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did not remember how good of an episode the body (btvs) is. oh my god
#i wish i wrote and directed it. its so good holy shit.#i hate j*** w***** sooooo much but. fuck.#could write an entire essay on why its so good.
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this was going to be like a mile long essay but i just realized the most concise way to say it is that "it feels like a retcon that blitz has been so resentful and hostile towards fizz all this time since he was supposed to feel guilty" is simply not a good criticism when we have been shown, time and time again, that blitz's number one defense mechanism when he feels guilty or judged or attacked is to lash out, to deflect and ignore all his responsibility, and to shift the blame to someone else. that's like. his defining character flaw
#- and that's WHY it was such a major THING for his arc!! that he apologized to fizz and accepted responsibility for what he did!!!#like. the fact that he said; EXPLICITLY; the words 'you're right; it was all my fault; i should have done better; i am so sorry' IS#SO BIG!!!! LIKE THAT IS SUCH A HUGE THING FOR HIM!!!!!#mine#helluva boss#blitzo helluva boss#helluva boss blitzo#blitz#e: oops#analysis#also its entirely reasonable that blitz would have gone spiraling down the thought process that maybe fizz always hated him if he could#blame him so easily when fizz was probably the one blitz was MOST counting on to hear him out#and the fact that fizz went on and got SUPER famous and successful after he was no longer performing with blitz - who i'm SURE had#only been given more and more shit for not being as good as fizz as they got older (by his dad and by himself) - he probably assumed fizz#blamed him for that too - holding fizz back with his own poor performance#which is why his insults towards fizz had always been 'overrated sellout' and insisting he slept his way to the top with ozzie.#he'd tear down fizz's quality as a performer because BLITZ feels insecure about his OWN quality as a performer#these tags have gotten so fucking long but that's the gist of the essay i was gonna write about this fjfdjjfghf#MEDIA ANALYSIS IS MY PASSION
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at the beginning of the trial for 4-2, the judge makes it pretty clear that he hasnt seen klavier in court since the trial of seven years ago, and he even says that he worried klavier might still be upset about it. but klavier doesnt actually confirm or deny any of this
this dialogue drives me so insane. did he really stay away from all legal matters for seven years? did he prosecute cases and just happened to deal with other judges? did he work on cases that he didnt prosecute (like how edgeworth worked on sl-9 without being the prosecutor)??? he didnt even start prosecuting cases right after kristoph was arrested, there were about two months between 4-1 and 4-2, so it seems like he really did just start standing in court again to see if apollo was a good lawyer or not. im losing my mind i need to see klavier gavin again i need to know if he really did stop working as a prosecutor entirely for seven years and if he really did suspect that kristoph manipulated him all along
#gripping the sides of my laptop so tightly i crush it. so i've been thinking about aa4 recently#this is all questions but generally i think that um. theres no way he gave up being a prosecutor entirely#i mean klavier said that daryan was the very first detective he ever worked with. and the case seven years ago had gumshoe instead#so we know that before that case klavier had probably been working on other cases and just wasnt like the prosecutor in charge of em#so he very much could have been doing that#also. if he did stop standing in court. did he really believe that kristoph manipulated him??? like listen#yes in 4-4 he says that hes been wondering about the truth of that case for seven years#but. he could have been lying. bc earlier when apollo suggests that kristoph is the killer in 4-4#klavier says. and i quote. 'there's no way my bro could do a thing like that!'#and the judge is like yeah he was in jail he couldnt have done that. but the wording of that sounds much more like klavier believes that#his bro is not an evil person. (yes kristoph was already arrested for murder once at this point. but if klavier watched that trial then#i think theres a good chance he noticed that the bloody ace was suspicious as shit. i think he could have still believed kris to be innocen#............................................who knows maybe he believed kristoph not to be a murderer but a guy who gave him wrong info#why did i put this in the tags if i was gonna write a whole essay. whatever. i have to put klavier in my brain and microwave him every#so often. i know so many klavier lines its insane also i know that some of these lines probably were not meant to be thought about too much#but what are htey gonna do? put me in ace attorney jail??? let me see klavier and franziska and kay and sebastian? ok go ahead
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I NEED to make him worse
#not in a romantic way. in a fanfiction way sad face#.#I JUST#I NEED TO RUIN HIS ENTIRE LIFE#like you thought he was deranged before? ooh baby. oh hahahaha#zim wide eyed seen from the ground#zim being a little more snappy because today he's having trouble keeping The Thoughts away#zim confused and hazy#pausing momentarily to remember where he is#zim wondering 'where is that horrible wailing noise coming from?'#zim decomposing slowly in his rocking chair#when did it get like this#how could you let this happen#i am so so bad at writing but i WANT TO!! GRAGGH!!!!#and don't say 'oh dont worry if its good or not just do it'#I CANT WRITE IF I DONT LIKE WHAT IM PUTTING DOWN#thats why i always only do one draft in essays#and that's why i may or may not have failed composition 2#ok whatevz rant over
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apologies to everyone who has to interact with me today or tomorrow because i just CANNOT be normal about hamlet and i WILL be doing this inside my head
#i have very complex feelings about fangirling over hamlet because like#its the best known play ever i think. like. yeah#like if i said oh my god do you know what makes you beautiful by one direction its so good i cannot be normal about it#but on the other hand. why should i care i should just enjoy this and not imagine that someones judging me the entire time#like yeah i guess for people who are into theater as well its like “basic” but who cares if youre basic yk this whole striving to be specia#is tiring and useless#and also. i could not tell you why i love hamlet. do Not know. i guess bc its drama and gay and emo i think thats why#i have no great theories about it i could not write an essay on hamlets character#i have however made a powerpoint about why hamlet is gay#im just ranting in the tags now i realise#sorry#hope you didnt read through all that#anyway#another one for the void#caspian is obsessed with hamlet
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the way people are once again removing all the nuance and moral greyness and complexity out of the last of us, but especially joel miller’s character is kinda concerning lol
#i told myself i wasn't gonna get into the discourse but i was reading through some of the posts and comments in the tlou tag and... oof#like i get it i could write whole essays about my feelings on this story and its characters and the ending ect.#but a lot of people are already getting annoyingly defensive of every single one of joel’s actions#literally stripping him of all of the flaws and complexities and moral greyness that make him such a great character#why are yall turning him into a clean cut selfless hero that did everything right like that's so boring#what’s most frustrating is how people are completely ignoring ellie’s perspective in all of this#some even just pushing her entire character aside in favor of joel#only bringing her or her trauma up when they’re trying to justify something joel did#and treating her like an accessory to his character when you should be reflecting how his actions are gonna affect HER#i hate to break it to yall but if you bring this highly romanticized version of joel into the next season#yall are NOT gonna have a good time#it happened once and it will happen again and i know the inevitable backlash is gonna be twice as bad this time that’s why im concerned#anyway those are just my two cents that no one asked for if you see me posting any type of discourse again pls shoot me lol#and please don't think i'm a joel hater either those people are just as annoying they're just in the minority i think especially on tumblr#why can't we just enjoy joel for the morally grey complex and honestly fucked up and tragic man that he is#it's like joel defender this joel hater that let's just be joel enjoyers#or joel lovers that'd be me because i love him with all my heart 🥺#especially hbo joel like his characterization was so good he just hits different and honestly i prefer him over game joel#and i do enjoy the occasional ''joel is innocent/did nothing wrong' memes/jokes i think they're hilarious and ultimately harmless#(also the joel/abby memes but that's another story sjafhksaf)#this was more about the people writing almost whole ass dissertations or actively starting arguments in their fervent need to defend joel#okay im done lol#lucy rants#i tried to keep this little rant as spoiler free as possible because there's no way in hell im tagging this asjfknsa this was more for me#if you read this whole thing through the end: hi i hope your day was good and if it wasn't i hope it's great tomorrow :)
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oky okay okay okay so theres so many reasons why theyd pick irida as leader im crazy im thinking rn so much
#z rambles#i cant type but i do have the ideas#hope and pity? shes just like a sacrificial lamb#idk im crazy about her theres so much#but why did they pick her over palina? glad u ask. guilt#like they did sth. sth that makes them feel so much guilt and regret that this decision was just an act of mercy#a good deed to make themselves look good. an appeal to the new leader#i could really write an entire essay about irida omg im. i cant#i have so much to think but im horrible at words it just sucks its so bad#like this dont make sense to u but to me. like my mind.#my mind ya know its. my mind. powerful#i can be worse about this but i choose not to. for everyones safety....#LOOK JUST. JUST KNOW THEM PEARL CLAN BITTIES R NOT THE MOST GOOD HEARTED OF PEOPLE#im sure u can tell i like to make the pearl clan worse than the diamond clan and theres reaons for it#i wont say it but jus tknow my mind is powerful and ive connected sooo mny dots trust me#im normal
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When I was an undergrad, I made a point of trying to sidetrack my supervisors as much as possible during supervisions, so that we could go off on a tangent and use up half the time discussing something barely related to my essay, and therefore have less time to dwell on its flaws.
(For those unfamiliar with the Cambridge supervision system, each week you're required to write an essay about a topic you probably knew nothing about before being handed the reading list, and then you spend an hour discussing it one-on-one, or in small groups depending on the subject, with your supervisor, who may be a random PhD student or may be the person who wrote half the reading list, depending on your luck.)
Once, I'd had a particularly bad week and had not written my essay about Scandinavian settlement in England, so I was having a more discussion-based supervision drawing on some bullet points I'd written. This would have been in my first term of first year, if I remember correctly. And we were talking about reasons why Vikings might settle rather than simply raiding, and my supervisor made some comment about them wanting "somewhere to wash their socks".
Sensing a potential avenue for distraction and also genuinely curious, I immediately asked, "Did Vikings wear socks?". My supervisor took the bait, and we passed the next ten minutes discussing a sock found preserved in York, of seemingly Scandinavian make, that would appear to answer that question in the affirmative. I remember very little else from that module, but nine years down the line, I remembered that there was a Scandinavian-style sock found in York.
Anyway, today I showed up to the department's graduate presentations (compulsory) and discovered that the first of the two talks was entirely about this sock. I was honestly so pleased. I now know several more things about this sock! I have some details to pad out my vague understanding that there was something distinctive about how it was made! I have been introduced to the complex question of "did the English wear socks or were they a Scandinavian fashion?"! (Answer: there is no definitive evidence for widespread early English sock-wearing, but textile evidence is complicated, so this may not be conclusive.)
This is probably not what most people took from the "England Before The Normans" paper, but frankly, I never was any good at keeping track of kings. I would rather learn about the socks. And today -- just as in that supervision nine years ago -- I did.
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Pietà
art by @crowleyholmes
In the final moments of the last battle to save Earth, Crowley deals the last blow and he watches triumphantly as the Metatron collapses before him. But he doesn't come out unscathed. With a holy weapon pierced into his abdomen and time slipping away from him, he makes peace with his doomed fate as he awaits death in his angel's arms. Aziraphale will -not- have it though, as he does everything in his power to save the being he loves the most, risking everything to keep him.
Crowley doesn't notice the holy weapon piercing his upper abdomen at first, too busy still holding up his own infernal weapon as he watches the body of the powerful entity before him slowly start to crumble, a triumphant, wicked smile painted across his lips, adrenaline and victorious exhilaration coursing through his veins after a long, hard-fought battle against Heaven's tyrant. Then it hits him like a freight train. Pain so poignant it makes the world seem to bend. He stumbles a few steps back, dropping his weapon as his mind catches up with the sensation. The pain throbs violently, rapidly spreading like poison from his abdomen down to his every limb. He stops breathing as a weak attempt to stop it, but it doesn't help much. He just stands there, limbs shaking until his wobbling legs collapse. He grunts at the shock of pain that shoots up his body as his knees hit the ground and he falls limply on his side, mouth gaping helplessly like a fish out of water. The pain courses through his entire body, and it’s worse than any torture he’s ever endured in hell or anywhere. He's been whipped, burned, shot, cut in half, dismembered, had his bones repetitively broken, and worst of all, been forced to write a five hundred page essay on why demons should never do good deeds. And of course, he's been stabbed before. Quite a common occurrence during his first centuries on Earth. But never has he ever come close to a holy weapon of this caliber before. Holiness so venomous it stings and burns right through his very soul, chafing at it, tearing it, corroding it bit by burning bit, slowly disintegrating the delicate fabric of his essence. He wants to scream, but finds himself voiceless, so he just lies there motionless, ichor oozing out of his wound, pooling around him, collecting in his mouth, and trickling down his cheek.
It feels like hours -though it must've been just a couple minutes- before he is found. A familiar voice calls out to him in the distance, a voice he knows as well as his own. It sounds pained and desperate, and he wants nothing more than to run to it and soothe its owner’s woes until there's nothing left but gentleness in the world. The voice sounds way farther than it is, for in an instant, there are soft hands carefully scooping him up, cradling him close, surrounding him in warmth. His eyes try to focus on the blurry figure above him.
“...wley,” The echo of his voice reaches him. “Crowley, oh God Crowley answer me,” he pleads.
A different kind of ache crushes his chest. It's fine, everything is fine. I took care of it, he wants to say. His mouth twitches, trying to form words, knowing they could very well be his last.
“Angel,” he manages to whisper. “My angel…”
Continue Reading on AO3
#good omens#good omens 2#good omens s2#good omens s3#good omens fanfiction#good omens fanfics#good omens fanfic#good omens fics#good omens fic#good omens fic rec#crowley#aziraphale#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#ineffable idiots#ineffable partners#ineffable lovers#ineffable spouses#ineffable heartbreak#anthony j crowley#good omens fandom#good omens fanart#good omens fanwork#good omens angst
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I'm not the best writer when it comes to writing convincing essays or whatever, but I'm going to give this a go because it's something that I've thought for a long time that I've never seen anyone really acknowledge unless I bring it up first. (also I am sick and don't really want to do much editing here, just rambles, so good luck)
I think that when most (not all, but most) people get salty about 'modern art', they are not salty about the things people think they are salty about. When they say "this isn't art", theres an important bit that they're not articulating. What I think most of them mean is "this isn't art that should be in a museum." "this isn't art that should cost this much" "this isn't art that should be getting this kind of recognition". And there is a huge difference between that and just saying "this isn't art"
Firstly, all of the arguments about why modern art is in fact art straight up....don't apply. They don't address the problem, they don't answer the question. This isn't really anyone's fault per se, given that it is addressing the literal statement, it's just I think most people aren't actually thinking that literal statement.
So then what do they really mean? Like I said, I think they're trying to articulate why they're frustrated that this art is in a museum when "they could do it". So when you say "okay then, you do it" that doesn't address the core issue, which is "but why is this getting recognition for it, and I would get none" because yes, unless they are famous, they would get Zero recognition for it. Nobody would be lining up to buy their art, no one would ask to put it in a museum. Best place they can hope to have this displayed is a fridge door.
When you look at a piece of fine art, most can see the amount of effort put into it. They see how much training it took to get there, they see how much time it took to put those strokes on that canvas and they can go "yeah, that took skill, that took effort, not everyone can do that. it deserves recognition". And a lot of modern art does take skill, it's just skill that isn't easily noticeable to the average viewer, such as rothko's color fields, they do take a lot of skill and effort, you just can't see it if you don't know. But a lot of modern art that people complain about isn't something that has skill that's not recognized, it just requires very little technical skill at all (not a condemnation, btw).
When you're talking about something 'anyone can do' that piece's value is often not a recognition of skill, or even of the message, it's a recognition of a name. It's similar to having a gucci bag because it's a gucci bag, not because you care remotely about the bag. Yes, art isn't displayed because of how much effort went into it, but it's a huge industry that many many people are making money through from sheer name recognition alone.
Like that one painting of that one artist's (I forget which artist and my cursory google isnt finding it, but also its just an example) where it got replicated and sold to a bunch of people for a large amount of money so they could all have something that had a small chance of being a genuine painting by the artist, that's an excellent example of the fact that a lot of the gallery-level art world is Entirely about the name, not about the piece itself. If someone just made that painting but didn't say it could be from the artist, then who cares?
If you go to ringo starr's art website (https://www.ringostarrart.com/) then you can see that some of his work, especially his older work, is of that category of stuff that many people would say "I could do that" to. For instance, these two? 1,400 and 6,000 pounds respectively for a PRINT of these from his website
....okay this one I kinda enjoy.
but still. 2,000 pounds for a print.
All of this is possible because he's ringo fucking starr, he can sell his paintings for whatever he wants. If I tried to sell those for that much, I'd be laughed out of the room. All of it is just clout, it's just how big your name is and how much you can use that as leverage.
This is not to say that other forms of art don't also have this issue, they do, especially with people devaluing creative works so much today. But you could probably get a few commissions if you sell realistic art or do commissions of people's characters, while you Cannot get any money trying to sell stuff like ringos art unless you already have an audience who will buy it.
This does somewhat lead into a discussion of how art curators pick which artists are 'good' somewhat arbitrarily, but that's a whole other post.
Doing art for 'yourself' vs for other people or money is also a whole other post, one which I've actually seen quite a lot on here. But suffice to say if your response to all of this is 'just make art for yourself! Why do you need recognition?' then maybe go find some of those posts. It's not bad to want recognition, and it's not bad to question why that guy is getting much more recognition for the exact same thing you're doing just because he has a bunch of rich friends who are able to host fancy parties and go 'hmm. yes this is good art.' (not that all modern artists had rich friends, but they did almost all get Extremely lucky in some shape or another that led to them now being widely accepted as good artists).
You cannot make a living off modern art unless you're well known, and if you happen to be well known already, you could likely make a living off modern art without having any experience, and that's what a lot of people hate about modern art, even if they don't articulate it. While some would, most wouldn't say "my five year old could do that" to someone's personal piece that they made themselves and hung up in their home, or that their friend made and gave to them. They say that about the pieces bought for thousands of dollars or millions of dollars.
And I don't want people to think that I do hate modern art, I don't (though this is tumblr, so I'm pissing on the poor just by writing this). I don't hate any of the famous modern artists, I don't think modern art isn't art. I do hate the industry that says their art is suddenly worth something just because some rich fuckers somewhere decided they should be, and anything I tried to do in a similar vein, original or not, would be better suited to sit in a coffee shop and continuously marked down and never sold.
So next time you say "so why don't you make it", maybe ask yourself if you would buy it.
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Warmly greet!🫰 I just came across your blog today and I'm already in love with it!🖤🖤🖤 Could I leave a request here where Puppeteer, Jason, Candy Pop and LJ have a S/O who has insecurities about not being good enough for them? Because, come on...they're supernatural, not quite human, and their S/O is a regular, weak human, at least from the S/O's point of view...
Oooh thank you, friend! Also, i never get to write for Candypop or LJ so i am excited to do it!
Thank you so much for requesting!!
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Puppeteer
He will just kind of stare at you when you tell him those feelings
Like??? Are you kidding???
He is so obsessively in love with you that the thought of you feeling like you aren't enough for him is wild to him
Instantly he will assure you that you are more than he could ever dream of, and how much he loves you
He doesnt love you for supernatural abilities or powers, he loves you for you
Again, the thought of you not being enough for him doesn't even really comprehend in his mind
it's so insane to him that you, his most favorite person in the world who he couldn't live without, thinks that they aren't enough for him
If anything, he isn't enough for you, in his opinon
you are a literal deity walking on earth, and he is lucky enough to even witness your beauty and you think you arent enough???
Yeah, those thoughts are snuffed out rather quickly by him
He will spend the entire day going over every little thing he adores about you if he has to
Jason The Toymaker
He is just kind of confused when you express your feelings to him
"Now, what's this all about?" he asks with a pitiful look towards you
He honestly thinks that it's kind of weird that those feelings are even something humans are capable of feeling
What does he care that you don't have any weird abilities?
"Even when you are old and grey I will still love you. I will love you when you are in pain, and I will love you when you are happy. You being human makes no difference to me, because I love you. Even when you breathe your last breath, your soul will live on with me in the form of my favorite doll I will keep on a special shelf, pristine and upkept"
He's kind of a helpless romantic lol
Bro gave you a whole essay
anyways, he literally could not care less if you are magical or not, he's just thinks you're neat <33
CandyPop
He kind of thinks its funny that you think that
He will snort and look at you like you're joking "why??"
"You shouldn't feel that way. It's pointless to. Because you and I both know that no matter what, I still love you. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't like you at least a little bit"
He will joke around with you and make you try to feel good about being human
You are allowed to go pretty much wherever you please without being called a demon, he can't
Your squishy flesh human body is quite sustainable on its own, being able to morph and adapt to extreme situations, which he thinks is neat
And his personal favorite about humans, specifically you, you have such a wide array of expressing yourself! You have emotions, art, studies, etc
He loves you being human and you not liking being human is strange to him
Laughing Jack
He understands the insecurity
He can't say he's ever felt it, because he gives literally no fucks, but he understands
He will do whatever you want him to do about it, really
Lord knows he doesn't know what to do
If you wanna rant, he'll listen
If you wanna just be doted on, that's what he'll do
Whatever makes you feel better
Honestly, he does find it a little peculiar that you don't like being human
Like, if he could be 5'10", wear whatever he wants, do whatever he wants, go whatever he wants, etc, he'd be soooo happy
His 7'6" ass could never
#creepypasta#slender mansion#creepypasta x y/n#creepypasta x you#creepypasta x female reader#candy pop x reader#candy pop#laughing jack x you#laughing jack x reader#laughing jack#the puppeteer#the puppeteer x reader#jason the toymaker x reader#jason the toymaker
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I Don't Want To Wait, seventy-four
rowaelin high school bff au masterlist
AN: Well, babes, this is it. The final effing chapter of IDWTW. When I started writing this, almost exactly four years ago (chapter 1 posted on may 29, 2020!), I had no idea what it would become. I thought it was going to be vv casual prompt-based high school pining vignettes, simply to rewrite my own version of Dawson’s Creek – if you’ve ever wondered why it was called IDWTW, that’s why! It was a temp title that stuck! – but 375k+ words later… it’s become so much more. And that is because of YOU. Whether you have been here since 2020 or you joined along the way or you're finding this years after the face, I am infinitely grateful. I don’t know that I would have been able to pull through the last few years without your kindness and enthusiasm for these two idiots (and their friends and fam). I have loved telling this story, but mostly, I’m grateful that this journey introduced me to so many incredible humans and created a community of babes I will hold near and dear to my heart for literally ever (it’s true, I loved one of you so much that I drove across the country to meet her, and in a few short months she will be my WIFE!). This story brought so much good into my life, and I am hella proud to finally conclude it. From the incredible creators who made fanart, to the essays of comments on each chapter, to the back and forth of discussing consent, sexuality, and reproductive rights in my inbox, every gif, comment, reblog, message, ask, and interaction of any kind has been a joy. Thank you.
With all of that said, let’s wrap this mother up.
A soft glowing circle lit up the black beneath Aelin’s feet. Her stomach tightened as she rested on one leg and hitched to the side in a slow exhale. Her breath centered her as she pulled her pointed toes up her calf until it extended into a slow and steady develope. Just as she had barely met the apex of her leg’s vertical reach, she exhaled again and twirled to the floor. The music cascaded over her as she continued to move, her muscles moving on autopilot into seamless choreography. She had beaten out several far more senior company members for this solo and had practiced it so many times that it lived within her, sure to remain there for the rest of time. With each of her graceful steps, the spotlight followed her and swathed her in its golden column, as if she were being beamed up into the sky above. With how much lift she got in her leaps, she felt like she was, too. Finally, the bass came in signaling the end of her solo and for the rest of the company to join her on stage, but even as the spot widened until it cast a bright haze across the floor, the floor remained empty.
Confused, she looked into the wings, but all she saw was blackness, not even the barely there violet glow of the stage manager’s lamp. She was grateful for her muscle memory, as her limbs continued their practiced movements as her brain whirled in confusion and panic. She was mid-twirl when the music came to an abrupt stop, and she had to put her entire energy into not tumbling over her own foot. When she finally regained her balance, she looked up and around in confusion. The audience, which she’d thought was packed, was emptied out, only one solitary figure remained. Even barely lit and in silhouette, Aelin would recognize her mother’s haughty posture and signature bouffant. Her slow, delicate clap was a stark contrast to the thrumming pulse of Aelin’s heart pounding against her rib cage.
“Mom?” she breathed, barely a whisper but it still echoed through the empty theater.
“A child bride,” Evalin replied with disgust.
Aelin’s brow shot up. “H-how did you—?”
Evalin cut her off. “You thought you could steal my wedding dress from my closet, and I wouldn’t know about it?”
Aelin looked down in confusion, but sure enough, her recital clothes had transformed into the ivory strapless column sheath she used to admire as a small girl. Rhoe had kept their wedding photo in his bedroom long after Evalin left, only removing the photo when a young Aelin commented with a wistful sigh that she’d never seen Rhoe smile the way he did in the black and white snapshot. The dress was stunning in its simplicity, all clean lines and structured satin.
Her hands pressed against the fabric, as if knowing this wasn’t right, but unsure of the how or why. A soft tinkling laugh drifted across the room, and Aelin’s eyes darted to the noise, hopeful that someone had come to save her from this bizarre encounter and nearly collapsed in relief when Rowan’s shock of icy hair appeared in the doorway.
He looked as handsome as ever in his lacrosse jersey, a wide grin on his face and a giant trophy in his hands. Her smile matched his, realizing that he must have come here straight from his championship. Winning his championship.
“Rowan!” she called out, but he didn’t look up. Instead, he offered his free arm to the source of the tinkling laughter. A beautiful woman accepted his bicep and wrapped both her manicured hands around his forearm possessively. He leaned down and brushed his lips against the top of her head in a gesture so familiar that it physically hurt Aelin to watch. “Rowan?” she called out again, this time much quieter.
Evalin’s cruel bark of laughter was the only response she received. “You offered him everything, and it still wasn’t enough. You’ll never leave this small town. You really are your father’s daughter.”
“No,” Aelin told her mom emphatically. “NO!”
“Yes,” she said simply.
“NO!” Aelin screamed again as unwitting tears streamed down her cheeks, hot under the persisting spotlight. “R-rowan!” she choked out, but he couldn’t hear her, too enraptured by the woman in his arms, eyes — and ears, apparently — only for her. “Rowan!” she sobbed. She went to leap off the stage, but she was caught mid-air, her back hitting something with such a force that it knocked the wind of her.
“Ace?” Rowan’s voice was in her ear, his hand rubbing at her back as she gasped for air. She cracked her eyes open and sagged as she realized that she was safely wrapped in Rowan’s firm embrace. “Whoa, you’re okay.” His voice was a reassuring balm to her heart, which felt bloody and bruised.
“I’m okay,” she forced out, though it came out so shaky that Rowan pulled back to peer into her eyes. She wanted to avert her gaze, hopeful that he wouldn’t be able to see the panic that was still coursing through her body, but the dark green of his irises calmed her, so she stared and focused and thought of things that reminded her of the deep shade of Rowan’s eyes. Emeralds. Yulemas garlands. The long row of lockers in their gym room. Grass and trees in the setting summer sun. The jade plant that Maeve claimed brought her good luck that sat on her kitchen counter. Moss. Green tea leaves. The fake snake he’d placed in her bed every prank week. That knocked her out of her tranquil stupor, and she couldn’t help but frown at him.
“Yeah, you’re okay,” he said, but continued to rub circles into the tense space between her shoulder blades. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Aelin shrugged. “It was weird.” She paused for a long while, trying to think of how to tell him about it. “My dance showcase went off the rails?”
Her admission had its intended effect. He squeezed her tightly and kissed the soft spot of skin behind her ear. “Well, that’s silly, brain,” he said, letting his kisses trail up to the side of her temple. “You already crushed your showcase.”
She grinned in response. It was true. She had crushed the showcase, and Rowan had been there just as she’d dreamed in his jersey and trophy in hand. They’d gone into double overtime, and he’d barely made it to her opening solo. With seconds to spare, he’d slid into a seat in the front row, so she’d be sure to see him cheering her on. But she’d known it the whole time. She could feel his gaze on her as she twirled across the stage. The end of that performance had been, well… not the same as her brain had rewritten it. But, Rowan was right. Her brain was being silly.
“Maybe it’s just acting out because someone kept me up all night,” she said, loving the way that Rowan’s ears still turned pink.
“It’s not my fault,” Rowan said, but his blush said otherwise.
“Sure it’s not,” she said with a lascivious smile.
To celebrate their final week of high school, Aelin and Rowan had planned a movie marathon on Maeve’s rooftop. It included a trifecta of essential graduation movies: Can’t Hardly Wait, Booksmart, and Grease. But what she hadn’t realized was that Rowan wouldn’t be able to help himself from singing along. And he knew what his singing voice did to Aelin’s libido. She couldn’t help herself. Somewhere in the middle of Greased Lightning, the movies were all but forgotten as the pair tangled themselves in each other.
Stretching his limbs to the sky, Rowan looked like a literal god. The early morning sun cast a glow across his stern brow and strong nose, making him look as chiseled as a marble statue.
“If you keep that up, I’m taking you right back to bed,” he said of her lusty gaze and hooded eyes. He poked her side, eliciting a loud squeal.
“Whatever,” she laughed. “It’s not like we have anywhere to be today.”
It was true. Today was the last Monday of the year. AKA, senior skip day. And she’d purposefully not committed to joining anyone’s plans, so she and Rowan could extend their marathon if they wanted to – she also had High School Musical 3, She’s All That, and Dazed & Confused lined up — or just laze around all day. But they had time. Considering where the sun was, it was still very, very early. She imagined Maeve would be in the midst of morning service and briefly considered heading downstairs to grab them some coffee and croissants, but instead she laid back onto the mattress and fluffed a pillow beneath her head. Rowan followed, nuzzling onto her chest. She stroked his hair, not wanting to separate herself from him with the tendrils of her dream still lingering in her consciousness.
“Last week of senior year,” he said. “In three days we’ll be high school graduates. How do you feel?”
“Terrified,” Aelin said, the word blurting out before she could filter it back. Damn that coffee-free brain.
She could feel Rowan tense slightly, but he let her early morning admission slide, and she was grateful for it. “Mm, me too,” he agreed. “The lacrosse boys signed up to do a car wash for community service day, and I’m worried I’m going to see things I can’t unsee,” he said with a shudder.
Aelin couldn’t help but snort. While today was a skip day, tomorrow was a service day. Each senior had to do some sort of community service in order to graduate. Ridiculous. Not like they hadn’t all passed their classes already. She supposed the sentiment was nice, but as someone who’d been volunteering with the hospital for the last two years, it felt a bit shallow. Unauthentic. Forced, if you will. And the athletic teams always used it as an excuse to strip down to their skivvies and wash horny housewives’ cars for an exorbitant amount of money. At least it was better than the Boy Toy auction Lorcan had told them they’d finally outlawed because of the gross raunch factor.
“Just tell them to use a sponge and that their junk isn’t for rubbing against dirty cars,” Aelin advised. Rowan groaned loudly.
“Great, now I can never close my eyes again,” he whined.
“Are the cheerleaders also doing the car wash?” Aelin asked, definitely not thinking about her dream at all. But Rowan was definitely not going to let that comment slide. His head popped up, and she found herself ensconced in his shadow as he peered down at her with an accusatory glare.
“I think a few of them are,” he said. “But… you remember that I’m about to marry you, right?”
“A lot of married people cheat, Rowan,” she said, pushing him off. She hadn’t meant to be so pouty about it, but she couldn’t get the image of his arms wrapped around that dream woman out of her mind.
Rowan looked rightfully hurt, the corners of his mouth turned down and his brow furrowed as he stared her down. “You cannot be serious.” He knocked at her temple. “This has gone beyond your brain being silly. We are so many years beyond this. Do you have amnesia?” He knocked again. “Helloooo, Aelin, are you in there? Have you been possessed by the ghost of your past self?”
“Shut up,” she mumbled, pushing his hand away, but he persisted.
“No,” he said, pulling his pants from last night on. He searched for his shirt briefly, but unable to find it, he simply turned toward Aelin in stoic silence, arms crossed over his bare chest and face looking discontent. “I’m not going to let you say shit like that, Ace. That’s…” He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. To be fair, she was exasperating. “That’s hurtful. To me. I know you’re scared about the future, but I thought we established that I’m in this with you.”
Aelin scrambled to her feet. “We did.”
“So…?”
He stood there, tapping his fingers against his bicep which was curled protectively around his torso still. Not letting her in. Waiting.
But she couldn’t explain it to him. That lingering nagging feeling of insecurity and worry and failure. So instead, she apologized. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was good enough for now.
. . .
Instead of spending senior ditch day in bed, Aelin and Rowan joined their friends for a never ending picnic day in the park. Which wasn’t exactly what Aelin had wanted, but she had a feeling that she needed to loosen the reins on her panic, lest she piss him off even more. She had a feeling that maybe she’d loosened things too much, though, when she realized midway through her community service day that she hadn’t heard from Rowan in hours. She’d been helping the hospice section of the hospital, which was designated for those who needed round the clock medical care. Their rooms varied from being fully decked out with medical equipment and monitors to the one she was in, which simply had a low bed, a tv, and a chair. Not a monitor in sight. Had she not known the woman needed constant care and surveillance each time she rose from her chair to go to the bathroom, she would have thought she was in someone’s grandmother’s house. As the woman made her tenth trip to the bathroom, Aelin took out her phone. Just to peek. There was no text from Rowan, btu there was one from Dorian. It was a link to a TikTok with the side eye emoji, and she clicked it quickly.
She watched as washboard abs and pecs were drenched with soapy suds as they washed dirt-ridden cars. She bit her lip as Rowan came into view, his muscles rippling as he reached across the hood, his biceps flexing and unflexing with each wipe.
“Mmmmm,” Aelin’s elderly patient hummed appreciatively over her shoulder as she exited the bathroom and spotted the phone screen. She scrambled to put it back in her pocket, but her patient simply chuckled dryly as she snatched the phone into her wiry grasp. “A friend of yours?” she asked curiously, peering up from the screen where the video was replaying.
“Boyfriend,” Aelin admitted, her cheeks burning.
“Lucky girl,” the woman giggled, her hazel eyes alight with joy as she handed the phone back to Aelin where it made its way back into her pocket quickly. “What are you doing spending your time here with an old fuddy-duddy like me?” Aelin was about to protest, but the woman continued. “What’s his name?”
“Rowan,” she finally said as the woman wrapped herself in a thin blanket and tucked herself into her favorite upholstered rocking chair.
“Rowan,” she repeated back. “That’s a good name. A strong name. A reliable name.”
Aelin frowned. “Reliable?”
“Well, isn’t he?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Sturdy,” the woman continued. “In more ways than one. I can tell.”
Aelin gasped, chastising the woman for her forwardness but she simply laughed it off.
“You’re right,” she whispered, as if she were letting her in on a big secret.
“Go, get out of here,” the woman laughed.
“But I still have two more hours?” Aelin said of her unsigned sheet of volunteer paper, but the woman simply shook her head and beckoned for Aelin to come closer.
“I appreciate your service,” she rasped, “But I just want to nap, and it’d be a shame for you to watch me sleep for two hours. You’ll have the rest of your life to work,” she said signing and dating Aelin’s paper for two hours in the future. “You can fuck around for a few hours.”
Aelin gasped again at the profanity, but smiled regardless.
“Thanks,” she said, but the woman had already nodded off in her chair.
. . .
“Droooooool,” Lysandra laughed as she poked Aelin’s side and pulled her out of her skin-induced stupor.
“I—”
“Were staring?” Lys cackled, following Aelin’s eyeline to where Rowan was clad only in his old red lifeguard shorts. The backs of his thighs were exposed, the hem of the shorts riding up as he leaned down to clean the back bumper of a particularly dirty sedan. Unlike his teammates who were filming each other and tossing sponges back and forth, Rowan was focused on the task at hand, making sure that the car he was working on was well-cleaned. “I hate to interrupt your literal wet dream,” she continued, “But, I wanted to invite you to a party.”
Aelin grabbed the paper from Lysandra’s hands and looked down at it.
“You’re having a party?” Aelin asked, surprised by the idea of her sober friend having the graduation rager she’d always wanted to throw.
“It’s gonna have booze,” Lys said, “But… I will not be partaking.” She cleared her throat. “I know that this year is not at all what I imagined, but I finally feel like I’m okay, and I would feel like shit if I didn’t throw the graduation party of the century.” She flicked her brown curls over her shoulder. “Just because I’m sober doesn’t mean I can’t party.”
“Certainly not,” Aelin agreed. She looked at her friend who’d been through the wringer and spit out again and had come out seemingly unscathed and couldn’t help but wonder… “Hey, Lys?” she asked before her friend could move to the next person. Lysandra looked up, eyes curious. “Do your parents know you’re having this party?”
If Lysandra was surprised by the question, she didn’t show it. Instead, she half shook her head and half shrugged. “No.”
“Should I be worried about that?” she asked, but to that, Lys gave a hard head shake.
“No.”
“But you haven’t reconciled with them?” Aelin didn’t know why she was asking these questions, but at the same time, the answers seemed all too important.
“It’s hard to reconcile with someone who doesn’t care,” Lysandra finally said. “But, I will say that I’ve let it go.” She cleared her throat. “The needing them to care.” She smiled then, a small curve but Aelin saw it regardless. “I wanted them to care for so long,” she admitted. “For too long, probably. So I acted out. A lot. Willing them to pay attention, at the very least. But you can’t will someone to care, even your parents,” she laughed softly. “And I’ve been through enough therapy now that I’m starting to realize that as much as that hurts, it’s okay.” She paused. “I don’t need them to care. Because I care enough for all of us. And I realized there are a lot of people out there who care, too.” She paused, looking at Aelin, as if trying to cut through the bullshit and tell Aelin exactly what she wanted to hear, and in that moment… she did. “Does that make sense?”
Aelin nodded. “It does.”
Lysandra tapped the paper in her hands. “Immediately after graduation, and we’ll go all night. Bring your bathing suit,” she said.
“Will do,” Aelin laughed, but she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to Lysandra’s words. Her friend had laid it out plainly for her. What she’d been afraid to admit all along. That she maybe really seriously actually needed to go to therapy. The wounds her mom had imparted on her psyche ran deeper than she knew how to deal with. If her dream was any indication, her mom still controlled some part of her identity, and she needed to release that. Because that had nothing to do with who she was as a human. Not at all.
After the dream, she had thought that maybe she needed to call her mom and let her hear her thoughts, but Lys was right in her assessment: it was impossible to control someone else’s feelings. Even your mom’s. Yes, she wanted her mom to love her and want the best for her, but truly, her mom barely knew her. All Evalin knew was propriety and etiquette and history. She didn’t know that her favorite color was green, like Rowan’s eyes. She didn’t know that her favorite food was Maeve’s chocolate cake. She didn’t know that she was thinking about a career in medicine and how much she loved helping people. And she certainly didn’t know that Aelin wanted at least five kids and to make sure that every single one of them felt loved and adored by both their parents. No. She couldn’t make Evalin care, or pay attention long enough to even try to care. And she had to let that go. It would take a lot of work, but she had to.
With that in mind, she called out Rowan’s name, followed by a whoop and a loud expletive. His answering blush and crooked finger, beckoning her to wrap herself in his half-naked embrace was all she needed to know that she’d been forgiven. But she knew she had to explain anyway. He let his teammates know that he would be back in a minute and let Aelin pull him away from the long line of cars still waiting to be washed.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, tilting her head upwards where he loomed over her. He softly kissed the top of her head, warming her even more than the mid-afternoon sun. “I could say I don’t what came over me yesterday, but… that’d be a lie,” Aelin continued.
He squeezed her side in response, not interrupting her but acknowledging that he was listening and waiting.
“Did you know that the morning of my sixteenth birthday I woke up and resolved that I would kiss you that year?” she asked, and he barked out a confused laugh.
“Um, what?”
“I was so determined to do it, too. And do you know why?” she asked as she let her hands trace small circles into the soft skin of his back.
“Because you knew you wanted to be with me forever and ever and that we’re perfect together and meant to be and we’re each other’s soul mates and other halves and one of us just needed to make a move?”
Aelin snorted loudly. “No,” she laughed, screwing up her face. “Not at all.”
Rowan’s forehead wrinkled as his brow transformed into a deep furrow. Clearly her words weren’t at all what he expected to hear. But, she knew she needed to get this out.
“When I thought about why I wanted to kiss you so badly, I realized that it was a test. If I kissed you and blew up our entire friendship, then I’d be right about everything I thought about myself. That you could never love me as much as I loved you. And so obviously you’d leave. Because everyone leaves.”
Rowan’s grasp tightened around her waist, locking her against his chest. “But I’m still here.”
“You are.” She paused, finally letting the words come to the surface. “I think…” She shook her head. That wasn’t the right start at all. “I know… that my mom deeply screwed me up.” She took another deep breath. “And watching you get recruited and this whole college limbo thing has made it so much worse. Because every day it feels like I’m just waiting for you to get up and realize that you’ve outgrown me. But you haven’t done anything to make me feel like that at all. And so, I’m really sorry. My issues are my own, and I’m going to work on them.”
“Thank you,” he said. “For the apology, and for letting me know what’s going on in there.” His fingers tucked under the hem of her shirt and matched the circles she was placing on his back. “I’ll try and remember all of that when you inevitably freak out again, but I look forward to proving you wrong every day for the rest of our lives. Because I’ve said it a few hundred times before, but I’ll keep saying it until you believe it: you’re stuck with me. Forever.”
“Forever,” she echoed back.
“Whitethorn,” a rough voice called out. “We need you back!”
In his absence, the line of cars had somehow grown impossibly longer. “Looks like you’ve got work to do,” she said, raising her brow.
“Will I see you later?” he asked, and Aelin couldn’t help but scoff.
“Oh, you thought I was leaving?” she laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to snag a prime spot for ogling and then maybe we can hop into the jeep when you’re finished.”
“Really?” he laughed. “Even smelling like sweat and sunscreen?”
“Ohhhhh yes,” she said, practically drooling as he let her hands climb up the ridges of his defined abs. “That’s even better.”
He responded with a deep kiss that set her body ablaze, tingling from head to toe, that was interrupted by more panicked calls from his teammates. After prying himself away, Aelin found a spot on a nearby bench, giving her the perfect view to fawn over half-naked and half-wet Rowan for the next few hours.
. . .
The next morning, Aelin was awoken much too early. She was pulled from her easy slumber with a dance remix of Pomp & Circumstance coming from her phone alarm. What the hell? As she slapped at the table next to her, attempting to turn off the too-loud music in vain, she felt her dad’s hand cover hers and lead it to the offending object.
“Congrats, graduate,” Rhoe’s warm voice lilted as he gently rubbed at her shoulder.
“Dadddd,” she groaned as she attempted to put her pillow over her head. Now that that music was off she could go back to sleep. Or so she thought. She should have known better than to play tug of war with a man who could bench press and carry three times her weight. Rhoe’s soft laughter was a stark contrast to the forceful way he wrenched the pillow away. She managed to keep it within her grasp, but Rhoe’s strength kept it locked at a significant distance from her face. She tried to pull it closer, but Rhoe wasn’t letting that happen. She guessed it was time to wake up, per Rhoe’s request.
Defeated, Aelin let her fingers drop from the pillow, and finally cracked an eye open. Behind her dad’s head was a swath of green and gold, and she focused she could see that nearly ever inch of the room had been filled with balloons.
“Happy last day of high school,” her dad said with a too-wide smile given the early hour. When she opened her other eye, his smile widened even further, showing off two deep dimples that she recognized from her own reflection.
“It’d be happier if I could sleep more,” Aelin grumbled, but it wasn’t with any real mirth. Hung on the outside of her closet door, Rhoe had steamed her deep emerald graduation robe.
“I have one more day left with my high school student, and I plan on making every second count,” Rhoe said, causing Aelin to smile in reply.
“Tyrant,” she laughed. But she was grateful.
After allowing her to get ready, the pair made their way to Maeve’s, where she’d saved a two top for them by the window. Within seconds of sitting, a large hazelnut coffee and platter of stuffed French toast and bacon appeared in front of her. Yes, being in a small town was sometimes annoying – but no matter where she and Rowan went in the world, she knew a plate of Maeve’s home cooking would be waiting for her when she came back.
She and Rhoe enjoyed a lazy brunch, ordering second and third cups of coffee.
“Fourth?” Rowan asked, coming around with the coffee pot.
“If I have any more coffee I’ll be peeing every twenty minutes for the rest of the day,” she laughed, shoving him away. Though he hadn’t been able to join them for their breakfast because he was helping train a new staff member for Maeve, he’d dropped a soft kiss on her cheek every time he’d passed by their table. Which. Was a perfect way to enjoy her day. They’d planned to have a celebratory brunch the four of them, since they’d all be going to Lysandra’s (family inclusive!) graduation party following their graduation ceremony, but having it just be Rhoe and Aelin felt right, too.
“As if you don’t do that already,” Rhoe scoffed. “I’m half expecting you to hop off the graduation stage as soon as they hand you your degree to take a pee break.”
“Dad!” she said, cheeks blooming with redness. Yes, she had brought up peeing first, but she couldn’t believe her dad would talk about her like that in front of Rowan.
“Please,” Rowan laughed. “As if I don’t know about your tiny bladder.”
“You’re both the worst,” she grumbled. “Can we talk about something else besides my pee schedule?”
“Yes, I wanted to ask what you’re wearing under your gown today,” he said before his brain caught up to what he said. “Not in a sexy way!” he said, blush raging as Rhoe raised a pointed brow in his direction. It’d been a while since she saw Rowan look so flustered under Rhoe’s gaze, and she forgot how amusing it was. “So we can coordinate,” he finally said. “For photos.”
“Not in a sexy way,” Rhoe muttered to himself. Something akin to a wheeze came out of Rowan’s mouth as he tried to correct himself again, but Aelin thought it was time to put him out of his misery.
“You can wear whatever you want,” she said. “Because I’ll be wearing a white dress.”
Rowan’s widened eyes darted to Rhoe and then back to her, and she didn’t miss the way his throat bobbed with a nervous gulp.
“A white dress?” he croaked.
“Mhm,” she said. “So anything you wear will go with it.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Speaking of,” Rhoe said, clapping his hands loudly and breaking them from their joint reverie. “We should head out so you can start getting ready.”
Aelin rolled her eyes, knowing that her dad was teasing her about how long it took her to get ready, but as she glanced at the time she realized he wasn’t entirely wrong. They had been so caught up in their lengthy breakfast that it was now well after noon.
With a small kiss, she told Rowan she’d see him out on the lacrosse field in a few hours. Unfortunately, Galathynius and Whitethorn were annoyingly far apart in their grade lineup, so she wouldn’t see him for real until after the ceremony. But all he did was send her away with a smile and a kiss.
“Can’t wait,” he said.
. . .
Of course they were graduating on the hottest day of the year. Though the weather forecast had predicted partly sunny skies and balmy breezes, instead they received a cloudless sky, still and relentlessly hot beneath the beatific sun. The thick polyester robe in dark emerald green created a tent of heat around her, and she could feel every inch of her skin beading with sweat beneath it. She hoped when she took off the gown she still looked somewhat presentable, otherwise her hours of preparation would be for naught.
True to her dad’s prediction, Aelin had taken a while to get ready, shaving her legs thoroughly and straightening each strand of her long blonde locks. Of course, beneath her cap and combined with the thick humidity, her hair was beginning to show its natural wavy texture again. And she had a feeling that as soon as her cap was off, she’d be pulling her tresses into a giant pile on top of her head, pictures be damned. Luckily, she’d sprayed her face with a few layers of setting spray so no matter how much she sweat, her winged eyeliner and flawless complexion weren’t budging.
Beside her, Dorian swiped a bead of sweat that had fallen down his temple. Not even his mop of thick curls was enough to prevent the amounts of sweat from cascading down his cheeks and neck.
“If this speaker doesn’t hurry up, we’re going to boil alive,” he whispered as their graduation speaker drolled on. The man was supposed to be inspiring — he was an author turned executive, but his slow talking pace seemed to be getting slower with each word. Not only that, but each word seemed to be the same tone with no inflection, and Aelin was worried all of them were going to fall asleep before their names were called. Maybe she’d be more inclined to listen to his words of wisdom if the hundreds of them weren’t swimming in pools of their own sweat.
Somewhere in her musings, she heard a round of applause, signaling the end of the speech. Thank god.
The next speaker was their class valedictorian, slash Prom Queen. None other than Elide.
“On behalf of the Seniors, I’d like to take a moment to thank everyone who has been a part of our success,” she began. “The last four years have been filled with bumps in the road, and it hasn’t been easy. But our success is a direct result of everything you’ve given us. Your care and belief in us and faith when we doubted ourselves have been integral in our quest for knowledge. That includes our teachers, who taught us not only school lessons but lessons in life. Our parents and families, who have been there since the beginning. And the families we’ve created along the way.” She paused, searching for a face in the audience, smiling widely when she found her teal-haired girlfriend smiling back at her. “The bond that links us isn’t one of blood. It’s forged in joy and tears and friendship and respect,” Elide’s eyes found Aelin’s at that moment, and she couldn’t help but smile at her friend. “And no matter where this crazy life takes us beyond today, we will always take this place with us. Because home isn’t just a place. It’s a feeling, it’s a light in the darkness. It’s hope. And so, to the Orynth High senior class, I say, as we forge new paths for ourselves, may we never forget home.” She cleared her throat and smiled widely. “Let’s hold onto the memories and camaraderie and picture-perfect moments, for they made us who we are. Congratulations… we did it!”
The whole class whooped and hollered and clapped wildly, none more so than Manon, who beamed up at her girlfriend from the front row.
And just like that, it was time.
Aelin held her breath as Principal Havillard took the podium and started calling out their names. Her heart raced as her row stood, waiting to take the stage. Her nerves were momentarily squashed as Manon made a lewd gesture with her tongue between her fingers after accepting her diploma. She watched as Lysandra proudly plucked the degree and held it over her head. She knew her friend hadn’t been sure she’d be able to graduate, and it was a relief to hear her name.
Before she could process anything else, she was walking up the stairs and hearing her name being called out. “Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.”
She nearly tripped over her own feet at the chorus of shouting that came from the back of the chairs. She looked over at where Rhoe and Lorcan were shouting wildly and realized that they were accompanied by the entire fire squad. Aelin’s breath caught in her throat at the display of raucous hooting and hollering. These people who had known her since she was a child had come to cheer for her and see her graduate. She had not anticipated that at all. And she found herself completely overwhelmed.
Beside the squad, Maeve cheered, and on the other side of the chairs, down by the W’s, Chaol and Rowan stood and shouted with hands on either side of their mouths. A thrill of love and support rushed through her. She couldn’t believe how many people were here for her.
She grabbed the diploma from Principal Havillard’s hands and raised it into the air, causing the cheering to explode again. She stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes, making a silly face in the direction of her family.
Elide’s words rang in her ears. Her family. The squad, her dad, Lorcan, Maeve, her friends, and of course, Rowan. That vast group was more support than most people got in their lifetime. She’d never forget that.
She made her way back to her seat, laughing as Dorian flipped off his father and then booked it away from him, cackling wildly. Always a troublemaker, that one. And finally, after what seemed like forever, it was Rowan’s turn.
“Rowan Eugene Whitethorn.”
Aelin shot up from her chair, screaming as loud as she could, and despite being many rows back, she could feel Rowan’s eyes lock with hers. His lopsided grin was just for her, and she felt a thrill of joy run up her spine at the look.
“I love you,” she mouthed to him, causing his grin to widen.
“And with that,” Principal Havillard concluded. “I give you the senior class. Congratulations, graduates!”
Aelin stood and joined in the cheering again, her voice starting to go hoarse with the efforts of her support. They did it.
. . .
“Congratulations, Fireheart,” Rhoe said, throwing his arms around Aelin. Despite the heat, she welcomed his embrace.
When he pulled back, she noticed a large bouquet of her favorite flowers in his hand. He held them out to her, the red and orange flowers flickering like a live fire beneath the late afternoon sun.
“Thanks, Dad,” she said, suddenly feeling emotional.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said, and she could tell that despite his dry cheeks, he’d been crying. “And I love you so much.”
She hugged him again, pulling him tight and not letting go for a long while. After they parted, Aelin was passed around for hugs to the entire squad, each one of them telling her a story of something she did when she was a small girl hanging out at the station, imbuing her with joyful memories.
Then it was Maeve’s turn, who didn’t hold back her tears at all. Fat blobs rolled down her face, and she didn’t both to move them away, seeing as they were coming in a steady stream.
“Oh, hon, I’m so proud of you,” she said as she practically squeezed the life out of Aelin. She was grateful she’d unzipped her graduation robe, otherwise she was sure she would have passed out from heat stroke by now.
“And what about me?” Rowan low voice interjected. Maeve burst into a fresh round of sobs as she pulled him close.
She blubbered into his shoulder about how proud she was of him, of both of them, of all their achievements and how grown up they were, and Aelin could feel her heart expanding. It felt like she was going to burst wide open.
By the time everyone had said their piece, the field had mostly emptied out. Aelin heard a soft ripple of groans as a few of the firefighters took out their pagers.
“Fire?” Aelin asked as she peeled the sweaty gown from her shoulders.
Rhoe shook his head. “Worse. Graduation pranks abound, apparently.”
Aelin laughed, understanding that her dad was probably in for a long night of nonsense work.
“So I shouldn’t expect you at Lysandra’s?”
Rhoe shook his head. “You don’t want your old man crashing anyway.” He narrowed his eyes at her, as if he was blinking back more tears and sniffed loudly. “Have fun. You deserve it.”
“I will,” Aelin said, hugging her dad one more time. As he left her with a wave, she looked around for Rowan, who was standing just a few feet away, talking with Maeve. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin.
“Hey, you” he said, offering his arm out to her with a wide smile. She leaned into his side and took a deep breath, letting her happiness flow through her.
A flash went off in their face, and Aelin knew that whatever moment Maeve had just captured that she’d be framing it.
“You ready?” she asked, and his smile widened.
“You headed to Lysandra’s?” Maeve asked, completely unaware of the real conversation happening between the two of them.
Rowan nodded. “Do you want to meet us there?” he asked Maeve, but she shook her head and waved them off. Apparently she had a big night of dinner service ahead of her, but she sent them off with a joint hug and another tearful smile.
And just like that, it was time.
. . .
In the days, months, and years that followed, whenever Aelin was asked about her wedding, she would say that it went by so quickly that she couldn’t remember it, and that was mostly true.
From the time the pair entered city hall to when they exited, a total of maybe ten minutes had passed. There was no aisle to walk down, no verbose exchanging of vows, no romantic readings or passages, but it was perfect nonetheless.
Aelin clasped her bouquet of kingsflames in one hand and Rowan’s hand in another, letting her skirt swish as she swayed back and forth. She had no idea what words the city official said. All she remembered was the brightness in Rowan’s eyes as they stared down at her and the way he kissed her when they’d been pronounced husband and wife.
As they made their way back to his car, Aelin was giddy. They rolled the windows down, letting the cooler air whip through the jeep, a wild giggle bubbling up in her throat and fizzing like champagne with each second that passed. Delicious and lightheaded inducing.
They had done it. They’d actually gotten married.
She looked over at Rowan, who was already staring back at her, a soft dreamy smile on his face. She couldn’t help but grin wider at him, laughing again as his smile pressed against hers. She loved when they kissed like this – a smashing of two smiles that wasn’t quite a kiss at all.
The stress that they’d felt over the last however many weeks, months, years, wasn’t present at all in his posture. She glanced down at his hands poised on the steering wheel, his fingers curling around the black leather in a loose grasp and tapping along to some silent tune in his head. The late afternoon sun filtered through the window casting him in a glow that made him look like a bronzed god, and Aelin sighed happily. This man was all hers. Forever.
FOREVER.
She’d always known their lives would be intertwined, but to actually make it official was something else. The light turned green and the car lurched forward as he pressed on the gas and began driving again. But the adrenaline surging through her was too much. She couldn’t just sit in this passenger seat, she needed to do something.
“Pull over,” she said, eyes flashing at their surroundings.
“Huh?” Rowan’s head whipped toward hers, confused.
“Pull over!” she said again, louder this time. Verging on panic.
Rowan’s relaxed posture immediately reversed, the thick corded muscles of his shoulders and neck tensing as he looked for a spot to pull over.
“There!” she said, her pulse racing wildly.
Up ahead was the empty parking lot of the library. Though it was usually sparse there, there was not a car in sight, and Rowan wasted no time swerving into the lot and putting his hands on Aelin’s shoulders, examining her up and down.
“Are you okay?” he asked, green eyes taking in every detail of her body as if searching for a gaping wound or sudden injury.
“I’m perfect,” she replied. And she was. She was elated. Running on adrenaline and joy.
To calm her suddenly worried boyfriend — no, husband — down, she placed her hands on both his cheeks and kissed his mouth in a soft, sweet kiss.
“Keep the car running,” she said, picking up Rowan’s phone where it was plugged into the car and adding a song to his Spotify queue.
“What are you doing, Ace?” Rowan sighed, exasperated with her antics. Panic was nowhere to be seen anymore in his posture, only annoyance. Which only made her smile wider. As the first notes of the song came onto the stereo, she cranked up the volume and hopped out of the car. She smiled up at the sky, swaying to the beat, basking in the first signs of sunset and pink tinged clouds overhead.
To his credit, Rowan didn’t ask any more questions. He simply followed her lead and exited the jeep.
“Husband,” Aelin said, offering out her hand. “May I have this dance?”
Rowan’s returning smile was so large she thought it might crack his whole face. Gods, he was gorgeous.
He pulled her close, swaying with her as their song played. “I can’t believe our first dance is to Dancing In The Moonlight,” he chuckled.
“We wouldn’t be us if it weren’t,” she said, leaning into his chest as his arms circled her waist and pulled her close.
And though the song was upbeat, they stayed embraced and tangled up in each other, slowly swaying, chest to chest, hearts beating in rapid tandem with the beat of the song. They were so wrapped up in each other that Aelin barely noticed the sun disappearing behind an ominously dark cloud until a large raindrop plopped onto her nose.
And another.
And another.
She thought they would run back into the car and seek shelter, but neither of them made a move. In fact, the rain just seemed to invigorate them. Rowan stared up at the sky and laughed, Aelin following right after him. He lifted his hand and spun her in a circle, both of them laughing with reckless abandon as Aelin’s skirt flared out around them. He spun her again and this time ended his flourish with a dip, kissing her deeply.
Time seemed to cease to exist as they danced. Under the raining sky they became a mess of water-drenched spinning, laughing, kissing, and singing.
The skies continued to pour, until they were both soaked through. But as the last notes of the song played, their little magic bubble disappeared.
Aelin looked at Rowan and then back at her white dress, which was now dripping.
“Omg I look like a drowned rat!” she shouted through the rain.
Rowan laughed, pulling her back into the jeep and grabbing a towel from his back seat to dry his own hair off before sliding into the driver’s seat.
“But a very cute rat,” he said, causing them both to burst into laughter once again as they took off toward their graduation party.
By the time they arrived at Lysandra’s, they were still water-logged, giggling messes. Lys gasped at their disheveled appearance, eyeing them up and down with a wary eye.
“Ummm, no,” she said.
“No?” Aelin laughed, feeling drunk on endorphins.
Lysandra’s wary eye morphed into a blinding smile at the pair of them. “Get out of here and go celebrate on your own,” she laughed. “And congratulations,” she whispered.
“For graduating…?” Aelin asked, and Lysandra couldn’t help but snort loudly.
“Babe, you’re wearing a white dress and a shit-eating grin.” She paused. “I’m happy for you.”
She embraced the pair of them. “Now get out of here before anyone sees you.”
Aelin and Rowan didn’t need any more prompting. Apparently they were not subtle enough to pull off seeing other people right now.
“Where to?” Aelin asked Rowan as they slid back into the car.
Rowan smiled back at her. “Anywhere we want.”
“Let’s go,” she said.
And with that, they hit the road. Overwhelmed from the day, Aelin promptly fell asleep in the passenger seat, letting the feel of the car lull her into a dreamless sleep.
. . .
“Aceeee,” Rowan whispered, pulling her from her slumber. It was completely dark outside and the pair were stopped at a gas station slash motel. “You gotta get out of the car and then you can go right back to sleep,” he said softly.
“I’m awake,” she mumbled through a wide yawn. “Where are we?”
Rowan chuckled as she practically poured out of the car into his arms. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she truly was until after they’d checked into the motel, which was surprisingly not seedy, and she was sitting back on the bed. Her dress wasn’t wet anymore, but it certainly wasn’t going to be comfortable to sleep in. She wished they’d thought to prepare better for this sudden excursion. Of course, Rowan had.
“I picked up some essentials at a rest stop,” Rowan said, as if reading her mind. He pulled out an oversized tee that read “Geck Yo Act Together,” with a large picture of a gecko on it and tossed it to her, along with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a little thing of mouthwash. He also pulled out giant sandwiches and chips and bottles of water and a Terrasen mountains tee for himself.
“Smart,” Aelin laughed, realizing the last time she ate was her (albeit giant) brunch, hours ago. “Is that where we are?” she asked, realizing she had no idea where they were.
“No,” he said, grinning softly. “I thought maybe we’d drive south. Explore for a while.”
“Is this our honeymoon?” Aelin laughed, looking around the small, dingy motel room. It wasn’t exactly what she’d imagined, but she also had never imagined getting married at eighteen.
“You told me you wanted to find the continent’s best chocolate piece of cake,” he said, and she couldn’t help but bark out a loud laugh.
“That could take weeks!”
“You got somewhere to be?” he asked, brow raised. And she loved the way his smile promised devious, devious things. And suddenly, she wasn’t so tired anymore.
“I also got one more thing,” he said. She watched as he pulled a thick gold band out of his pocket, and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. He sat on the bed beside her and slid it onto her finger and her heart nearly stopped as he pulled another to slide onto his own. They were practically matching, except while a red stone sat in the middle of her ring, a dark green one that matched the shade of his eyes sat on his.
“Oh,” she said, her throat feeling remarkably dry. She tried to swallow, but it was too rough. A lump in her throat that wouldn’t abate. She tried again as she stared at the ring on her finger, her heart pounding as the red stone flickered in the dim motel room lighting. Why couldn’t she swallow?
“It’s just temporary,” Rowan rushed out, mistaking her silence as dislike. “The rest stop had a pawn shop, and I just knew we needed them, but they’re just for now…”
She cut him off with a swift and forceful kiss. “They’re perfect.”
“Hey, where’s my phone?” she asked. “I need to take a picture of this immediately.”
“I plugged it in,” he said, pointing to where he’d already set up a little charging station.
She picked it up, intending to take a picture of her ring, but an alert from literal hours ago disrupted that. She couldn’t believe it. An email in her inbox that read: Wendlyn University Admissions Update. Oh gods.
Without another word, she clicked into the email, heart pounding. Her eyes skimmed quickly, hoping to get the band-aid ripped off quickly, but she paused on the word CONGRATULATIONS.
“Oh my god. OH MY GOD!” she screamed, throwing the phone at Rowan. He picked up the phone and smiled widely, whooping and wrapping her into a bear hug so tight she couldn’t breathe.
“You did it,” he mumbled through kisses. “I knew you were going to do it.”
Unable to control themselves, their kisses increased, heating up wildly until his kisses seared through her, worshipping each inch of her skin. She was breathing hard as he peeled her out of her dress and pushed her onto the bed and continued to whisper adorations and plans of their future. How proud of her he was, and how he was never going to let her forget it. She shivered as he let his mouth skimmed against her, and she promised in that moment to never take him or his love for granted. This is why she didn’t need handwritten wedding vows — because they vowed to each other all the time with a simple kiss. And more than kisses. They brought each other to orgasm again and again, until they were both sweaty and spent and shaking with pleasure. They both poured every ounce of joy and relief into their intertwining bodies, finding their own perfect rhythm, until long after they should have gone to sleep. But neither wanted this magical day to end.
He was twirling the ring around her finger when Aelin remembered that she hadn’t taken a picture of it yet. She reached for her phone and started at a text from her dad, which just said: Checking in.
“Oh my god,” Aelin said again, bolting upright.
But Rowan just chuckled sleepily, reaching out with one of his hands to squeeze her bare backside. “Yeah, baby. Oh my god. You’re incredible.”
“NO, ROWAN,” she said smacking his shoulder. “What were we thinking? We got married! And then left home without telling anyone?” She actually couldn’t believe she had done that. What was she supposed to write back to her dad? “Rhoe is going to KILL ME,” she said, finally realizing what had occurred over the last twelve hours. “No, wait. He’s going to kill YOU! He’s going to arrest you for kidnapping his only daughter!”
At that Rowan really did laugh and pulled her back down into his embrace. “Ace, are you serious?” his laughter poured over her, silky smooth. “You think I would marry you and take you out of state without explicitly asking your father for permission and telling him our plans?”
Aelin’s eyes widened as she looked at Rowan with serious eyes. “He knew?”
Rowan kissed her shoulder and mumbled a soft, “Go to sleep. I’ll tell you everything in the morning.”
She paused. “You made a plan, but didn’t think to pack a bag for me?”
He chuckled again, pulling her tighter against his side. “I did pack a bag for you,” he said. ”I just forgot toothpaste and a nightshirt,” he said, his lips loosening as sleep threatened to take him over. “You didn’t need it, though.” And with that, he was asleep.
“I love you, too,” she replied, pushing his hair from his eyes and loving the way he smiled at her touch, even asleep. Unable to help herself, she laced her fingers through his and snapped a quick pic of their intertwined hands before sending it off to her dad. As she rested the phone down and closed her eyes, she felt ready for the next chapter. Except, it wasn’t really a chapter, she guessed. It was the rest of her life. A new book she was writing. She didn’t know what it would entail, but she knew that she couldn’t wait.
THE END
#idwtw au#tog fanfic#charincharge writes#throne of glass fanfic#rowaelin#rowaelin fanfic#rowan x aelin#throne of glass#that's all she wrote#epilogue still to come#sorry i'm posting this at 11pm on a random saturday but this is what we're doing
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Obey Me! Beelzebub's & Belphegor's reaction to: Mc & the strange noise.
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Welcome! to another part of this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡
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Imagine Mc is up late at night doing whatever. Mc hears a really strange noise, so they pull out their D.D.D and text the HoL group chat. "Hey did you guys hear that noise??" Mc waits a few minutes after hearing the noise a second time, Mc decides to message the group chat again. "Helllloooo?? Guys??" Mc sits in their room anxiously waiting for at least one of the brothers to respond. Why were they not responding? What could the noise be? What if its something bad? The longer Mc waits the more anxious Mc gets. When Mc hears the noise for a third time they decide they'll deal with the noise themselves. Mc sends one last message to the group chat "Fine ignore me, I'll go check out the noise myself." With the message sent Mc goes to leave their room. With an uneasy feeling Mc decides they need a weapon, they either grab one or decide to get one along the way. The brothers arent answering better safe than sorry right? Mc finally heads out into the dark hallways of HoL, in search of finding the source of the noise. What will happen next??
Beelzebub
Mc was up late trying to finish an essay for one of their classes. The noise threw off their thought process causing them to not be able to work on the essay. The brothers not responding in the group chat made Mc feel annoyed but also uneasy. Mc looked around their room for a weapon only to decide they couldn't find one. With a nervous sigh Mc ventures into the dark hallway unarmed, using their D.D.D as a light to guide them.
Mc didn't know where the noise came from, so they stand around until they hear the noise again. When they hear the noise again Mc shakes their head with a smile, the noise is coming from the kitchen its probably just Beel. Mc knows Beel gets Midnight snacks sometimes. When he clears the entire fridge out. Mc decides to go to the kitchen, they could use a break from writing their essay. Mc walks towards the kitchen feeling comfortable. It had to be Beel in the kitchen, what else could be in there? Mc thinks they are just being paranoid, until they get closer to the kitchen. Mc realizes the kitchen light isn't on which makes them stop in their tracks for a moment. When the strange noise is heard coming from the dark kitchen again, Mc physically jumps in suprise. Mc's heart pounds against their chest, so loud and rapid they swear they can hear/feel their heartbeat in their ears. Mc takes a deep breath, clutches their D.D.D tightly, and walks forward. Mc peaks around the corner of the kitchen doorway, shining their D.D.D flashlight into the kitchen with a shaky hand. They shine the light around the dark kitchen just to see..... Mc lets out a relieved laugh, there sat a cat on the kitchen counter, the cat was stuck in a bag, probably having tried to get the food that was left in the bag. When Mc realizes the cat is stuck they quickly switch on the kitchen light and rush over to help the cat, once the cat is safe and free, they place the cat on the floor and watch it scurry off. Mc shakes their head with a smile, knowing Satan will be scolded when the cat is found by Lucifer. Mc feels realived but also still incredibly uneasy, they found out what the sound was, why were they still on edge?? Mc sighed and decided to get a bottle of water, figuring hydrating would help ease their thoughts. As they pull the water out of the fridge a sound is heard behind them, and out of panic and suprise Mc whips around and throws the bottle at the source of the sound....
(This is meant to be read as if its happening at the same time as that ^^ its basically Beelzebub's POV) Beel had been being a good boy like always such a sweet baby and had gone to bed at a reasonable time, well reasonable for a demon. Beel however woke up in the middle of the night needing food, his stomach was growling so loud it woke him and the pain his empty stomach cause him to feel was enough to make him sit up. Beel went to get up and go to the kitchen when he saw his D.D.D blinking, signalling he had a message. Confused, tired and hungry, Beel picked his D.D.D up and ate it checked what the message was. When he saw what Mc had sent the group chat he suddenly felt less hungry, still hungry just now mpre focused on being worried. What if Mc got hurt checking it out alone. Beel couldn't allow that, he immediately left his and Belphie's room in search of Mc. I feel like Beel or Asmo has the best sight out of all of the brothers. Beel had no problem seeing in the dark, he listened carefully and when he heard soft footsteps he followed them determinedly. He had to make sure Mc was safe.
As Beel follows the footsteps he doesn't even realize they are entering the kitchen, to worried about Mc to focus on his own hunger. When Beel finally gets close to the kitchen he sees the light on and puts some pep in his step. Beel watches a cat fly past him and run off towards Satan's room, Beel pays no mind. He quickly walks to the kitchen doorway and to his relief, finds Mc getting a drink from the fridge. With Beel now calm and content with Mc's safety his attention focuses back on his hunger, before he can even say anything to Mc a loud almost animalistic growl leaves his stomach as it cries out for food. The Avatar of Gluttony watches as Mc fearfully whips around and chucks a water bottle at him, Beel doesnt even realize he opens his mouth and catches the water bottle skillfully in his mouth instead of hitting him. Beel isn't aware he caught the water bottle until he hears the loud crunch of the plastic bottle and the water in his mouth.
(Back to Mc's POV?!??) Mc immediately starts apologizing to the gentle giant, quickly explaining how they were on edge and he startled them, Beel however seemed to pay no mind as he happily ate the thrown water bottle. Once Beel was done munching on the plastic bottle he waundered over to the fridge for a midnight snack, kindly offering to share some with Mc. "What kind of midnight snack do you want Mc? I'll let you have first pick."
Once Beel gathered his mountain of food for his "midnight snack" sir thats a midnight meal- mc and Beel went to Mc's room. Beel didn't want to wake Belphie up by eating, and Mc still had an essay to finish. Beel being sweet boy he is offered to stay up and keep Mc company while they wrote the last couple of paragraphs for the essay. When Mc finally finishes the essay they stretch and look to find Beel sitting on the floor close by, looking at them like a puppy looks at its owner. Mc yawns and thanks Beel for keeping them company while they finished their school work, as a thank you Mc offers for Beel to sleep in their bed. Beel may not be his still he happily accepts the offer. Mc and Beel cuddle up on Mc's bed, Mc falls asleep first. Beel keeps his arms secure around them, he may be a man of few words, but he understands Mc was scared earlier even if he didnt mention it. He didn't want Mc to feel embarrassed or to make them feel scared again. As Mc slept peacefully in his arms Beel swore to them- "I will always protect you Mc." Beel eventually fell back to sleep holding Mc close.
Belphegor
Mc had made the mistake of letting Belphie drag them into a mid day "5 minute" nap. The nap had lasted all day, they got woken up by Beel for dinner, so they weren't tired when bedtime came. They were laying in their bed playing a random game on their D.D.D when they heard the noise. Mc wasnt suprised Belphie didn't respond in the group chat, but the other brothers not responding made them nervous, yeah it was late at night but one of the brothers always seemed to be up. Mc looked around their room but they couldn't seem to find a hood weapon. So with nothing other than their D.D.D they are using as a flashlight, they venture into the dark hallway, in search of the strange noise. The noise seemed to come from the library, Mc thought it might be Satan or Lucifer, but since neither had responded in the group chat Mc wasn't so sure.
Mc nervously heads towards the hallway, shining their flashlight at shoulder height, not even thinking to look down at the floor. The strange sound can still be heard coming from the library, the sound is constant and sounds almost like a bag being ruffled or moved around. Mc's heart pounds in their chest, their eyebrows are furrowed as they try and figure out what would be making that kind of a sound. Mc gets a little bit between their room and the library, focusing more on the confusing sound than where their walking, they suddenly trip over something. Mc crashes to the ground, it hurts but its not that bad, just ending up with a scrapped elebow or knee, and most likely a bumped head. Mc groans as they rub their head, their D.D.D had flown out of their hands when they fell. Mc was so focused on their own pain that when they groaned in pain they didnt hear the person they tripped over groaning in pain too.
(This is meant to be read as if its happening at the same time as that ^^ its basically Belphegor's POV) Belphie had been a little upset when him and Mc were woken up for dinner, but he got up and ate anyways. What really upset him was that Mc went to their room after dinner instead of going to take a nap in the attic with him again. Mc claimed 'they weren't tired after sleeping all day', because Mc wouldn't take a nap with him Belphie had wandered off to nap somehwere on his own. When Belphie woke up again it seemed kind of late, Belphie looked around his random nap spot for Mc. When he didn't see them he got up, Belphie went walking towards Mc's room clutching his cow pillow, still half asleep and grumbling incoherent things. Belphie however only made it half way to Mc's room before he crumbled tiredly to the floor and fell asleep on the ground cuddling his cow pillow, deciding to just dream of Mc.
Belphie did just that, he was having a wonderful dream with Mc and Beel in it when he was woke up by getting kicked in the gut, then stepped on, when he heard someone land on the ground next to him he assumed they tripped over them. Belphie didn't open his eyes, move or care until he heard Mc's voise groaning in pain, realizing Mc tripped over him, Belphie opened his eyes and turned over so he could face Mc, Mc's D.D.D's flashlight was shining their way, so he could see that Mc's eyes where closed while they rubbed their body in pain. Belphie being the little shit he is Belphie decided to reach his hand out and touch Mc hoping to catch them by suprise. What he didn't expect was for Mc to kick out at whatever had touched them. He watched as Mc's leg shot out and kicked him in the shoulder chest area, as their eyes shot open in suprise and fear, after Mc kicked him they scooted away from him in fear until they realized it was him. It didn't hurt Belphie but by the suprise and how horrified Mc looked that they accidently hit him, Belphie obviously had to tease them- "Damn Mc, you hurt me tripping over me and yet I was nice enough to try and check on you, and you hit me some more? Last time ill ever check on you." Belphie has that teasing playing smirk on his face as he teases them.
(Mc's POV again) Mc apologizes and tells Belphie about the strange noise, which can still be heard coming from the library. Belphie teases them for being freaked out over something like that while still being a brat and teasing them for hitting him on accident over some "strange noise", Belphie snickers when Mc tells him that he should come with them to investigate the noise. "Alright scaredy cat I'll come with you, only if you let me sleep in you're room with you after this" Belphie swings his arm lazily towards the library where the sound continues to come from, giving Mc his usual lazy smirk. Lets be honest hes sleeping in Mc's room with them no matter what, so Mc takes his deal and drags him towards the library with them. Mc shines their D.D.D as a light and walks slightly in the lead, Belphie is lazily attached to their side and walking a little behind them. When they reach the library, Mc takes a shaky breath before leading Belphie into the library behind them. Mc turns on the library light to see..... A cat with a chip bag on its head, the cat is running around the library in a panic, everytime it runs the bag ruffles making the sound Mc had been hearing. Belphie laughs when he sees what's been making the sound that was scarying Mc. Mc rushea over and helps the cat get the bag off its head, once the cat is free it darts out of the library, presumably headed towards Satan's room.
Belphie continues to laugh at Mc until he recieves a teasing 'shut up' smack from Mc. Belphie continues to tease Mc as they turn off the library light and head for their room. Belphie sticks close behind them no matter their pace, like a puppy following their owner, the only difference is Belphie is a teasing brat. Mc and Belphie eventually make it to Mc's room, Belphie immediately crawls into Mc's bed making himself at home. Mc watches Belphie close his eyes and assumes he fell asleep already. Mc wasnt ready for bed yet, so they walk quietly around their room doing their nightly routine. It wasn't until Mc heard a tired grumpy voice that they realized Belphie wasnt asleep- "Can you hurry up already, I deserve to cuddle and sleep, since you decided to beat me up" the teasing tone in Belphie's voice makes Mc know that he's smirking, even though his face is burried under their blankets. Mc rolls their eyes and shushes him, once Mc is done getting ready for bed, they crawl into their bed and cuddle up to Belphie. They kiss his forehead muttering a quiet apology again for accidently hitting him earlier, Belphie's arms wrap around Mc's body and he snuggles against their chest. The sloth demon falls asleep rather quickly, but not until Mc started petting his hair. Mc eventually falls asleep as well, how could they not fall asleep when they were so warm and safely cuddled up with Belphie?
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Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! Sorry this part took so long! More content is coming soon so Stay tuned! Stay Safe! & Stay Sassy Loves! ‹𝟹
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⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡
#obey me thoughts#obey me drabble#obey me imagines#obey me mc#obey me x reader#obey me fluff#obey me x reader fluff#om mc#obey me headcanons#obey me beel x mc#obey me beel x reader#obey me beel#beel x reader#om! belphie#belphie x reader#belphie x mc#obey me belphie#obey me belphegor#obey me beelzebub
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a weeks worth of work... for a show i love to hate, and hate to love.
over the course of getting stockholmed into enjoying the setting of hazbin hotel, i ended up liking angel dust the most. even if he's an annoying gay stereotype with the most cliche'd backstory possible, at its heart i still like him and see potential for a three dimensional character if he was just written better. i think he's a fan favorite for a reason, despite his cliches: he's charismatic, funny, and pathetic with probably the only backstory taken seriously by the story.
he's also the only one to go through real character development in a breezy 8 episodes, being probably the only upstanding member of the hazbin hotel by the end of season 1 but my critiques on pacing and writing are better left to my friend robin who's a lot better versed in analysing *why* hazbin's writing is so bad.
anyway, here's a portfolio-worthy turnaround of my angel dust redesign. a lot of it was just making him more spider like, for the most part aside from all the random spots on his body i think his design is pretty well done but it could be stockholm again. read more cause its an essay on all the design choices i made
one of the main things i did was flesh out his head shape: for a long time angel dust's head shape felt like the worst of drawing for 2d, his hair and tufts are so entirely cheated to the side no matter the angle that it was impossible to understand what he'd look like at every angle, so i simplified it to a half circle shape where his big hair tuft is just overlayed on top, cheated to the side no matter the angle unless he's looking up/down, where i drew what i think those angles would look like.
he also now has spider fangs at the sides of his mouth, with one gold to match valentino's gold tooth. since spiders don't have teeth, he doesn't either, but can be drawn with some if the expression needs it (though i noticed that stolas is never drawn with teeth no matter his expression, so maybe that's not needed.)
instead of a bowtie he has a choker with a cock ring on it. you know what its referencing.
the spider thorax is attached a bit higher up than a tail would be, not only because of actual spider anatomy but to give him enough room to get dirty as his career requires him to do. it can flip up as well, i imagine its very manipulable.
leg designs were mostly to specify the sort of rhythm and curving i want his legs to work at. it's not perfect, but i think if someone was drawing from this reference they'd have a good understanding of how i want his legs to be drawn. they're one of my favorite aspects of his design and i think specifying how they'd bend is very important.
fun fact: i thought i made his legs too long, but comparatively to the canonical design he's a LOT more leggy. i even think you could get away with giving him more leg and the design still feels proportional.
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I've seen the same post a hundred times now. Sometimes it's a few days old, sometimes it's from years ago, but it's always the same. Some anti posts about how they don't understand how anyone can like Snape because he was so awful, and then there's a long reply that goes something like, "imagine this happens to you, and then this, and then this" to describe Snape's experience. Sometimes there's some James Potter hate thrown in.
Look. You can go through describing a character's entire experience but you don't really need to. Here's the thing that antis don't understand:
For all her faults (and they're big, bigoted ones) Rowling understood a really integral part of the human experience and conveyed it through Snape. Everyone needs love and to feel accepted. It's that simple. Snape became a Death Eater to seek acceptance (Rowling has confirmed this, though I can't remember the source - whoever wants to add it please do), because it was the only way he could find any.
Snape's understanding of morality, like everyone's, is subjective. Some readers understand this and some don't. When faced against a morality that says there is good and bad in the world, everyone makes choices based on their personal experience. Context is everything. Someone who experiences pain and suffering will not see the person inflicting it on them as moral. That's it. 'How can this person be good when they caused me so much suffering?' = human psychology. Most of the people who think 'I'm a bad person and deserve this' have been gaslit and abused into thinking so, because it's not a natural reaction - it's one that has to often be socialized into someone at a young age, exactly because it's not natural. Everyone is the hero of their own story; no one sees themselves as a villain, because they see the valid aspects of their own perspective.
You can write essays on how vulnerable people needing acceptance is what cults and fascists exploit to recruit vulnerable people, or on how the standard anti's un-nuanced reading of Snape both ignores canon and displays a disturbing lack of empathy or compassion, but at its core it just boils down to context. From Snape's perspective he experienced cruelty, therefore the people inflicting it must be cruel. Again, it's that simple. He was a person, like any other, except he was fictional so he wasn't even real. On the flip side is James Potter, who, for all his faults, didn't get to live long enough to get a chance to change and grow unlike Snape, and I think the Snapedom also needs to acknowledge that.
They're fictional characters representing things an author wants to say, not sports teams, not martyrs, and not all good or all bad emblems that define your identity depending on how you feel about them. It's depressing how much time is wasted arguing with bullies and trolls whether from the Marauders fandom or just random antis. I literally can't find more than three blogs to follow without this argument coming across my feed daily. I know the Snapedom is Not OK™ and that's kind why we're all here, and I know that my take is super unpopular but like Snape, I don't care what others think: this fandom has been having the exact same argument for years and nothing has changed. There's fanart and meta and fic and so much content out there appreciating this character, you're not going to change an anti's mind who's deliberately trolling in the tags, so why are you trying? What are you getting out of it? What does it give you? It's exhausting just scrolling past it.
#The thing about morality is that it's subjective#the religious leader who's a beacon of moral purity to their congregation#is a source of selfishness and pain to someone they abuse in secret#is that abuse victim immoral for rejecting the values the religious leader represents?#the congregation might think so because their definition of morality relies on the religious leader being a moral guide#the victim might not think so though because how can something be righteous if it causes suffering#look this is just an example of how perspectives can vary and I know there are more possible takes on that example#my point is that the idea that there's no clear 'good' and 'evil' there's only power/what you do with it is actually how psychology works#'good' to one person can be pain to another#'scourgify' is an innocuous household spell that cleans stains until it's used to waterboard someone#context matters more than labels like 'light' and 'dark' magic
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In Defense of Future Diary...
TW: lots of yapping.
Making a small essay for Future Diary is something I’ve been meaning to do for a while. Since my entire blog is dedicated to the series, it only feels right to put something like this out into the ether. However, I’m never sure of the topics that I want to discuss the most. Do I write a defense for the show? My reasons for loving it so much? Its relevance and importance for anime culture? An analysis of Yuno’s character? There’s so much I feel you could say, but I never find the right words to express my feelings coherently. Today, I’ll make the attempt, though. I’ll go over all of the aforementioned questions here, mostly focusing on my personal opinions and feelings regarding the show. I don’t have much experience writing essays or analyses of media, so sorry in advance if my yapping is all over the place.
To begin, I should probably address the elephant in the room: Future Diary, despite its popularity and almost cult-classic status, has turned into a show people love to hate. You see it everywhere, when it comes to reviews, comments, opinion pieces, you name it, if it has Future Diary on the title, people will let you know all the gripes they have with the show. And while I tend to feel defensive or even saddened when I see so much hatred directed at my favorite show… I don’t necessarily blame anyone for feeling that way. I don’t want to be one of those people who pretends to hold the intellectual high-ground, acting as if everyone else is media-illiterate and I’m the one who truly gets the meaning of the series. At the end of the day, it’s just an anime, it’s not that deep. Everyone’s gonna like what they like; we all have different tastes and interests, so it’s only natural we all hold such different opinions about the show, especially given its campy, gory and almost edgy nature. Future Diary is definitely a product of early 2000’s trends, which some people (me lol) appreciate, and others certainly don’t.
That being said, while I respect people disliking the show for personal reasons, there are certain criticisms I see thrown its way that are not necessarily warranted. These issues can be boiled down to the following categories: “plot-holes,” a weak protagonist and toxic pairings. I’ll delve into all of these in a second, but I must say, the amount of times I’ve seen these specific points parroted over and over again makes me believe that many of the people making these arguments are piggybacking off of one another. It’s almost like they’re following a trend, repeating how the protagonist “sucks ass” and that the plot makes zero sense, without showing any examples as to how.
It’s really common to find shallow arguments like those in comments sections and forums, but since I don’t want to feel like I’m barking up a tree in writing this essay, I decided to look for a source that encapsulated all of the common criticisms, while also backing them up with examples. Now, there are many good video essays out there on Future Diary, my personal favorite is by The Hot Box. But as far as critical pieces go, the one I found that goes the most in-depth is by the creator NezumiVA, titled: Mirai Nikki is Garbage, and Here’s Why. I’ll be referencing the video as I go along, but please note that while I disagree with many of this creator’s arguments, I don’t intend this to be a personal attack. As I said earlier, we’re all entitled to our different tastes and opinions, I can respect them disliking the series while having my own criticisms to give regarding the video. Just a little disclaimer so my intentions aren’t misconstrued here.
With that out of the way, let’s take a deeper look into the main three arguments I mentioned before:
“The plot-holes eat up the show”
If you’ve been in the fandom for a while, you know that this is probably one of the most common criticisms levied towards Future Diary, and perhaps the one that holds the most weight. Or at least it would be, if it weren’t for the fact that “plot-holes” aren’t exactly the issue people are pointing at here. To explain, I believe people who dish out this claim all have different understandings of the definition of “plot-hole,” so to clarify: a plot-hole is an inconsistency, a contradiction in the narrative. For example, Yuno’s diary is all about Yukki, if she were to have diary entries not about him, that could be considered a plot-hole, as it contradicts the original narrative. A smaller detail being unexplained or overlooked for the sake of pacing is not a plot-hole. A flaw, yes, but as long as it doesn’t contradict what’s already been established in the story, it’s not a plot-hole.
On one hand, it is true that there are certain Deus Ex Machina moments that aren’t properly explained in the show (heck, the god of this universe is called that for a reason), such as: how does 5th acquire all of his booby traps? Or where did 9th pull that motorcycle from? Why are characters so quick to forgive/forget certain events? These are smaller details that aren’t properly justified on-screen for the sake of pacing and making the show more interesting. You could possibly count this more as a case of poor characterization, particularly with 5th’s character having a lot of knowledge despite his age or Hinata quickly accepting the coin toss challenge despite having an advantage. Given the show only has 26 episodes, it’s only natural that detailed explanations for smaller details are omitted to make the show flow quicker and be more entertaining. While this may bother some people, I don’t find it to be such a big deal, or at least not a reason to dogpile on the show, when many other animes with shorter runtime fall victim to poor characterization as well.
Many deem the plot nonsensical for missing these smaller explanations, but again, I find that exaggerated as they’re much, much trivial details that the majority of people don’t think of or focus on when watching the show. The video I referenced touches on the plot being illogical several times, not necessarily mentioning plot-holes per se, but complaining that many of the justifications behind certain plot points are unrealistic or contrived, though let’s be real here… since when is anime realistic? Future Diary, I would argue, does a good job of balancing very unrealistic scenarios with some realistic characters (like Yukki, but we’ll get into that later), which is what makes it interesting to watch. After all, what’s the fun in watching a fantasy show if it’s completely grounded in reality? Not to mention that many of the points brought up in the video aren’t contrived, especially if you were paying attention to the show. For example, the scene of Yuno meditating to figure out Reisuke’s plan. This wasn’t a Deus Ex Machina moment, it was foreshadowing of the fact she has her first-world memories locked away, and the meditation was her trying to access those memories. Same thing with Bacchus having an overpowered diary, it isn’t for the sake of it, he literally designed it to be that way, because he was the one who presented the idea of the diaries to Deus in the first place.
I’m getting a little side-tracked here, but you get the point. Ultimately, the worst sin a show can commit is being boring, and while Future Diary has its flaws in pacing and characterization, it contributes in keeping the viewers hooked to the action, packing its small run of 26 episodes with quite a bit of entertainment. Moreover, a lot of people overreact to these so-called “plot-holes”, yet they also fail to pay attention as to why things happen as they do in the show. Many of these criticisms can be summed up as either: trivial details that are omitted since they have little relevance to the plot and/or people not paying attention to what’s going on.
Moving on, let’s tackle another very, very popular argument:
“Yukiteru is a total pushover (to put it nicely).”
This is, without a doubt, the most common criticism I’ve seen people have of the show. I’m not sure if this is because people are used to the upbeat, overpowered protagonist trope in anime, but people don’t realize that Yukki being frustrating, awkward and terrified is an important part of the show’s storytelling, not to mention relatively unique. Very rarely do we see a realistic portrayal of a teenage protagonist in anime, and it is important for the show since it serves as a contrast to the other characters, all dark, callous and obsessed with the goal of becoming a God. Yukki is the only character not interested in any of this at the beginning. All he wanted was to escape reality with his phone and imaginary friends, and he's now thrusted into this terrible and hopeless situation. How exactly is a young boy expected to react under these circumstances?
Teenagers are naive, dumb, selfish, all characteristics portrayed in Yukiteru, and these characteristics are put under scrutiny by every one of the diary owners, constantly telling him to grow a pair and stop using Yuno. This is easier said than done when you’re used to avoiding every little bit of responsibility in your life, and a girl who’s self-reportedly “crazy good at killing people” suddenly thrusts into your life ready to do all the work for you. Yukki is indeed a very flawed character, but that isn’t an accident, it is an intentional addition. It’s what makes him interesting; it pushes conflict into the show, and most importantly, drives home one of the main lessons of the show with Yukki’s development: fear doesn’t mean you’re not brave, it’s having that fear and pushing forward that makes you brave. A little corny, I know, but a valuable lesson for the Survival Game.
Every character has an incentive for becoming God, and they’re utterly consumed by it to the point of insanity. Even a character like 4th, who was originally concerned with the goal of bringing order and justice rather than more carnage to the game gets carried away when a proper incentive for God’s seat comes into play: saving his son. In a Survival Game where we're surrounded by the most cunning and twisted of characters, killers, terrorists, people in corrupt positions of power, Yukki stands out like a sore thumb for retaining his humanity throughout it all, unwilling to get his hands dirty, rather willing to see hope in everyone else. It comes across as naive and all-too trusting. This is especially true for his father, but considering how little people he has to rely on, plus his childish hopes of seeing his family back together, his forgiveness towards him makes sense. And the same can be said for Yuno, the one constant he’s got all throughout the game. Despite the abuse and manipulation, she’s ultimately got his best interests at heart, but I’m getting ahead of myself with this point.
Eventually, the circumstances that Yukki goes through (namely his parents’ death) put that humanity, kindness and mercy, the staples of his personality, to test. It’s a testament to how desperate situations can corrupt even the most innocent of individuals. Yukiteru goes from a hopeful individual to a callous killer, no different from Yuno and equally as selfish. Similarly enough, we know thanks to her third-world-self that Yuno was originally a normal, happy girl with the hopes of finally having a loving family taking care of her. All of this, to then be tortured by the people who were supposed to bring that peaceful family life to her.
Yukki being a weakling may be frustrating to some, it is certainly brought up many times during the video essay, but it’s an important factor that drives the plot and many of Future Diary’s lessons about growth and accountability. Besides, the anime certainly wouldn’t be as interesting to watch if every character was just an OP know-it-all like Akise. Which no hate to him, but the show wouldn’t be the same if every character were like him.
And speaking of Akise, I’ll take the opportunity to mention a point in the video essay that bothered me a bit. The creator says the show is “queerbaiting” with his character, because Akise’s attraction towards Yukki is forced, but I don’t see exactly how this is queerbaiting. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t queerbaiting when a character is insinuated to be gay, yet it’s kept ambiguous enough to never address it? The show straight-up explains the reason behind Akise’s attraction to Yukki. His love is forced because it was created by Deus to further his investigation about Yukki and Yuno. Akise himself is a fabrication of Deus. It is literally explained in episode 23. You can’t bait the audience into believing a character is gay if you explicitly tell the audience the character is gay lol.
But that’s one of the smaller issues I had with the video’s criticisms. My biggest gripes were actually the following: at the beginning of the essay, this creator talks about how many of the plot points in the show are contrived and illogical, but at the same time, they dislike the characters having tragic backstories that explain how they went on to become twisted individuals. Isn’t it a little contradictory that you complain about a character acting unnatural, yet when the explanation for their behavior comes up, you completely disregard it? They go as far as to say Esuno hates women and is misogynistic for his portrayal of female psychosis, and the use of SA as a tragic backstory being distasteful. Because, according to this creator, people who have been victimized never go on to become terrible people themselves, and that this is a “problematic stereotype.”
To say that this worldview is incredibly simplistic and naive is putting it mildly. Being a victim doesn’t exempt you from the capability of hurting others, and in fact, the opposite is often true. Hurt people hurt people, that is another main theme in Future Diary, and one of the things I love about it so much. It doesn’t make its characters victims of terrible situations for the sake of pitying them, but to portray their natural descent into madness from being corrupted by a cruel and unrelenting world. Yuno, Yukki, Minene, Tsubaki, these characters all started out as normal until life turned them into the nihilistic monsters they became. They’re morally gray, an example of what you can become when your ethics and moral worldview is tested by society so many times, it ultimately turns you into a societal outcast. Which only makes it funnier that one of the questions asked in the video is “are we supposed to like these characters?” Yes and no, that’s the fun of writing morally gray characters.
I often see these takes with people who fail to understand that the portrayal of something in media ≠ endorsement. It’s the crux of people who lack media literacy, the failure to understand morally gray or just straight up evil characters as protagonists. The media itself isn’t telling you to repeat their actions, it is an exploration of how these actions manifest in the first place, a cautionary tale, if you will. I know that having evil or twisted protagonists isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but to accuse the story or the author of malicious intent would be completely missing the point of the story’s purpose. Not to mention, that it is important for stories like this to exist, to put us in the shoes of those who enact harm, to understand why they do it and keep us from becoming like them.
The show doesn’t justify any of their actions, in fact, it often shows them for what they are: twisted and morally corrupt; it is on the characters themselves to bear the burdens of these actions. A clear example of this is the confrontation that Yukki has with his friends nearing the end of episode 22. It is probably one of my favorite scenes in the entire show: Yukki being forced to face all of his demons at once, realizing just how much damage he has caused, damage that he later has to mend in his final confrontation with Yuno to finally put an end to everyone’s suffering. It is dense, crude, and it is certainly necessary for both him and Yuno.
Funnily enough, this youtuber goes on to say the following about Yuno’s background: “I really don’t care what her (back)story pans out to look like… her actions are still not excusable.” Which is true, just because someone was abused doesn’t justify them perpetuating the same abuse later. However, they then crush their own point by claiming that Yuno’s obsessions started all because of “a passing conversation.” I guess they weren’t lying when they said that they didn’t care about Yuno’s backstory… because chalking up her obsession as solely a result of that scene is completely disregarding her background. That conversation in the classroom did start Yuno’s fixation towards Yukki, but it is not the root of her obsessive tendencies. Yuno herself believes it to be, but this is an idea that is squandered by Yukki in his final confrontations with her. Moreover, if you paid attention to her backstory, you would understand it is all due to her childhood neglect. And similarly, Yukki’s attraction towards Yuno stems from this as well.
This brings me to the final criticism:
“Yuno and Yukki’s relationship is problematic, toxic and makes no sense.”
There is no denying that Yuno and Yukki start out as an incredibly toxic and troublesome pairing, using each other for their own selfish wants instead of working with each other. This is the Achilles heel in their dynamic, and it is often the cause of their troubles. Yuno acts impulsive, unstable and manipulative towards Yukki due to her insecurities and debilitating obsession, while Yukki pushes all responsibility to Yuno due to his own lack of a spine. They hurt each time and time again, yet they can’t help but be with each other. And this is because, in a twisted way, they compliment each other.
On one hand, we have a social outcast, ignored by everyone including his family, visibly alone and afraid of being hurt by others, but still seeing the best in people. Then on the other hand, we have a popular girl from a prominent family, visibly perfect, but in reality just as alone due to abuse she experiences at home, making her view people as fundamentally cruel. On the outside they’re opposites, but deep down, they’re both lonely, and terrified of said loneliness. It is only when they meet, when Yukki shows her the kindness she was missing for years and when Yuno gives him the support he had always craved, that they fulfill each other’s needs. By becoming acquainted with Yuno and the Survival Game, Yukki becomes increasingly darker, eventually maturing at the end of the show, while Yukki awakens Yuno’s empathy and pulls her back from the darkness, as we see when she falters to hurt third-world Yuno and her parents.
Their complementary personalities are even referenced by their diaries, which only work seamlessly if paired. They balance each other out perfectly, bringing out the best of each other, but only after learning to push back on their worst characteristics, which is also true for real-life relationships. In truth, just like these two, people are flawed, traumatized and generally toxic to one another. There’s no such thing as people or relationships that start out perfect from the get-go, they need to learn to grow together.
In that sense, this is what makes the ending of the show so powerful to me. Yukki isn’t set on killing Yuno or becoming God anymore. He’s finally taking responsibility, coming to terms with the awful deeds he’s done, and the fact that he can’t undo them. Instead, he wants to help Yuno come to terms with her own demons, finally giving back to her what she needs and not something for his own benefit. Similarly, Yuno realizes just how off the deep-end she’s gone when she meets her past self, acknowledging that she’s lost her original goal, and that repeating the cycle of hurt won’t fix her already broken spirit. That world isn’t for her, and so she finally ends the hurt, giving her and Yukki the peace they need.
Many people don’t like Redial because they see it as an undeserved Happy Ending for two awful individuals, but the way I like to see it is as a form of redemption. Both characters, in the end, do what they have to do to restore order in the world. Yukki pays for his sins in the void, finally a God but at the cost of mourning what could’ve been. First-World Yuno ends the suffering she’s putting herself through so her new self can thrive, almost akin to breaking free from her past traumas to finally heal. The new self regains those memories, not to sulk, but to build from them, going back with Yukki to start a new world that isn’t characterized by their original hurt. In a way, it's a story about how the most downtrodden of individuals can find solace in love, break from their past and learn to heal together. For me, it’s cathartic and fulfilling to watch.
To finish this lengthy post, I feel it’s appropriate to mention the importance of Future Diary’s characters, and more specifically, Yuno. The video describes her writing as shallow and contrived, but I’ve already addressed that in the previous paragraphs. Many people love chalking her up to “cRaZy YaNdErE gUrL™ 🤪,” but she’s so, so much more than that. Her character actually has a lot of depth if you pay attention to her story: she’s a girl, an orphan who went on to be neglected by her foster father and abused by her foster mother, resulting in complex trauma, insecurities and fear of abandonment that she tries to hide and overcompensate for in her overly aggressive tendencies. Her obsession in avoiding the loss of the only person she has becomes her demise, as she lives in a loop of torment all for the sake of not being alone again, a cycle of hurt only she has the power of breaking if she finds the strength to do it. Whether it was intentional or not, Yuno portrays a lot of the issues people with mental illness, such as BPD, struggle with.
Now, claiming that Yuno is a perfect, one-to-one representation of BPD would be reducing this disorder to a caricature, there’s obviously so much more to BPD than what you see in this portrayal. But, I feel like out of the huge list of characters that fall under the “yandere” or crazy girl trope, she’s probably one of the best written ones in anime. I know she’s often dubbed the “yandere queen,” but seriously, it’s rare to see media committing to this trope and properly characterizing it. I would go as far as to say she’s the best character I’ve seen written in this genre, only sharing that spot with another character from a certain game (but given that the mere mention of its name is enough to ensue controversy, I’ll abstain from talking about it here 🙄). A big portion of characters within this trope are quite two-dimensional, without clear motives for their obsessions, or having their issues played up for laughs (I’m looking at you, Anna Nishikinomiya). Heck, many of the characters associated with the trope aren’t actual yanderes, like is the case for Shion Sonozaki or Lucy from Elfen Lied.
Yuno’s character is rich and interesting to watch, she isn’t just some “crazy girl” for the sake of it. She’s a product of tragedy, only motivated by the hope of finally having Yukki alleviate all of her insecurities and sorrows. I’ve always found the “yandere” trope interesting since it delves into the lengths people are capable of going over an obsession, and how these form to begin with. Given how complex, sensitive and even personal this topic can be, it’s important to have characters like this be properly written, and I’m glad that Yuno set a standard for this back in her day, even if many people don’t take her character seriously.
I think it’s important to close up this post repeating the sentiment I had at the beginning. My purpose in writing this defense isn’t so much to force people into liking the show, and even opinions I disagree with like the ones in NezumiVA’s video are valid in their own right, as everyone has different perspectives in interpreting media. This is simply my take as someone who’s been a fan of the show for a really long time, since I don’t see many in-depth essays for Future Diary out there. It is a show that has stuck with me for its lessons on learning to be brave, healing from the past and selfless love. As silly as it may sound talking about an anime, it’s something that I can always look back to and smile, laugh or cry along with. Despite people’s conflicting views and endless criticisms, it will never fail to have a special place in my heart. Given how much time I’ve dedicated to this series, it’s only fair I dedicated a little bit of that time explaining my love for it too. And if you made it this far down the post, I would also like to thank you for dedicating a little bit of your time to my shower thoughts as well!
#future diary#mirai nikki#the future diary#anime#yuno gasai#yandere#sakae esuno#essay#anime essay#long post
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