mito understood in some level Hashirama’s deep friendship with Madara, at times it was extremely hard. In most situations like these, one would pick in a heartbeat their partner. But in Hashirama’s case, it wasn’t ever that simple. While Mito trusted Hashirama, it still made her at times doubt herself and her position as his wife. When she tried to talk about her doubts, most people would dismiss her and tell her how lucky she was. She was married to “God of Shinobi”, so why she was complaining? Wasn’t it beautiful her husband was friends with his childhood friend who had been Senjus mortal enemy? It made Mito hide her doubts and concerns as she all but turned eventually a blind eye her feelings. The worst part was that, Madara was actually nice toward her. But it all came crashing down when she sealed Kyuubi and she realized hiding her negative feelings wasn’t anymore that easy. Her all doubts came flying out of the box that had been hidden deep within her heart. She knew she had to learn to forgive her foolish husband his past ignorance and be more straightforward with Hashirama as Hashirama could be at times very dense. She eventually did forgive Hashirama when he showed her, she was extremely important to him and being friends with Madara didn’t take out or lessen his love toward her.

[caramelohaechan]

Illusion ~ High Tide Ep. 5

tell me your thoughts after this episode I dare you >:( // edited, but poorly 

also, listen to this 

~

Warning(s): female!reader // pirate!ateez // graphic scenes that include blood, bruises, and overall just mad hurtful stuff :/ // rip seonghwa stans

~

             When Jongho was captured, memories that most impacted his life played across his closed eyelids, agonizingly vivid as if he were living them all over again. 

The first memory was of his father, nutmeg hair, and round, rosy cheeks smiling down at him as he cupped Jongho’s face with calloused fingers. They stood in the midst of his father's shop, which was warm and smelled of coal dust and molten iron, with a touch of salty sea air seeping in from the cracks in the door. Jongho’s father crouched to his level, making sure to make his son feel equal to himself, never wanting for Jongho to view him as a threat. He had heard many stories of children who grew up resenting their fathers, and he never wanted that for the two of them. 

The memory surfaced mid-sentence, his father's words a whisper among the racket caused by his workers. “— amazing son I could’ve ever asked for. They don’t know what they’re missing.” 

Jongho’s round, youthful face scrunched as he tried to hold back another wave of tears. “But daddy, they said I was too much like a girl. They said they can’t play with me because I cry too easily. They said that when I get excited I shout too much, and that I’m just a big baby.” 

His father brushed an escaped tear with his thumb. “Those children are frauds, Jongho, pretending they don’t get sad when they lose or excited when they win. You know why I love you so much? You’re not afraid of feeling emotions the way they’re meant to be felt, and it shows you have passion. Let me tell you a little secret, son. Women don’t like men who are afraid of showing emotion. When you’re older you’ll bring them in by the dozen, and when you find the one you’ll go on amazing adventures together, sailing the seas with wine in hand, accompanied by friends who are not afraid to cry when they’re sad, or laugh when they’re happy. You’ll live a life that I’ll enjoy hearing about, as your own son sits on my frail knees, and my wrinkly old face fills with pride. Do not cry over those who can’t accept you, instead celebrate your life with those who appreciate you. Now what about that boy who played with you at that auction when I was selling inventory, hm? Did he chastise you for showing too much happiness?” 

Jongho thought back on it, his entire face changing as he recalled the sweet moment. “Seungmin said that he liked how expressive I was. He said I shine like a star amongst darkness.” 

A chuckle managed to escape his father as Jongho stumbled over the words that were too difficult for his tongue to pronounce. “Seungmin is wise, then, and his words are true. You do shine, Jongho, and no matter what, one day you’ll find your people and they’ll accept you, emotions and all.” 

Jongho still pouted, “Well, when? I want to play right now.” 

His father smiled. “I’ll tell Minhyuck to take over the shop while we play a game of ball. Would you like that? Or are you too old to play with your father?” 

Jongho instantly shook his head, tufts of his brown hair falling into his glittering eyes. Instead of tears, they glittered with happiness this time, and pure, unadulterated, affection. “I’ll never grow too old to play with you, daddy! I’ll never grow tired of being with you in the shop, either. I wanna make swords with you forever.” 

“You have options, Jongho.” His father said, eyes following Jongho’s figure as he ran to the back of the shop to retrieve a dirty leather ball. “I want you to know that I’ll never be disappointed in what you choose, even if it means not being with you everyday for the rest of my life! You’ll make me proud doing whatever you love.” 

Jongho returned and grinned at his dad, grabbing his large calloused hand in his own small, soft fingers. “Okay, daddy, let's go play now!” 

“Wait.” He made sure his son was facing him, eye to eye as he said his next words carefully. “Promise me you’ll never forget to be true to yourself, and never be afraid of feeling, okay? Don’t forget to feel, son. Be heard when you think something is wrong, or when you’re afraid. Make sure when someone hurts you, they know, okay? Make a voice for yourself.” 

“Okayy,” Jongho whined, the words slipping in through one ear and out the other. “I won’t forget. Now can we play?” 

“Of course, son.” 

The next flash of remembrance wasn’t as heart warming as the first. It came in bursts of images and voices, white noise, and screams. A flash of his surroundings, where he smoked a cigarette his friend rolled in the dingy alley between the bakery and the apothecary, trying his best to avoid his father after an argument. He droned on to his friend about the entire thing between clouds of milky clouds, taking a longer drag when the anger boiled hot enough. The fight started when Jongho refused to escort Minhyuck’s daughter to the mayor’s ball, because she wasn’t pretty enough. How shallow Jongho had been. His father grew angry, shouting when Jongho rolled his eyes, and looking shocked when he eventually raised his voice too. Jongho didn’t think the fight was serious, his father always forgave him. You’re just a teen, Jongho, you don’t mean the things you say, he’d probably remark when Jongho chose to return. And Jongho would agree to escorting the girl anyway, despite the fact that the thought alone made his stomach rumble with disgust. 

A warp in his memory, and then there was a woman, panting, running towards them. Rushed words. All Jongho heard was: accident, shop, father. He flicked the burning cigarette back to his friend, barreling out of the alleyway faster than they could register. Ringing ears, flushed face, frightened lungs that quivered with every rushed breath. Blood, cloth, wheel barrel. A crowd formed outside of his father's shop as two men appeared in the doorway, pulling something behind them. Body, people, screaming. His mother cried, thrashing against the hold of a horrified Minhyuck, trying to free herself to follow the men wheeling her husband away from his own shop. Anger, sadness, pain, and more powerfully, disbelief. Jongho ran after them, dust dancing under his feet, stones flying with a knock of his boot. He pushed away the cloth, strong arms fighting against the men trying to pull him back, shock filling his veins like lead. Blank eyes, blood stained cheeks, open mouth. 

He had never felt so many emotions simultaneously than in that moment, when his eyes finally comprehended the lifeless face of his father. A fist crashed into Jongho’s jaw and he fell into the dirt road, sharp stones digging into his palms, his head meeting the top of someone’s foot. They covered his father's body once more and glared at him as if his corpse was theirs now. His mother ran to him and cried into his shoulder, but all Jongho could do was sit, face twisted with shock. 

A rush of white noise, and fuzzy voices, and Jongho was transported to his funeral, only days after the incident. Tears clouded his vision, pain burned in his chest fiercely, and people droned on and on above his grave as others nodded. They all appeared solemn, but Jongho knew that they would never be as devastated as he was. He gritted his teeth through the prayers, and eulogies, and felt tears escape when they placed his father's favorite handkerchief above the mound of unearthed dirt. When they all disappeared to break bread and uncork wine, Jongho finally let everything out. He collapsed against the dirt, yelling until his face flushed red, veins decorating the span of his neck and the delicate skin of his temples. He pounded his fists against the grave, scratching away his tears with dirty fingernails. He was angry at his father for dying before he could apologize, heartbroken he never told him how much he meant to him. He was absolutely, positively, broken. 

A rush of wind, and delicate hands on his shoulder, paired with the swing of his vivid emotions, and Jongho was staring at his mother sprawled on the ground, clutching her face where his fist kissed her cheek, staring at him in absolute horror. Vomit crawled up the back of his throat at the thought of what he had just done, accompanied by her whimper as she tried to get away from him. Heartache. 

Later that week, skinny and pale from days of self-inflicted starvation, Jongho received a visit from his miffed, mourning mother, where she ordered him with a strict tone to grow the hell up. “Don’t you see we’re all suffering from your father's death, Jongho? You’ve always been so selfish, dramatic, too overly emotional. You can’t fall into this melancholy like you always do. Grow up and act like a man. Men don’t cry.” 

Men don’t cry. Men don’t feel. Men don’t mourn. Men puff their chests, shoot glass bottles, and glare when they feel the burn of pitiful eyes. 

Jongho pulled his chin high, exposing hollow cheeks, previously chubby and pink, so like his father’s. “Yes, mother.” 

A skip, and Jongho was running his father's shop, now two years since he last allowed himself to feel anything. A man sashayed through the door, smile stretching to his ears, dangling silver cross hanging from his ear, blood crusted under his fingernails. 

“My name is San, and you’re my last hope.” 

Exchanged words, and bloody coins, and they had a deal. Jongho provided the weapons, San provided the money. 

“You remind me of a scarecrow, the ones the Jung’s make for All-Hallows Eve.” San remarked one day. “Scary, for one, but mainly because you seem to have no emotions. You almost look empty, save for the organs that fill you, the same way straw fills those dolls. I don’t know why, but I like that about you.” 

More blurring, and then he sees his last encounter with his mother. Her face was twisted, warped over time with grief, and anger; Jongho didn’t recognize her. 

“Criminals, Jongho? All of your father’s hard work to build a reputation for this shop and you ruin it all to sell to criminals?” She screeched, pacing. When Jongho shrugged in reply she grabbed the end of an iron bar, which had been bathing in the flames of the fire pit, and charged at him, stabbing it’s glowing point into the flesh of his arm. He didn’t scream, he didn’t even flinch. “GET OUT! You’re to never set foot inside of this shop again! You’ve disgraced your father, and your mother! Leave, I never want to see your face as long as I live!” 

The last memory that visits him is of Hongjoong. 

Jongho sat across from his future captain, an overly excited San sitting beside him, in a tavern close to the sea, a place so nice Jongho had trouble fitting in. He was dirty, grime covered due to his homelessness, and hungry due to his unemployment, which was a result of his new “reputation”. Hongjoong bought him a bowl of soup, a warm loaf of bread, and a tankard of beer. Jongho stayed quiet while he ordered the food, face flat, and did not speak until spoken to. 

“San says you’re the best blacksmith he’s ever worked with.” Hongjoong started when the owner of the tavern scurried off to retrieve the food, coins rattling in the palm of his hand. He glanced at San. “Well, if we’re speaking realistically, you’re the only one he’s worked with, but he insists your weapons are like no other.” 

“Yes.” Jongho replied, looking at the fingerprints that littered the window beside their table, disregarding the compliment. No one was as good as his father, not even him. “Even the stupidest person is smart enough to turn down the word of a notorious criminal. He was sweet talking and blood covered when we first met, but money was tight, and once we grew comfortable he let his true colors show. I’m no idiot, I know a liar when I see one, and San strays far from that image. He may be a thief, a killer even, but he is no enemy of mine. I did what any smart person would do: I took his money. Now, if he’s told you that I’m in need of work, he’s right, but I am also not a liar and will not promise that I can do anything you ask. I have limits, and I have prices.” 

San and Hongjoong glanced at one another. The captain swallowed. “You seem to be as blunt as San mentioned, but unfortunately, I don’t have work for you.” 

“Then my answer is simple.” Jongho said, eyes sliding back to meet Hongjoong’s gaze. “No.” 

Hongjoong bit his lip, knee bouncing, and took a deep breath. “What I do have is a promise for a new life.” 

Jongho’s entire being flushed with an emotion he couldn’t identify. In fact, he was so parched of feelings, he didn’t know what to do. His face stayed clear of the things going on inside of his body as Hongjoong explained his plans. Utopia, Aurora, paradise. 

Jongho thought of all the pitying looks he received on the streets, and the nasty ones when he held his tankard out, asking silently for coins, but his most prominent thought was of the words his father has spoken so long ago, “you’ll make me proud—,”. He didn’t have a life worth being proud of, hell, he didn’t have a life worth living anymore. Would his father be sickened at what he had become? Algae on the rocks near the coast when the days were hot, basking in the salty mist, and mold in the alleyways when it was cold, huddled in blankets that weren’t his, surviving off of food he stole from garbage bins. 

“I’ll provide some new clothes, and food. We just need your weapons, and patience, but most importantly, we need you.” Hongjoong finished. “Of course that’ll mean breaking into your old shop to acquire some things.” 

Jongho took a swig of his beer when it was placed in front of him, the eyes of both men boring into his head. He looked down at his torn clothing, which revealed his ribs, poking through his flesh like it was parchment, and his calloused feet, toughened skin formed from rough cobblestones, skin caked with dirt. He thought of his mother, and her reaction if she caught him taking back what was rightfully his. Then his burn, scarred and ugly, stung and he knew he didn’t care what she thought. He truly didn’t feel anything towards her anymore. He returned his gaze to Hongjoong and raised one eyebrow. 

“So, what do you say, Jongho? Will you join us?” 

Jongho’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t been called by his own name in months. He was so used to being referred to as filth and scum by those who passed him. That feeling returned — which Jongho now realized was excitement — and he looked up at the two of them as Hongjoong slid the steaming bowl of soup towards him. 

He shrugged, face emotionless. “Okay.” 

-

       Jongho is cotton-mouthed and sore when he jolts free of his memories. His face is hot, and his stomach rumbles with sick. He’s tangled in something itchy, and his body is stiff and sore. His eyes are bleary when they manage to peel open, and the sound of screaming instantly meets the drum of his ear. 

At first, Jongho thinks he’s still taking a spin in his memories, and tries to shake them away. When the screams refuse to wane, and Jongho realizes his name is being called, he jerks his head in the direction of the sound. Something pushes passed his lips, lodging itself in his mouth, forcing his jaw open painfully. His eyes slowly focus, and everything rushes back to him. The monsters, the running, the tripping. His eyes widen, and he looks down below, between tree trunks, and thick leaves, to see that you’re doubled over, vomiting, and screaming when you suck in enough breath. 

You call Seonghwa’s name first, and when he doesn’t answer you call Jongho’s, and when he struggles against the rope and calls your name desperately too, you show no sign of hearing. You look tired, and worn, your voice sounds croaky and scratchy, like you’d been yelling for hours. You look desperate. Jongho knows how you feel, thrashing and listening to his own muffled calls. 

Jongho realizes then that he’s hanging in a tangled web of rope, somehow so high up in the trees that you can’t hear his cries of pain, or the struggles of his frantic movement. He recognizes those sorts of screams parting from your lips, strewn with saliva, and instantly knows that you believe they are dead. They’re familiar to him. 

You push yourself up from the ground, shaking. You’re leaving. 

The more Jongho struggles, trying to draw your attention, the more the rope seems to tighten, pulling his limbs together and drawing his hands farther and farther from his body. His jaw burns when the rope between his lips forces his mouth open farther, and he has no way of pulling away to get it out. He can barely move his body at all now. 

And then you’re gone. 

He goes limp, the effort drained from his muscles. His body floods with disappointment and fear, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. His temple aches, and he knows that it’s because his head smacked against multiple tree trunks when the trap was set off. A trap, that’s what Jongho guesses this is. He remembers a loud unidentifiable noise, his hands frantically reaching for Seonghwa so they could run, forgetting of you in that rushed moment. And they were tripping over something invisible suddenly, followed by the sound of cracking ropes, and flight. His body lifted carelessly, like a rag doll, face and body colliding harshly, bones popping from their sockets with the force. Darkness encased his vision. He must have passed out for a few minutes. 

A tear slides down his face and he watches as it lands on a wide leaf before rolling off and onto another. Eventually, it falls out of sight. Just like his hope.

“Seonghwa.” He croaks when he grows scared of falling too far deep in his emotions. His tongue meets rope and his teeth bare down on it, thick and rough, so foreign to his mouth he feels bile crawl up his throat. His voice doesn’t manage to reach far. 

He turns his neck to the side, barely succeeding, attempting to get a glimpse of his crew member. The sight that meets his vision is nothing short of terrifying. Seonghwa’s body is tangled in ropes, eyes closed and forehead welted and bruised purple. His limbs are pulled behind him as if his body is free falling, back arched and neck too. A rope pulls his chin up, and Jongho doesn’t even manage to find a complaint about his position when Seonghwa looks like that. His poor friend! What can he do when he’s tied up as well, unable to swing over and free him of this death web that confines them like flies?  He’s all the negative emotions in the book then: frightened, furious, pained. 

Not long after this, Jongho hears something coming from the area behind him. Still unable to move, or speak, his body goes rigid with fear. The leaves above him shudder and fall loose, twirling around his head before dropping to the ground so far below. His once heated body goes cold, and sweat breaks out along his skin, droplets glistening under the sunlight that peeks through the canopy above. 

It drops before him so suddenly Jongho is sure he’s pissed his pants. His teeth bite down on the rope, jaw popping and burning, and a scream exits his nose. 

It happens to be a man, dressed in white cotton clothing, edges rimmed with a glimmering gold material. His skin is tan, baked under the shining sun, and his hair is dripping wet, and Jongho smells the salt water immediately. His face looks like it was once painted with pigment, but red drips down his bare face, somehow never landing on the pure fabric of his clothing. He cocks his head to the side, bulging arms keeping him from the ground by gripping tightly to a vine he seems familiar with. 

Jongho realizes that this man is a native, and already knows what he plans on doing with him before he even does a thing. They’re going to take him. He begins to struggle in his confines, but as his biceps and calves jerk, the rope tightens, closer and closer. His jaw opens wider than he can handle, and the skin of his mouth begins to burn and split. 

The man’s eyes widen and he pulls something from behind his back. It’s a bone so sharp and frightening, jagged and stained maroon with blood, it draws the air from his lungs through his nose. Jongho has never seen a weapon like it, it terrifies him. However, fighting against his restraints proves futile when his jaw protests and he tastes blood. All Jongho can do as the strange man raises the blade, is squeeze his eyes shut, and hope that death comes quickly. 

First, Jongho feels nothing but the sting of rope shifting against his skin, but then the rushing feeling in the pit of his belly, and Jongho is aware that he is falling. As in, straight to his death, nothing to stop him from becoming a stain in the moss, falling. His eyes snap open, and everything is a blur around him, the rushing wind stinging his eyes, and the scratching of leaves against his skin. Then, before he does become a stain in the moss, something flies in front of him, and swings over his body until he’s being jerked in the opposite direction by a ring of vine around his stomach. It is in that moment, being pulled upwards while falling by just his belly alone, that Jongho knows what death feels like. His head jerks down, along with his limbs, toes touching fingertips, and he wishes suddenly that he did become a stain in the moss. 

When he’s still pretty high up in the trees, the vine stops pulling him up and instead begins to drag him through the forest, like a puppet on a string. He bumps his tailbone and skull against trunks, gets his hair stuck in branches, and his skin grows red and irritated because of sharp pieces of bark. Through the green blur, he manages to catch a glimpse of Seonghwa, in the same condition as him, and feels a rush of relief that they haven’t done anything bad to him. Yet. His head smashes against another tree and Jongho is sure that by the time they get wherever the natives are trying to get them, he’ll be knocked into a coma with a head the size of a watermelon. 

That’s how he ends up in the cage. The cage is a prison formed out of bamboo sticks and thick vines, and it’s big, but not quite big enough to fit his entire body comfortably, so he’s smushed together, heels digging into the bottom of his ass, neck tilted awkwardly, and elbows poking into his sides painfully.

Seonghwa is stuffed into another, purple bruises on display, body twisted and folded in ways that Jongho winces at. The two men who had dragged them to this area are busy conversing with each other happily, so nonchalant, that Jongho feels like kicking their teeth in. He can barely make out his surroundings because of the awkward angle of his head, but he does see that he’s being held in a clearing of sorts, tall trees forming straight lines around him. He doesn’t really care where he is, he just wants to get out, and the thought of these imbeciles getting in the way of that makes a special kind of fury pump through his veins. 

At first, Jongho suppresses this strong emotion, as he does when he’s in the presence of strangers, his body tightening like a coil. And then that memory surfaces again, the one of his precious father, telling him to feel. When someone hurts you, make sure they know, okay? Well, these men haven’t hurt Jongho. Oh, no, they have done so much more than that. They pissed him the hell off. Capturing him, treating him like a piece of garbage washed onto the shore, and stuffing him in a cage like a rabid animal. Jongho left the Mainland to escape this treatment; he has no reason to let them believe they are going to get away with any of this. It doesn’t matter to him who has the upper hand in the situation, he will be heard.

His muscles tighten, and he reels himself together tightly, body flushing with heat. A beat passes, and then Jongho is letting himself explode. With what little room he has, Jongho pounds on the bamboo sticks, anger fueling his every kick and punch. Normally, he doesn’t think that he’d be strong enough to break a cage as finely crafted as the one he’s in, but for some reason Jongho feels absolutely alive with strength. The bamboo sticks shake, vines stretching to accommodate the force of his movement. 

“Let me out,” His voice comes out hoarse, but when he clears his throat it becomes powerful. “LET ME OUT! You bloody savages, LET ME OUT!” 

His captors ignore him at first, rolling their eyes and twirling their bone swords mindlessly, but then the sound of splintering bamboo pierces the air and their heads are snapping in his direction. They rush quickly towards his cage, just as another, much taller, man appears in Jongho’s line of vision. 

The sight of the new man has Jongho’s limbs pausing. The man is fierce, dark skin swirling with ink, arms swollen with muscle, and face covered in what seems to Jongho like the real top half of a skull. Then Jongho’s even more angry, knowing that these men are just pawns, a meaner, older, much bigger man ordering them around like they’re his to use. His matted hair is pulled into tight braids, decorated with color rich feathers, and clay beads. His wrists are strung with bracelets made of silver and gold, and sitting among his chest, vaguely familiar, is a giant rock of ruby. He’s obviously a leader, rich of both fortune and power, and Jongho immediately despises him. His appearance sparks a pool of annoyance in his chest, and once again he’s reeling his limbs back and pounding against his prison. 

“I said, LET ME OUT!” Each word is emphasized with a kick of Jongho’s grimy boot, and suddenly there’s a snap -- just as the door of the cage falls open and he’s being pulled out by his ankles. 

He takes a breath and flails, kicking at whoever is holding his ankles, elbows pushing his upper body up. He only gets an inch off of the ground before something is slamming into his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs, and causing pain to spread throughout his chest like cracks in ice. Jongho doesn’t let that stop him, he immediately reaches for the foot pushed against his chest, and digs his nails into the inked flesh. 

A hiss of words and his wrists are pried off, pinned to the ground as the foot against his stomach slides up and bends his ribs inward. 

“And just where in the hell do you think you’re going?” The man asks, voice thick with an accent Jongho doesn’t recognize, face twisted with in a sneer. 

His fingers crack as his original captors slam their own feet against his hands, using the force of their entire bodies to keep him down. Jongho tries to draw a breath big enough to shout, but the man’s foot only digs deeper when he opens his mouth, and this time he’s pretty sure that a rib breaks inside of his chest. 

“That was a rhetorical question, pirate. It’s fairly obvious you are not going anywhere. You’re my prisoner.” The man barks out. 

He says the word pirate with venom dripping from his lips, a tone Jongho is no stranger to. When he was a beggar, Jongho grew accustomed to the sharp tongues, and poisonous words people used, and when he joined Hongjoong’s crew, they did the same, only this time they used the word pirate like it was a dagger meant to stab into his heart. Jongho is used to people hating him, and he doesn’t care that another stranger is trying to use his status like a weapon against him. It’s stupid when people use words as swords to cut through skin, it grows tiresome, which just heightens his anger. 

All he can manage is a pointed glare, face growing red with lack of oxygen. The man takes notice of this, and chuckling, he lifts his foot enough for Jongho to breathe. Immediately after taking a breath, Jongho spits a remark, “If you don’t let me go I’ll slice you into ribbons. I will make you regret ever doing a thing to me and my friend.” 

Another laugh comes from the leader, eyes sparkling with amusement. Jongho hears his captors laugh this time too, and when he glances at them they grin with shining pearls for teeth. The other man catches his attention again and presses his foot back into his aching chest, so he is no longer able to breathe.

“You’d need a weapon for that, wouldn’t you, pirate?” He drawls, “Normally, you need those to kill me, but even then, that would only happen if these two didn’t slice you to ribbons first.” 

A ringing reaches Jongho’s ears, blocking out the rest of his sentence. How had he never noticed… his hip always held his sword close… the very first sword his father had ever taught him to make… gone… 

Jongho thrashes against the feet holding him down so suddenly and powerfully that the men holding him flinch, giving him enough time to slip his wrists free. He instantly grabs the ankle pressing on his chest and yanks it from his body, causing the man to stumble and fall to his ass. 

One of the others is already on his case, raising his bone sword and letting a war cry spill from his lips. Jongho dodges the blade, and kicks his feet from underneath him. Just as he is about to turn to attack the last standing man, something smacks into the back of his head harshly. 

Jongho stumbles towards Seonghwa’s cage, ankles twisting underneath him, and just as he’s about to reach it, his eyes roll back into his head, and his vision grows black.

~

           With the rushing sound of wind in his ears, San takes no breaks to breathe or stops to check for marked trees. He whistles softly occasionally to check if the others are following, searching for the horizontal marks they left with his peripheral vision. His mind clouds with thoughts, some good, and some bad, all of them pertaining to you. He’s a mix of worried, and determined, charging through the cliff’s passageway, and then through the woods, with flames in his eyes. He can hear Yunho and Yeosang struggling to keep up with his rapid pace, but instead of feeling guilty, San feels annoyed. The faster they go, the faster he can get all the barrels full, and the faster he gets to know if you and the others are okay. He can’t bear it if the only way he knows what’s happened to you is if you never come back. He has to search for you. 

They’re just near the small curtain of leaves leading to the raging river when Yeosang shouts for San to wait. He comes to a halt and turns to see him, palms pressed against his knees as he begs for breath, head dangling.

“What is it, Yeosang?” San demands, turning with his chine held high to see Yunho with his back leaning against a tree for support, eyes squeezed shut, mouth gaped open. “We’re nearly there.” 

“I just need a second, you know, to catch my breath.” Yeosang pants, pulling himself straight and shaking his arms. The empty barrel strapped to his back bounces against him hollowly. His cheeks are blotchy, and his sweat is visible from a mile away. 

“We don’t have a second,” San fights saying this, but in the end it escapes from his lips, his annoyance getting the better part of him. “We’re on a time sensitive mission here, Yeosang. I beg for you to understand.” 

Yeosang looks taken aback, but nods, patting his red cheeks and preparing himself to walk again. It is Yunho who speaks up. 

“Understand?” He starts, scrunching his eyebrows. He pushes away from the tree. “If anyone needs to try and understand, it’s you, San. The two of us can’t move as fast as you. We just carried barrels full of water while jogging, our backs hurt like hell, and we’re out of breath. We need a break.” 

San’s wall of defense pushes him back a step. “A break when the others haven’t gotten back to the ship once? No. You do know that I am straining my body to its limits for this right now? I’ve always done that for the better of the ship, and insisting on a break only means you are selfish--” 

Yunho scoffs. “Selfish, me? You’re only hurrying us to see your precious lady! If any of our actions point to selfishness, they’re yours. You don’t give a damn about the rest of us.” 

San almost audibly gasps, but just as Yunho’s words echo once, a loud BOOM shakes the earth below him. It comes from the shore, near the area of the rocky cliff. It comes from Aurora, and San would know. He’s fired those cannons countless times. 

Yeosang stills. “That was a cannon being shot. From our ship.” 

“They’re under attack, Hongjoong is in danger.” Yunho whispers. “We have to go back and help them.” 

Boots still vibrating, San takes a sharp breath, already partially knowing what is coming. “No.” 

Yunho swivels to face him, anger most prominent on his features. “NO? You mean we shouldn’t assist our fellow members when they’re under attack by monsters?” 

San feels his chest quake slightly when he breathes in a fresh breath of air, eyes still flaming, and raises his eyebrows. “You heard a cannon shot, not a shell being blown. They’re in no need of assistance as of right now. Now come, we have our own duties to proceed with.” 

San is facing the other way when Yunho finally responds. “I was right, you don’t give a damn about us.” 

San feels something unlock inside of his chest that he isn’t even aware of locking in the first place. His face contorts, and he spins on his heel, charging towards Yunho with ferocity. Yunho’s eyes widen as San grabs the front of his shirt, fist full of fabric and leather strap. He presses his face so close to Yunho’s he can see the beads of sweat that break out along his forehead. 

“You’re absolutely right. I hate every single one of you. I hate you so much I’m risking my life right now to keep you watered. I hate you so much that I slayed a giant squid while you cowered in the weapons closet. I hate you, I really do, Yunho. I hate you so much that I would die for you. But all of that doesn’t matter right now, does it? If I hate you, or I love you, if I give a damn or not. We’re here to fill these barrels and return them to the ship. Now, I had clear instructions to go when called, not to go when danger strikes. If our Captain needs us, I will know. As of right now, Hongjoong is fighting with a very capable gun in his hands, aboard a ship with dozens of very capable weapons, and has just fired a very capable cannon. And at this exact moment in time, I do not care if you’re scared and want to run back. We have duties, and we will fulfill them.” 

San releases Yunho’s shirt from his grasp, and grunts. He spins on his heel and when the silence grows, he bunches his fist. “I’m just as scared as you are, Yunho.” 

When they fail to respond, San starts walking in the direction of the river again. He pushes at the floppy leaves blocking his entrance and steps into the river without hesitation. The water swallows him to his knees, soaking him to the bone. 

“You’re never scared,” Yeosang says, appearing at the edge of the river as San unhooks his barrel. “You’re Choi San.” 

“Yeosang,” San shakes his head. “I think you’ve known me long enough to come to the conclusion that the tall tales of my fearlessness back on the Mainland were just myths. Stories told by bored commoners when the rich didn’t have scandals to pass on. I’m quite possibly even more terrified than the two of you combined.” 

“Why is that?” Yunho appears, voice softer, sympathetic.. 

San glances at him through the strands of hair that fall to his forehead when he bends to dip his barrel below the raging waters. His red cheeks have paled, and his innocent eyes make San regret ever spitting in his face. “I am entirely too horrified at the thought of losing any of you. The thought alone makes me rash, angry, and I get out of hand. I apologize for being ugly. We just have to focus on what’s better for all of us. I have to. Things start to go badly when I grow too worried about one thing alone. You’ve seen it yourself.” 

A pause in the conversation follows as San heaves his now full barrel to the edge of the river and slaps the top on. He uses his elbow to secure it before turning back to the raging waters, drawing his sword. 

“I should apologize. Again.” Yunho finally speaks. He looks rather guilty. “I’ve let my own emotions take over for the second time today. You have nothing to be sorry for, San. I’m just terrified, and I’m a hypocrite. I’m the selfish one. I’m so scared of dying. Of having to die here, in a place I don’t know, by the hands of creatures. I don’t want to go this way.” 

“No one does.” Yeosang chips in. He takes the barrel from his shoulders and hugs it. His cheek rests against the brim, cherub-like appearance enhanced too entirely for the other two to ignore. “I don’t even want to think about it. So I don’t. I keep telling myself that we’ll make it out alive. All of us without a scratch. And while I know it’s impossible to leave this place unscathed, I can hope for it. And that hope is what is keeping me going.” 

San motions for Yeosang to hand him his barrel and he obliges, handing it over, silently watching as he stabs his sword into the moss to free his hands. He bends over and fills it with ease, the silver streak in his hair glinting in the reflection of the blue water. 

“So let us have hope,” San replies, standing tall once the barrel fills. “Let’s move quickly, let it fill our joints and muscles, and drive us like wild horses into victory.” 

Yunho draws his sword and hovers over the rapid waters of the river in hopes of catching movement. “You’re quite the poet in desperate times, eh, Quartermaster?” 

San smiles, hiding it behind the barrel as he heaves it beside his. “I meant the move quickly part literally. You move like slugs, what are you waiting for? We’ve got some seadogs to assist back on shore. The faster we get these barrels filled, the faster we get back to beautiful Aurora.” 

And so they do.

~

        “Is he fucking drunk?” Hongjoong screams, blood bubbling. 

Mingi glances over the side of the wobbling ship with terrified eyes. “Captain! What should I do?” 

Hongjoong has reached the point in leadership where he just wants to yell that he doesn’t know. He wants to fall to the sand and pull at the roots of his hair, jerk his arms and legs like a child throwing a tantrum and give up. He desperately wants to do that. Instead, he grabs the rope, begins to climb up the side of the boat, and barks orders at Mingi over the echoes of the cannon blast. 

“Continue to haul the water barrels to the lower deck! I’ll go see what Wooyoung is aiming at.” 

As Hongjoong stumbles to the cannon room, located at the front of the ship behind a very discreet hatch, he wonders what the absolute hell has gotten into Wooyoung. Firstly, he has the mind to act bored in a situation such as this, and then he starts to freak just as shockingly, as if it had barely hit him that they’re on an island full of monsters. Along with that, he had thrown himself off of the crow’s nest, nearly killing himself, and essentially throwing the only good telescope they had aboard into the sea. 

The cannon room smells of gunpowder and smoke. Once Hongjoong enters he leaves the door open, squinting due to the stinging in his eyes. Wooyoung is amidst the chaos, hair pushed back with the force of the cannon blast, eyes wide and… crazy. Wooyoung, Hongjoong’s best friend in the entire world looks as if he has lost his mind. He’s loading the cannon once more, getting ready to fire another shot into the ocean. Aiming at, as far as Hongjoong can see, nothing. 

“Wooyoung, what in the hell has gotten into you?” Honjoong cries, rushing over to try and pry the stone ball from his hands. “You might as well alert the entire island of our presence!” 

Wooyoung whips to him, and the look of insanity heightens. “Do you not see them, Joong? They’re all around us, if we don’t fight they’ll eat us alive!” 

“Just what are you going on about?” Hongjoong manages to really scream as he successfully takes the stone ball from Wooyoung’s hands. 

“The bloody monsters, Joong!” Wooyoung cries, voice shaky and terrified. His eyes dart from port to port, seeing something Hongjoong cannot. 

He feels tears prick at the back of his eyes. Tears of frustration. He places the stone back with the others and peers out through the port in front of the cannon. The sky is blue, the sun is slowly moving across the sky, and the sea eats at the sand, swaying back and forth, back and forth. But there is no sign of monsters. 

“Wooyoung--” 

Hongjoong is cut off by the sound of the cannon being reloaded, and the Captain decides to act before he speaks. He pulls the gun from it’s position on his belt and points it directly at the center of Wooyoung’s forehead. “Get away from the cannon, Woo.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes go red quickly, impossibly fast as if he has already been on the brink of crying, spilling tears collected at his waterline. His lip quivers, snot running down to his chin. “Why are you pointing a gun at me, Joong? Did I do something wrong?” 

“Get away from the cannon, Wooyoung. There are no monsters, you are letting fear control your actions, and because of this you have risked the exposure of our ship. The cannons are last resort. Not for panic use.” Hongjoong’s voice is demanding and harsh, true Captain tone. He’s never spoken to him like this, it has his voice wavering, lip quivering. 

Wooyoung lets the stone sphere fall into the back of the cannon, and the noise it makes as it rolls, stone on stone, makes Hongjoong flinch. He places his finger on the trigger. 

Wooyoung gasps. “They’re everywhere, Joong… how are we supposed to survive this? If I were to fight—” 

“You’re really in no shape to be fighting any monsters right now. You need to leave this room.” Hongjoong says. A tear rolls down his cheek. He despises the fact that he is holding a gun to his best mates head, he hates that he has to use this sort of force to get him to do as he says. What in the world is wrong with Wooyoung? 

Hongjoong watches as Wooyoung backs away, tripping over a fallen cannonball and collapsing into the floor with a whimper. He puts his gun back into its holster, rushing over to his side, ready to try and comfort him. Hongjoong’s knees thunk against the floor, and he immediately presses his hands to Wooyoung’s wet cheeks, sniffling. 

“Wooyoung,” Hongjoong whispers. “I think you’re hallucinating. Did you happen to tap into the moonshine under my bed? Or the absinthe? It’s okay if you did, I just need to know.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes widen. “I didn’t, of course I didn’t, Joong. I am not an alcoholic like the others claim. You know that. You know me… don’t you?” 

Hongjoong doesn’t know what to believe. Sure, he’s known Wooyoung since they were young, and he always tells the truth, but he had also just set off the cannon and potentially sent out a signal to everyone on the island. He’s conflicted. “Let’s give you some of the water that just arrived and we’ll let you rest for a bit. If we really need you in a fight, willl you be ready?” 

Wooyoung’s entire face falls. “There are monsters circling the ship as we speak, and you’re worried about fights we might have?” 

Hongjoong frowns. “Wooyoung there are no monsters! This entire thing -- you’re imagining it! It’s all in your head!” 

“I don’t know if the fact that you don’t believe me hurts more than the fact that you don’t believe in me, Hongjoong.” Wooyoung whispers, face suddenly clear of all fear. Then his eyes flick to the side, to the open port nearest to his head. His eyes widen and he gulps. “They’re right there.” 

Hongjoong pushes himself straight to look outside the port, getting a clear view of the shore. What he sees is not pleasing at all, but before he can call for Mingi, who’s making a ruckus down at the other end of the bottom deck moving barrels, Wooyoung slams a fist into his jaw, knocking him back into the floor. 

And as his best friend beats his brains in, the natives shuffle along the shore, weapons raised, dead intent clear on their faces. 

~

        Seonghwa wakes up in so much agony he instantly regrets pulling himself from his dreams. His head thrums with his pulse, as if his brain and heart swapped places in his body. His ankle also throbs with each beat, fire wrapped around it like an anklet. His body is folded in ways he can’t comprehend, and everything just aches like a bitch. Moral of the story, he thinks, don’t go to random islands and pass out. Pain will ensue. He can’t even differentiate what hurts and what doesn’t, everything is on fire. 

His eyes manage to open after sometime, but he knows that they’re swollen because his eyelids feel rubbery, itchy, and are hard to pry apart. The light nearly blinds him, but once they adjust he realizes that his face is pressed up against two bars of bamboo, strung together with vine that makes his cheeks twitch. His exact memories don’t register immediately, which doesn’t really matter, because Seonghwa is sure there is no explanation that would make sense as to how he had gotten into this situation. Every branch of him is pushed against his torso, arms, legs, neck. His mouth feels like a bed of cotton, and his bladder strains with piss. 

Out of all the moments in his life when he needs to take a piss, he thinks, of course it has to be now. Did he mention everything hurts? Yes, well, the yelling doesn’t help either. 

“LET ME GO!” 

Seonghwa doesn’t bother listening, because he knows it won’t end well. He’s in a cage, that much is obvious, and Jongho is with him, and that probably means that they’re being held prisoner right now, and yelling LET ME GO, isn’t going to help their case. Even if he cared enough about the yelling, he can’t see what's happening with Jongho anyway. He can barely crane his neck enough to catch sight of his empty cage, which leads Seonghwa to picture people holding him in their arms the way civil guards held ‘pirates’ when they were caught stealing on the Mainland. He pictured random people, arms looped with Jongho’s, their hands pulling at their chins so that they could look the others in the eyes while they beat him. Seonghwa is glad he can’t see just in case what he’s picturing is right. Then again, no one can really be as savage as the civil guard. 

A thought registers in his head as the obvious sounds of a fight go on somewhere in front of him hazily, and it’s of you. Terrified you, coming back to help him after he had stupidly twisted his dumb ankle. He turns his head to the right, hoping they had treated you better with a roomier cage. His eyes are greeted by tall trees and grass. Empty space. No you, no cage, nothing. His muscles tighten. Where are you? 

It takes a lot of expert maneuvering for Seonghwa to take a look behind him, which proves useless when he’s met with the same thing. He takes a deep breath and angles his neck awkwardly to the side so that he finally sees Jongho and three other men… just as one is hitting him in the back of the head with a long white sword. He stumbles Seonghwa’s way, and they meet eyes briefly before he’s falling forward, unconscious. 

Seonghwa flinches. “Jongho!” 

“Oh, great, we woke the other one.” The tallest, and quite obviously, the scariest of the three mumbles. Seonghwa instantly doesn’t like him. “Put him back in the cage and fix the broken latch.” 

The man, who Seonghwa wants to refer to as the devil, turns to him and saunters over, head held high, despite the fact that he’s wiping dirt from his ass. “So, you’re finally awake. Another filthy pirate that’s going to insult and threaten me, and attempt something rash that makes me hurt you even more. Though, you already look like death.” 

Seonghwa’s first instinct is to ask for you. “Where is she?” 

The man’s nose scrunches with confusion for half a second before he’s once again cool and collected. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.” 

Seonghwa’s body fills with panic, and he jerks his shoulder against the bamboo. His memories resurfaced clearly enough: train of noise, silence, louder noise, ropes, black. He’s sure that you were beside him the whole time, you had to have been. If not, then where are you? He grits his teeth, “Where is my filthy pirate friend? Huh? Where is she?” 

Now Seonghwa sees the appeal in yelling. He’s making a point, putting his voice out into the open and being seen. Demanding feels great, but only if you get what you’re striving for, but Seonghwa has a feeling no matter how much he yells this man won’t deliver. It doesn’t stop him. “I said where is she?”

The man’s face shrivels with anger. He crouches beside Seonghwa’s cage and pinches at the fingers Seonghwa has wrapped around one of the bamboo sticks. “Listen, boy, I don’t know if you knocked your head hard enough that you’re delusional, or if you’re simply confused as to what your friend over there is. There is no girl, and there never has been. There is no such thing as girl pirates. And if I ever see one, she’s dead on the spot. That’s a waste of a woman.”

Blinded by hate, Seonghwa’s mouth acts on its own. “You’re a waste of a man, sitting on this island and caging those who come upon it, placing monsters on its perimeters so you can keep everything here for yourself, to sell it at ludicrous prices to grow your riches. You’re a waste.” 

Seonghwa cries out when the man’s nails pierce the skin of his fingers and draw blood. He tries to yank his hand back, but the man only digs deeper. Seonghwa can’t help it, he spits straight in the man’s face, his only way of defense when he can’t move his body the way he wants. 

“Filthy, dirty, stupid pirate!” He booms, hooking his nails under Seonghwa’s skin and dragging down with all the strength of his bulging arms. Seonghwa has never felt a greater pain than this exact moment, skin pulling from his bones. “I’ll kill you, and your idiotic friends!” 

The man stands up once more, following Seonghwa’s skinning with a teeth rattling kick to his cage. The bamboo prison tips off of the ground with the force, and Seonghwa accidentally bites down on his own tongue when it falls back into the ground harshly, spattering his face with his own blood. Blood, Christ, it’s everywhere. The smell makes Seonghwa’s mouth water in the way that also makes his throat clog with sick. Great, now he needs to pee and retch. 

Blowing steam from his ears, Seonghwa watches as the man stomps back to his two men, ordering them around in a voice that oozes authority. As he clutches his bloody hand to his chest, Seonghwa finally sees the cabin, grand and beautiful, a home of luxury. Several windows overlook the area he’s being held in, and a wraparound porch is ornamented with several beautiful rocking chairs covered with quilts that look comfortable and warm. A hot shot of envy pulses in Seonghwa’s chest. It is always the ugliest people with the most beautiful things, he thinks. The selfish people who take things like this home for themselves, smile like sunshine emits from their pores when, in fact, only hatred does. The kind of people they were trying to escape in the Mainland. Great, he thinks for the third time in the span of his consciousness, he’s being held prisoner by the kind of person he loathes (not that he ever expected to like his captors, but come on). 

When the sticky blood of his skinned fingers starts to drip down his forearm to rest in the crease of his elbow, Seonghwa reaches into the coat they hadn’t stripped him of, and moves less enthusiastically than before to fetch a handkerchief he uses to wrap his hand. The entire thing makes him nauseous. There are bits of skin hanging loosely from the bottom of his nails, and pink, exposed second layer of skin peeps through all the way to his knuckles in lines. He worries that infection will spring on him before he manages to escape, which is followed by a flurry of worries about possible amputation, which leads to worries about the loss of his entire arm. A desperate yearn for Yunho stabs Seonghwa, and he smiles fondly at the thought of Aurora’s doctor, despite the circumstance. Yunho hasn’t treated him for many things, but the first time he ever got injured on the ship, which was the result of waves and kitchen knife wielding, his friend had been soft, and tender, like a mother tending to a sick child. Yunho is everywhere in terms of personality, but the one thing Seonghwa knows he’s consistent with is his passion for caring for his people. All Seonghwa wants now is that tenderness, that comforting hand. He’s cold, it feels like every part of him is doused in pain, and his stomach swirls with both vomit and hunger. 

Seonghwa is at the point where he would rather starve in Aurora than be on Wonderland for another second. It’s as if he’s been here for an eternity, and all he wants is out. 

He leans his head against the side of his cage in defeat, and glances at Jongho through his eyelashes. A welt is quite possibly already blossoming at the back of his head, and Seonghwa feels like an expert in pain, because he knows that it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch when he comes to. On the other hand, Seonghwa knows that it won’t hurt quite as much as he is hurting now, which relieves a part of him. He would much rather suffer the pain of being skinned and kicked than be forced to see any other crew member go through it. Experience, he can handle, watch, he cannot. 

Seonghwa is just about to avert his eyes back to the cabin when they catch sight of something that makes his stomach jolt with excitement. The bamboo stick that the scary man had ordered his crones to fix is loosely, almost carelessly, wrapped in vines, cracked straight through the middle. Seonghwa knows for a fact that if Jongho is strong enough to break it once, he can do it again. 

“Jongho!” He hisses, wincing when his ballooning tongue throbs painfully, hoping that his voice manages to sneak through the cloudiness of Jongho’s brain. “You have to wake up, Jongho!”

The caring part of Seonghwa wants Jongho to sleep and wake when his body is ready, but he knows that this will probably most likely result in something far worse than a hit to the back of the head. He has no clue as to what these people are planning to do to them (well, killing is obvious, but the how is what Seonghwa is afraid of), and the other rational part of him wishes that the conversation would have gone smoother, that they could’ve talked, but he also knows that trying to make a proper conversation with a man with a skull covering the top half of his face is probably pointless altogether. 

All he can really do to help himself and possibly save them, is to try. If he doesn’t try then he can’t really say he’s a true pirate, that he never fought for his life with a snarl on his face, and determination in his heart. He has to try.

With these thoughts in mind, Seonghwa grits his teeth, and using his injured hand, pokes his wrist between bars of bamboo, fingers circling around a stone the size of a baby’s fist. He pulls it inside of his cage, eyes flickering to the cabin to be sure that his captors are out of sight, and bites down into the shallow wounds decorating his tongue. A new wave of blood spills from between his lips in scarlet drops, and Seonghwa has to go against his own body to dig deeper, until the entire stone is coated in it. The smell of blood is sharp, stings his nose, and it’s the perfect sort of thing to wake Jongho from the slumber he’s in. 

It takes a few minutes for Seonghwa to muster the strength to move again. He wants to lay against the bars, and embrace death like an old friend. He doesn’t let himself indulge in that pleasure. Being a pirate is hard, Hongjoong had said when he asked Seonghwa to join his crew, you’ll face trials and tribulations you’d never even dreamed of, are you still willing to risk it? When Hongjoong had said those words, Seonghwa thought that the hardest thing they would endure would be harsh stares, and acid words. He did not expect anything that he was experiencing. Still, he took an oath, he placed his bloody palm against the side of Aurora in a promise to never betray her hull. And today is not going to be the day he quits. It’ll take more than the wounds he has to make him give up. 

Swallowing the rest of the blood in his mouth, Seonghwa bares the fire in his body with every movement that he makes, and raises his arm, grits his teeth, and throws the stone straight at Jongho’s mouth with the remaining drive in his body. The ruby red stone plummets towards Jongho with decent speed, and just as Seonghwa slumps in his cage once more, the stone hits its target. There’s a noise that Seonghwa winces at, stone against teeth, and then the stone falls, but it leaves Jongho’s upper lip smeared with blood. A current of excitement shoots through Seonghwa’s veins. 

One second, two seconds… thirty seconds. 

When nothing happens, Seonghwa leans against the bamboo with all of his weight, peering at the sky through the green bars of his prison, and finally allows his tears to fall. They’re tears of pain, of failure, of disappointment. Seonghwa’s dream is to die with a full belly of red wine, a thick slab of meat, and maybe even a mango, but he’s going to die, body swollen and tarnished, hopes feeble, and pain great. This is not how he pictured reuniting with his grandparents. 

The sky is beautiful above Wonderland, and it’s something Seonghwa never thought he would admit. The stories told on the Mainland depict the island as a place with yellow grass, shriveled trees, and deep, endless shadows with monsters crawling in every corner. It’s the exact opposite. In fact, Seonghwa might even say that it’s ten times more gorgeous than the Mainland, grass green like emerald, cerulean skies with cotton ball clouds, and a yellow sun that makes your skin warm, and the thing that stands out the most: fluffy amethyst moss covering the entire span of the island, spreading across the land, and crawling up the sides of trees like it wants to swallow everything whole. It’s a beautiful place that in different circumstances Seonghwa might like dying in. If it weren’t for the monsters, both creatures and humans. He doesn’t have a choice. This is how it ends. 

“Seonghwa?” 

His entire body jolts with the explosion of surprise that goes off in the pit of his stomach, and Seonghwa barely has time to peep his head through the bars of bamboo before he’s throwing up blood, tree bark, and stomach acid. He doesn’t take the time to wipe his mouth, smiling and averting his gaze from his pool of sick to Jongho. 

“Jongho!” Seonghwa cries, forgetting completely to keep his voice down. “It worked! You’re awake!” 

Jongho’s face is scrunched in revulsion, and he grunts. “What worked? Ugh, no matter. Where’s the fucking prick? I want to pull that son of a bitch off his feet again.” 

“No,” Seonghwa returns, suddenly remembering where they are. “We need to get out of here, and fast. You really angered that man, Jongho, and he swore to kill us. If we don’t escape before he comes back, we’re going to find out how these people execute their enemies.” 

“I feel like my head has been smashed against a boulder ten times,” Jongho mutters. “and it smells like my father's shop. Like metal.” 

Seonghwa manages to chuckle. “Well, it was the only way to get you conscious from here. If I broke a tooth, I am very sorry in advance.” 

Jongho narrows his eyes, then they catch sight of the bloodied handkerchief around his fingers, and they widen. “I forgive you in advance, as I’m sure any pain I am feeling is nothing compared to yours. What happened? Did that heathen of a man do it?” 

Seonghwa nods. “Yes. I wanted to be the civil, level headed one, but my emotions got the better of me. I insulted him. Jongho… what happened to her?” 

Seonghwa’s voice is light, full of worry, and anticipation. Jongho has to know what happened to you. How you escaped the trap, or if they killed you on sight. He’s terrified to find out, but he has to know. Jongho’s head droops, which doesn’t help the spike of anxiety, and then the younger boy is shaking his head. 

“I don’t know,” He all but whispers. “I remember us running, my hand wrapped around your elbow, but then we tripped. We set a trap off and were bound in rope higher than you can see from the ground. I tried to call for her, but I guess she didn’t see us. She left. I don’t know what happened to her. I don’t know if she went back to Aurora and announced us dead, or if she’s still searching. I don’t know. I wish I knew she was safe. San’s going to kill us.” 

If he isn’t dead already. The thought is terrifying. It runs through both of their heads at the exact same moment, and causes a shiver down both spines. Neither of them voices it. 

“You broke the latch.” Seonghwa says after minutes of harrowing silence, voice cracking. “They bound it poorly. If you try hard enough, I’m sure you can break it again.” 

Jongho’s eyes slide to the broken bamboo. He was in a raging fit of anger when he kicked the latch in half. Can he do it again? His doubt is almost as strong as his anger had been. His eyebrows knit together. “Seonghwa, I was angry when I broke this thing, irrational. That’s exactly why they knocked me unconscious, because I wasn’t thinking right. If we try and escape we have to do the math--” 

Seonghwa’s eyes slide down to his belt, where Jongho’s sword usually hangs. Of course they’d take their weapons, but he knows the attachment that Jongho has to his sword. He sleeps with the thing, they’d never take it from him easily. If anger is what Jongho needs, then it’s what he’ll get. 

“You’re pathetic,” Seonghwa spits, both blood and saliva spewing passed his lips. His speech is hindered by of his swelling tongue. Jongho cuts his own words off and looks at him in surprise. “Letting these men make such a fool of you. Don’t you think your father would be disappointed? All the things you’ve endured, and your life is going to end by the hands of men who control monsters like horses, and feed off of the blood of the innocent. You allowed them to take your sword and knock you in the back of the head like a naughty child. A stupid, emotional child.” 

Jongho’s face is red with rage, fingers snaking around a stick of bamboo, tightening with every word. He opens his mouth, possibly to roar, but they’re interrupted by the sound of a shell. It’s a shrill sound, barely familiar because they’ve only heard it once. The blood drains from Jongho’s face, and Seonghwa’s lights with hope. 

“That was--” Seonghwa starts.

“A shell.” Jongho finishes. 

“We need to call back.” Seonghwa says immediately, using his good hand to fish inside his coat for his own beige shell. 

“Are you insane!” Jongho hisses. “The men who brought us here will hear, and then she’ll be just as dead as we are.” 

“Hongjoong said they were enchanted so only those we want can hear their calls.” Seonghwa says matter-of-factly. He finds the shell and kisses it, staining it red. 

“And you believe that?” Jongho rushes, fingernails braced against the bamboo. His chest jumps each breath.

Seonghwa raises the shell as if raising a glass of wine. “After being chased by monsters, I’ll believe in anything.” 

He blows, and Jongho winces. Seonghwa wishes that only you hear, wherever you are, in whatever condition, so that you know that they are alive. He doesn’t even think in that moment about what will happen if you do find them. There's a pause, silence deafening as Jongho curls into himself, awaiting the fuming monster of a man to come barreling towards them with steam blowing from his ears, his crones following quickly behind. 

But they don’t. 

“Grab your shell, maybe there’s a higher chance she will hear us if we both wish for her to hear.” Seonghwa prompts. 

Jongho hesitates, but is quick to reach into the pocket he knows his spotted shell is sitting in. He places it against his lips, heart beating fast, and then when he meets eye contact with Seonghwa, he blows. 

The shells emit a harmony of hope, an answer to a call, a cry for help. They want you to save them. 

They need you to save them. 

~~~

ahoy, matey! what did you think? I decided to change it up a bit this chapter and give you insight on our little maknae & mango boy! i hope you don’t mind that MC didn’t get a POV. NEXT CHAPTER! it is going to be insane!!! tell me what you think will happen!

[raendown]

Pairing: KakashiShisuiSakura Word count: 1810 Soulmate au: The one where everyone has a tattoo that shifts under your skin to reach towards your soulmate

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 209

Shisui was pretty sure his ink was just confused. He’d never heard of that being possible but there were a lot of people who had called him impossible in varying tones throughout the years so he wouldn’t put it past himself to have the first indecisive soul ink in the world. There were times when he thought that he knew who his soulmate was and of the two options he had narrowed it down to he could admit that he would be equally excited to be matched with either of them and yet…

And yet his ink didn’t seem to want to settle on either person. 

In Kakashi’s presence he could feel exasperation just as often as fondness, never a dull moment. As a child he’d been enamored with rules almost to the point that they became his entire personality but in the years since then he had blossomed in to an entirely different person, now a grown man prone to tardiness and napping in trees. His laid back attitude was something Shisui had appreciated on more than one occasion when he needed someone to remind him that life was more than just endless missions. Life could also be lazy afternoons reading smutty trash in public parks. 

With Sakura he always felt just as happy, though. Her determination and sense of justice warmed his heart every time he was lucky enough to watch her either on the battlefield or in the hospital. A woman of many talents, she had honed them all through hard work and a sense of dedication that Shisui couldn’t help but admire. If Kakashi was a lazy Sunday afternoon then Sakura was a fire determined to burn as brightly as possible. 

Sometimes he wondered if the ink in his skin was leaving the choice up to him but how was he meant to choose between two such perfect options? It was hard to imagine ever being completely happy when a part of him would always be yearning for someone else no matter how much he loved the person he ended up with. Because he did love them, both of them, and the deeper his feelings grew the more he began to think that he almost didn’t want to know after all which of them was his true soulmate. Knowing somehow felt worse. To definitively settle on one would be to admit that he would never have the other. In a way he was almost grateful at times that his ink could not decide, saving him the heartbreak of letting go. 

But not on days like today. Times like now, as he sat panting at the edge of training field number seventeen and watched the two pieces of his heart spar against each other, all Shisui felt was a deep aching want. Either or both, he wasn’t feeling picky. In that moment as he watched the flex of Sakura’s muscles and the grace of Kakashi’s supine dodge he wanted nothing more than a pair of arms around him and an end to the confusion. 

“Ah ah,” Kakashi taunted as he skipped away from another punch that would have taken his head off if it connected. “Someone’s form is a little sloppy today, ne?” 

“Yeah I noticed you haven’t been able to land any hits yet,” Sakura shot back.

“I thought I’d let you tire yourself out so poor Shisui could have an easy win. Look at him over there, all red in the face and tired out after just one round.” Kakashi turned to aim a quick wink over towards the edge of the field and both of them laughed when Shisui flailed. 

“O-oi!” he called, hurrying to defend himself. “I just didn’t sleep well last night!”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he winced. What a weak defense. He wasn’t surprised to see both of his friends pause in their mock battle to snicker at him. A moment later he also wasn’t surprised to see Kakashi take advantage of the momentary distraction to move as fast as his lightning nature, stepping in close to press a kunai against the soft skin over Sakura’s jugular vein. The two of them traded a heated look that made Shisui groan softly to himself. Why did they both have to be so attractive?

“Superb. Well done. Excellent. You won by cheating!” Sakura plastered a brilliant smile across her face that could not have been any more sarcastic if she tried, though it was easy to see the genuine fondness hiding underneath. 

“Don’t be sassy just because you lost,” Kakashi admonished her with the same fondness in his mock lecturing tone. 

The two of them traded false bickering and insults as they separated, weapons sliding back in to holsters and dust beaten off of clothing before they turned to make their way across the field. By the time they got close to where Shisui was resting against a tree they still hadn’t come to a solid agreement on whether Kakashi had actually won that round. 

“Why don’t we let Shisui decide?” Sakura lifted one eyebrow challengingly. “I’m sure he’ll make the right choice.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Think you can pick the best between us, Shisui? The clear winner? The right choice?” Turning on the charm as only he could, Kakashi turned to send him another wink that would make anyone’s heart beat out of control. 

“I don’t, uh, well…”

Rubbing at the back of his head, Shisui tugged on several messy curls and tried to think of some way to explain that he was the last person qualified to make a choice between them without admitting why. Between the two of them he was certain one was the person meant to bond to him for a lifetime and yet-

And yet, come to think of it, if that was true then at least one of them should have ink of their own reaching back. Ink that should not have been as confused as his. Strange to think that either of these paragons of confidence would still hesitate to approach him after all this time. Without the confusion of ink that leapt back and forth in a way it wasn’t supposed to it should have been easy for them to conclude that he was their soulmate. 

Before he could think to stop himself, Shisui let his eyes drop to the hands hanging loose at their sides. From his spot huddled on the ground they were both of a height with his face. Although both of them wore gloves they were fingerless affairs that afforded Shisui the perfect view of pale skin patterned with ink in undefined shapes. Both of them. With a dry swallow he tried not to let the strange disappointment show on his face as he realized that even finally allowing himself to look hadn’t changed a thing; he still had no better clue as to which one of them belonged to him. Even worse, now there were doubts growing in his mind that it was either of them. Surely if one was his soulmate they would have noticed and approached him about it - or so he assumed. 

There was, after all, always the chance they might not approve of the match. 

“Can’t we just call it a draw?” he asked pathetically. “I wasn’t really paying too much attention.” A complete and utter lie. There were few things in the world he paid more attention to than the two strong, gorgeous figures standing over him now. Sakura called his bluff with a bark of laughter. 

“Like hell you weren’t,” she said.

“Maa, maa, Sakura-chan don’t be so mean! Shisui can take all the time he needs to come to the right conclusion!” Kakashi hummed pleasantly and held out a hand, an offer to help him up, and for one single crazy moment Shisui almost thought he saw the ink on those fingers move. But that was silly. His was the only ink that seemed to twitch and jump about as though confused.

He had time to lift one hand and hesitate before Sakura held out one of her own as well with a confident, “Ha! Don’t try and butter him up!” 

“Would I do that?” 

“Yes.”

“I am wounded!”

“Huh, you’re about to be!” Rolling her eyes, Sakura blew a lock of hair away from her sweaty face and wriggled her outstretched fingers. “Come on, I’ll help you up Shisui. Because some of us won’t try and butter you up just to convince you to declare them the winner of a silly spar!”

Kakashi gasped dramatically. “Don’t listen to her, Shisui! It’s all lies!”

Almost as if in slow motion he watched the both of them reach out for him at the same time, muscles frozen, his own hand suspended in the air where he was powerless to move it. He watched their fingers close around his. Then with a thundering in his heart he watched as all three of their inks flowed together and settled in to stillness like three puzzle pieces united at last.

“Oh…” His soft exclamation drew his companions’ attention to where his eyes were fixated, all three of them holding very still as though not to disturb the moment. “Looks like...I don’t have to choose after all.”

Seeing it now it was hard to imagine that he could ever have believed he only had one soulmate. The phenomenon was rare but it was not unheard of; why had he never considered this before? Looking back over the years, he realized that in all the time they had spent together the three of them must have never been touching at the same time. They had, of course, thrown their arms over each other in camaraderie or support but not like this with all three of their hands together where their ink could meet and explode in to brilliant color. 

“Two soulmates,” he heard Sakura whisper. “I have two soulmates?”

“Well that explains a lot,” Kakashi mumbled. 

Shisui blinked, looking at both of them a little closer. Then without warning he threw his head back and laughed. “Have we really all been confused about this for all these years? And none of us said anything?”

Both of his companions traded sheepish looks and it only made him laugh all the harder. Strong fingers tightened around his own, anchors to keep him grounded through the tears of bitter mirth and the relief crashing through his veins. He didn’t have to choose. No more nights lying awake and tearing himself apart between two people who held his heart so equally. From now on they would hold his heart together as they were always meant to and Shisui, surging up from the ground to pull them both towards him for a tight embrace, could not possibly think of anything that would make him happier. 

[goron-king-darunia]

Annon-Guy: Hi Darunia. What did you think of the Marta Defense Post I sent you? What did you think of it? Did it have good marit to it?

I’ve seen it before. I admit, the author of the post writes in a convincing manner, but it still doesn’t change my mind. I do feel she spent at LEAST half the game showing the negative traits Lumenary insists were only there for 1/4 of the game and that being 16 isn’t much of an excuse for Marta. 16 definitely excuses her from, say, accusations that “she didn’t stop her father so she is bad.” Like... She is 16, has no real legal or physical power and has no allies so of course she can’t take down Brute and the entire Vanguard by herself. She’s a kid. 30-year-old. Yeah, she might be able to oppose her father (even though it’s definitely not her responsibility to do so). 16-year-old Marta? I don’t blame her at all for stealing the core and running. Despite what Lumenary thinks, my problem with Marta stems not from the fact that she didn’t oppose her dad and the Vanguard. It comes from how she treated Emil.Being 16 does NOT excuse her from being that insensitive to Emil’s and Ratatosk’s needs for a large portion of the game. Her mother being dead also isn’t an excuse. Emil lost both parents and Richter is also an orphan and neither of them have the same boundary-breaching issues Marta has with intimacy. Emil repeatedly confirms what he’s comfortable with and she keeps pushing his limits. (It’s also especially nasty of her to demand Emil choose between Colette and herself IN FRONT OF COLETTE and the only reason Emil avoided giving the ‘wrong answer’ was because he didn’t understand the question and Tenebrae bailed him out. Like... it’s not nice to ask someone to pick favorites in front of the people he’d end up hurting if he said they weren’t his favorite, you know?)Also the part where Marta goes to sacrifice herself to save Luin that Lumenary talks about? I see that as selfish. When Emil asks her to hand over the core to save Luin, he doesn’t understand that removing it is impossible for her without her dying. Yes, he should have let her explain why she couldn’t hand over the core, but as far as he knew, the Vanguard - which Marta was part of - is fighting over this core and the entire reason Palmacosta burned was because of that and Luin was currently under attack for the same reason. As far as Emil knew, all they wanted was the core. And, as far as he knew, it could simply be removed and handed over... and once Tenebrae said she would die? He immediately changed his tune. “We have to tell her!” “SHE ALREADY KNOWS.” She didn’t try to explain again after Emil’s outburst. She didn’t say “I would hand over the core for you if I could, but if I try, it will kill me. And besides that, I think it’s better for us to hang onto it, since I believe what Tenebrae says about the importance of waking Ratatosk.” She didn’t try to explain or wait for Emil to calm down. She just saw he was angry with her and said “LOL, okay, I’ll go die for you. And once Emil realizes she will die? He immediately backs off of that idea, even though Tenebrae REMINDS HIM that the town will ostracize him for protecting Marta and the core. This reads less to me as a noble sacrifice and more like petty squabbling. “Marta, eat your broccoli” “But I don’t wanna!” “But you have to.” “FINE.” Eats broccoli and dies of allergy for SPITE. Now, I’m not saying this is how it’s meant to be read or even the correct way to read that, but it feels like she didn’t even try to explain to Emil again. It’s possible that she thought he wouldn’t listen, but the fact that he listened to Tenebrae suggests that perhaps if she’d said “Dude, it would literally kill me to remove this core” Emil might have said “Oh, yeah, nevermind, handing over the core is a bad idea.” Like... poor negotiation skills is not a trait I admire in Marta, regardless of if she turned herself in to be spiteful or if she never thought of another option or thought it would be noble. She basically just threw her life away without considering other options. (I’m aware the same can be said of Richter, though.)I agree that it’s nice of her to consider Magnar’s wellbeing when Ratatosk decides beating him to death sounds fun for no reason, but saying “Oh she has morals! Look!” doesn’t address my problems with her. I feel Lumenary has a fundamental misunderstanding why a lot of us dislike Marta. She’s a good person. We know she is. Or at least, we know she has morals and wants to help others. We have no qualms with that. “She does fawn over him, but Emil doesn’t stop her. He talks with Tenebrae about how he feels about it, but not with Marta. He willingly holds her hand in Asgard, but when he is VISIBLY embarrassed/awkward about it, she lets go. She’s not trying to make him uncomfortable, and when she can see that he is, she drops whatever she’s doing to try to make up for it. She may get carried away, but at the end of the day she tries her best to be considerate. That fact needs to stop getting overlooked.”I think Emil gives off enough of a clear signal that he’s uncomfy. Yes, it would have been better if he told her earlier that he was uncomfortable instead of just telling Tenebrae, but I feel like he was afraid of hurting her. But here’s the thing. When I was a kid, I thought tickling and hugging were all great signs of affection. I’d tickle and hug everybody. This made people avoid me because tickling isn’t pleasant for a lot of people. Not all of them told me to stop (and frankly I was a little asshole idiot who didn’t stop even when people told me to because laugh=happy to me so I was always just “why would I stop? We’re having fun!”) But just because they didn’t tell me to stop, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have noticed they were uncomfy and STOPPED. I’m not much better than Marta in this respect because it took me until adulthood as well to learn “Hey, stop means stop, no ifs ands or buts. Respect peoples’ boundaries no matter what.” But I’m also not your average joe. So maybe I’m holding Marta to an unfair standard since it’s one I also didn’t meet until recently but I feel like consent matters and since Emil wasn’t enthusiastic about all the affection he was receiving, she should have not only STOPPED when she saw he was uncomfortable, but she should have stopped initiating those activities as well. (Also, at least this is a reminder that they DO hold hands, but... it was kind of mandatory so they didn’t get sent flying by the wind.) Tenebrae really doesn’t help in this endeavor because he also shoves his nose into their relationship and rubs Emil's nose in the fact that he had to hold Marta’s hand and it was awkward. And yeah, she lets go when he asks but she teases him about it. Also IDK if I can call it “willingly” holding hands if it’s for their mutual safety. “Willingly” to me means that if no other factors changed, would he still do it? And he probably wouldn’t have held her hand if it wasn’t for safety. But who knows? Maybe he would have if she asked nicely? It’s hard to say. “Marta doesn’t really acknowledge it afterwards, only getting a bit jealous when Emil later says that Colette was soothing to be around. She tried to fish for compliments from him before and got nothing, but then he casually complimented Colette. Given that he’s her only friend in the world (besides her confusing relationship with Colette), and she has a puppy crush on him, I think it’s pretty understandable why it would make her feel not so great inside.” See, this is what I have a problem with. It’s not even just that she fished for compliments. She actively asked him to choose between herself and Colette. The fact that Emil can’t say anything nice to another girl without making Marta jealous is a little unnerving to me. Jealousy has a purpose and is a valid emotion, but if I was Marta, Emil complementing Colette would be my first sign that maybe he doesn’t like me and I should stop pursuing him. Also, yeah, it’s understandable that she gets upset that Emil is giving extra attention and paying compliments to Colette, but it’s no excuse to make it EMIL’S problem. Her unrequited love is HER problem.“When Emil and Marta end up in Iselia, Emil is extremely agitated from the get go. He makes rude comments, and has an overall bad attitude since it’s Lloyd’s hometown. Marta lost people too, and Lloyd took Lumen’s core, but she chooses to be the bigger person for the sake of their objective.” Double standard is intense. When Marta is being pissy about Colette, it’s forgiveable because she’s “confused and upset” about someone “letting her mom die” but Emil is not deemed “being the bigger person” for not hating Colette right off the bat. But when Emil is upset that he has to be around people who grew up with the guy that he thinks ACTIVELY AND MALICIOUSLY murdered his parents, Marta’s calm demeanor is read as “being the bigger person.” All that tells me is that Lumenary thinks that it’s okay for Marta to be petty because she’s sad someone accidentally killed her Mom, but Emil isn’t allowed the same amount of pettiness because someone ACTIVELY killed his parents.“When Emil finally tells her he doesn’t like the way she treats him (like a prince, etc.) she owns up to it and vows to change. She takes legitimate personal criticism and applies it immediately, and that’s hard to do.” It honestly doesn’t feel like that to me. She is less possessive of him, certainly, but she still doesn’t treat him as an equal. She treats him better, but it’s not enough. And it’s definitely not instant.“She changes her view and without meaning to, starts to love the true Emil. And she tells him that. She tells him, “I think that the real you is much, much cooler than the fantasy I had in my mind.” She acknowledges her flaws in this same scene but by this point, has actually already overcome a lot of them.” This takes her until the end of Chapter 4 to do, which is basically half the game.IDK, again, there’s a lot to like about Marta, but I feel like she doesn’t really begin respecting Emil until the very end of the game, and the interim is just an awkward slurry of her either being weirdly obsessive and creepy or her just... barely trying to change and treat Emil like his own person.

[oppressiveliberator]

What Shape Does Your Pain Take?

The Sea

You're drowning. A sea of emotions, responsibilities, people, things, everything. You just can't handle it all, you need to escape, but you can't. Even talking to someone and being told it's okay, compliments, nice things people say, it all adds up to drown you further. Guilt, for feeling this way when everyone's being nice and you're not enough. 

Will you sink or swim?

BUT I didn’t find this accurate.  Ghetsis’s pain is in his illness and his current condition. He feels like he’s infinitely powerful. . .except right now, because he can’t flex that power. He can barely live an independent life. Hell, he probably can’t, technically.

Turns out, scroll down, and it tells you what you ranked on each option

Glass Cage sounds like it makes more sense--and it was equally accurate an answer, ‘the sea’ was just chosen over it or Ghosts. I can’t get the results for those because there was no ‘view all results’ button, but ‘glass cage’--something he can see through, something fragile, containing him, suffocating him, but he can’t break through it from inside, something that, technically, if it broke would probably result in his being hurt.  It would have to be opened naturally and he’d have to be let out from the outside, but nobody can let him out. He can’t really be helped.

It’s more like a cage of ice. It’s more like he’s waiting for it to melt, but it’s like one degree over freezing and sometimes it just dips down and just gets more reenforced, and he has no choice but to watch the ice melt, watch the droplets slowly work their way down the cage, sometimes watch them evaporate, but too often just watches it, looks at the slow progress, sometimes even watches the progress go right back to square one when the droplets that show the slightest bit of chance of healing freeze back up again when it gets too cold.

. . .Ghetsis’s pain is something like that, I think.  A sea. . .I suppose you could say he’s overwhelmed by his own inability--all the things he wants to do, all the things he needs to do, all the things he could but no longer can, and the support of people only reminding him how fragile he is, you could say he’s drowning in those things.

But I don’t really know if Ghetsis is overwhelmed so much as he is. . .held back physically, quite literally.  The guy manipulated a literal god by choosing to manufacture somebody compatible with it, he controlled a former god without additional assistance, he nearly talked his way into being a dictator--he’s perfectly content and capable of the things he wants to do, he would be a successful ruler if he got into the position, but there are other people and his own illness in his way.  He’s not enough, yes, but that takes the form in that he can’t do anything to free himself and that he can’t get anybody to help him out. . .?  Something like that.

. . .. . .  .anyway I was tagged by: @fracturedhues!  Thank you! As for tagging, as usual I’m not good at that, so please feel free to do it if you haven’t already.

[fgodestinyawakenings]

FGO Destiny Awakenings: Fuyuki Singularity Section 10 (END)

*slaps the 'My Room' option* “This badass role as a main protagonist can fit unlimited use of Command Seals, the training of Magic spells, Power of Friendships, and your coming of age to create your own harem!”

-- Robed figure explaining to Ritsuka on his role as a main protagonist of the story and what help he will received from him

The Grand Order

“Ah, the hero has awakened. There, there, that’s how the main character should be,” The familiar relaxed voice chuckled then reminded. “But, this isn’t the place you should wake up to, Ritsuka-kun.”

“This voice…”

Opening his eyes, Ritsuka’s view greeted by a familiar bright blue sky and the white-hooded figure giving him a lap pillow.

He beamed at his confused expression, “Good morning, Ritsuka-kun.”

“Just as I thought,” Ritsuka tried to shift his body up before the figure gently nudged him back down.

“Now, now, though this is our second time we’ve spoken like this,” The hooded figure chuckled. “But, we’ll talk later. Somebody’s waiting for you, return to the reality, Ritsuka-kun.”

“Is it my sister and Mash?” Ritsuka asked with a sleepy voice, his body finding itself drifting back to slumber.

The figure nodded and stroke his head. “Yes. Well, there is someone too, but he’s definitely a worthless person after all. But, he may be important to you, so he’s waiting for you too.”

From the perplexed expression, the figure chuckled, “Guess, you’re still not used to being the main character yet. Come on, time to wake up, Ritsuka-kun. From here on, you’ll be the center of this story.

“The choices you made with your sister will probably save all of humanity.  Just like the multitudes of brave souls who weren’t remembered by history as they saved humanity.” The figure’s tone now spoke with a cryptic tone.

“You’ve been given a role to fight, neither a king nor a hero, but as a human walking a path that was preordained by the stars. No… A path that is yours, to begin with, that defies destiny. Now, awaken to the destiny you choose. I shall wait here in your next slumber… My lord.”

And then, darkness shrouded in his view before an intense light gradually entering into his view…

-0-

“Haah!” Flinched at the sudden bright light, Ritsuka seated up and stared around the area. He was back at his room where Mash brought him to rest from the orientation. While looking around, he recalled and stared back at his right hand.

It clearly wasn’t a dream, one of the red markings of the Command Seal turned into a beige-pinkish color. The hand helped Mash to prevent Saber’s Noble Phantasm from killing them all. Also, the hand he grasped for his sister while the other–

“Fou?”

Turned to the familiar squeak, Fou rested on the chair with his white coat draped above. Ritsuka stared at it and wondered. “What’s wrong?”

It hopped from the chair and headed to the door. Fou spun around and squeaked at the raven-haired Master to follow along.

Nodded to the instruction, Ritsuka got off from the bed and picked up his coat with him to follow where Fou had wanted to bring him to.

-0-

Inside the familiar Command Room when he entered, Ritsuka stopped and made a swift scan. Except for the blaze orange flames and human bodies, the room was still the same as before. Debris and broken Coffins scattered around in the room.

Ritsuka watched and followed Fou as it scurried further forwards in front. As soon as he arrived, two familiar figures swelled his heart with relief. Mash bending down to carry Fou onto her shoulder, while Ritsuko in her white coat uniform chuckled at its attempt to seat properly.

The two spun around when sounds of footsteps approached them.

Ritsuko’s face brightened and grinned, “Good morning, Ritsuka!”

“Good morning, Ritsuka-senpai,” Mash smiled too. “I am glad to see you’re okay too.”

“Ahh… Good morning, both of you,” Ritsuka beamed in response. He went towards them and wrapped both of his arms around Mash and Ritsuko.

“Se-Senpai?” Mash stared at Ritsuka’s strange movements.

Ritsuko had brought one of her arms around him and wondered, “H-Hey, is there something wrong?”

The raven-haired Master merely shook his head and responded, “No, there isn’t. I’m just glad you both are you okay… Thank you for being all right, you two.”

Orange and violet orb glanced at each other, Ritsuko returned with a reassured smile. “You idiot, of course, we’ll be all right. You worked your ass off to save us both. I’m also glad you’re fine too, Onii-chan…”

“Ritsuko-senpai is right,” Mash returned too as well with a relieved beam. She raised both of her arms and wrapped both siblings. “I should thank both of you. I was able to stay conscious, thanks to you two.”

Silence enveloped between the three that shared a grateful moment they were still here together alive. But, it had interrupted from the clearing of a throat. “Ahem. I’m all for your reunion, but could you bring your attention here, please?”

Withdrawing their hands at once, Ritsuka turned and noticed Romani standing behind them. He let out a relaxed sigh and greeted with a bright grin. “Good morning, Doctor!”

“Good morning, Ritsuka-kun, and you two.” Romani smiled to the three, “First, congratulations on surviving and completing your mission, Ritsuka-kun, Ritsuko-chan.”

As the two siblings gave a proud grin to each other, Romani continued, “While the situation forced on both of you gradually, you bravely faced the challenges and overcame it. That earned my respect and appreciation. Thanks to you two, Mash and Chaldea were saved.”

But, a somber expression appeared on Romani’s face and included. “It’s a shame about the Director, but we’ve no time to hold a service. All we can do is grieve.”

“If I survived, then maybe the Director…!”

Despite Ritsuka’s hopeful face, a solemn and grim expression lingered on the three’s faces. Before Ritsuka could express again, he felt a tug from his coat’s sleeve. Blue orbs shifted to see Ritsuko shaking her head, telling him that this was the truth.

Olga Marie’s death before them three wasn’t a dream as he recalled.

Neither, the fact Lev betrayed Chaldea and wiped out all of humanity was a dream too.

Eventually, Ritsuka bowed his head and showed the same solemn expression.

Romani soon spoke again but in a milder and assuring tone, “Listen. We must defend humanity in the Director’s place. That’s how we pay the tribute.”

His expression shifted to a more severe expression and informed, “I got the report about the crystal from Mash, and what Lev said. From Chaldea’s state, what Lev said was true. We can’t contact the outside world. The staff who left Chaldea haven’t returned. I fear humanity has already been destroyed.

“Chaldea seems to be the only place outside the normal timeline. Perhaps it’s hanging on the timeline right before the collapse. Think of it like a colony floating in space. The outside world is dead until we do something about this situation.”

“Is there something we can do?!” Ritsuka and Ritsuko questioned in synch with a now refreshed determined face.

It received a shock reaction from Mash and Romani before the latter nodded to them. “Of course. First, I want you two to see this. We tried scanning Earth with the resurrected Sheba. It’s Earth of the past, not the future. The Fuyuki Singularity was destroyed, thanks to both of you.

“But we hypothesize that the future was unchanged due to another cause. The result is–!”

Followed Romani’s head directing to Chaldeas globe, a blue nebula-like light glowed in the middle of the room. It showed 7 bright bluish-white dots on each other parts of the globe. Romani then continued his report, “This distorted world map.

“A newly discovered dimensional disturbance against which Fuyuki pales in comparison.

“They say changing the past changes the future, but you can’t overthrow the future by modifying the past.

“History has the power to heal itself. You might save a person or two…

“But the end of that era—Will still end up with its definitive result unchanged. But these singularities are different. These are humanity’s turning points.

“‘What if this war didn’t end?’

“‘If this naval voyage wasn’t successful?’

“‘Maybe this discovery was wrong?’

“‘Or even if this nation couldn’t become independent?’

“The ultimate decision point to determine the current state of humanity.

“Destroying them is like causing the foundation of human history to crumble.

“That’s what these seven singularities are.

“It had already decided the future when these seven singularities formed.

“As Lev said, humanity doesn’t make it to 2018.” Romani turned back to the three with a grim look and reminded, “But, we’re different. Chaldea has yet to reach that future. Do you understand? Only we can fix this mistake. Now we have a chance to return the singularities to normal.”

Shifted to the siblings, the Doctor proposed, “So here’s the deal. Rayshift into these seven singularities and get history back on track. It’s the only way to save Humanity. But, we are still powerless.

“All other Master candidates are frozen,” He turned to Mash who showed a stoic yet troubled expression and went on. “Mash is the only Servant we have.”

Returned to siblings, Romani heaved a deep breath and stared at them. “I realize both of you are being forced into this situation. Even so, I’ll still say it. Master Candidate #48, Fujimaru Ritsuko… And you, Fujimaru Ritsuka. If both of you wish to save Humanity…

“If you wish to have a future beyond 2017. Then the two of you together alone must face these seven singularities in human history. Are you prepared to do this? Can you shoulder the burden of Chaldea and Humanity’s future?”

Despite the calmness, both could understand the severity in Romani’s words. The heaviest burden tasked to them in bringing back Humanity. Both were mere children who became caught up in this chaos for their own future too.

There’s an option to run away which was equal to the decision of accepting Lev’s words and allowing their home to be gone. Blue and orange orbs glanced at each other one more time, they then nodded to Romani and Ritsuko answered with a resolute voice. “Of course.”

“If it’s something we can do, Doctor,” Ritsuka added with a determined tone.

With their expressions, Romani and Mash both illuminated with a grateful and relieved look. Romani smiled to both and nodded, “Thank you. With those words, we have decided our fate.”

He later turned upwards to face the staff in the command room, declaring with an unyielding tone.

“We will now carry out the Preservation of Humanity as laid out by Olga Marie Animusphere, former director of Chaldea.

“The main goal is the protection and recovery of human history.

“Search target will be each era’s relic and Grail. Our opponent is history itself. Many great Heroic Spirits and legends will stand against you. Challenging them is an act of blasphemy against the past. To save Humanity, we must defy history.

“But this is the only way to survive. No, the only way to take back the future,” Romani closed his eyes and took a deep breath before resuming. “No matter what sort of end awaits us. To show our determination, we shall abandon the original mission name, First Order.

“This is now Chaldea’s last yet original mission. The Grand Order! In the name of the magical world’s highest Order. We will take back the future!”

-0-

“Anything from Mom and Dad?” Ritsuka asked while resting on his bed and scrolling through his tablet.

Ritsuko sitting on the chair beside the bed shook her head and sighed, “No. It’s still the same as yesterday. Mom reminding us to request a week break two weeks later to go to Okinawa for a holiday before our break ends. Since it was the particular week Dad would be free from work.”

“I see…” Ritsuka nodded idly while his eyes remained focusing on his tablet.

The orange-haired Master turned and rolled her eyes. She rose up and crossed her arms at her brother. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting like what the Doctor told us? What are you exactly doing?”

“That’s for you to rest, Ritsuko,” Ritsuka replied bluntly. “Well, I got work to do. I still need to find out the identity of the Servant Mash contracted with.”

“I think you meant, it’s you who required to rest,” Ritsuko snatched the tablet from him, ignoring the frown from Ritsuka. “You’re the one who still looks pale after everything as Doctor Roman said. So, you should be resting up before he calls in on us for the first mission.”

Rolled his eyes too, Ritsuka folded his arms back and assured, “I’m really fine. You guys are over-thinking this thing too much. Besides…”

A big yawn escaped his lips, it earned him from Ritsuko who raised one of her eyebrows at him. He breathed another yawn and mended, “Okay fine, I’m just sleepy. It’s been a long day for both of us. After a light reading, I’ll go for a quick nap, okay?”

“Fine,” The orange-haired Master reluctantly handed over his tablet to him.

“Just remember to follow the Doctor’s instruction, okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll find him after I wake up for a quick check-up,” Ritsuka let out another heaved of sigh. Instead of hearing footsteps leaving the room, Ritsuka noticed his sister was still here.

He lifted one of his eyebrows curiously when he noted she had been staring at him, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Ritsuka. Just that,” Ritsuko shook her head and returned with a sad grin. “Do you think Mom and Dad will be all right? We will able to see them again, right? After we solve this whole problem.”

Beneath the sad grin, it’s clear the fear and worry lace in her tone. After staring at her for a while, Ritsuka stood and went to her. He drew his hand out to pat his sister’s head and gave a small grin.

At her dumbfounded expression, Ritsuka rested his forehead against hers. “Hey, it’s all right, Ritsuko. I’m here, I’m glad I followed you here. I promised you we’ll fix this and take back our home together. We’ll definitely be able to meet Mom and Dad again.”

“…… Just don’t come bitching about this hell we’re in, brother,” A relieved and wry grin surfaced on Ritsuko’s face.

Once he pulled away, Ritsuko spun and headed for the door. “Then, I’ll help Mash-chan in their admin duties. We still have another round of orientation to continue since we’re going to be here for a very long time.”

“Don’t use those cheesy lines of yours when you’re making a move. I’m not cleaning your ass when there’re awkward occasions.”

“Whatever, brother!” Ritsuko rolled her eyes and groaned. “Hurry and knock yourself out too, will you?!”

As she stepped out with the door sliding closed behind her, Ritsuka found himself alone in the tranquil silence. He exhaled another breath and murmured, “You’ll need more than cheesy line if you go after someone like Mash.”

One hand gripping his tablet, the other with his finger scrolled through the block of texts presented on the tablet. His blue orbs moving as he studied at the data he researched. “Knights who used a shield… A shield… A knight who must have served King Arthur–!”

“That shall be something you’ll figure out soon with your intelligence and resourcefulness, Magus of Flower’s apprentice.” Saber’s voice resounded in his head.

Her smirk recalled in his mind when she included. “You’ve met him in that land of Utopia, haven’t you? That troublesome parent you deemed as the strongest warlock.”

“Warlock…” The raven-haired Master recited at the exact word. His index finger flicked and place onto the tablet when it passed a specific page. “As I thought, that warlock both that Archer and Saber…”

Another yawn escaped from his lips. Ritsuka raised his hand to rub his eye, but a yawn breathed out from his lips. He shook his head and tried to concentrate his attention back at his tablet. “The name and information of that warlock…”

-0-

“Welcome back, Master. You’ve worked hard for the day, and hence, a well-deserved rest rewarded to you!”

The familiar voice he heard, Ritsuka recognized he had fallen to slumber into his dreamland. Spun around, the familiar white hood figure sat on the same rock when he first met him. He approached him and nodded. “Yeah, guess my body can’t keep being awake any further.”

“That Singularity has worn you out, Ritsuka-kun,” The cloaked figure smiled. “But, you have done an excellent job for the first homework.”

“Didn’t think we made through without your foretelling,” Ritsuka shook his head.

The cloaked figure chuckled then, “Yet, you did.

“The King of Knights was a tremendous opponent for your two Servants, especially the young Demi-Servant herself.”

“It was lucky since the one who trains her the sword was–!” Ritsuka halted his words and gazed at the figure.

He could see the cloaked figure grinning at him and nudged. “Go on, Ritsuka-kun.”

With a wary gaze, he had recalled the last homework left to report. Ritsuka confessed with a calm tone. “Before Artoria Pendragon’s birth, there was a child born from a human mother and an incubus. He supported King Vortigern in raising a tower that always collapses.

“Also, he aided Uther Pendragon from developing into a King to an adviser who helped fostered his young daughter that grows into the King of Britain.”

His blue orbs narrowed a little and Ritsuka finally admitted. “And, when she became King, he turned into a trusted adviser to her and the Knight of the Round Table. Until he fooled around with a witch and trapped himself here in Avalon. Am I right, Merlinus Ambrosius?”

“... Fufu, a detailed and direct answer you’ve come with. Also, Merlin is fine, Ritsuka-kun.” With that answered, Merlin, pulled his hood off of his head. It exposed his youthful face of white messy-haired with violet orbs and silted pupils gazing back at Ritsuka.

The raven-haired stood in silence, mouth agape at the beauty and charisma coming from him. Merlin tilted his head and smirked, “Oh my, did you got yourself charmed, Ritsuka-kun? I’m pleased that my appearance is to my apprentice’s liking.”

Ritsuka realized he had been staring for quite a while and narrowed his eyes to mask his embarrassment. “Please. I expected an old wise sage but your present voice doesn’t even fit that image.”

“You’re right. In one of the many tales, humans had written, I’m reputed to be an old Druid from my shape-shifting abilities as you wonder. But,” Merlin rested his hand on his chest and smiled, “I prefer this form as of now.”

“I see,” Ritsuka gave a modest nod. He threw an attentive gaze and asked, “Can I check with you something?”

“Please do, my pupil.” Merlin grinned.

“Am I dead or this is a dream? It’s no way possible I’m speaking to you like this without being in Avalon! And to go there, I need to be dead, don’t I?”

The Magus of Flower laughed at Ritsuka’s panic expression. “Now, now, calm down. I can assure you’re alive and asleep. I’m just visiting you in your dreams as you’re aware of it.

“You have drifted into Avalon subconsciously by your Will. Twice, in fact. But, as of when and why you acted, that will be a discussion of another day.

“It’s only fortunate your Magic Circuits kept you alive when you turned up and remained there for short moments. Any longer you had stayed, your death will occur as you expected.”

“So, we’re in my dreams?” Ritsuka repeated.

With a nod from the Magus of Flower, Merlin reminded with a now mysterious grin. “Now you’re here, have you decided an answer to my question? And of yours now too?”

Ritsuka pondered for a while and came closer to where Merlin sat. “I... If Lev declares that our destiny as humans to extinct because we’re insignificant, then it’s the destiny we’ll create a path to make our own future.”

“Is that so?” Merlin stared back at his blue orbs.

The raven-haired Master nodded with his fist clenched. “No one other than us should determine our future. It was the Director’s last wish to make certain we would survive as long as we could. That’s why I embrace my destiny to build the path where we take back our future.”

“Even if the world goes against both of you? Knowing you and your sister won’t be acknowledged by anyone for your efforts of saving humanity? Also, even knowing the consequences of your decision will taint you as a villain in the world?”

Another firm nod, Ritsuka showed a fixed expression. “Yeah, my answer will not change. We’ll restore our history, prevent humanity from extinction, and to take back our home.”

A moment of silence thereafter, Merlin made a warm beam to him. “Then if this shall be the path you choose, I shall go with you to the very end, Master.”

“I’m still extremely far to be your Master, Merlin-san,” Ritsuka showed a light-hearted grin. “Rather than Master-Apprentice, I think it’s better as friends since people understand more things from their companions than a teacher.”

As his right hand outstretched, Ritsuka introduced. “I’m Fujimaru Ritsuka, Ritsuka is fine. Looks like I’ll be in care whenever we meet in my dreams.”

“A companion, you say? Not a teacher?” Merlin quoted his remarks with an amused tone.

“I presume you’re my teacher if you’re planning to teach me Magic, sword-fighting or life lessons,” Ritsuka replied. He stretched his hand closer to Merlin. “But, you gave me that prophecy that allowed me to save both my sister and myself when the command room exploded.

“At least after meeting twice, I trust you meant no harm despite your teasings back then. That’s why, I’d like to believe further that you’re my friend, Merlin-san.”

Gazed at him and his hand with a dumbfounded expression for a few seconds, Merlin’s lips curved a small grin and murmured to himself. “As I thought... You really are an interesting human, Ritsuka-kun.”

“Huh?” Ritsuka raised one of his eyebrows at him.

“A habit of mine with no meaning, I reassure you,” Merlin laughed. He took Ritsuka’s right hand with a gentle and firm hold. “I shall reintroduce myself. My real name is Merlinus Ambrosius. People call me the Magus of Flowers. But you can just call me Merlin. I don’t do well with formalities.

“I’ve been watching from far away, but from now on I will journey together with you. I want you to rely on me. Especially concerning love, you are always welcome to receive my consultation.”

“I’m not sure of your consultation on love affairs, but,” Ritsuka gave a firm grasp back and grinned. “I’ll be in your care then, Merlin.”

End of Section 10 End of Singularity F

[maiden-of-wolves]

OC’s as Inquisition Companions

Name: Ariel Grace

Race / Class / Specialization: Human / Archer, then must switch to daggers or sword/shield when her glasses break/are broken / Tempest (or Ranger, if we’re allowed to use other game’s specializations…)

Gender Identity: Female; she/her

Varric’s Nickname for them: Pixie

Short Bio: Having grown up with fantasy stories and playing games to escape her ever-mediocre life back home, she was very familiar with Dragon Age. Impressively so, by some people’s measure. Now, she’s here and she has no idea what to do about it. She finds that she has to relearn how to read and becomes ill often because she has not encountered the diseases of Thedas. Another curiosity is that she appears to either reflect or absorb magic, essentially making her immune to both offensive and defensive/restorative magic. She is able to expel it as well, but it often comes out as a different element than was used on her and is hard for her to control in the beginning.

What would their companion card look like?

<<Death Tarot>>

Recruitment Mission: It is an optional war table mission. It’s next to Haven on the map and is simply a notification from Solas about having gotten notice from scouts of an unusual rift. And that he needs to see them as soon as possible. If you choose to “Go to” you will go outside and towards the dungeons and Solas will come up dragging a bound Ariel with him.

Basically, she appears near Haven and is found by a scouting party before you decide to look for help from either the Mages or Templars. She’s taken to Haven’s dungeons and interrogated by Cassandra and Solas. Mostly Solas. He brings her to the Inquisitor to have them decide what to do with her, citing that she seems to have foreknowledge of the world, but he cannot place how she came there or even what she is. You will have the option to allow her to join the Inquisition or to kill her. If you don’t choose the mission, she will simply starve/freeze in the Haven dungeons.

Where would they be in Skyhold / Haven?

In Haven, she would be near the mines area you fall in while escaping or in the clinic, being treated.

In Skyhold she’d be in the library, with Varric in the hall, by the stables talking with the horses or with Dagna (if you recruit her) in the Underforge.

Quest 1: <<TBD>>

Quest 2: <<TBD>>

Quest 3: <<TBD>>

How to get their approval:

Help “the little guy” (aka people that are down on their luck and need help, beggars, slaves seeking freedom, etc.); Be curious, since she very much wants to know everything she can (if she doesn’t already know about it from the codex entries); Be snarky to nobles or those that are snarky with you; help/be nice to your fellow companions.

How to get their disapproval:

Protect nobility at the expense of those beneath them; turning a blind eye in exchange for gold; flirting with others if you are in a relationship (with her or anyone else); being abrasive when you could have saved people by being diplomatic/clever.

Are they romanceable?

Yes! By men and women, (race gated against dwarves and qunari - Sorry! T_T) but you will need to go VERY easy on the flirting for a while if you’re a lady. She’s not had a physical relationship with a woman before, but is open to the idea.

Can you have sex with them?

Only if you’re on friendly terms; none of this ‘rivalmance’ nonsense. If you’re on her blacklist, she’d rather stick some acid on your lips than kiss them.

Are they open to polyamoury?

Only if it’s talked through and everything is out in the open. She will be very upset for quite a while if you just randomly decide to add another person. And she will be VERY hesitant to join an already established relationship because she needs reassurance that she’s worthwhile.

If they can be romanced and are not will they begin a relationship / relationships with other characters? If so, who?

If Cullen isn’t being romanced, she’d probably start one with him. She’d be there for him during his lyrium withdrawal episodes and sing him back to sleep when he woke.

If Zevran was there and not romanced with the Warden, she’d go for him; same with Fenris not romanced by Hawke.

Who are they friendly with?

Varric is her best friend (except the Inquisitor, if they’re good to her).

The Iron Bull and she get along well; he’s curious about her and likes teasing her.

She likes reading those smutty novels with Cassandra and encourages her so she can “practice reading” ;P.

She and Cullen will be all but kindred spirits in temperament and will get along well; she invents a potion that tastes like lyrium to help his withdrawal (like a kind of placebo). She will also question him about his views on mages and remind him of how he used to talk about them. She wants him to really grow as a person, not just be forgiven for who is was and no follow-up made.

Dorian and Ariel have a kind of love-hate relationship, since he loves to tease her/play flirt and enjoys her easy-to-blush nature far too much. Still, she respects him for trying to change Tevinter and since she spends a lot of time in the library they’re near each other a lot. They often have discussions he has a hard time stomaching about his homeland (usually regarding slavery).

She respects Josephine but the Antivan is very confused by Ariel’s venomous reaction to nobility considering her background.

She also respects Leliana’s abilities but they argue over the Chantry and faith when either topic comes up.

She both likes and hates Cole. She appreciates that he helps people and often asks him to help her help people, but she hates when he reads her.

She likes Blackwall and they often discuss his past (after she reveals she knows) and she encourages him to just atone as Blackwall. She affectionately calls him “Dad” because he reminds her of her father and often gives her fatherly advice, especially about combat.

Who do they dislike?

She knows what Solas wants to do and she hates him for it. They often argue about it, as she’s trying desperately to change his mind. Still, he helps her manage her odd abilities and helps her deal with her odd relationship to the Fade.

Though in goal/opinion they are very similar, she dislikes Sera. She sees her as little more than a snotty brat with a vicious temper and a deplorable liking for “pranks”.

She dislikes Vivienne on principle, as she’s a noble in every aspect and enjoys that life. Eventually, she comes to respect her and it is somewhat mutual.

Cole’s reading:

“Thoughts… so much. Home. It’s not a game anymore. I can’t say it. What’s the point of knowing�� if you can’t change it?”

Companion card changes

Loyalty:

<<Temperance Tarot>>

Romance:

<<TBD>>

Side Mission:

<<TBD>>

When nearing a hidden item:

“Looks like things have been disturbed here...”

When seeing a high dragon:

“Well, great! There’s death coming from every possible direction now.”

Or, if The Iron Bull is in the party:

“...No, Bull. I’m not dying today.”

Side quest reaction(s):

<<TBD>>

Low health:

“Some help would be nice!”

“I wonder...where I’ll go…”

The Inquisitor falls:

(If friendly/romanced) “NO! I won’t let you go!”

(If neutral) “Our Inquisitor needs us!”

(If low approval) “You can’t give up!”

Greeting(s) / Goodbye(s)

Low approval:

“What do you want now?”

“Yeah, you go have fun elsewhere. I’ve got actual work to do.”

Neutral approval:

“Do you need something?”

“Okay. Bye then.”

Friendly:

“Oh, hey! What’s up?”

“Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be around.”

Romanced:

“O-oh. Uhm… hi!” o///o

“Hope you can spare some time for me later. I’ve… really missed you.” >////>

Opinions on mages / templars / how the world is going to shit?

She’s very much against mages murdering people to retain their freedom, but she is equally against all the abuses that templars had heaped upon them to bring them to this point.

She thinks the rebel mages could be brought to heel and likes the idea of them creating the College of Enchanters, outside the Chantry’s influence, and wants all mages to be free but to be taught how to control their magic and punished appropriately when they do not.

She knows the Templars are useful, but doesn’t like them as an order controlled by the Chantry. She wants them to be disbanded and made into a separate type of guardsman everywhere so mages could live as normal people but still be brought to heel if they went all abomination or killed someone/manipulated them with magic.

She knows what created the breach so she has to keep her mouth shut about it and thus doesn’t like talking about it.

Something guaranteed to make them leave the party?

If you help slavers, take a bribe to turn a blind eye or kill innocents.

                                          Imprisoned at Redcliffe

How is your OC holding up in Redcliffe, being slowly infected with red lyrium over the course of a year?

She heaves this incredibly dramatic sigh when she sees the Inquisitor. Basically just says, “FUCKING FINALLY, GET ME OUT OF THIS CELL.” She’s not infected but it’s been trying for so long that she’s weak as all hell from it stealing her energy.

                                                      The Fade

How they react:

Awe and nervousness. She dreams of this place but the interactions are all different. She is normally protected by spirits, who found her first as she slowly mastered her ‘gift/curse’ and became visible to the other denizens. She may have several whisps following her about as you wander, as they recognized and found her, but they are scared and weakened in the Nightmare’s territory.

Their tombstone:

Being Nothing but a Burden

What fears look like:

Goliath Tigerfish

“Okay, this is fucked up. I know this is the Fade and the laws of normal existence don’t apply, but still! You need water to swim, not air!” ~points accusingly at an approaching nightmare~ “Stop snappin’ your jaws at me you assholes!”

What the Nightmare says:

“And here is the talk of the Fade. The anomaly. The stranger in a strange land.” ~deep, booming laughter~ “Your spirits cannot save you here, child. I have long wondered what kind of creature you would become were I to claim you…”

OR, if romanced:

“Ah, the anomaly. Do you truly know what will happen here? I will tell you, since you crave knowledge. Your beloved will die and I will throw you back to suffer. Wilt away in your guilt and despair. You will feed me and my brethren for years to come, wallowing in it until it is all you know… just like your father.”

Hawke or Warden:

She understand the reasons for both

There will be a minor approval drop for choosing the Warden (large if it is a romanced Alistair)

If Hawke romanced Fenris, there will be a major approval drop

If Hawke romanced anyone else or remained alone, there will be a minor approval drop

The Wardens - Exile or Allies?

Again, she understand the reasons for both. Only a minor approval drop for exile and minor approval boost for making them allies.

                                                     Halamshiral

Where they linger:

If she’s not romanced she’ll probably be near Cullen, engaging him in conversation in order to help keep the “suitors” at bay.

If she or Cullen is romanced she’ll be seeking shelter with Varric and tells you to hurry up so she can get the hell out of this viper’s nest.

Are they good at the Game?

She could be, if she wanted to be. She knows how she just hates using the skills she was brought up with as a child of an upper-middle class family back home.

What people say about them:

(if neither she nor Cullen were romanced)

“Why must that homely girl take up the Commander’s time? Doesn’t she realize her betters need to speak with him?”

(if the Inquisitor romanced her)

“The Inquisitor keeps such homely company… I can’t see why there are rumors about them. She is unremarkable and abrasive.”

“Who is that mouse beside Master Tethras? A fan of his work?”

Gaspard, Briala or Celene?

Briala and Celene together! Always. OTP. Major approval boost for this option.

She’ll give a minor approval boost for Briala blackmailling Gaspard or Celene ruling alone.

Will have a major approval drop for allowing Gaspard to rule alone.

                                                Temple of Mythal

Rituals or Hole?

Ritual. This is their place and you must respect it. Plus, she knows that you’ll get there before it’s too late even if you take the time and knows how to do the puzzle.

Agree with the Elves’ bargain?

YES. She hates having to kill anyone if there’s another way… unless they’re assholes. Abelas kind of is, but not enough to justify being killed. Plus, it’s easier to get where you’re going if you accept and she will be taking photos of the murals and stuff you find along the way for safekeeping/inspection later.

Morrigan or the Inquisitor for the Well?

She leaves it up to the Inquisitor if they’re not involved.

If romanced or if they are friends, she will tell the Inquisitor that they really don’t want to take it in and to let Morrigan do it. “It will be helpful… you just don’t want the burden. Trust me.”

                                                    Trespasser:

Depending on who she’s with, she’ll have done different things.

If she was romanced by the Inquisitor she’d be busy helping with the Inquisition. Creating new tools/helping advance medicine for non-mages as well as mages/trying to recreate basics from home like running water that anyone can install on their houses. She’d go with them to the Exalted Council if asked and will be able to tell them about what’s going on if they asked/wanted to know. She could also be told to stay behind and use her knowledge of the attending nobles to help Josephine.

If she wasn’t romanced by the Inquisitor and Cullen wasn’t romanced, she would be assisting him. She would have expanded her making of the placebo to give to all the Templars that wanted to be off of lyrium. She will likely have also worked with advancing medicine and providing basic improvements to people’s lives. Again, if asked, she would attend the Exalted Council. If not, Cullen will likely ask her to come just to help him retain his sanity. He will ask her to marry him there, as he would have the Inquisitor. She would happily find the Inquisitor to let them know and tell them they need to survive so they can all meet up again for a proper party and feast for the wedding when they get back to Ferelden.

If Zevran was around she’d help him in dealing with the Crows and set up a library where she takes in and “homeschools” recruits that he liberates from the Crows. She’s soon surrounded by children and is unable to attend the Exalted Council. Before she left the Inquisition she acquired a pair of sending crystals so that no matter where she was the Inquisitor could get a hold of her if necessary. She will advise them on what to do if they ask.

If Fenris was around, they’d travel about tracking down slavers and eventually attempt to lead a slave uprising in Tevinter. Since, by the end of her tale she’d be a powerful proper mage she could do reconnaissance in full view and not be thought much of. She would have given the Inquisitor one of a pair of sending crystals to keep in contact and would offer her knowledge if asked during the Exalted Council. In Tevinter, she tips off the right people and kills those that won’t help and then Fenris inspires slaves to rise. She’d meet Dorian on his way back and chuckle, saying, “time to put out the fires and start again. I did the easy part. The rest is up to you.” She’ll probably get hit for that.

I’ll probably add more at some point. Still can’t decide about her side quests... so that’ll have to wait.

[aleksandrakv]

Social media in Adam Lambert’s life&career

It’s been so long since I’ve written anything longer than a tweet about Adam, but this stanning lethargy doesn’t reflect the level of my interest in the man. It may appear so, but can the lack of online presence automatically imply the lack of interest? In today’s state of affairs, when artists have carefully constructed and heavily monitored internet presence, when YouTube views are everything and the most powerful politicians seem to pay more attention to Twitter than their jobs, it would be understandable if it could. The www. has finally become literally that – a worldwide group chat, where presidents tweet, where actors, musicians and sportsmen keep vlogs on YouTube, writers publish their essays on Facebook, and everybody comments.

Adam Lambert has chosen not to do so. In an era when YouTube stars become singers who get Saturday Night Live slots where they whisper the lyrics into a microphone, and when the top trending video which garnered more than 30 million views in a day is one of a reality star announcing her pregnancy, Adam has taken a quiet step back in the past few years - and I together with him. I couldn’t help it. Twitter has lost its appeal to me ever since a constant possibility that Adam could see a particularly flaily or witty tweet was no longer an option – the magic of giddy anticipation was gone. For all intents and purposes, Adam has semi-abandoned Twitter and moved to Instagram; a Facebook affiliated app which I never took a liking to.

I was upset and a little resentful. I didn’t understand why. Not only did I have to suffer the cruel Atlantic Ocean between us, but now we were on different online apps, which is a fate way worse than living on different continents, according to cyber sense of geography. In my bitterness, I even had an occasional mean thought on the subject. Oh yeah, that’s because he can ogle hot guys there. What about MEEE? Or, even worse: it’s because of the filters. The man LOVES a good filter, the vain queen. Or, absolutely the worst: he wanted to escape the twitter crazies. It was the worst because I should have known that the crazies are everywhere. I was bitchy, mean, and so, so wrong. This essay is my redemption. The price I want to pay for my stupidity, because Adam does have a social media presence, albeit not as aggressive as I might like. There is a reason for that, which he has already given. I had read it before, but it flew right over me like a sparrow, equally tender and fragile, leaving my head unruffled and thoughtless as if nothing had happened.

Even on his preferred social network, Adam’s behavior is somewhat atypical, in a sense that he doesn’t hesitate to share less than perfect photos. Unfiltered, sweaty, in-your-face, flaking makeup photos of the realistic kind - a rare occurrence among the Hollywood hotties. But he is a geek like the rest of us. The anticipation of waiting for the first photos to appear when he has a concert is one of the best parts of being his fan. Adam is incredibly photogenic, but sometimes, those photos are low quality ones, taken by fans on their phones, from pretty unflattering angles. Adam somehow manages to look great in most of them, despite the low angles and the fact that great physical exertion makes everyone look awful. Being photographed in the middle of an adrenaline rush while singing from the top of your lungs for two hours is challenging. His facial features almost rearrange with strain, but Adam simply knows how to pose and is rarely caught off guard – a life’s tiny miracle.  I love those candid pictures. And Adam posts only the best of them.

It’s the professional photos where he shines the most. Those are usually true works of art, crispy sharp and simply stunning in their quality. I don’t think I’ve ever seen less than perfect professional photo of Adam. They capture the moments that would otherwise be missed and allow you to fully appreciate the visual side the concert. In videos, the focus is primarily on the sound and the movement, but if I had to choose which medium reflects Adam’s emotional state and journey during concerts best, I would choose photography. It’s a strange thing to say about a singer, but Adam has a very expressive face and body. It’s like their muteness and stillness don’t subtract, but add to the experience of Adam’s process of creation.

In addition to music photography, Adam posts everything and anything that’s important to him, seemingly with no rhyme or reason. His Instagram page is a mess, a potpourri of professional photos, fan photos, album covers, photos of his family, friends, his dog, travelling photos, fashion photos, and all that in uneven levels of quality which most posters would never allow themselves. Adam has it all, from professional HD quality to grainy and blurry shots taken by a phone. It’s a far cry from carefully coordinated, handpicked and posted after a thousandth try stylish representation of other serious posters. He doesn’t juice for a week before taking selfies. He doesn’t always filter. He doesn’t always look pretty. He isn’t always all mysterious and artistic. He’s sometimes such a goofball. He is definitely an undisciplined Instagram user. 

It’s a revealing fact. He deletes his posts sometimes, and I’m not sure if it’s the morning after self-filtering, or he gets the call. Social media can make or break a career nowadays. But on the other hand, you can be a successful artist without constant media presence – although it is a pretty rare occurrence. The only example coming to my mind is Frank Ocean. There are artists who have a modest number of followers and YouTube views, and yet they can and do fill up arenas, just as there are artists who have millions of followers and cannot have a decent tour. 

In Adam’s case, I feel like he is past making or breaking his career online. At this point, he doesn’t need a heavily moderated Instagram page or a vlogging channel to achieve anything - other than making me happier, that is. The fact that I would love if Adam was more present, by engaging with his fans more, or, in best case scenario, vlogging about his life and career (I would sell my firstborn for that), doesn’t mean much in grander scheme of things. Adam has allowed himself the luxury of doing what he wants, and his Instagram page reflects that in the clearest of ways. I am not saying he wouldn’t benefit from having 50 million followers on Twitter or Instagram, but, he just doesn’t have that. If he can’t get it from doing his job and being who he is, he will never get it anyway. He refuses to participate in the social media race. So, unlike many a budding YouTube star trying to make it in other fields by creating an ideal, unrealistic impression of themselves, with their uniform, heavily filtered, grayscale artsy photos, Adam’s multifarious posts do reveal a lot simply by not being what one would expect. He’s a rebel just for kicks there. 

Oh, there is some vanity there; he isn’t above it nor does he pretend to be. He smizes and pouts in many filtered photos and videos, enjoying his flawless skin provided by Instagram CEO Kevin Systrom’s filtering system, turning his head like this and like that like a Valley girl – but that’s just Adam playing with his toy. He has this proclivity for ridiculous behavior; that and the fact that he loves the ageless chibi art of Creative Sharka makes me sometimes think that he has entered a serious fear-of-getting-old phase. It would have been true if he posted such photos only, which he most definitely doesn’t.

Adam is a naturally beautiful man, why does he have to goof around like that? Well, because he is so much more than that. Because more than stunning good looks, he has a killer sense of humor. Because more than looking pretty and feeding his vanity, he loves having fun. He mocks himself, too. “I swear I didn't realize I was making full duck face” is his own comment on a truly astounding full duck face he made while trying to credit Valentino for a clothing item. He loves stand-up comedy. He’s watched the Amy Schumer Leather special, and the Ricky Gervais Humanity special, and posted about both shows. That’s how I know.

There’s a selfie which he took while Antinous was being tattooed on his torso – a particularly painful experience, according to him; hence the awkward facial expression. The photo is so ridiculous and unflattering that it immediately reminded me of the comical selfies which Ricky Gervais takes all the time, trying to look as ugly as possible in them, thus expressing his mockery on the worldwide mania of posting unrealistically perfect photos. Adam has a comedic streak a mile wide, and not only does it come out in concerts and movie roles such as his part of Eddie in the Rocky Horror Picture Show, but also in his Instagram page as well. Unlike Ricky, Adam just wants to laugh at himself. Yes, he sometimes looks ridiculous and weird - don’t we all? He’s no bullshitter, and never will be. 

Now would be a great moment to mention his Grandma June alter ego. So, Adam has decided it would be great to make himself look forty years older, name the character Grandma June and rant throughout several videos on many a current topic. Who? What? Adam, the most eligible gay bachelor of several times? Adam, the Zeus in a thong sex symbol for many? Unbelievable. Waves of discomfort could be felt throughout the shallower waters of the fandom. Was he just having fun with it? Was he mocking himself for overusing de-aging filters? Was he helping himself get over his own fear of aging by laughing at his own expense? Was it some kind of reverse psychology/psychotherapy via Snapchat filters? Was it to shock his fans who come to his page for hotness and beauty galore, only to find Grandma June blinking owlishly at them? The list is endless. It’s like he was saying, ‘yeah, I’m hot, but I’m also ridiculous, funny and a little bit on the crazy side.’ Who knows. It’s certainly less ridiculous than me putting words in his mouth. It is also very non-Hollywood of Adam, where ageism is rampant and the anti-aging industry flourishes, where kids start injecting botox as soon as they’re twenty and where a lot of people take faces they’re born with as a slight suggestion. Interesting topic.

We’re now traipsing deeper and deeper into Adam’s more hidden depths. This makes it sound like scrolling through his Instagram page is a voyage into the heart of darkness, the Apocalypse Now style; but it does feel adventurous after you parse through the regular job-related stuff. Such aside interests tell us a lot about him and his fascinations, like his love and respect for other artists. He is a true fan at heart, expressing himself unabashedly and passionately – so many pictures of Freddie, Bowie and George Michael, but also Goldfrapp, Demi, Lady Gaga, and all his musician friends. Sometimes, he puts the flailers in his own fandom to shame. I like that about him. I feel like it’s a level we can relate on. And I love that he doesn’t have cheap, tit-for-tat, I’ll-do-you-and-you-do-me mentality. When he says that he likes something, you better fucking believe that he does.

He also loves nature. He posts sceneries – the beloved Runyon Canyon, the Ibiza cruise, Mexico, Bali, Mykonos in Greece, Argentina, you name it - but, he will also post a photo of a single olive tree. The fandom speculated for three days about what it could possibly mean. He posted a video of a single butterfly flapping its wings, and a colony of bats, and a lonely gecko crawling up the wall and a mother duck and her ducklings swimming in the lake. Endless photos of Pharaoh don’t even count. Details from around him capture his attention in a way that he expresses his emotive, intuitive side by showing us the impact they have on him. In his private moments, he is a far cry from a wild rocker living his wild rock’n’roll life. He’s so much more than that. He’s a tree watcher. A butterfly watcher. A bird watcher. Life and observing life clearly excites him.

He also loves architecture. He will post pictures of streets and buildings, sculptures and monuments, from everywhere he goes, and he travels a lot. Someone else would probably spend all pre- and post-concert time in hibernation accumulating energy, but not Adam. He loves the bas-reliefs, ancient facades, the Greco-Roman culture, supporting columns and carvings of Venetian houses; but every now and then he will also post some strange things, like tombstones. He’s a traveler with a twist. When he goes somewhere new, he sometimes visits cemeteries.  He’s been to Boston Cemetery and Buenos Aires Cemetery. He posted a photo of the entrance to Jesus’ tomb from his visit to Jerusalem. No matter what B Hollywood horror movies are trying to tell us, cemeteries are never about being creepy or frightful -- they are like a library for the imagination. Wandering cemeteries around the globe, reading headstones, thinking about the lives of the people there, the mind wanders into a thousand stories. It can be therapeutic. But, who knows what Adam’s motives were. All I know is that he is more than just a traveler – he is also a spiritual explorer.

In everything he does, he rarely stays within the lines. This diversity tells us that Adam is a complex man before he is an artist, and even less than he is an artist, that he is a promoting artist. His self-promoting campaigns are there, but ever so subtle and discrete - nothing like the aggressive campaigning that has become obligatory nowadays. I’m not talking about the management or the label part in it, or whoever is in charge of his promotion; just Adam’s own role in it. A few tweets, a few Instagram posts, mostly just informative in nature, before a new release. Regarding concerts, a tweet before and after is a rarity. An occasional review. He will sometimes post great photos after concerts, though. I have no idea how to explain such behavior other than to say that he doesn’t want to do it, nor does he feel like he has to. Maybe he is of the ‘an artist should never reveal too much and keep a level of mystery’ persuasion. Maybe he believes the music will find its way to those who want to hear it. Or maybe he just finds it tacky, as I do, the ad nauseam self-promoting of certain artists. Who knows. I certainly wouldn’t find it tacky if Adam did it. We’ll see how Era 4 will roll out and if Adam will be more talkative then. The one explanation I personally find the most believable is that he is a well-mannered man who believes that you should let someone else praise you, and not your own mouth; an outsider, and not your own lips; but that’s because I tend to attribute Adam superhuman qualities. He can’t be that much of a gentleman, can he?

He is not very verbose in his Instagram captions either; most of them, that is. His posts are usually with very little or no comment from him. He tags the people in the photo, or he gives credit to the photographer – he is pretty diligent about it. On few unfortunate occasions when that didn’t happen, we had a mutiny among the photographers which ended with bruised egos on both sides.

So sparse are his comments, that when you do bump onto a few loquacious ones, you just know that it must be something of utter importance or that he feels strongly about. You don’t have to guess anything then, or draw unfortunate conclusions, which is a game his fans like to play and that Adam likes to engage us in by dropping random hints. No game here – his words are loud and crystal clear, concise and to the point, and apart from bringing my attention to the relevance of such particular posts, they serve to remind me what a great thinker and an amazing human being Adam is. Those words are always about love and equality.   

One of such glimpses into his more private, passionate side is certainly his love and appreciation for  Creative Sharka, a fan who makes digital paintings and chibi art of Adam and the moments in his career. He has posted her art several times and even met with her during his tour - such gratitude and appreciation of a fan really warms my heart. It tells me what I already knew: that he is such a fan himself, a great lover of everything that inspires him and open in his heart for the reciprocal love exchange between artists as the highest form of flattery. He’s had such situation in his career several times, on various levels, but this one with a fan feels truly rewarding.

Creative Sharka gives him her art, but it doesn’t have to be a tangible thing. One of the most revealing and emotional comments he wrote under a photo from one of his performances reveals so much. It is a photo whose focal point are the backs of two people, two guys, who are leaning against one another in a hug, their heads connected, and they are facing Adam singing on the stage in the background. They are in the forefront, their body language speaking of love; Adam is in the background, perhaps inspiring such connection. His comment says, “Really in luv w this photo. So sweet.”  I’ve never read Adam saying that about any picture, and it’s one of the amateur, fan ones, too – and all the more precious for that.  

But, does he always feel the love? Do we? Most of the times, I am sure that he does. But I have always imagined Adam as a highly emotional guy, which also means a great capacity for sadness, too, especially with so many reasons for it surrounding us. There is one, literally one sad comment that I have encountered during all these years. It’s under a photo of Frank the Robot’s head, taken before the show, with the top half of it waiting patiently to be connected with its bottom half by diligent Queen crew, so that Adam can ride it and spew obscenities into the audience from its shiny, metallic head. “Sad Clown,” is Adam’s caption. I don’t know if he felt bad for Frank at that moment, or the words are about Killer Queen, but there is a possibility  that the words are about Frank’s rider later on. Sometimes, he does have to hide his sadness and paint his smile on. Who doesn’t.

He truly belongs to one of the rarest of species – a beautiful man who becomes even more beautiful when he opens his mouth and speaks. Or sings. In the pre-Trump, pre-Brexit, pre-Vučić era, I used to take his words for granted. I believed everybody thought so, or almost everybody. I was spectacularly wrong. The bout of sadness that gripped me then is still not easing up. How can it? This Weltschmerz has affected everyone with a soul - Adam, too. Will our physical reality ever satisfy the demands of our minds and souls ever again? I believe so, as long as there are people like Adam, like Emma Gonzalez, like many others who are fighting for it. That is what hope sounds like. With rising urgency, Adam speaks up.

“Black lives matter. For all of u who totally miss the point of this movement, the GOAL is for all lives to matter equally. But as it stands, racism is preventing us from that ideal. We must fix the reality so we can grow toward hope.”

We must fix the reality… We really do, Adam. Faced with such thoughts, don’t all previous words about promotion and lack of internet presence sound frivolous? I am glad that this is how Adam feels. I am so proud of him for sharing his thoughts. 

When he posted a photo of Freddie, pointing out the hypocrisy of the ruling US political party using Freddie Mercury’s music, some people seemed to have an issue with that. This was Adam’s reply:

“I realize that there are many different schools of thought frequented by people following me on social media. EVERYONE is entitled to their opinions and beliefs. Including me. This is MY Instagram page where I share my experiences and feelings. If you don't agree with something, that's perfectly ok with me - but I'm not going to refrain from being me, and no one is forcing you to either.”

And refrained he has not. 

He’s spoken against the gun violence. 

He’s spoken about Orlando. About Paris. About all mass shootings. 

He’s also spoken at the Los Angeles Pride Resist March last year. Here are some of his words:

“I typically avoid publicly speaking about politics because of its divisiveness. People get real sensitive, and I ain’t trying to piss anybody off. But, this year things have gone way too far.

So I’m not speaking today about being a democrat vs. a republican. Today is about right vs. wrong. The current presidential administration has manipulated the country using fear and hate to gain power to divide us. Our differences are being used against us. And the shockwaves of this dangerous rhetoric have rippled throughout our community and beyond. And it fucking hurts. We’ve come way too far to stand by and watch our social progress be yanked backwards. It’s almost as if they’re going, ‘Eh, you’re different. You can’t sit with us.’ What the fuck is that? It’s childish and it needs to end now.

Our pride parade is usually an all out shit show of a party where we all dress up like crazy unicorns and prance around through the streets. Yeah! It’s a celebration of the progress we have made – our liberation, our freedom, our glitter. But this year, we are facing such dark forces that pride has taken on a deeper purpose. Protest. So today, we stand together in order to support anyone whose human rights are at risk. We resist homophobia. We resist transphobia. We resist misogyny. Bi-invisibility. We resist racism. Xenophobia. And we resist extremism, and anything else that helps promote hate. We stand defiant and will not be brainwashed. We refuse to be sucked into that kind of negativity.

But, I ask you not to fight hate with hate. We don’t want to be hypocrites. So how can we resist? I’ll tell you what I think:  with unity, with visibility, truth, inclusion, acceptance, and most importantly – love.”

Don’t his words boom loud? Read them and abide by them. Don’t scroll through or ignore them. 

Shame on those who think that Adam should only do his job and stop voicing his opinions and views. 

Shame on those who, blinded by his beauty, refer to him as a Ken doll. 

Shame on those who say that he is back in the closet. 

In his Love Letter to the LGBTQ community, which was published in Billboard magazine last year, he talks more about what his community means to him:

“Y'all are my true inspiration. You're life lines that have kept me grounded and thankful. All the LGBTQ musicians, dancers, drag queens, bar stars, club kids, DJ's, designers, actors, stylists, glam squads..... YOU are my circus family. It is because of all those years traipsing round our nocturnal playgrounds that I had any sense of how and why I wanted to stay the course; to rep for my queer family!

And now 8 years later, the LGBTQ community has come SO far. I see fellow artists AND civilians coming out with no apologies and no fucks given. Despite the current obstacles we face, I am blown away by our progress. We have come so far. My true fans share the same principles so we continue to welcome other alien weirdos into our family. Thank you ALL for inspiring and supporting my journey. I promise to keep doing the same for all of you.”

Should he speak more frequently? Adam has voiced his opinions time and again, but he won’t misuse the opportunity given to him. He has a sophisticated sense for not crossing the line between his art and his humanitarian fight. He  never pushes anything under anyone’s nose; not his art; not his fight. He never uses just causes as a self-promoting opportunity. 

This is all part of the reply to the question from the beginning about what the lack of social presence can mean. His social presence isn’t lacking, it is just of the unobtrusive kind. It’s all out there, only a few clicks away. Are we so used to the constant media shoveling content down our metaphorical throats that we can’t even register when something’s said only once?

Apparently, I am. Because I have already read Adam Lambert’s own explanation about deciding to moderate his social media presence and it hasn’t even made a blip on my radar at the time. I won’t tell you where his words are from, you can try to guess. It’s a direct quote. It says everything.  

How pathetic now seems the discussion about  flattering vs. less flattering photos? Don’t ask this man about the size of his gauges for a hundredth time and expect him to engage with his fans more. But Adam does, he does engage, for he isn’t a mean man and he answers the same trivial questions again and again. It’s perhaps a much better option than talking, I don’t know, about Weltschmerz. Sometimes, such discussions are better avoided, and not only that - he has already said what he wanted to say. It’s much more bearable to repeat the silly topics than the raw, emotional ones. The repetition hurts, and devalues the latter.  

It really is a journey, from Grandma June, to cultivating self-love and True Individuality; only not to the heart of darkness, but to the one of lightness. It’s all him, the philosopher and the comedian, the Frank’s head rider and the march speaker. Read his words. Don’t forget them, like I did. Laugh with him, but also think with him and be sad with him.

“True Individuality seems daunting in our age of social media popularity contests. Sometimes it’s terrifying to face your true, whole self, stripped of any pretense. The good, the bad, the cracks, and the scars. I am no stranger to the feeling of not liking myself. Once I get past my own body image issues, I realize that I sometimes also neglect my own spirit. Living in a world filled with so much hatred sometimes makes cultivating self-love a very difficult task. I have always struggled with this as I’m sure many of you have. My path is a kind of paradox in that I get to share my craft with the world, but also be willing to throw myself to the wolves. To dare to be different, but still wanting to be accepted. There is vast beauty to be found in life’s contradictions. This non-binary reality allows us to lead happy, expressive lives, and yet this very freedom comes with great risks. I’m not alone in this limbo. Through my art, I pledge to bring empathy and courage to anyone who has been made to feel unworthy or ashamed while daring to be themselves.”

***

~The sources for everything mentioned in the essay are Adam Lambert’s social media pages. I’ve decided against posting any links because I feel like this one reference is enough.

~No photos either,  since I mention too many of them  and this bloody thing is too long already. Just this one.

[thesecretfandom]

At First Light: One Year Ago (Prologue)

A/N: I’m very excited to announce At First Light, my Riverdale/Until Dawn AU fic! This has been a huge project for me, challenging and fun. There are a few things you should know before you begin reading. At the end of each chapter you will have a choice (In the form of two options that will link you to the next chapter). Each choice you make will affect the events of the story, so be careful. Also, I will warn you that this is based on a horror game, so I tried to make it as scary as possible. If that’s not your cup of tea, read at your own risk. Otherwise, enjoy!

Word Count:  ~30,000 for entire fic.

Rated: M

Warnings: Horror Themes, Major Character Death

Summary: One year ago a group of friends gathered together at the family lodge on Mount Blossom. When one friend, and brother, goes missing on their night of fun, their lives are changed forever. Now, a year later, the remaining eight friends have gathered again to celebrate the life of their friend, until all hell breaks loose. It’s up to you to decide. Who will survive Until Dawn? Choose wisely. 

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“Gather ‘round ladies and gents!” Cheryl Blossom announced theatrically. She made up one half of the twins hosting the party at the lodge on top of Mount Blossom, formerly Thornhill Mountain. The girl with the bright red hair stood in front of the massive fireplace in main living space of her family’s extravagant lodge. Next to her stood her brother, Jason. They were as identical as two twins of opposite gender could be. Skin as white as the snow that fell all over the mountain that cold January night, their hair the same hue of red, almost unrealistically vibrant.

“We’ve invited you all here this weekend to celebrate friendship in a world of fantasy!”

Jason threw an arm around his sister. While Cheryl was loud and exuberant, Jason was a bit more quiet and laid back. They balanced each other out.

“What Cheryl means to say… alcohol is in the kitchen. We have beer, wine, tequila, whiskey, and vodka, as well as various mixers. Food. We have chips, popcorn, trail mix, and whatever else you can find in the cupboards. Nothing is off limits tonight, just don’t jump into the fire or hurt yourself in anyway.” Jason glanced around at the other seven people gathered around him. Josie and Archie cuddled in a recliner, Reggie had already cracked open a beer in the kitchen, Veronica perched on the back of the couch where Kevin sat awkwardly between Jughead and Betty, who kept throwing secretive glances at each other behind Kevin’s back. It was really a ragtag group of friends. Each with such a unique personality that even Jason didn’t understand how they’d all become best friends. “So, no rules tonight. Have fun!”

Cheryl stepped forward, regaining the spotlight. “Speaking of fun… we’re going to be playing truth or dare! And this isn’t some middle school game we’re playing. If your truths or dares aren’t rated at least PG-13, I will give you one rated R.” Cheryl stuck her hands defiantly on her hips. “No arguing, hostess rules.”

The wind howled and the creaky old windows rattled. A loud crash exploded from the kitchen.

“Sorry, dude.” Reggie was standing in small puddle surrounded by shards of glass. “The wind just kind of freaks me out.”

“Jesus, Reg.” Jason sighed. He left his spot in front of the fireplace to walk into the smaller, but no less extravagant kitchen. “The night has yet to begin and you’re already destroying my property.” He joked.

The night proceeded just as any other party made up of nine high school seniors may be expected.

“Jughead, you haven’t had a turn yet.” Archie slurred.

“Ah yes, Jughead. Truth… or Dare?” Cheryl crooned.

“Do I seriously have to participate in this stupid game?” Jughead was as sober as it gets. After dealing with an alcoholic father for most of his life, there was no amount of peer pressure that would get him to take even a sip of the beer Archie had forced into his hand.

“If you don’t choose, I’ll choose for you.” Cheryl replied with a smirk. “Choose wisely. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you, just this once.”

“Fine, give me a dare.” Jughead shifted on the lumpy couch. The Blossom’s had really let the place go in recent years. He remembers when they were kids coming up here every weekend in the summer, bunk beds set up in two of the many bedrooms the lodge boasted. Cheryl and Jason’s parents had stopped their regular trips to the mountain, so now the one time of year this mountain was inhabited was when these nine teenagers gathered here each January for a weekend of skiing, drinking, and for some of them… sex.

“That’s my kind of answer.” The room was silent. Everyone in the room waiting for Jughead’s sentencing. Not once had he ever participated in one of Cheryl’s games, so something must’ve made tonight different. “I’ve got the perfect dare for you. Jughead Jones, I dare you to…kiss Betty Cooper on the lips.”

Betty’s cheeks turned a shade of bright pink, while Jughead’s eyes widened to twice their usual size.

“Go on.” Cheryl crossed her arms over her chest. “Pucker up.”

Jughead glanced at Betty, Kevin still sitting between them. “Do you mind?” He said to the boy sitting in his way.

Kevin hopped out of his seat so quickly, it was as if his pants were on fire. He immediately took a seat next to Veronica, though he stared blatantly at Betty and Jughead as the black haired boy leaned closer to Betty.

“It’s just a stupid game.” Jughead whispered. Betty nodded slightly and Jughead placed his lips on hers for a split second before pulling away. Betty’s cheeks had already turned a brighter shade of pink.

“What did I say?” Cheryl said. “PG-13 at the least. That kiss wasn’t even good enough for a Disney princess. Try again.”

Jughead glared at Cheryl and wondered yet again why he’d allowed himself to be dragged into this game. Cheryl fixed him with an equally as intimidating stare, tapping her foot impatiently. Jughead glanced around the room with the hope that someone would talk her out of this so he could go back to hiding in a corner like he was used to. All of this attention, it just wasn't…

Betty interrupted his thoughts. She suddenly leaned into him, kissing his lips. It was barely more than a peck,  but apparently enough to satisfy the Ice Queen Cheryl. She threw up her arms in defeat and finally sat down next to her brother.

“You’re up, JJ.”

Jason cringed at his sister’s nickname for him. Eighteen years old and their childhood nicknames could not be shaken. He took a swig from his beer to drown out the reminders of his childhood. Being a Blossom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Not that anyone would believe a rich kid like himself had any problems, but Cheryl understood. Maybe that’s why they were so close.

“I’ll take a dare too. But maybe be a little more original this time?”

“I’ve got one for you.” Josie piped up. “I dare you, Jason Blossom, to go out to the guest cabin and back. And you have to bring something back from the cabin so you can prove it.”

“Easy peasy.” Jason set his beer on the coffee table and walked toward the door. He pulled his black, winter coat off of a hook, zipping it tightly and donning the hood. “See you on the other side.”  He offered up a military salute before disappearing into the freezing night air.

Jason walked briskly down the well known path to the guest cabin. The wind howled through the trees, blistering cold wind whipping over his cheeks. His feet crunched through the rapidly hardening snow as he struggled against the cold.

A loud crack startled Jason and he stumbled backward as the large oak on his left succumbed to the winter storm and fell with a crash in front of him.

“Shit…” Jason brushed snow off of his pants as he stood. The oak tree was now blocking the entire path. He’d have to climb over if he wanted to complete his quest. In the distance, Jason could hear the crunch crunch crunch of footsteps. “What the fuck, guys?”

He was sure it must be his friends following him into the woods to scare him. The footsteps got louder as they got closer. Jason frantically looked around; no one on the path behind him, no sign of anyone in the woods surrounding him, was that a shadow behind that tree?

“Very funny, guys.” Jason back up until his back hit the trunk of the fallen tree. “This wasn’t part of the dare. Go back to the lodge!” He was shouting against the wind, but he could still distinctly hear the footsteps as someone appeared from behind the tree, and it wasn’t one of his friends.

“What the fu-?” Jason turned, scrambling over the tree trunk. A branch caught his legs and he stumbled. The man was still following him, and Jason ripped himself free. He sprinted as fast as his freezing joints would carry him through the woods.

He left the trail, hoping the congestion of the thick forest would slow down the man chasing him. Sharp branches ripped at his body. He felt a slow trickle of blood drip down his cheek, but he had to keep running. He didn’t even know where he was anymore when he suddenly burst out of the forest and slid to a stop overlooking a steep drop-off. The cliff had to be three stories high, with a spattering of rocks gathered at the bottom.

Jason didn’t know where to go. He couldn’t turn back, or the man might catch him, but he would surely die if he tried climbing down the steep cliffside. He didn’t have time to make a decision because the dark shadow of a man emerged from the woods. He stepped slowly toward the boy quivering on the edge of the cliff. He was holding a gun in his arms, his face covered by a gas mask. The strange man slowly lifted an arm to the boy, but didn’t step any closer. It looked like he was trying to…

A series of loud crashes and screams came from the woods and the man spun on his heel, gun lifted as he shot out a burst of flame that didn’t quite reach the trees. When he spun around the man caught a glimpse of the terrified boy as he slipped and disappeared from view. His screams lasted far too long; the man waiting until he stopped screaming before walking to the cliffside and taking a knee. The boy was nowhere to be seen, but he knew the fall would have broken his body and soon… the snow would erase any sign that he’d ever been here.

—————————————-

“JJ should be back by now, don’t you think?” Cheryl was pacing back and forth, having called off their game of truth or dare when Jason left. “It’s been an hour. He should be back!”

CHOICE

Send Archie and Reggie to look for him.

Wait until the morning. 

[bulgarianmermaid]

There are places you know you will miss from the first moment you set your eyes on them. Those places feel like home without you even having thought of visiting them let alone living there before. Deep into the Caucasus Mountains, where Georgia ends and Russia begins, at the top of Cross Pass outside Gudauri, you can still find high mountain peaks, desolate roads, rugged landscape, and unexplored wilderness that make my heart sing. High up there, where >5000m peaks kiss the bright blue sky and most people lose their breath, that is where I get found. The wilderness speaks directly to my soul, it calls my wild heart, it urges me to explore. It calms me down, I sleep without a single worry, nothing matters and all our “modern” concerns seem like “first world problems”.

The real Georgia in winter is cold and snowy, rough around the edges, wild and untamable, high in altitude and strong in liquor content. Just how I like my destinations (and my men) ❤ A few places in the American West had such a profound effect on me, an effect so strong I didn’t want to leave, let alone go back to the city. The Caucasus Mountains remind me of the San Juans in Southwest Colorado high up Red Mountain Pass from Ouray to Silverton – a place where I camped without a tent at 12000ft elevation and that experience was the best birthday present I could have ever asked for ❤

Gudauri is the largest ski resort in Georgia hidden deep in the Caucasus Mountains on Georgia Military Road almost all the way to the Russian border. Gudauri Ski Resort‘s base is at >2000m, its highest chair lift reaches 3200m, so with a vertical drop top to bottom on a ski run 1200m, it will surely make your legs shake 🙂 All 75km of groomed ski runs in Gudauri sit above tree line facing the sun and grant you the view of a lifetime every single chair ride. In terms of snow conditions, terrain quality, lift services and variety of ski runs, Gudauri can rival any ski resort in the Alps and the Rockies. Gudauri just added 4 new chair lifts this season and opened a whole new valley on the back side (Kobi) to off piste skiing and riding. Yet you can still have the whole resort to yourself and ski right behind the snow cat on empty slopes during the week.

Since I was in Gudauri for 2 weeks with IntotheWild.bg, we could choose what to do each day depending on the conditions and we rode off piste every time we got a foot of new snow. On the days when Ullr didn’t deliver overnight freshies, we basked in the sun and rode soft groomers. Because when you go to the Caucasus Mountains you get equally spoiled by fresh snow and freshly groomed slopes! Gudauri Ski Resort offers 3 valleys with lift serviced terrain for off piste skiing/riding. In addition, there are multiple backcountry and ski touring routes if you are willing to take a hike for an hour or two and earn your turns.

PC: @intothewild.bg

PC: Veselin Dochev

On our days off from skiing (2 in total for two weeks), we checked the Russian baths in Gudauri (Tsar Bani) for an authentic experience at the highest steam baths in the world and took a shuttle to the village of Kazbegi to visit Rooms Hotel for its signature view which overlooks Mt Kazbeg and Gergeti Trinity Church from the balcony. Only later did I find that Mt Kazbeg (>5000m = >16000ft) is a dormant volcano, no wonder I fell in love with it at first sight!

In Gudauri I recommend staying at Quadrum Hotel (under $100 for a double room, breakfast with a view included). Brand new and built only with natural materials in simple and modern Scandinavian style, it offers a spa and swimming pool, as well as daily yoga classes to meet all your post-skiing / hiking needs and soothe your sore muscles. There is a bar and restaurant on site as well where you can grab dinner as you’ll be exhausted after a day of skiing and unwilling to look for a place to eat down the road in town at night.

  In Kazbegi Rooms Hotel (over $100 for double room, breakfast with a view included) gets my vote for fantastic design, superb amenities, fusion cuisine and incredible service. You’ll notice there are many cheaper options in Georgia but as with every developing country, you get what you pay for, so be careful how excited you get about a budget room, especially if your budget can accommodate a comfier experience 🙂 Remember to book both hotels well in advance as they usually sell out during the main season.

    Considering my obsession with high mountain passes, Georgia Military Road deserves its own blogpost but I’ll try to give it enough attention here before I return to explore it further in summer. Georgia Military Road is one of ONLY 2 passes that connect Georgia with Russia over the Caucasus Mountains. Being a major road artery, the pass is usually well cleaned after a snow storm (or completely closed during one) and is quite busy with semi truck traffic. The highest point is Cross pass (Jvari Pass) right outside Gudauri Ski Resort at 2379m (7815ft). In winter the road works only in one direction in 2 hr intervals as the “tunnels” (actually avalanche barriers) are too narrow for two trucks to pass at the same time. There is a separate lane for summer that allows two way traffic but it is closed in winter as it is too dangerous to drive on that sliver of asphalt on the cliffside with no barriers and vertical drops at most places.

The never ending “tunnels” between Gudauri and Kazbegi are probably the most freakish roads I have ever passed (and to think I was considering hitchhiking there…) There is no light inside, no road markings or directions, the tunnels curve and are very narrow (remember…one way traffic). If I told you there would be light at the end of the tunnel (literally), would you follow me high up in the Caucasus Mountains in the middle of a snow storm, on windy one-lane roads through pitch-black avalanche barriers? And if you did the reward would be one of the greatest views of Mt Kazbeg you’ve ever seen (and a cocktail in the swanky bar at the posh Rooms Hotel Kazbegi)

    Georgia may seem far and off the beaten path to the weekend traveler, yet there are multiple flights daily from Europe to Tbilisi and Kutaishi. We opted for budget travel and I’m SO glad we did! The bus-shuttle-plane-taxi experience gave our trip such a good and authentic start. Since we were coming from Bulgaria, we took the bus to Turkey (6hrs overnight from Plovdiv to Istambul in the coldest night of the year), schlepped our luggage from the bus station to the airport with a shuttle (which took another 1.5hrs), then jumped on a flight to Tbilisi (2.5hrs of crammed leg space) and finished our trip with a taxi to Gudauri (add 2 more hours where we were so exhausted the taxi driver could have taken us anywhere and I wouldn’t have cared as long as he let me sleep 🙂

  The travel was very oriental and interesting, safe, cheap, and by no means difficult. Culture shock abound for my Western friends every step of the way – squat toilets with no paper at the Bulgarian-Turkish border (yes, we had to cross the border on foot at night in the middle of a rainstorm), perfumed alcohol in the bus to disinfect your hands, having to haggle for your bottled water (because you have to haggle for everything in the Middle East), et all. Since we were coming from a place with no snow and going thru a place with no snow, everyone was really interested in us and where we are going with all this snowboarding gear. Some people had never seen snow, most couldn’t even perceive the idea that we were taking a bus to a shuttle to a plane to a taxi to a winter resort in Georgia almost on the border with Russia.

    To get from Tbilisi to the mountains you have to experience the famous Georgian driving on steep and windy mountain roads. My recommendation is to hold on tight and not look at what the driver is doing…prayer also helps 🙂 You thought Istambul driving was crazy, wait till you see Georgia. If you don’t abide to above rules, you’ll die of heart attack WAY before you actually crash. Locals drive these roads every day, your shuttle driver is well aware of what he is doing, save him your backseat driver speech 🙂

    The capital of Georgia – Tbilisi (aka ТиБилЛиСи in Bulgarian) is also called Tiflis in Turkey where I almost missed my flight not being able to find Tbilisi on the dashboard. And while the US has Facebook and Russia has V Kontakte, Tbilisi has Balcony.ge. People observe and share everything from their balconies 🙂 There is balcony architecture, balcony culture, balcony parties, basically “Welcome to the Land of Balconies!”

    Having covered skiing and travel in Georgia, now onto food and wine! What should you try from the famous Georgian cuisine? Basically everything…more than once – Kachapuri (homemade cheese and egg “pastry”), Khinkali (meat or veggie dumplings), Shashlik (meat skewers), breads, yogurt, cheeses, jams, jellies, soups, pickled veggies, spices!!! Based on the cuisines I had tasted before, I found Georgian dishes to resemble a mix of Armenian, Turkish, Russian, and Eastern European flavors but maybe those countries borrowed their spices and intricate preparations from Georgia, who knows…

    Georgia produces both red and white wines grown in a special viticultural region. The red is served hot and spiced on the slopes – a must for this apres-ski loving gal! Two other beverages to try are cognac and chacha. Georgia produces some of the best cognac in the world, I recommend the 5 or 8 yrs old aged varieties. And don’t forget to buy some as gifts for home! Chacha is the local name for homemade vodka / raki / moonshine. It is made from different fermented fruits. Drinking chacha is a Georgian tradition – don’t you dare refuse a toast – and resembles tequila tasting in Mexico. You will get drunk, for sure!!! The supermarket varieties go up to 55 proof while home-made chacha can be all the way up to 85 proof. I was super lucky to try a 65 proof persimmon homemade chacha aged in oak barrels on the slopes. You bet I brought some home 🙂

Last but definitely not least, I couldn’t get over was how sweet, kind, and hospitable the locals were, everywhere! Georgia is still very real, rural in places and rough around the edges at times, but that just adds to its local charm. Go visit while it is an up and coming destination, affordable and a developing tourist market and not yet full of foreigners and skiers. There is just SO MUCH to see and explore in Georgia, I only went to Gudauri and the Kazbegi Region but I will definitely be back in summer to hike the Caucasus Mountains, visit the wine region and experience the famous Tbilisi nightlife!

Svaneti in Summer – PC: @zermatterhorn

Gudauri Ski Resort, Georgia – A Gem Hidden Deep in the Caucasus Mountains There are places you know you will miss from the first moment you set your eyes on them.