#he haunts the narrative yet still brings comfort to those who loved him

[snow-that-is-in-colour-red]

I just finished all the trigun manga in 2 days because of goddamn Bigolas Dickolas and I have So Many Thoughts I am going to die if I don't write them down somewhere.

[championofravens]

Tali’s thoughts/analysis on CSM ch. 151

Or: How you haunt the narrative in a story with no afterlife

(Spoilers abound)

Makima’s death has always been very interesting in the context of Chainsaw Man and its greater world building, something not typically touched upon often by other folks in the fandom. As mentioned by user @Jelimore when they approached me to write this, there is no afterlife confirmed within the story’s canon (at least not with the sort of certainty the population accepts other facets of the divine). It’s a fascinating implication in a world where Hell is real and already populated by denizens who are born and resurrected there. Based on what Makima describes of her time in Hell with the Chainsaw Devil, it is not a metaphorical place of suffering but almost has its own societal structure completely alien to humanity’s. So it seems safe to assume it is not widely believed in this world that a damnable soul can descend to Hell after it dies.

Heaven is much more nebulous. Heaven is implied only through hallucinations at the time of death (think Aki and Yuko’s final moments of peace) or a comforting word given to those at death’s door (the Angel Devil soothing a dying woman). This makes sense as the narrative works hard to neither confirm nor deny the existence of a singular God ruling the world. The story has never invoked divine intervention or any other godlike acts. If anything, we are rapidly approaching a junction in which a God Devil is more likely to arise as we see the looming shadow of the Death Devil and Nostradamus’s prophecy. 

I believe both of these decisions are what really helps the story have such impactful and painful deaths- the mundanity of it all in a fantasy world that death could just be a black nothing as far as we know.

The idea of death becomes all the more interesting as we look to Devils, who can be completely destroyed to the extent that they are eradicated from existence and their very influence ceases to remain. It goes far beyond human death. In one of my all time favorite chapters, Makima lists a number of Devils who have been destroyed so completely (eaten by the Chainsaw Devil) that whatever concepts were born from them- or vice versa- are no longer even within the human consciousness. I think the first example she brings up to Kishibe is especially telling: Nazism is something that had to exist prior to its Devil, and when the Nazi Devil was eaten, it still wiped out that political party from the fabric of reality. Though the Nazi Devil did not create Nazism, its destruction assured it was as though it had never even existed. 

So. Let’s talk about Makima’s death and Chapter 151.

Barem foolishly attributes a possible reasoning for Natuya’s inability to control him as the fact his body remains under the control of Makima even beyond death. Though this is something contradicted in all we know of how Devils work, Makima is not forgotten. Makima is not erased. Makima’s physical body and arguably her “soul” have been as thoroughly killed and buried as they can be and yet we do not forget her like other Devils. This is because Makima was destroyed. Not the Control Devil herself. He is still attributing an amount of divinity to a corpse however. His second idea that his inability to be controlled comes from a pure loyalty to her… well, I think that’s wrong as well.

Makima’s power of Control is forged from a feeling of superiority, a feeling cultivated and encouraged and fed throughout her life until she had innate control over all humanity. I believe Makima was encouraged in her position to see those around her as less than, which is a task that is already easy for Devils to follow. Natuya, raised by Denji, is saved in part by the love she has for him but also the average life he gave her. Though she has a strong Devil nature that has her putting an amount of distance between herself and others, we just finished a chapter in which she retracts those feelings for the sake of continuing her life with Denji. Even though she says it should be acceptable for her to hurt and kill as a Devil, she is more bound to her happy life than to following her instinct. We know it is not an indomitable force, or rule of nature, that she has to follow and we know it is not something encouraged by those around her.

So in that aspect, a man who just so easily destroyed her happiness and took multiple gunshot wounds without faltering, a man fused with a powerful Devil, it makes sense she may falter and lose that superiority. Her powers in ch. 151 seem to stem clearly from grief and rage as opposed to the calm certainty with which we’ve seen her use it before even when she is upset (think: Asa). It’s for this reason that I think Natuya fails in controlling Barem. 

An irony of this is that Barem is blind to the intricacies of Makima’s power and how it works, unlike the readers, despite his devotion to her which is what leads him to think he is being protected by a more romantic notion. He was, after all, just a puppet during his time with her. His devotion is to a Devil that no longer exists and a woman with no power beyond that of anyone seeing ghosts in the throes of grief.

I think this chapter paints a very interesting and first time distinction between what Denji killed and didn’t kill at the end of Part 1. In the simplest words- Denji killed Makima, a human woman. That is what she became when Denji ate her and prevented her healing and resurrection and allowed her to die in a way no Devil ever has. She is as dead as any other human is within the story… and that is how she haunts it. It is what gives her power even still. Denji did not eat the Control Devil. He ate the first woman he loved. That is why Natuya is alive and why Makima gets to have a surprisingly human hold on the story in death.

(Tune in for Tali’s unhinged fanon explanation about Ahashi’s role in part 2, including the effects of Makima’s eyes in his skull and his puppeting by the Public Safety Division)

[star-crossed-mid]

Little ramble on water boy 2 and red string cutter and their powers

The Goddess of Fate's power was the ability to change the future/fate of anyone. In some of the other gods stories it kind of seems like her power was just giving people a choice. I like to believe that MC has that power still but its more toned down as in she just talks to people about what choices they can make like idk telling leon to not kill everyone and wipe the universe teehee.

We see her power work in every story intentional or not. Maybe it was the king using the help of her powers to decimate the underworld or the simple acts of kindness performed through MC. Anyway, it can go into theories of dominos falling or butterflies flapping their wings that Clotho's power was very strong and had lasting impacts on a persons future.

Hue's power is clairvoyance, granted he can't use it without touching the person but he could still see into the future. He keeps to himself when he does this, only preparing for the inevitable.

I love that Huedhaut was the one to help Clotho figure out how to use her powers and incidentally was one of the first people who had his fate 'changed'. Whether his fate was actually changed by her or it was just him trying to create a logical answer to him catching feelings is wild.

One of my fav excerpts of them is I think in one of Hue's stories he gets surprised accidentally reading Clotho's future. He saw that they were dating before he even knew they were. Ended with both of them getting awkward about it and just acknowledging 'hey we're dating', and along the lines of him saying 'i've never had my own future spoiled'.

TLDR their relationship

One of the reasons Hue fell in love with MC/Clotho was because Clotho always forced Hue out of his comfort zone (at a reasonable level) and was his total opposite. Something refreshing, sun and moon.

Clotho definitely woke up Hue in the middle of the night to ask if he would still love her if she was a worm (and him in a begrudging state of total confusion would say yes, he loves them in any form, he loves their soul etc etc).

It's also to note that her power literally interrupts his. He can't see/predict the future if it's always changing. It was unpredictable for him. Which ties into the philosophy he learnt when we see him in S1 that he doesn't know how to process the illogical and irrational. He also gets a bit mad at MC when she brings up the concept 'fate' once again being a theoretical concept not set in stone. Huedhaut tries to grab onto any reason when it came to an emotional experience and it left him with centuries full of grief as to why Clotho did the things she did.

In a sense, Huedhauts season 1 reads like a ghost story. Clotho is the ghost that haunts MC, Hue, and some of the other gods. There's a famous quote by David Foster Wallace that says:

"Every love story is a ghost story"

Clotho haunts the narrative, and surely haunts Hue. Those versions of the goddess of fate with the god of Aquarius doesn't exist anymore, yet they still have a very persistent figure in the story. Clotho gave up (not sacrificed) herself/powers because she wanted humanity to feel the love that Huedhaut gave her, her last thoughts were literally of her and Huedhaut hugging the morning prior as she found comfort in the absolute. Huedhaut was near her/watched as she faded from existence. Everything she did, Huedhaut took it personal as Clotho's decisions were purely emotional.

Whether it was inconsistent writing or intentional, Hue's reasonings/graspings at Clotho changes throughout the story from (TLDR SUMMED UP)

"Oh gods I desecrated myself for love" "Did she love me or was she unhappy and decided to do that" blaming himself for not stopping her/finding a solution/not being smart enough at the time

it changes in his route a few times but I think its a realistic depiction for someone who didn't get closure and is heavily focused on reason. tldr im rambling love overcomes as a theme and love is good. Voltage I am begging please give Hue a good update also redo his promise of infinity.

hue and clotho/mc have that doomed yuri type beat also something about them just spreads tragedy i love them i have like 3 scm aus and one of them is dedicated to them entirely.

[yostresswritinggirl]

hi! ik sojourner's already ended but i have an(other?) idea in case u ever pick it up since i love ur albedo 😳😳 ok so

what abt a reader who is rlly excited abt alchemy, but they avoid talking abt it bc they start rambling and stuttering and stumbling over their words bc they're so excited? they get assigned/asked to go w/ albedo bc they're rlly good at alchemy too, but they end up fidgeting a lot, muttering and stopping just a few words in before their volume rises and giving short answers when w/ him bc they're afraid of rambling (since they do it to think better when alone, sometimes insulting and arguing w the objects when they don't get the expected result) & being seen as annoying or unprofessional?? i'd like to see how he reacts to these and what he'd think!! and how or when he discovers the reason reader is acting like that

it's kinda (a lot, rlly skowkskdk i always have ideas but never write them) specific, but i rlly like the idea!! i'd love to see what u do w/ it if u ever pick it up in the future :D hope you're staying hydrated and well🥺🥰 -🌌

What do you mean Sojourner's already ended, Sojourner is eternal, Sojourner is forever-

Kidding aside, this is too cute to pass up, even if it's quite a lot! Cute Albedo brainrot moments always please. It might be too much sometimes but I hope you enjoy my interpretation of it! Scenarios format! Starry night, oh I'm always hydrated, thank you and I hope you're well!

For the Record

Albedo working with a Reader that's highly enthusiastic about alchemy but insecure about rambling... (masterlist)

You dealt with Alchemy a year before the Kreideprinz entered Mondstadt, your attunement to the mystic arts baffling and intriguing you every time. During that period, you're not really sure of what art you're doing but in the end, you kept doing great that the people had acknowledged your talents.

Through your own effort and self-study even if unnamed, you managed to put your talent into this art of Alchemy and created discoveries regarding powders and mineral-focused ingredients. It was a shame there was no one to share it to, and when you talk to scholars/practitioners alike, you end up rambling so much to the point that on their end you barely make sense. Whether this was caused by your eaten words or lax and personalized vocabulary over the matter, you're not sure.

Their confused and judgmental stare haunts you, leaving you alone with your raging thoughts and overworking mind when you just want to learn and expand your discoveries to other people without driving them away. Your enthusiasm is great and all, but it's not enough to make others understand.

So when the Chalk Prince entered Mondstadt, blessing the city with his scholarly knowledge and boundless creations, he easily made a name for himself and in extension the city itself.

Before Sucrose and Timaeus, you were called upon by the Grand Master Varka to accompany Albedo and be his temporary assistant seeing as his field in the division is still quite new and you were the only other 'Alchemist' in town besides him. You're both giddy and nervous, like really, really nervous.

You've heard of Albedo and maybe a caught a glimpse or two, but you've never actually interacted enough to know exactly what he looks like or how he is as a person. All you know is that he's a very, very attractive person overall.

"Good-looking, carries this aura of wisdom around him, he's just really charming," were the words that rang through your mind as you pointedly watched your steps, following the carpets leading to Ordo Favonius' laboratory while Lisa's words rang through your head.

Is he really that kind of person? You've heard that he's quite stoic too, but if he's really that distracting, you're scared that it would be harder for you to focus and help out. Honestly how would you even deal with him when your fields of Alchemy are so different from each other?

You have no idea how long you've been thinking, standing in contemplation in front of the set of double doors that leads to the workshop with nothing but doubt in your mind. But upon realizing the teal gaze of another person silently waiting instead of wooden doors, you figured it was far too long.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I was in my head, I wasn't expecting you to-!" You flailed your hands around comically before abruptly stopping, noticing the now confused stare of Albedo of which are distracted by your hands. Clearing your throat, you extended a hand towards him to shake, trying to stare anywhere but his face. "I'm (Y/N), I'll be your assistant until you're well settled in the city. It's nice to meet you, Ma-"

His hand finds yours in a firm grip, a firm shake so sudden you bit your tongue back, "Albedo, Kreideprinz of the Art of Kemia, but just Albedo is fine, I'll be under your care."

Albedo finds it intriguing and surprisingly not that distracting whenever you talk to yourself or to the ingredients whenever you so much as feel the slightest frustration. "Ugh, this Zinc powder is so stubborn, clingy," you angrily mumbled under your breath as you washed off the blue powder that spilled at your hand, "So, so clingy." Since you're facing the sink, you couldn't see the way he was holding himself from laughing audibly at your amusing antics.

You seemed lively and open, is what Albedo thought when he first met you. But this observation soon shattered when he kept getting hanged upon your abrupt stops when delving into your field, something he was really irked about the first few times. Your art of Alchemy is much different from his and he's wishing that you'd clarify and expound all your learnings to him, but in the end, you somehow step back everytime your words became lengthy.

Are you hiding something? Did you not want him to learn the same arts as yours? If those were the case, he couldn't bring himself to ask a simple question such ad why. Every time it crosses his mind, it brings a purse of a pout to his lips and furrowed eyebrows.

Every response you gave always hints even tiny bits of trivias and tips he's never heard, Albedo always takes note of your spills that always cuts before reaching its climax. "-sorry, yes, this is activated charcoal Geo and Pyro slimes reaction." He lets out an audible sigh upon your retreat, your frustrated mind too occupied to notice.

"Please," his desperation drips in his word when he looks at you with eyes filled with raw emotion you'd never know he'd be able to pull off. Your tightly locked lips only pressed on further at his puppy eyes, "Please continue, I wish to know more about your Alchemy, if you would be so kind."

"It's not really- I'm not really the best at explaining it..." You're almost fidgeting, cheeks aching from tensing and warmth. But he regarded you with a blank stare, forcing you to fill the silence, "If I- If I start, my ramblings may not uhm they're not easy to comprehend... or something."

Albedo had been watching more than he'd like to admit, and he's come to relieved (yet still confused) realization that your treatment with him wasn't his alone. You always step back before things get lengthy, words then cutting short and concise with a steeled expression. Lips caught between teeth.

"I digress," his hand motions to yourself to emphasize his next clause. "As your field and sole practitioner of this art, like my own condition, your word of mouth is the best ground of knowledge."

If he was irritated, he's doing a very good job in hiding it. And even with the respectable yet close distance in between you still felt cornered. This is still your master and it's not professional to refuse a scholarly talk, "The electro crystals when charged... ionized? create sparks, while also producing the same result when smacking- mining!"

The scribbles of his pen against his clipboard as he nods in attention urges you on, realizing his focus and sincere interest on the topic, "So when you put the little tidbits or even powdered version in a beaker thingy, depending on the material, they interact with the spark. Honestly, I'm unsure yet how lethal it is but if you put the sparks under fire too, they make like those makeshift gunpowder as well as additional reactions such as-!"

The lilt and proceeding high pitch in your voice usually signifies the approach of your insecurity as well as the climax of your enthusiasm. At this point, you pull your hand up to shut your mouth forcefully, and when Albedo really detests the abrupt end of the conversation his hand would shoot forward to grasp your own.

He'd intertwine your fingers to distract, before urging you to continue with a challenging stare, as if daring you to use your other hand to pull that off again. This whole scene felt oddly scandalous, but oh boy does it send your mind into a bambling, overloaded mess. A heated head forces your lips open even if they sometimes come out in a jumbled string, he learns to decipher them.

The more you get used to or feel more comfortable, Albedo uses that fondness skillfully whenever he wants. "Can you tell me more about the scarlet chunks from Dragonspine?" He throws it so casually in the silence as you two work back to back in your stations, without a beat as your mind is partially preoccupied, you answered into a narrative of trivia. It almost feels like you're talking to the flames of the bunsen while you wait, but Albedo smiles at the now filled silence as he listens with divided attention.

He really likes your voice, and the word of wonders you bring along with you.

"For the record, I don't mind it at all," his breath hovers on your lips, cold and prickly, "Whatever comes out of these lips, I want to hear it all."

That last part eheh

Woah, this went long. Like reader babbling hahaha. I said I'm gonna speedrun, not freaking write this long smh

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop @tartuu @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @albaedhoe @xiaophilia @heisenwurst @childe-simp-exe

[sunkaashi]

solo carol  — oikawa toru x reader

genre: angst with a fluff twist.

warnings: none.

word count: 1.6k

synopsis: sometimes, the holidays can bring out the best and the worst feelings in ourselves. being away from home during this time of year just makes it specially harder. oikawa toru always knew exactly what he wanted in life, but he never thought achieving his dreams would cost him so much.

tris' note: this was inspired by the song “only the brave” by louis tomlinson, but i'd say I added a lil of a twist to it. if you want, you can listen to it to help you get into the narrative. reblogs are always deeply appreciated and help me tons! ♡

a special thanks to @tetsunation for reading the first draft to this, and to @hcn421​ for helping me with my block ♡

© sunkaashi — 2020.  all rights reserved. do not repost, plagiarise it, translate it nor reproduce this post as your own.

Shades of red and yellow illuminated the street cobblestones, the gleaming Christmas lights guiding his way to a yet unknown destination. As he walked down the avenue, Oikawa let his eyes wander all over his surroundings, his gaze running almost as fast as his mind did. Despite that, Toru paced slowly along the sidewalk, soaking in the scenery before him. It really was a beautiful view.

But it wasn’t about the garlands wrapped around the streetlights, nor the shiny golden ornaments that delicately hanged from them. Even the decorated trees didn’t quite catch his attention that night. It was something else that fought for his heart instead. Something that he hadn’t had a taste of for a while now.

And tonight, his undying desire felt like being parched while standing in front of the sea.

Cheerful laughs echoed through the air as little children sprinted past him, unaware of the man’s presence. Yet, he didn’t mind, his sheepish giggle joining theirs. Downtown street bars buzzed with loud chatter, smiles painted on unfamiliar faces as a natural halo appeared to involve every single one of them. The warmth Oikawa felt rushing through his core had nothing to do with the sultry weather, rather, it emanated from that sight before his eyes.

Still, he seemed to lack a light of his own, and basking in other people’s glow, as joyful as it may be, comes with a price. Toru was left alone, only his shadow accompanying him through the night.

Staring at his silhouette reflecting onto the ground, the man moved his hand out of the pocket and to his nape, carefully watching his own contour mirroring him in every move. And even with every step taken that assured him a bond between himself and the dark figure, he still felt like something was out of place.

Oikawa could feel his slouched shoulders pushing him down. For a man who always stood with his head held high, there was only so much he could take. As he dragged his feet through the curb, he asked himself when it all changed so fast.

A quiver took over his body as if he refused to admit to that idea. He had it all, didn’t he? He sneered, lightly shaking his head. If he acted tough enough, maybe his thoughts would catch up to his actions, right? At least that’s what he wanted to believe.

Cracking his neck, he looked up to the clear summer sky, determined to push those thoughts away as if doing so would make it all magically fall back into place. As his eyes met the silver shimmer from the stars, which were shining a little brighter than they usually did, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the beauty of it. Most of all, he was struck by what it reminded him of. He thought back to Miyagi. To Japan. To home.

“Oji-san!” His nephew came running down in his direction, almost knocking him over with all the strength in his little body. “You’ll never believe what Santa got me for Christmas! Guess it, guess it!”

“Wow, calm down, kiddo!” Toru laughed as he held the 6-year-old into his arms. “Hm, let me think…” He said looking up to the ceiling and softly clasping his chin. “Legos?”

“Better than that!” The little guy answered while squinting in joy, eyes twinkling in a way his uncle had never seen before.

“Hm, a bike?” He asked calmly, messing with the kid, knowing that was the present he’d gotten last Christmas. The teenager tried to hold back a giggle, but mocking his nephew was just too much fun. 

“No, oji-san! It’s the coolest gift ever! Try again!”

“Is it a rocketship?” Toru said, widening his stare like even himself would be excited if that was the case. But the child sighed, rolling his eyes. Hiding a smirk, the older boy decided to stop playing around, finally giving in to the youngster’s wishes. “I give up! I have no idea! What is it!?"

“A volleyball! Just like yours!”

Oikawa smiled at the reminiscences lingering in the air, the memories immersing his senses back to the time and place he never wanted to leave. Closing his eyes, he could still feel the ghost of his nephew’s embrace, a tight and cozy grasp around his neck, saying more than words ever could. But his daydream didn’t last long enough to suppress the void hoovering his heart. As soon as he opened his lids, he was taken back to reality.

And then, just when he thought there was nothing else that could haunt him that night, a sore sight caught his attention, putting out the last flicker of flame that rested in his almond eyes.

It was just a glimpse, just some little specks of sand running down the hourglass of his life. Those few seconds usually would barely mean anything in the long run, but tonight that was enough to wash away his beam. Slightly furrowing his brows into a hurtful look, he tried to fight back the tears threatening to fall down his face.

An innocent couple running across the street, hands intertwined in a knot while brief chuckles scaped now and then, an exchange of accomplice looks giving out their most clandestine thoughts. It was at that moment, when unforgiving loneliness meets undeniable happiness, that Toru fell apart.

Slowly, he made his way to the building next to him, leaning his back onto the brick walls of the construction. He stood there, swallowing down the feelings that begged him to be screamed out.

He always knew he’d have to make sacrifices for his dreams. But all out of all the things he missed, there was only one that he would never forgive himself for letting go. And as he watched love surrounding him from every corner, it was impossible not to think of it. Not to think of you.

Raindrops cascaded down the windows of the apartment as the man dove himself further under the covers. Shrinking his body between the sheets, Oikawa felt a too familiar touch enveloping his torso, comforting him with a warmth that even sunlight could not compete with.

“Couldn’t you just stay like this all day?” Toru groaned as his fingers found their way to your locks, gently caressing your hair. 

“Mhm?” You hummed in response, too disoriented by your lack of sleep to even process what he was saying. Leisurely, you opened one of your eyes to peek at your boyfriend, lips instantly curling up into a smirk. 

“Nothing, love” He chortled. Oikawa didn't need to ask you again, he’d found his answer in the way you looked at him.

"Someone woke up in a good mood." You said, trying to tease the boy. "Santa must've gotten you a very special gift." 

"I'm looking at it right now." 

Brushing against your skin, his other hand played with the buttons of your shirt, the one you were too tired to take off the night before.

“I’m going to miss this. Miss you.” 

“I’m not going anywhere. Not now, at least”

“But soon you will” You paused, a heavy silence filling the room. “Toru…" Before you could finish your sentence, he delicately pushed you away, placing one of his hands onto your chin, obliging you to look into his eyes. 

"Please… Let’s not think about that now.” Pulling you closer to his body, he held you tighter and tighter by the minute, afraid that if he ever let go, you’d slip away.

And you did.  

Looking back at it, he regretted everything. All the words left unsaid, all the things he should've done so that he’d have you in his arms right now. But you couldn't leave it all behind just to follow him to the other side of the world. Even if you wanted to, he would've never had the heart to ask you such a thing. 

So you both decided to break it off.

Yet, it had been two years and there wasn’t a single day when you didn’t cross his mind. And right now, when the pounding sound of bells resonated throughout the air, bringing him back to earth, Oikawa believed it must’ve been some kind of sign that you were the person he was thinking about. It was only then that Toru realized he was standing at a church. 

Step by step, he moved away from the wall, drawn by the chimes warning him that it was already midnight. Christmas time. Walking towards the olden gates of the holy ground, he contemplated the image in front of him, being hit by one final blow.

Families gathered all around the church, the words "Merry Christmas" being repeated over and over again as everyone exchanged smiles and caring hugs. Even if he wasn't necessarily a religious person himself, let alone christian, Toru still felt inspired by the passion radiating from them.

As the mass finally started, the loud buzzing of the crowd quieting down, he closed his eyes, his mind transporting him to the place he wanted to be.

So he decided to pray. Pray for his loved ones. Pray for you.

He asked for your health, for your well-being, for your happiness and, as much as it hurt him, for you to find love too. The loneliness he felt was something he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemies, and you just happened to be one of his favorite people in the world.

Oikawa didn't even know whom he was praying to. Even so, his wishes were so pure that someone must've heard him because it was in the moment he said his last prayers that his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. A call coming in.

When he saw the name that popped on the screen, Toru thought his eyes were probably deceiving him. That's just what his heart wanted to see.

But as soon as he picked up the phone, your unmistakable voice woke him in a rush. 

Maybe there was something magical about the holidays after all.

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, Se03. ep 7 (part 1)

Just to clarify, the only thing I didn’t like abt this ep is tohru, the rest is so good. kyo’s mental state is at its lowest & you can feel for him! ugh!, surprisingly akito’s own lid was so well-done!, Ren & shigure were epicly disgusting & fascinating!, kureno was so well-written, the final scene of tohru & kyo rightfully setting for the climax! Before moving on to the good part,  I’ll quickly go over why torhu’s character was once again the most inconsistent character in the show:

Ep,6 ending showed us a completely broken kyo in full display in front of tohru, best furuba cliff hanger to date hands down, followup: tohru laughing, cooking & wondering if kyo is asleep!!!. Complete detachment & extreme insensitivity to what she witnessed earlier. Not an ounce of wonder if kyo is okay or if sth is wrong with him. Not a single inner thought of “ I hope he’s okay” or “ oh momiji don’t call him, He’s a bit tired” while flashbaking to his traumatized face. Honestly, all they needed to do was a small quick inner thought to connect the scenes. No need to write new scenes. Alas, Tohru’s complete lack of compassion struck me deep. I was told ep6 ending was an anime original scene, I don’t mind any diversion from the original since I don’t know the it, but those writers who wrote a complete new scene didn’t feel the need to transition from it to the rest of the manga? really? It’s hard to believe.

Choosing the kitchen’s happy scene after of kyo’s nightmare is not bad as it shows that nobody either care or know abt his issues, fair enough. However, choosing the kitchen’s happy scene after the PTSD in tohru’s own bedroom & not modifying tohru’s happy go lucky, let’s cook yay face to a realistic concerned expression is absurd! It really takes plenty from tohru as a character. This comes after tohru’s long awaited background ep which returns tohru back to square one.

Just last ep, tohru opened her lid in front of kyo & he comforted her, While she still yet to overcome her fears, she failed miserably in doing the only thing that she’s been doing since se01, ep1, being compassionate & thoughtful. Oh well, adding a light scene in the midst of kyo & akito’s dark sequence is more important than tohru’s character consistency & growth.

moving on from tohru~~~

-Kyo’s suffocation: (guilty or not, it doesn’t matter)

we get kyo’s nightmare really gave me chills & was visually well-done. it brilliantly conveyed the feeling of suffocation, blinding fear, & intensified trauma. The nightmare’s horror vividly showcases kyo’s deepest insecurities & trauma:

It started with his mother’s “ it’s not your fault” sth kyo craved to hear from her very badly. Yet, it contradicted her action: Choosing death over staying with him.

His mother brings salvation: the cat’s cage. The cat’s room parallel’s kyo’s real life at his parents house. In se01, eo24, kyo said, he wasn’t allowed to play outside or watch TV, while his bracelet ”handcuffs”  were routinely checked by his mom. Just like a prison. His mom sentenced him in the new prison fitting for more horrible sins. The cat’s cage for the rest of his life.

While kyo looks panicked & horrified but on the verge to refuse, kyoko appears. “I won’t forgive you” solidifying his mom’s judgement.

They both warn him of the consequences of living & be forgiven: tohru’s death. Go on, kyo. Add one more victim to suffer in your behalf while you roam free. You might think that you can escape the cat’s cage but your hands remain dirty with blood. Others might not see the blood on yoyr hands, but YOU do.

Kyo is torn between being an actual sinner or a victim, between causing intentional harm or unintentional hurt, between being guilty or not. It all doesn’t matter & kyo knows it. What matter is the punishment has been going for years now & he’s tired, broken, lost & just wants it all to end. Death. Slow death in a tiny cage is so fitting for all the pain he caused others, for all the pain he suffered.

Kyo knows (a) suffering in front of tohru is hurting her. (b) Accepting her love will lead to hurting her: confessing of kyoko’s death. (c) Abandoning her is hurting her. (d) kyo knows that he doesn’t deserve her, not after he caused all this pain. (e) Above all, kyo can’t live with himself anymore. being close to her hurt so much.

-Akito’s lid: ( broken home & broken self image):

I must say they did an excellent job of presenting akito’s past! (a) It was a mixture of narration through (shigure & Ren), (b) actual animation of her parents causing her pain & traumatizing her (the scenes of Akira’s last words, her mom’s accusations), (c) Actual animation of the origin of her parents (Ren & Akira’s relationship), (d) akito herself confessing abt her pain in front of kureno. Tohru’s own lid on the other hands was presented through (a) excessive narrative with minimum animation (the grandpa’s endless exposition of tohru’s background quickly wrapped up), (b) no real animation of kyoko actually hurting tohru or how she did it, just again the grandpa narrating that kyoko “went away”. (c) tohru’s own self recall of her past being cut into pieces & divided throughout the ep, once after running from shigure & another in the sheet scene. Tohru’s ep wasn’t bad at all, it was good, but it was evidently shortened & summarized lazily. Oh well. What both eps serve is painting tohru & akito as foils of each other:

Both are attached toxicly to their parent. Tohru: kyoko & Akito: akira.

Both were welling to create a fake persona or an image that keeps this toxic love alive & cling to it no matter what.

Both hurt themselves the most & are struggling to let go of this bond.

Both have parents that hurt them. Akito: ren & tohru: kyoko, altho it is not clear how kyoko hurt tohru but kyoko is more a ghost than a real character.

Both cling to a dead object that represent their deceased parent. Tohru & the photo frame & akito & the box.

Kyoko existed to be this perfect mother with no sins, the character that tohru embodied to “fix” & “ heal all broken kids”. She lives only in memories. Even other characters think of her as this holy being. It is alluded Kyo seemed to know her as a real person who can commit mistakes, therefore, to kyo, kyoko isn’t an angel or a holy being. However, thanks to their encounter at her death & her “ I won’t forgive you” words, kyoko now is a haunting ghost to kyo. Akira on the other hand, existed as this sickly, pale & fragile head of the house, treated with so much aura & holiness. He died but his sins remain in how he raised akito.

Both must let go of their toxic bonds. Tohru of her deep attachment to her mom & akito to the zodiacs.

Both must learn to form healthier relationships.

However, there are striking differences between them! tohru never abused anyone nor attempted murdering someone by throwing’ em from a terrace, or locking them & torment them or stabbing them with a knife!! Tohru’s sin is torturing herself which by consequence tortured kyo, too. Cuz there’s is a theme of a loved-one’s pain is mine as well. Kyo’s mom hurt her own self & ended her own life. This resulted in her son’s years of immense pain, trauma & self-loath & similar suicidal tendencies, se0, ep16 “ I’ will yuki & then kill myself”, & se02, e9 “ mother, if only you killed me instead”. tragic.

Side Notes:

I will say this with a broken heart....... Tohru must learn to let go of.... kyo.  She is suffocating him. Not on purpose. I want them to be together! so bad! they’re so perfect for each other, but also, right now is NOT the time for this. Kyo & tohru’s character issues is NOT abt romance. They have real traumatic issues that are hindering their growth as independent characters. Tohru’s growth might not be well-written or well-presented, but kyo’s growth is still not explored. Next ep is where his lid opened! it must be painful. A person suffering from extreme self-loath & suicidal tendencies shouldn’t be presented so lightly in favor for the love cures all fairy tale! PLZ! NO!

Tohru must learn to not repeat her mistake again & live only for one person. She must let go of kyo in order to gain kyo back. Right now, She can’t have him! kyo is suffocated by his own trauma & adding tohru’s guilt on top of it is devastating. I mean, This could go differently & kyo might accept her love on the spot, & tohru might save him again or sth. I can see this being going deeper or shallower depending on the desired theme. Which of furuba’s heavy themes will be given to climax?

why is momiji doing a rabbit burger? he’s not cursed anymore. I know he’s keeping it a secret, but I thought momiji’s whole growth was abt letting go of the past. he still identifies with the zodiac rabbit?

Ren is hella sexy! & her Japanese VA deserves an Oscar! The way she expresses sexiness, seductive, anger, hate, contempt, sarcasm, delusional screaming, pain! EPIC!

“I thought I was created to receive others contempt” ugh! this hurt, kyo.

Shigure’s line abt looking at Ren to fantasize how akito will look if she were allowed to be a woman, ewww!!!! hella disgusting! imagine sleeping wth someone & fantasizing abt her daughter or vise versa!

Honestly, this ep while not excusing akito’s crimes & abuse of others, it did paint her in a human light. I really don’t want her to end up with shigure. Akito’s whole life is abt misunderstood love. Give her time to discover herself. A guy who slept with her mom is never a reasonable partner even if he loves her for eternity. but oh well~

Shigure indirectly caused Isuzu’s near death abuse by Akito. all in his attempts to free akito from the curse. I love how disgustingly selfish he is.  I remember his “ you mom told you to not interfere, kagura” in se03, ep3. shudder!!! if hiro never met haru that day & confessed to him, if kureno never noticed the maid! Still, he went & visited isuzu after her 4 moths imprisonment in the cat’s cage her hospitals discharge & recovery!

ngl... Shigure & Ren’s sexual tension is the biggest in furuba. Eww!

I’ll talk abt kureno & akito more in part 2. but I felt nothing watching kureno get stabbed lol. this is due to the trailer spoiling it & the ED having him happily in love -_-’.  bummer!.

I love tohru & kyo’s outfit in the ep cliff hanger. lol. Tohru really dressed up to confess.

Tohru read the room! Even if you magically forgotten how sickly & out of it he was in your room earlier, remember this: Kyo always have bad mood in the rain! Then again... he did hug her for the first time & called her by her name in the midst of a rainy storm. se01, e024. >_<!

[wontshutup]

Chapter 1 (Time)

Intro Chapter 2

Some notes:

It is messy messy heh.

It is long..I think

It contains season 2 spoilers

The reader is gender neutral.

Sorry If you don't like black coffee. It's for narrative purposes I swear, just bear with me.

You gazed out your window. The sun was rising, clouds clearing the sky, allowing it's light to have a better view of the outside. Soon enough the entire place would be beaming with life, people coming and going. It was warm in contrast to the past couple of days,perfect to go out for a little trip of your area, something to ease your mind and that was just what you were looking for.

Specially after another sleepless night, another nightmare, a haunting memory.

Shaking the feeling from the uncomfortable night you had, you changed out of your sweat damped pajamas. You were quick to be ready, something you picked up from your previous job, never getting out of schedule was crucial and efficiency was key for everything, no detours or anything of sorts, and so you were impeccably dressed and out of the house in less than ten minutes.

The warmth of the sun on your face relaxed your muscles, letting go of a frown you didn't even notice you had been wearing.

Even if the day had just started, even if you were safe, even if everything had stopped, dread was a feeling that accompanied every morning, every step you took, it was the small pleasures like these the ones that helped, they brought you a slight sense of peace. With the warm feeling, you made your way to get breakfast in your favorite café around the area. But there was a feeling, impossible to ignore, that something would happen today.

************************************************************************

The morning light hit the scribbled surface of the desk Five had now used to keep on tracing the equations that long ago didn't fit in the piece of paper anymore.

He was by now, hunched at the side of the desk, legs crossed, writing in the side of one of the desk's drawers. To the slight change of light Five sucked in a breath. He had expected to have at least a minimal idea of how to proceed before dawn, where to go to, and if necessary, who to kill, besides, he would do it anytime if that ensured his family's safety.

"Hmm...Morning ol' man" Klaus's voice stopped him from falling deeper into his negative thoughts.

"Morning Klaus" He answered with a sigh. He turned his gaze towards his brother, deep dark circles under his puffy eyes. "Ooohoh, you look like shit, did you even sleep at all?" Klaus brought up trying his hardest not to break down again, forcing out a sour smirk.

This sight brought a bitter feeling to Five's chest. "Well, one could say the same about you." he answered with a thin-lipped smile.

"Well that... didn't hurt me at all..." he looked past him to the numerical carvings covering the desk. "Got anything yet?"

"Well... I got a couple of options, leads mostly, here and there" He lied and it seemed to work as Klaus straightened a little, a glimpse of hope visible in his eyes. "But staying in bed all day won't get us to any, you know that" he continued raising his voice a little, putting back his usual strong façade.

"Ow c'mon old man!...I know you are right, still..." grunted Klaus, but got up, dragging his feet out of the room. "Seems like we are the only ones awake. I'll put some coffee" he declared and with that disappeared through the door.

"I could really use some of that" Five muttered to himself. Leaning back, he really needed a break, that was what he needed, then again, he didn't knew better for 45 years.

As soon as he said that, Klaus popped his head inside the room, Five turned to look at him, already knowing what he would say.

"There isn't any coffee" Five declared tiredly, to which Klaus nodded saddly.

"Yeah...But fear not, I saw a small café down the street on our way here, bet it is already open."He said, as if trying to cheer Five up...also himself. "Lemme just...-he sighed- I am going to fix this mess of a face, you should do that too" and with that, he made his way out of the room.

***********************************************************************

The ringing of the doorbell announced your entrance to the place, the smell of freshly brewed coffee flooding your senses as you inhaled deep perceiving a tinge of....sugar glaze? Whatever it was, it was sweet, painting a soft smile on your features This is going to be a good day.

"Y/N!" Greeted one of the new baristas, he was a very bright person, he had been here for about a week but he already learned your name "The usual right?" This made you smile wider, he hadn't even been taking any orders the previous days and he already knew your order? "Yes please" you said while reaching for your wallet. "Mmmm, Would you please remind me what the usual is?" He said slightly embarrassed.With the wallet in hand, you raised your face, a laugh scaping your lips in return. Slipping the exact amount of money you were paying, you slid it across the counter, getting a tad closer to him, as he reached for it and half-whispered your order to him. "An individual berry pie and a strong, black coffee".

"Black? As in bitter black coffee?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, I like it better that way" You simply answered.

"Oook then" he said with, lightly denying with his head in disbelief. He then recomposed himself with a sense of determination. "An individual berry pie and a strong, black coffee it is!" that was a little unnecessary but, his vitality was captivating in a way, you missed being like that, mentally that is. "Want me to take it to your table lovely?" oh now he was being cocky, you just smiled at it.

 "Someone's making up for tips aren't they?"You told him lightly.

"Well, a little extra cash never hurt nobody." He said, brushing off the comment. "So, should I?"

"Yes, please" and with that, you left the counter. You wondered, if he actually knew you, if he would be as chatty as he just had.

*************************************************************************************

The place wasn't very far but it felt miles away, the silence between the brothers making the walk heavy.

Five just kept on thinking on ways to get them back, or out of this, to just fix it all, in a way to keep them all safe. He hoped Klaus had bought the story of him having some answers, he needed them to trust him, if they didn't that would most definitely play against them. He had already known the consequences of having his family in disagreement or scattered, he, THEY, couldn't afford to get into a confrontation between them.

His mind just didn't seem to stop for a second, he knew the laws of time well enough and everything around him, in this precise timeline, bound him to fail every time. He didn't want to rush to conclusions but at this point, he was convinced they needed a miracle. HE needed a miracle.

The ringing of the entrance bell got him out of his thoughts, eyes shutting up, examining the place. He inhaled deeply, the scent of coffee bringing him a very slight sense of comfort. Maybe things weren't that bad, are they? They are until proven otherwise. He shouldn't let his guard down.

"Ok now, let's see what we'll have...I am taking hummm the french grilled cheese and a cappuccino...and you?" Klaus examined the menu in front of them as they got in the line."Let me guess, a black coffee. I don't know what's with you man, maybe add a little bit of sweetness sometimes, your bitter soul could use some"

Five scoffed. "The thing here Klaus is that black coffee allows it to be served and consumed fast, simple, no need to make a fuss out of a simple cup of coffee. Some things serve their purpose just as they are" he eyed his brother "but that's something you are too young to understand."

"An individual berry pie and a strong black coffee it is!" the barista said in an unnecessarily loud tone, causing Five to scrunch his nose.

"Well seems they are. Are you really suggesting people who like black coffee are old? I think you people are just bitter.. " Klaus told his brother while signaling to the teenager who was now making their way towards a table.

Now, in any situation, Five would've simply ignored it, he knew he had better things to pay attention to than just a mere teenager, however, they seemed oddly familiar.

They carried themselves in a way that was way beyond their years, their appearance was one of a simple young person, just about their late teens, somebody who would naturally be beaming with life, but their body language, their eyes, they suggested as if they had gone through an exhausting life, a long life. Those eyes, he had seen them countless times. Where?

 As they made their way towards the counter, he didn't tear his gaze from the teenager, scrutinizing their figure, their every move, the way they scanned the book before them, their hands went up to their scalp and tore lightly at their hair constantly, nervously.

******************************************************************************************

"Hey kid."

"Don't" they said in a warning tone, their eyes never leaving the envelope before them.

"Just stop that already, the hair pulling, it's making me anxious" he declared visibly irritated, or was it bothered?

"Making YOU anxious? I am making the great Five anxious?" they retorted mocklingly followed by a snicker. Their perfect young skin wrinkling at it's corners, and in contrast, wise eyes looked at him. "Well then I shall not bother you anymore Old man"

******************************************************************************************* Then it clicked.

"Hey, you've been staring awful long towards them, you look like a creep. An old creep" Klaus noted. Before turning towards the cashier. "Hey! so, I will take.......

With a quick step, Five made his way towards the teenager, heart pounding in his ears. If it is who he thought it was there might just be a way to set things on the right track.

His miracle. He prayed they were.

*****************************************************************************************

As you waited for your order at a small table you took out a book you have been carrying around, when opening the page you left on. You leaned in on the book, trying to concentrate in the narrative, noting every single little detail that had been written differently from the original. Not long ago, you were able to find a couple of differences here and there on some books, movies, plays, and numerous pieces of media that had been made after 1963 till now, pieces you knew very well, changed, even in the slightest details, from the ones you had seen previously. A word, a dot, a whole different scene in some. You knew that something had gone down, that explained the fact the entire world was still standing April the 3rd, 2019, yet, you didn't know how much and if for better or worse, you had decided to keep away from whatever had caused it. It wasn't your business, not anymore.

You had been so deep in thought, eyes scanning the pages so quickly you weren't even actually aware of the plot, anxiety once again filling your body, slowly opaquing the brightness in which your day had started. And just like the previous night, your figure started curling into itself. Shoulders rose hovering over the table, your shadow darkening the page, you started pulling at your hair for some sense of reality, this had always been of help to that throughout your life. It had been pointed out to you, you needed to stop, yet it kept you steady, anchored.

"Y/N?" A young voice interrupted your train of thought, thankfully. Shutting your book you raised your gaze to be met by a young man, a teenager, around your physical appearance, the smell of coffee mixed with the aura of desperation he carried and wild green eyes piercing right into yours. Those eyes. The familiarity of it all was unsettling, Commission? after working such a long time for them you knew not to trust easily.

"Who's asking?" you answered with a calm tone, showing no intimidation. Your hand discreetly taking hold of the butter knife in front of you.

"Of course you wouldn't recognize me" He muttered, rolling his eyes. Meaning exactly what? "If you had, you wouldn't even think about trying that" he said eyeing the knife. This made you tighten your grip on it, whoever he was, he meant no good. But you let him speak anyway. He straightened himself, adjusting his blazer as if to look taller. 

" Alright kid" he sighed out, reading your reaction. You pursed your lips in distaste for the word that was used towards you, you narrowed your eyes at him, taking notice of his expression, his tone, he said "kid" as if he knew it would tick you off. He looked at you intently, giving you enough time to recall him. You dug through your memory, something you tried to avoid for a long time. You thought about getting up and away from him, you didn't need this, not now, not ever again, but you just sat there, holding his gaze. You scanned his features, eyes landing on a very characteristic trait, a dimple. Very familiar. No, it couldn't be.

Then you were back at his eyes, tired, old but young, almost like yours...as if looking in a mirror. So familiar.

You hadn't even noticed you had been holding your breath, the silence getting longer. You sigh, releasing a bit of tension and unwrapping the knife. You reminded yourself there was no reason to fear, not anymore, you had made it clear to everyone back there, even yourself, that you didn't care, you didn't deserve the trouble.

He noticed you let go of the knife, and his expression softened a little. A contrast to his previously imposing posture, but he didn't actually relax. Instead, he seemed eager to approach you. He proceeded with a friendlier tone as if testing if your action was a sign for him to proceed or you to leave. 

"Used to work for the Commission, Five"

*

*

*

*

*

*

Hey, So, chapter 1 is here. Hope you liked it and that it made sense somehow?

About the black coffee, Sorry hehe. It is bitter I know but bear with me.

Also, I am trying to make this gender neutral, if by ANY chance I mispronounced your pronouns I apologize, I will keep an eye better for that.

- Milo

[morsking]

And so we have concluded Lostbelt 2! Now that I’ve experienced it for myself, I have a much clearer picture about how I feel about this chapter. As I progressed one thing became very clear to me, and that was that Hazuki Minase likely did NOT have any influence with this chapter, and its weakest points can be attributed to its main writer, Hikaru Sakurai, once we more closely scrutinize her work.

For starters, I would like to apologize to the people who kept trying to tell me Minase had nothing to do with the writing of Losbelt 2. You were correct, I simply acted stubbornly because I was terrified that one of the writers I loathe the most had returned to haunt and corrupt the franchise I hold very dear to me. I insisted on blaming him for any flaws because he was an easy scapegoat and a bogeyman, and while we all agree he is a pervert and a hack who should be fired, it is simply not fair to point fingers at imaginary criminals. A person should always be held accountable only for the misdeeds they have actually committed. Indeed, we may now explore Lostbelt 2 and the integrity of its writing with a more objective perspective, or rather as objective as I can manage to be.

The overall theme of the Lostbelt is “acknowledging one’s emotions as a vehicle for personal growth”. The issue persistent in the setting of Lostbelt Scandinavia was that it was a place where only young humans were allowed to survive. These humans would be oblivious to what real growth and prosperity were really like. They were innocent, and emotionally and intellectually stunted groups of people who only knew to live for the truth of their eventual demise. They lived short, rushed lives where they would stay ignorant of basic human experiences, such as love, grudges, aging, vice, hate, competition, and companionship because they devoted themselves to living how Scathach-Skadi ordered them to. They were unable to think or decide what to do for themselves, and were thus incapable of not just taking the reins to decide their own evolution as we do in Proper Human History, but also of fathoming doing such a thing in the first place.

This is a mirror to Ophelia Phamrsolone. Ophelia was conditioned to only listen to others for purpose and direction. Ophelia doesn’t actually know how to listen to her own feelings or even what those feelings even are because she was never allowed to connect not just with herself but with anyone. Ophelia, like Surtr points out, is still very much a little girl terrified by everything around her because she has no balance, no capacity for finding her center as a healthy and normal human being would. Unbeknownst to herself, all her interactions with others are a plea for help. Her very first interaction with Mash in 2017 was asking her if she’d like to have lunch with her and Pepe because Ophelia is terrified by male strangers and wishes to connect with other women as well. Ophelia’s conversations with Kirschtaria are also her not knowing how to proceed with challenges and therefore appealing to authority both for comfort and advice. Finally, her monologues with the Alien Priestess are Ophelia venting about how she feels, as if she were unaware of what to really think of herself as her helplessness and indecision drown her in a lake of self-loathing. 

These cries for help extend to the way she summons her Servants. Ophelia is noted to be incredibly proficient at evocation. Some might even call her a genius. In fact, she is such a genius she unknowingly managed to contract not just with one, nor two, but three different Servants all at once. The first Servant to answer her summon was Sigurd, the King of Warriors from Nordic mythology. The second Servant was Surtr the King of Giants and Scourge of Ragnarok (titled by yours truly), who hijacked the summoning and took over Sigurd. The third, and most pivotal, was Napoleon Bonaparte, the French Emperor whose Spirit Origin was modified to embody the “ideal Good Fellow who could make dreams come true” rather than the actual historical Napoleon.

What these three Servants have in common is that Ophelia wished for all of them from the darkest depths of her heart. Ophelia desired capable Servants who could give her some form of direction and stability. 

Sigurd, for example, is a hero renown for rescuing Brynhild and giving brand new meaning to her life by showering her with love and devotion. Love and devotion are things that Ophelia not just desires to be shown but actively struggles to adequately express to others because she has never known what it’s like to experience those things. To Ophelia, Sigurd represents “being given that which you have never known and finding fulfillment”. 

Surtr, on the other hand, embodies a darker type of direction: the terror stagnation, conformity, monotony, inaction, and eternal suffering. Surtr exercises control over Ophelia by threatening to destroy the world if he is released, prompting Ophelia to flash to her childhood locked away by her abusive parents every dreaded Sunday. Surtr locks Ophelia into a state of helplessness and indecision where she has to carefully consider how she will proceed with dealing with Surtr. Ophelia has decided to lock herself in with him as a way to prevent him from breaking out of both Sigurd’s body and the physical prison inside the Lostbelt’s sun. This is a situation where Ophelia is in a constant state of stress and fear, since as a Crypter the last thing she could ever want to see is the destruction of yet another world by her hands. More personally, the death of the Lostbelt would also mean death for Ophelia, as she has failed her purpose once again and thus would have no worth as a person. However, what Ophelia cannot understand, because Surtr himself does not, is that Surtr’s destructive impulses are how he wants to show love and devotion towards her. Surtr has reasoned that since their worlds abandoned them after they failed to perform their ordained tasks, the only thing left is to annihilate them completely as retribution for their suffering. Surtr does not wish to hurt Ophelia, but because he is a being defined only by his overwhelming desire to burn everything, he cannot help her heal or grow in any way that matters. All he can offer is annihilation. To Ophelia, Surtr represents “self-destruction through a static state of being”.

Finally, there is Napoleon. Napoleon represents a pronounced antithesis to Ophelia’s entire personality. He is an upbeat, improvising, confident man who chooses to not stress over things because what he is seeing is only what lies ahead, not what lies in front of him.He also breaks her defenses by asking something so ridiculous and unexpected as her hand in marriage when they have only just met. Napoleon refuses to give in to any negative outcome regardless of how much the odds are stacked against him, as he demonstrated in Scathach-Skadi’s throne room where he refused to let Sigurd kill his Master despite being restrained by Skadi’s paralyzing rune. He demonstrates this once again when he blows his final shot at Surtr during the final battle, sacrificing his own life to give Chaldea the opportunity to regroup and bombard Surtr to bring him down. He is called the Man of Infinite Possibilities precisely because he faces the unknown head on and finds the best path to walk for his comrades to advance. He does not let fear take over his heart and judgement, he creates a rainbow as a bridge connecting the present to the bright, shining future. He is precisely the hero Ophelia needs, because he embodies “the bravery to grasp your own future and find your own direction”. 

But analyzing these characters further is a post for another time. What I want to get into are the gripes I have with this Lostbelt. 

Now, I could lead you on through a couple more paragraphs before I wham you with what this all means in a much higher metatextual level, but I don’t have the time nor the creativity to do that so I’m just gonna give it to you straight. This square between Ophelia, Sigurd, Surtr, and Napoleon is the storyline that matters most in Lostbelt 2. Scathach-Skadi matters little despite her own parallels with Ophelia and being the Lostbelt King, and the situation with the Lostbelt’s inhabitants matters even less. Why?

Because Lostbelt 2 is Sakurai coming full circle and writing an otome game like Fate/Prototype was meant to be before Fate/stay night became a thing. 

SHOCKER!! SOUND EFFECTS OF SURPRISE!! DRAMATIC KAZOOS GALORE!!

Now, that’s exaggerating a little. Or maybe not that much, actually.

What Sakurai was doing was applying conventional otome game tropes into the setting not just what she’s familiar writing for, but because Lostbelt 2 is inherently an incredibly self-indulgent project. 

There is a classic trademark otome fantasy at play here: the fantasy of multiple men being devoted to a female main character a player can relate to. There is no denying there is a certain appeal to the idea that there are several handsome men all willing to devore their entire lives to a person. Sigurd, Surtr, and Napoleon all embody certain otome game love interest archetypes. Sigurd is the cold, composed, intellectual man who is actually earnest, just, affectionate, and wise. Surtr is the dark-hearted troubled man with fiery disposition struggling with expressing love. Napoleon is the strong, confident, borderline pixie manic dream boy with almost zero brains but plenty of empathy and... *ahem*, physique to make up for his seeming lack of tact and intelligence (he’s a himbo is what I’m saying but that comes as no surprise). The problems arise with Napoleon himself, however. Napoleon hounds Ophelia with marriage proposals she refuses time and time and again. When he proposes to her in front of Chaldea for the first time, the narrative has Mash take Napoleon’s side and urges you to do the same because Sakurai believed the reader would’ve caught on to what’s actually going on between Ophelia and Napoleon. 

The issue here is that Sakurai’s clues up to that point had been far too hidden for the player to make a proper connection, and it’s not until AFTER the proposal that the player discovers Napoleon is predisposed to fall in love with whoever summons him because that’s what Ophelia wanted out of an ideal Servant. Because of the poor execution in presenting all these factors that completely recontextualize the relationship between Napoleon and Ophelia, when Sakurai has Napoleon say “You did not reject me therefore you DID agree,” we jump to the conclusion that Napoleon is engaging in extremely reprehensible behavior and ideology reminiscent of dangerous and abusive men IRL rather than take it as harmless flirtation from a well-meaning oaf of a man as he tries to break the shell of his beloved. Sakurai invokes a very dangerous trope that does more to excuse misogynistic behavior when done incorrectly rather than successfully appear as a romantic gesture of attempting to liberate a loved one from the clutches of isolation and victimhood.

On a larger scale, the application of these tropes is where Lostbelt 2 starts to suffer, and that’s where Sakurai’s writing further begins to resemble Minase’s. Sakurai spent so much time building these interpersonal dynamics that she spent the least amount of effort actually building upon the situation of the Lostbelt and Scathach-Skadi’s character and motivations for keeping the Scandinavia the way it is. 

Upon scrutiny, it’s not very difficult to pick apart the setting and make a mark out of the glaring logistical inconsistencies of maintaining a population of only 10,000 humans for a span of 3,000 years by having them reproduce at 15 years old at the latest to execute them at 25. Anyone with a passing understanding of biology would know that forcing children to carry babies to term can lead to terrible health and psychological complications that would certainly end up in a lot more miscarriages, stillbirths, and failed attempts at impregnation than actual successful births. The problem here then is rather evident. Sakurai wanted to use the fact that all these children are young, innocent, naive, gullible, and ignorant to draw a connection to Ophelia’s own psychological and emotional circumstance. However, she realized that because she was writing a setting that obligated her to work around a 3000-year gap between Ragnarok and the present day. She needed something that would compromise the need for a realistic system that would ensure the reproductive viability of a human population through such a long period of time and the thematic vehicle of childhood and repression of growth as a way to connect Ophelia to her environment. This compromise ended up working for the absolute worse because she chose the worst possible system she was aware was the worst possible system she could’ve come up with and therefore decided to forsake that part of the plot without going through the implications of it and leaving the specifics to the reader’s imagination so they could sort it out in her stead.

This unwillingness to properly explore the problematic implications of Scathach-Skadi’s system not only deprived the player of a possible engaging storyline where child endangerment, a common theme in the Nasuverse, is explored and criticized through a different angle, but also actively hurts Scathach-Skadi’s connection to the player because we never get the opportunity to debate with her about her ideology and the state of the Lostbelt. We never hold her accountable for enforcing such a brutally predatory and dehumanizing system that targets children, instead Sakurai opts to build her up as a flawed, self-absorbed mother figure desperately trying to combat the extinction of the remnant of her world who also never really learned how to deal with the revelation there is an entire life she did not get to have in this universe that we MUST sympathize because she occasionally sees through the characters and acts kind towards them until the time comes for us to fight her in earnest as a matter of principle completely divorced from the question of how she’s managed her Lostbelt. The fact Scathach-Skadi’s model of sustainability does not work is made obvious by the fact it takes place in a Lostbelt, what we are trying to get at here is that it does not work from a writing standpoint because of all the different holes you can poke on it before you’ve punched through the paper screen entirely and revealed the superfluousness of it all. 

There is nothing inherently bad about self-indulgent storylines. If I’m being honest, if Sakurai wanted to use Ophelia and Musashi as self-inserts to fantasize about romancing the different kinds of characters she finds attractive, more power to her. But the problem surrounding Lostbelt 2, which is the same problem that plagued Septem and Fate/Extella, is a veritable lack of restraint from her part as a professional writer in charge of a multi-billion dollar mobile game. What the writing room over at Type-Moon has to realize is that they are no longer a small doujin writing circle that can get away with whatever they want because they operate under obscurity. They are visible to the entire world and will be held accountable and criticized as professionals by consumers and their peers in the industry. A little bit of self-fulfillment in a published work never hurt anyone, you can cater to yourself most of all with your professional work (I mean, just look at She-Ra), but you must be sure that in your pursuit of indulgence your work does not suffer for it and ends up alienating and disappointing your fanbase and giving them the wrong impression of what you stand for. 

Anyway we’re popping the biggest bottles when GudaMoth becomes canon this December. 

[cosmic-capri]

Near you

A/N: felt like writing something smutty as a tribute to 100 very loved followers. Hope you enjoy! Feedback is very welcome, let me know how to improve for you guys.

Warnings: Implied smut, very bad dialogue lol (I really don’t know how to make cool fictional conversations) and I kinda tried a different narrative technique.

It was rare for Tom to find himself in casual encounters with other women. He preferred not to, not so much for his fame and reputation, which played very important aspects, but more because he didn’t felt entirely comfortable with the idea of just having a girl for the night and not even have some kind of consideration for her afterwards.

The few times he did bring someone to his hotel room or the property he is given while shooting a new project, never to his place, he never saw the girl again, they always left before he got the chance to maybe call a cab for them. He hates to admit this to himself, but sometimes it is more as if he felt the one who was used and discharged.

Tom was a sensitive person, he didn’t expected or wanted to find love after a few drinks and senseless fucking, but he hated the fact that all this girls would just scream his name without really showing any kind of real pleasure, and he knew, they would be telling someone the morning after, how he fucked, how he did, what he didn’t do, his body and size. This details and idea haunted him, sometimes he got so nauseous he felt sick afterwards, blaming it on the booze. No girl ever really felt real on some kind of way, no talking, no laughing, no nothing, they were just there, moving on top of him, saying things that felt acted, “yes tommy fuck me, oh my god yes I’m gonna cum”, while he was just entering them, or when he was just somewhere else not committing to give them real, or any, pleasure.

Tonight was going to be different.

She was working on the legal, boring, professional and serious field of the job. She was present most of the time, which has given Tom an opportunity to get to know her at a certain level. She was reserved, almost boring-looking, but she was always kind to everyone, she always gave him a warm smile, and she had a type of attractiveness that had to be stared at for a while before really seeing the beauty she carries. At least that’s what Tom thinks, because she doesn’t act like no model, she doesn’t seem to care so much weather or not she looks flawless or trying to impress him. She is just there, sometimes she laughs loudly, sometimes she speaks in terms and mannerisms Tom could never completely understand, and she sometimes stares at him, making Tom feel like he has to do something to keep her attention.

They never spoked alone, there was always someone else, Tom felt as if she didn’t wanted people to really know her, there were moments in which she went quiet and vanish. She was inside of her head more than anywhere else. Tom couldn’t help but feel curious, and to feel bad when she was by her own with all those papers and coffee for the fat bastards at the top. He would get into a bad mood when thinking about the possibility of them staring at her like a piece of meat when she clearly isn’t looking for it, at all.

The few times she got to be more preset, or at least that’s what Tom thinks, is when there are events regarding alcohol and late night entertainment. She seemed more loose and open to be herself. Tonight was going to be different.

Tom decides to approach the group of people she is hanging out with. This is one of those occasions in which she doesn’t have to make and effort to show off her beauty, and of course is one of those occasions in which is impossible for her to hide and pretend to be invisible, how could she? Thinks Tom, she looks so beautiful.

He saluted everyone, taking his time to give her a warm hug, grabbing her by the waist and kissing her cheek. This is how he greets all the women he considers to be familiar or as friends. She seems surprised by it, but with no problem at all returns the same warmth, and as if she was reading Tom’s mind, she also takes more time to kiss his right cheeck. The conversation flows and grounds around Tom’s talent, which he is not comfortable with, he’ll have time to talk about himself when press arrives, right now he is interested in other things, like how to get to talk to you, just the two.

Having a great time? Tom asks her, since there was an awkward silence in the conversation that was taking place.

Yes, thank you, how about you Mr. Holland? She says, as kind as always. The name cought his attention, he almost wants to laugh, he finds it adorable in some kind of way.

It’s fine yeah. He takes a sip of his drink. You can call me Tom love. He gives away a smile, she returns it, she nods her head yes and then she scoffs.

I don’t know why I called you that, guessed I’m used to the formalities of my job.

Maybe it’s all those pricks who think they are on a higher ground than us, but not me, I’m no better than anyone. She looks at him, making a face, like she agrees and at the same time values his humbleness.

Yeah maybe it is.

More conversation is made, eventually the people around them realizes they have no place inside their talk and leave. Tom is so emerged in the way she can pretty much talk about anything and how he can follow trough, feeling a connection he hopes is not only something he feels, but something she does as well.

I don’t know why I didn’t talked to you like this before. She says, staring down at her drink.

To be honest I kinda wished you did, Tom said with no shame at all. He needed her to know.

Well, to be honest, I always wanted to be near you.

Tom is facing her now, closer to her face, not letting her look away, his beautiful brown eyes making it impossible to. She always finded Tom to be attractive, more than that, she felt as if he could do anything to her, and she wanted that.

Want to be near me now? Tom asked, taking a strand of her hair and placing it behind her ear.

Yeah, if you want to.

Tom is walking her to where he is staying, he is holding her hand and she is drawing circles with her thumb, her touch being electric. She looks like an excited little thing running and laughing, as if the bare idea of being there with Tom is already a reason to be happy. He is delighted, making him smile and laugh as well. He can’t help but hold her from behind, holding her waist, kissing her hand.

Tom has never had a girl that felt so wet for him. She began kissing him, and began to lean in closer, I want you to feel me, she said. Tom felt like he was dreaming, feeling so much of all of this, of her, showing him that she wants him.

He is running his fingers through her folds. She whimpers and holds his hand for support. She is facing him fully naked and so is him. He never felt this close to someone, he never felt exposed, but not in a bad way, he just wasn’t familiar with the intimacy that she is giving him.

God yes, she says, not even screaming, just pulling her head back, holding Tom’s wrist, he is charmed by the feeling of her warmth all over his fingers. He begins to draw soft circles on her clit, to what is making her shake a bit now, she opens her eyes, looking dreamy, staring right through him. She then grabs his dick. The touch taking him by surprise, he whimpers as well. He can tell this is new to her, her touch being too gentle and insecure.

It’s fine, he says as he places his hand above hers and begin to guide her movements, both her and his hand pumping him. God, just like that, he says, closing his eyes.

As Tom lays her down on bed, he begins to kiss her breasts and tummy, she reacts to all of his gestures, which only makes him desire for more. Her skin feels soft, she whimpers and tries to hide her moans, making them soft and tender.

Tom, I want you to take me. She says with her eyes closed, closing and opening her thighs, the friction making her breathing heavy, the sight making Tom twitch.

Are you sure? Even when he is dying to be inside her, to feel what is like to really pleasure someone and having just the same amount in return, he doesn’t want to hurt her or go too far.

She now sits down, grabs Tom’s face and stares at it, rubbing his skin with her thumb, she then grabs his hand, placing two fingers in her mouth, sucking on them, never loosing eye contact. More than anything, she says.

Being inside her was making it too hard for Tom not to come there and now, she is warm, and tight. She makes the most beautiful sounds with each thrust, and her hands can’t stop wandering Tom’s body, nails scratching his back and chest.

You are so big. She says pushing her head back. Tom never felt too confident about his size, being aware that he is average, but when she says this, and grabs the sheets with strength, as she clenches around him, he feels different and better than all the other times he’s had a woman’s body underneath his.

He can’t help but kiss every inch of her skin, bite, and suck.

She is now sitting on top of him, legs straddling his hips. His hands resting on her hips, thumbs grabbing the inside of her thighs, she would find marks the day after, only to remember how much Tom wanted her in that moment.

You are killing me y/n. The sound of his low voice, saying her name, and his tender yet strong thrusts is all it takes for her to fall on his body and feel her legs numb and shaking.

Tom lets her rest on his chest, still inside her. He caresses her back, feeling her calm down from her high. He’s never experienced something like this.

As she moves and exits him, she crawls down and removes the condom, staring at his hard on. She looks up at him, shiny eyes filled with lust.

Can I suck you off? She asks, pumping his dick. Tom moans and nods his head. Only if you want to. He says, how he is still capable of thinking about her before his own pleasure, he doesn’t understand, but he just knows that he cares about her.

Her tongue licks a short strap on his tip. He needs to grab something, being sensitive and overwhelmed by her. She sucks, not going too deep, making sure one hand pumps what she can’t fill in her mouth and other to caress his lover abdomen and thighs.

He comes without being able to warn her, but the release is too much for him, he moans and groans, letting himself go, feeling the heat of his cum on his tummy. She just stares at him, kissing his hip bone, still holding his dick, thumb caressing his tip. Once he is back to earth, he stands and invites he to come close to him. He kisses her with passion, still breathing fast. She smiles into the kiss.

Let me clean us up. Tom stands up, legs numb, head fuzzy. He’s never had this, he can’t help but think if he was her first. He can’t help but take some pride in it, thinking of all the pricks who might wanna have her but weren’t even close to.

As he cleans himself up and wets a toweled offer it to her to get cleaned up as well, he listens to her coming up to the bathroom.

Hey, she says, hugging him from behind. You are so handsome. She kisses the back of his neck.

He smiles and turns to look at her, smiling and feeling... happy?

You are also very beautiful , I think I’ve never had a night like this, you ended me. They both laugh, her arms still around him.

They hope they could stay like this, if not forever, at least for as much time as life can allow them to.

[ryttu3k]

Part 2 of my season 12 reaction posts! Find part 1 (Resolution of the Daleks to Fugitive of the Judoon) here!

Praxeus

Thoughts on Doctor Who - Praxeus!

OKAY FIRST. THANK YOU, SHOW, FOR FIXING A BIG ISSUE I HAD WITH THE FIRST SEASON. So they were doing a thing where they’d introduce incidentally queer characters, have a female character mention her wife, stuff like that, only for them to die. This episode had Jake and Adam, married/separated/it’s complicated couple, who face huge amounts of danger, who both come close to dying, but who survive! And have a Big Damn Kiss! And walk off together holding hands! They survived!!

Plotwise, I enjoyed it a ton while watching, although in retrospect it did feel a bit free of danger. The companions were never in true peril because the Doctor can home in on them automatically, and we never got the true scale of the risk of infection, since the only people we saw get infected were in isolated areas. I would have liked to see, for instance, the threat of Praxeus spreading beyond just the very Hitchcockian birds; all of the peril was on an individual level.

Good message, if unsubtle. Mind you, that’s kind of Doctor Who’s thing, and it pisses off conservatives, so all for it, really XD (They must have loved the core relationship in this episode, too!) Like. Subtle doesn’t work. There are literally climate change deniers that exist. Sometimes you actually do have to tell a message with all the finesse of a sledgehammer because .

(Side note, I was deeply concerned when I saw the cowriter was the guy who did the hot mess that was Kerblam!, so at least this was just an unsubtle and kind of questionably written story instead of an actively harmful one.)

The companions: Ryan seems a fair bit more confident on his own? His initial scenes with Gabriela showed that he’s starting to work well even without backup, and picking up the bird proved to be a damn good call. Yaz and Graham were a fun pair, and Yaz got a lot to do when she and Gabriela (again!) got to explore, and I can definitely understand the conflict between curiosity/doing what’s right and safety when it came to the teleport scene. She does seem to be bordering on the reckless. Intriguing!

Minor plot snag - Graham knows how to set up an IV, presumably because of the shitload of time he spent in hospital! …And yet he doesn’t know what a pathogen is?

Friend note!

“fun fact about graham seemingly not knowing what a pathogen is! in my reading of the scene, i saw it as graham knowing what one was. with "Well, I’m glad you asked that…!” he seems like he’s actually sort of pleased with himself, like he’s about to launch into an explanation, and then IIRC there’s a very brief shot at Ryan giving him a Look and Graham immediately changes tone to “…cause I didn’t want to look stupid.” he immediately changes from boosting his own ego to bolstering ryans and im love"

In which case, good shit gooood shit.

SFX - the infection was creepy as shit. The very obviously puppet bird near the lab was hilariously bad.

Apparently the filming was tricky because it was super windy so all the shorts of Thirteen with her hair Like That weren’t planned, it just kind of happened. Love a fluffy ruffled Thirteen.

So anyway. People calling for more plot focus - literally this is the Doctor trying to distract herself and not focus on the plot! This is her avoidance tactic! Emotional honesty? Who’s she? She’ll get back to it eventually, but for now she needs a distraction after being punched in the emotions. Give her that for one episode, c'mon.

Ryan: “…I do a lot of running.”

Graham: “Whatever is giving off those weird readings… is on the other side of that wall!” Yaz: *silently turns scanner around* Graham, not skipping a beat: “…is on the other side of that door!”

Yaz: “I don’t want you to panic, but… we followed one of those things through a teleport and now I think we’re on an alien planet.” Thirteen: “…well, you don’t do things by halves!”

Thirteen: “That’s why you smell of dead bird! I thought you’d changed your shower gel.”

Thirteen: “I’m having half a thought. Ooh, this one tickles!”

Thirteen: “What can I say? I’m a romantic~”

In conclusion, Doctor Who said gay rights.

-

Can You Hear Me?

Thoughts on Doctor Who - Can You Hear Me?

Trigger warning for discussion of depression and suicide.

You know you're in for a wild ride when iView warns for horror themes instead of science fiction themes.

Overall: at first impression, it felt sort of mashed together? There's 14th century Aleppo, and there's 21st century Sheffield, and there's a deep space station, and there's creepy monsters and dream villains; I do kind of wonder why Zellin targeted a random girl in Aleppo as source for his pet monster, although targeting people like Ryan's best friend makes sense if he's deliberately trying to lure the Doctor to him.

The theme, on the other hand, of mental health resiliance and reaching out, was done incredibly well. Oh yeah there'll be more comments about it - the Guardian described it as 'adventures in Wokeness' - but damn, sometimes you need to hear it. I loved getting more of Yaz' backstory, about being a desperate teenage runaway at the point of being suicidal, and her reunion with the older woman legitimately made me tear up.

But like, goddamn. Her nightmare - she's still hearing that. She's still hearing her sister saying that she should "do it right this time" and that this time she won't call and that no one is coming and holy fuck. God this makes so many of Yaz' scenes incredibly painful in retrospect, knowing that she was at that point only three years before and that she's still dreaming that shit! It makes her recklessness terrifying!

Ryan's nightmare, and his experience with Tibo - it's quite reflective of the Doctor, too. She wasn't there, and Gallifrey burnt. And Ryan is realising this now, and really thinking about the potential future in Orphan 55. I think this is absolutely foreshadowing Ryan leaving at the end of the season (there's been a lot of speculation given Tosin's new TV role), and I think Ryan and Yaz' discussion at the end of the episode was a definite hint in the direction of Ryan choosing to going back to Earth.

Would have really liked Graham, during his talk with the Doctor, to gently remind her that she can talk about her own problems, although I can understand the narrative choice on why she didn't (although, yeah, would have been good for Graham to ask). Because, yeah, if anyone needs a sympathetic ear (...sans fingers) or a shoulder to lean on, it's her!! The entire theme of this episode was like... reaching out. Conquering your fears with the help of others. Sharing your fears to lessen them. Getting help. And the Doctor deliberately... not doing that makes it into an actual Thing that I think is going to seriously be addressed by the end of the season.

It's been such an ongoing theme. A bunch of episodes have started with an obviously depressed Doctor. The Fam has tried to raise the issue multiple times and have discussed it amongst themselves even more. Scenes like Yaz' reaction after being abducted in Spyfall (...which makes her, "I thought I was dead" part even more worrying) and being comforted by Ryan, not the Doctor... her whole reaction to Graham being like, "I'm glad you talked to me but I literally can't do the same in return" - if it's not addressed by the end of this season, it's at least going to have to be an ongoing theme, because it's becoming very deliberate now.

An interesting note: the actor who played Zellin (an immortal manipulator of nightmares) also voiced the Remnants (who were the first to mention the Timeless Child in The Ghost Monument). Coincidence or deliberate?

Assorted thoughts:

"I'm still quite socially awkward." There's socially awkward and there's emotionally repressed... (I saw a description of it on Tumblr as 'weaponised dissociation' and... yeah. And also yikes.) Also the way she was so closed in on herself, basically hugging her arms to her body! On a semi-related note, talking to herself in Aleppo was a bit depressing. Like it's continuing the theme of The Doctor Does Not Like Being Alone.

The finger thing - ew ew ew ew it's in their EARS ewww D:

Stylistic comment: the traditionally-styled animation for the Immortals' game was gorgeous.

"Try not freak out, yeah, but you're on a floating space platform trapped in a gravitational pull between two colliding planets."

"Thanks for lending a helping hand!" Companions just being, "...Doctor p l s."

On an old lore note, loved the callback to Eternals, Guardians, and the Toymaker! On a concerning note, man, the Doctor has so many issues with immortals. They abandoned Jack, there was the punishment they gave the Family of Blood, they had those Issues with Ashildr (from what I've read), now this, an eternal punishment with no chance of redemption, perhaps because she knows what immortality does? Parallels with the Doctor as quasi-immortal too, which Zellin even pointed out.

"You're wrong about humans. They're not pathetic. They're magnificent. They live with their fears, doubts, guilt. They face them down everyday and they prevail. That's not weakness. That's strength. That's what humanity is."

(Contrast: "That's what humanity is." The Doctor isn't human. She's not prevailing against her fears, doubts, and guilt.)

In conclusion, literally everyone but the creepy immortals needs a hug.

-

The Haunting of Villa Diodati

Thoughts on Doctor Who - The Haunting Of Villa Diodati!

tfw you think you're just going to get a nice spoopy historical and instead get major plot?

Overall impression: Well, Jack is going to be pretty miffed, given that the Doctor had to do precisely what he didn't want to happen - giving the Lone Cyberman what it wanted. To save Shelley, and also to save the future, although that does bring up the question on if the death of one person can rewrite the future, why doesn't that apply to literally everyone? Fletcher the valet and Elise the nurse died too, do their deaths have the same impact? Either way, the Doctor takes the Cyberium for herself - then realises that the Cybermen are inevitable, and returns it. And now she's trying to go and stop them. So... a bit conflicting in the message there, I think.

Yeah. Bit of a Trolley Problem there.

The characters were really fun. I did enjoy seeing Mary's sense of morbidness, but also her kindness and sympathy towards the Cyberman; you can see the foundations of Frankenstein there. I'm seeing some criticism of how Byron was portrayed as a coward, but eh. Nice little callback to Ada. Also I love how one of the rules was 'no one snog Byron'. Put that dirty boy back, you don't know where he's been! Glad Claire realised that too, although historically, she was already pregnant with his daughter at that point (and that didn't go well at all)... Either way. Good display of all these bright young reckless things.

(And yes, they were young. Byron was the eldest at 28. Shelley was 23, Polidori was 20, Mary and Claire were just 18. And while Claire lived to 80 and Mary to her 50s, the three men all died young, too - Byron at 36, Shelley at 29 - yes, from drowning, Polidori at just 25. Also wasn't mentioned that Polidori also created something on that Dark And Stormy Night along with Mary's Frankenstein - he wrote The Vampyre, the first modern vampire story!)

The Lone Cyberman (and I am deliberately using that instead of 'Ashad') - creepy as shit. Not just the whole Frankenstein look, but the way he acted! Not emotionless and blank, but actively manipulative and sadistic! Mary showed empathy and he actively threw it back in her face! I mean, yikes.

House was terrific and also spooky as hell. (Am lowkey miffed that no one went "VIBE CHECK!") The jumbled layout was quite Castrovalva, and I actually really dig that Graham got to see some actual ghosts. Ghostly sandwiches!

I think we got actual confirmation here that Yaz does have feelings for the Doctor? (Bleeding Cool News is pretty sure that it was for Ryan, but... lmao no.) BBCA twitter certainly thinks so!

Claire: "His answers only increase the enigma." Yaz: "I know someone like that." Claire: "This enigmatic person of yours... would you trade them for reliable and dull?" Yaz: "My person's a bit different..."

I MEAN.

(It got deleted. So. There is that.)

Thirteen: "Hmm. Fourteenth... no. Fifteenth century... touch more umami." (Doctor, have you been playing Detroit: Become Human again?)

Mary: "I don't think they're really from the colonies!" Byron: "No, she... is from somewhere much, much stranger." Polidori: "The North."

Thirteen: "YOU HAD ONE JOB."

Cyberman: "You appear courageous. But your vital signs betray a heightened state of anxiety." Thirteen: "Or as I like to call it... Tuesday."

Thirteen: "Yeah, 'cause sometimes this team structure isn't flat. It's mountainous, with me at the summit, in the stratosphere, alone. Left to choose. Save the poet, save the universe. Watch people burn now, or tomorrow. Sometimes even I can't win."

Claire: "You pursued Mrs Doctor without a care for my presence, belittled my thoughts and opinions... and then proceeded to use my person as a human shield." Byron: "...And?" Claire: "And the spell is broken... my lord." Polidori's face: "haha you fucked up dude"

Next week: Shit Hits The Fan.

-

Ascension of the Cybermen

In lieu of a proper post for Ascension of the Cybermen, here are a list of questions we need an answer for.

Will Graham and Yaz survive, on a giant carrier full of Cybermen?

Who is Brendan, and what is his relevance to the story?

What is the Boundary?

How is Gallifrey in the Boundary?

How was the Master in Gallifrey, and not trapped by the Kasaavin?

Who is Ko Sharmus and why am I getting Yana vibes?

Who is Ashad and what is his story? (And why is his theme such a literal banger?)

Is he an actual Cyberman? Because I'm totally getting this impression he's human in armour?

How did Brendan survive being shot, and why did his non-ageing father and mentor do that?

Why did it look like a chameleon arch?

Is Ethan's tech-savvy just warzone familiarity or something more sinister?

Are there any other large human populations left?

Was I detecting a hint of romantic tension between Graham and Ravio?

What's up with Yaz?

Why did the Cyberium get sent to that time period?

Who or what is this alliance Jack is a part of?

How do the Time Lords and the lie of the Timeless Child come into it?

WHO THE FUCK IS BRENDAN?

-

The Timeless Children

WELL THEN.

While I gather proper thoughts on The Timeless Children, here are the questions I had from Ascension of the Cybermen, now with answers!

Will Graham and Yaz survive, on a giant carrier full of Cybermen?

Yup! Disguises for the win!

Who is Brendan, and what is his relevance to the story?

Brendan is a filtered overlay memory of one of the Doctor's former lives.

What is the Boundary?

An anomaly, as far as I can tell.

How is Gallifrey in the Boundary?

No idea!

How was the Master in Gallifrey, and not trapped by the Kasaavin?

No idea!

Who is Ko Sharmus and why am I getting Yana vibes?

A big damn hero.

Who is Ashad and what is his story? (And why is his theme such a literal banger?)

We're still not actually sure. Either way, he's an action figure now.

Is he an actual Cyberman? Because I'm totally getting this impression he's human in armour?

Yeah, sort of.

How did Brendan survive being shot, and why did his non-ageing father and mentor do that?

Because Time Lords.

Why did it look like a chameleon arch?

It's probably related technology! If the chameleon arch rewrites memories, this one just wipes them.

Is Ethan's tech-savvy just warzone familiarity or something more sinister?

Just warzone familiarity. Poor li'l bean.

Are there any other large human populations left?

Possibly! If the Boundary really did send them to random places, there still could be surviving pockets elsewhere in the universe.

Was I detecting a hint of romantic tension between Graham and Ravio?

Maybe a bit XD And now they're all on Earth, who knows?

What's up with Yaz?

Who knows?

Why did the Cyberium get sent to that time period?

Ko Sharmus sent it. Didn't send it far enough.

Who or what is this alliance Jack is a part of?

Same organisation Ko Sharmus is part of. Also, young!Ko Sharmus/Jack please.

How do the Time Lords and the lie of the Timeless Child come into it?

In so many ways.

WHO THE FUCK IS BRENDAN?

The Doctor!

More thoughts later!

-

Thoughts on Doctor Who - The Timeless Children.

...Actually, first thought is the title. Timeless Children? Hmm.

Anyway. That is... sure a literally mind-blowing revelation for the Doctor, yes! Like, damn, the discovery that you're not even the species you thought you were, that your adoptive parent spent lifetimes abusing and experimenting on you, that your memories were routinely erased by people you thought you could trust (including your adoptive parent), that you're literally the progenitor for your entire species, that you've lost who knows how much time and who knows how many memories... yeah. Damn.

What's an appropriate birthday present for someone turning ten million?

Also, huh. Amidst all the old lore and casual mentions (like Borusa!) that got mentioned - were they taking hints from the Cartmel master plan? About the Doctor being some kind of founding figure for Gallifrey? Not exactly written as Cartmel had it, but that big main concept of the Doctor as a sort of... foundation piece of Time Lord culture was still actually there.

Brain of Morbius Doctors confirmed, I guess. I guess even Four was going, "...the fuck?"

Cybermen = still scary. Regenerating Cybermen = felt somehow obscene. Like, no, that's just fundamentally not right. Like the TARDIS responding to Jack by noping the fuck out kind of not right. God. And the Master was completely and utterly magnificently batshit, like, more than usual, come on, dude, you know they'd kill or convert you the second you turned your back.

Still. Deeply, deeply entertaining to watch just from a villain perspective, completely Chaotic, and like... I do understand where he was coming from? His entire life is a lie. His entire life is because of the Doctor, who, I think it's fair to say, he has Complicated Feelings regarding. (Their entire interaction this episode was a giant power play. Like damn guys just get into BDSM and leave the would-be genocide and universal takeover.)

Tecteun = Rassilon, I'm assuming. Goddamn. Like they were a pompous abusive asshole from the outset, this just kind of makes it worse. I also wonder if Rassilon chose the Master specifically to get the drums because he was friends with the Doctor? That actually may have been something the Master worked out himself, too. I mean, I'd be pissed off as well :-\

Also, how many people know about this? I assume Gat knew, since she was implied to be responsible for the mind wipes, but was it like... a super tightly-held secret or was it something a lot of higher-ups knew? Because that's fucked up tbh

Thought on the Master. Okay, he's hugely furious that he's been lied to, that the entire origin of his people is based on a lie, that his greatest friendrivalloveenemy is incredibly special and that a part of her is in him and not in the fun way, but like... I'm also wondering if he's looking at the Time Lords, the way they turned him into their puppet, how they drove him insane for their own purposes, then looked at the Doctor - someone who has also been used, abused, experimented on, manipulated, controlled, and went, "No. This is an injustice and the Time Lords need to be punished for it."

Oh, saw a nice theory regarding the TARDISes - Ruth!Doctor had the original busted police box TARDIS. When she was eventually taken in to be mind-erased, they sent the TARDIS off to storage to be eventually repaired. The Doctor manages to steal that one, goes to Earth, and it immediately gets stuck again because it's still broken. Explains how Ruth!Doctor can have the police box while also being pre-everything.

I really want the Doctor and Jack to sit down and have a nice chat about being timeless undying constants of the universe. Also for Jack to get one of the spare TARDISes around. Be kinda funny if he got the Master's old one, given the Year That Never Was, but it really is just sitting there. (Poor TARDIS stuck as a tree on a random wartorn planet in the far future, though!)

Also, Jodie was fucking magnificent in this episode. The hurt, the absolute fury, the almost glee when she's telling the Master he can't break her, her refusal to press the button at the end (so much like Nine's "coward or killer?" moment!)... just... so good.

Beautiful post I saw here on Tumblr - the Doctor as the Timeless Child, making the choice to help.

Amazing post here on Tumblr about abuse and repressed memories. Even if the Doctor doesn't remember it all, the abuse they underwent at the hands of a beloved parent figure still informs a hell of a lot of their behaviour, but it doesn't define them. The Doctor's need to run = informed by abuse. The Doctor's desire to help crying children = informed by abuse. The Doctor being an inherently good person = being their own person, no matter what their upbringing, no matter what their past was. They made the choice to be the Doctor, and that's a hell of an important thing.

Extremely painful post I saw on Tumblr about the Doctor being 'hip with the kids' by calling her companions her Fam but hell if they're not more family to her than her actual adoptive mother ow my heart.

Also, the scene between Yaz and Graham was so sweet <3 I do want to see Yaz, at some point, admit that sometimes she's so terrified she can barely move, and to tell him what she came so close to doing when she was sixteen, and Graham to just go, "Yeah, but you keep going." Also I'm trying not to think about how Yaz would respond to the Doctor going off on a suicide mission when Yaz was suicidal just three years earlier because ow my heart. She knows that Ko Sharmus went after her, she knows the Doctor might be alive, but either way, she's just seen someone she loves leave with the intention of dying (and Ko Sharmus too, actually). Someone please give her a hug. Actually please just let the Fam have a big group hug in general.

"Have you ever been limited by who you were before?" "Huh. Now that does sound like me talking."

So, remaining questions to be answered next season!

What actually is the Doctor? Since they were found near the Boundary, they could be from anywhere. It's fair to say they now are recognised genetically as a Time Lord, but what were they originally, why were they abandoned in the first place, and are there any more of their original people out there?

How do the Remnants know about the Timeless Child, or were they just picking up on that unconscious knowledge from the Doctor's own mind?

Like... we're generally under agreement that the Master, the eternal cockroach, survived, right? Despite definitely being lowkey suicidal like oh, was hoping the Death Particle would kill me? Like the Death Particle was made by the Cyberium, it could have gone, "Nah, keeping this one."

What's going on with the Kasaavin? Remember them? Still out there, stationed all through time and space? And are we going to see Daniel Barton again?

Is something going on with Yaz?

Will the Fam stay on? (I personally think Ryan will elect to stay on Earth to account for Tosin Cole's new TV role, and if Graham and Ravio enter a relationship, he might too.)

When will we see Jack again? If he was connected to the Lone Cyberman arc, that seems... pretty conclusively finished, unless we're going to learn more about it?

Is it Christmas yet?

............so the Christmas/NY special is going to start with Jack using his vortex manipulator to bust the Doctor out of prison and get back to the Fam and it'll never be mentioned again, right.

"At least buy me diNNER!!"

[bangtanblurbs]

intro: never mind

song: Intro: Never Mind

first experience: i remember when the Never Mind comeback trailer dropped - i was sitting in my dorm and it was absurdly late at night. i was preparing to go back home for the thanksgiving holiday and closing out what my university affectionately called “hell week” - a week in which nearly every class you’re taking schedules their final midterm exams and projects due in preparation to give you two weeks to study for finals. i was feeling really defeated. i’d decided to take on a really hard load of upper level economics courses that semester. i didn’t really care about school at this point. my grades were good, sure, but my motivation was completely shot. hearing yoongi’s voice, the emotion in it, it became almost like a mantra to me at that time. encouraging me to keep going. to make it through. day. by. day. i listened to the song on repeat so much as i pulled all-nighters in the library. it was my lifeline.

feelings/personal connection: as alluded to, this song for me - it’s pure pain, struggle, and perseverance. it’s full of spite, but not the kind that brings you down -- the kind that pushes you forward. for me, this song is the core of bangtan’s experience. they had to push through so much bullshit to get where they are. listening to never mind always has layered meaning for me. of course there’s the meanings associated with the struggles bangtan overcame, their dedication, yoongi’s story specifically too... turning on never mind and listening even without understanding the lyrics, you can hear that this is bangtan’s “we’re going to make it, we’re going to hold our head’s high and keep going. we are following our dreams, and with our conviction - nothing else matters” song. having been with bangtan for so long - seeing them fight like hell... this song is everything. known that they knew their worth even in 2015 when they weren’t getting the recognition they deserved and were being treated like absolute shit left and right. 

outside of the meaning for bangtan, this song strikes a core with me. growing up in a rural less than stellar suburb of west atlanta there weren’t many expectations for me - a young girl, pretty mediocre at everything she did. but i wanted a lot. i felt like an outcast in my community... i’m not sure how or why but everything i loved and fascinated was something my culture and community deemed strange. girls where i’m from, they get married before they’re 20, have kids before they’re 25... it’s all very linear. i wanted adventure, i wanted to think, stand on my own two feet. i wanted a lot for myself, things that nobody in my family wanted or understood. things that sometimes, they didn’t support. listening to never mind transported me back. i saw my teenage self struggling through my IB degree - fighting like hell to get into a good university - fighting like hell not to let that university swallow me up with temptations and malice. at the time of finding never mind i was in my third year of university. i felt like i was going to make it, but then what? never mind was my mantra - don’t give a shit, or a fuck, about those people at home. don’t care about the people at university who were rich, privileged beyond belief, and considered me stupid trash. i kept my head down and i ran. raising hell when i had to, fighting for myself.

even now, i’m an outsider in life. i’m pursing a phd - i’m living in a new city (washington DC)... i don’t belong here. i’m not the traditional type to walk this path. i come from a very modest background, my family never left the country, my parents never expected anything for my future. but i won’t mind them. things are hard, people question me, my mind, my thoughts, my identity, my legitimacy. and when it’s tough - i put on never mind and i shout with yoongi. nobody is holding me back anymore. i can see the light at the end of my journey, i will get there, and those that doubted me for any moment - never mind them. 

song breakdown

musically: there’s so much here. there. is. so. much. here. from the very start of the song with the crowd cheering - this brings about the notion that yes - BTS has made it *yoongi* has made it. they have fans, they perform in front of crowds, they’ve achieved something that those who didn’t support them thought they never would. the mic tapping, the screech, the coughing -- lets us know we’re about to get a story, something heartfelt. he’s nervous to share it. gathering confidence. (truly i feel like never mind is one of the first bangtan songs that speaks to the group’s PERSONAL experiences coming up in the industry) - it’s something new, something that they’re nervous to share, different from love songs and more traditional narratives that they typically share with us. the piano backs yoongi in the beginning, drums and a beat come in as the lyrics pick up - it’s understated, it lets you really focus in on the emotions in his voice. something about it is truly haunting. the beat picks up during the bridge and levels out to a nice calming tone as namjoon and hoseok come into bring in the chorus - the MANTRA - of the song “NEVER MIND, NEVER MIND”

vocally: it’s all rapline here. and it’s all emotion. from yoongi’s first breath, you know you’re going to be sent somewhere. he’s going to tell you a story. a deeply personal one. you can hear his change tones, he giggles at points where he needs to emphasize the fact that those who counted him out are finally proven wrong, they’re finally eating their words as he rises and meets his success. he speeds up the rap as the song goes on - it’s like running - the start is slow, labored, but over time it builds to a fantastic speed and bottoms out with even chanting. this is the story. these 7, yoongi among them, they started out slow, but damn they’re running by the time HYYH pt. 2 drops. they are running like hell - and they’re going to make it. the fact that hoseok and namjoon join in on the chorus is also telling -- perhaps yoongi added them on the track because without the three of them, they wouldn’t be living this journey, maybe he’d still be stuck at the pace he was running before. now they’re united - they can join together and fight those that held them back. hoseok brings his upbeat tone - namjoon brings his soul, and rapline completes the song together with yoongi uttering the final bars in a soft soothing voice - almost like he’s telling us, don’t mind those that hold you back either, we are here, you can do whatever it is you want as well. 

lyrically: i could give a three hour lecture about these lyrics. as we all know, never mind was written by yoongi. the song starts out offering us some insight into how yoongi continues on despite all the shit he deals with - “i only look forward and run” it’s almost like he’s offering us this advice as well, just focus on what’s in front of you and keep going. he talks first about his success, he’s finally “become the pride” of his family. but then he dives into the pains he’s overcome - acknowledging the common thought that “teenage years mess you up” (something with which we can likely all relate to - somehow those teenage years are when you’re the most insecure, and also the years when you usually take the most heat when it comes to deciding who you are and where you want to go with your life). yoongi remarks that the only thing that’s changed about himself is his height - i wonder if he feels the same now - and he speaks to the fact that his youth is something that he carries with himself into the present. it motivates him. it’s made him, him. yoongi had to overcome a lot of hardships, people telling him he would be the very demise of his family as he fought for his dream a music career. but he kept going - he says “i only lived how i wanted, guided by my own beliefs” and he taunts the listener who may have doubted his ability to make it “how do you think i’m doing now?” and states he wants “to ask the several people who prayed for me to screw up - does it seem like my home is going broke, you bastards?” this is the spite that yoongi carries. the pain. despite looking only forward and not being concerned with the haters - he acknowledges that he was outcasted because of it, he wants them to see that they were wrong, that they messed up in their evaluation of him. 

yoongi’s words move into the bridge - they continue their powerful message. he acknowledges that he’s failed, but because of his youth that he continues to carry he can pick himself up on it. “if you can’t return, go straight through your mistakes and forget them all. never mind.” he encourages us to do as he did, if you mess up - why carry it forward? just keep running forward never look back. 

yet yoongi maintains his humility through all of this. he acknowledges, letting the hate and doubt roll off of you, it isn’t easy -- “it’s not easy but engrave it onto your chest” (which jimin quite literally did - NEVERMIND - a reminder that he needs to hold his head high and keep going). yoongi continues to offer encouragement “if you feel you’re going to crash - then accelerate more, you idiot.” when you’re at your lowest - that’s when you really need to forget what the others said, go so fast and so hard you have no time to consider them and their ignorance. that is comfort. this song is nothing but pure comfort. 

the chorus brings in the thoughts that yeah, there’s a lot you can’t change - there’s thorns along the journey of life - but you have to keep going. especially when you carry your youth, your immaturity, don’t give up. just keep going. yoongi repeats several times “if you feel like you’re going to crash - then accelerate more, you idiot.” using the same insults and pain that they threw against him in likely a layered sense. first telling himself, he’s an idiot for ever moving closer to crashing, but also laughing and calling himself an idiot in the way those who doubted him did - he was an idiot for chasing a dream, but damn he’s overcome and he’s made it. 

performance: to be quite honest, it’s hard to find performance videos of never mind. i was lucky enough to see it live when i went to HYYH in macau - but i don’t have any footage of it. typically though it starts with the entire venue dark. a single light will come upon yoongi as he begins rapping in his hooded coat. either way - the performance starts with yoongi alone, much how the story in the lyrics starts. it’s haunting to see him - typically facing the back of the stage - rapping his heart out. it’s like he has to build up his confidence before turning around to bear himself and his emotions to crowd. as the bridge hits - the hood comes off. the confidence is there, hoseok and namjoon join on stage. the mood is generally one of encouragement. 

as for the comeback video - it’s remarkably profound for an animated video. the video starts with the butterfly, often symbolic of rebirth. resilience. then we get the animation of a boy, playing basketball, alone, feeling hopeless. lost in what seems to be a visual maze - reaching for the butterfly. an a microphone in chains. the boy begins to run during the bridge - just running along. the butterflies surround him. it’s like he’s chasing a moment for redemption and rebirth. running towards that moment that the catterpillar transforms into what it’s meant to me. just as yoongi tells us - run, run like hell towards who you’re meant to be. don’t look back. 

tl;dr: never mind is a masterpiece. it’s raw emotion. it’s one of the first songs where we really get a bangtan member spilling *their* life story, their struggles, with us in a song. it’s highly relatable - and while it’s yoongi’s story - it also feels like a letter of encouragement to all of those listening. turn away from those that doubt you and run like hell. 

[schrijverr]

I Wrote My Own Deliverance

Chapter 8 out of 10

Alexander Hamilton is reborn as Alex Hambleton. He is desperate not to make the same mistakes twice, but it seems he is stuck in the narrative, unable to get out. Familiar faces pop up all around him as he attempts to keep his previous life a secret and write himself out of the story.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: guilt, mentions all te deaths in Alex’s past and blackmail. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Washburn Pamphlet

by A. Ham

This pamphlet is written by Alex Hambleton to deny all rumors surrounding a sexual relationship with Professor George Washburn, Columbia University.

As much as I had vowed to myself not to end up here, I find myself once more having to publicly air my secrets to save myself. This might be news for people surrounding me, for I don’t go about telling everyone about my scandals of lives passed, it seems I have learned after all.

It is quite ironic that I am here once more for the sole reason of doing everything in my power not to be here.

And I could say that I am not.

Maybe I can claim that it is different, because I am denying the rumors and I am not in the wrong this time around. It is not even selfish motifs that caused me to reach for a quill, or, in this case, a keyboard.

But enough dancing around the topic.

I was aware that some people had thoughts and opinions about how I have gotten to where I am, but no one has had to audacity to come up and say them to my face with blackmail as motivation. Lets say I was quite surprised when James Richardson (no I will not be shying away from names) came up to me.

He told me that, unless I got Professor Washburn to pay him 20.000 dollars, the whole school would know how I fucked myself up the ladder by diving into bed with him each Sunday.

Seeing this was the first time I heard I was fucking him (Washburn had not been so kind to inform me, strangely enough), I was quite surprised. Although I have to admit that I cannot deny that I have been visiting the Washburn household each and every Sunday since the summer break, even going as far as to drive over to their summer home in Virginia.

Guilty as charged on that front.

Yes, I am confirming that this is true and I can understand how this feels more like a confession of guilt than the denial it is.

For you have to understand that you think in a too small time frame and in the wrong names. I have already said that I will not shy away from names in this pamphlet, so here I will drop the name of the person I have actually been seeing. I have been seeing George Washington, my General and President under whom I have served for many years back when I was known as Alexander Hamilton.

The time frame is not between the summer break and now, it is over two centuries ago when a great man saw my potential and helped me live up to it.

I am willing to go through the registration process to prove Professor Washington innocence, as well as my own, in the matter. I am also willing to do whatever is necessary to prove that I earned my spot in the accelerated track.

But this is the truth I can offer right now and I hope you will believe me on my word alone.

God knows I am aware that this sounds preposterous and outrageous, for why come out and tell you all now that I am a Founding Father when I could have done so without allegations that needed a story to be disproven?

Well, as everyone knows denying a rumor is the same as confirming it. And the truth is that I do not want to be Alexander Hamilton.

And why would I?

Why would I want to be that man. For all the musical tries to paint me as a hero, or misunderstood, I am so very aware that I did not deserve Elizas forgiveness. I know I threw away my shot the moment I didn’t say no (forgive the reference).

However, it is not just that. I do not want to be the man that did not come to his friends aid in France, I do not want to be the man that cared more about himself than his wife and the abused woman he took advantage off.

Alex Hambleton left Alexander Hamilton behind at birth.

I took this life, my second chance, to be better. I do not wish to walk the same paths and bring down those around me in my misery and mistakes.

Yet here I am.

I took the liberty of finding comfort in the one person who I knew would not share my secret, whom I’d be safe with as I always have been. The home where I could be the entirety of me, a combination of the Founding Father I used to be and the loudmouth student I am now.

And now it is not just me who has to pay the price when people don’t believe me. I tried so hard to write myself out of this story, to not make the same mistakes, but it seems that for all my trying I cannot stop being a death sentence for those around me.

My father still left, my mother held me again while she died, the moment I remembered who I was, was the moment I found my cousin dead. I did not want to believe that this would always be my life until the hurricane hit.

But there it was and it swept my hometown away with the waves and wind. My story is as set in stone and I, for all I claim to be an unstoppable force, cannot seem to move it.

Have you ever smelled death?

Have you ever looked around and seen bodies floating in the water and known that it was your fault?

It was my story that history forces to repeat, my story that caused the deaths of all those people and it is my story that forces a scandal into being and it is my inability to keep me from defending myself that makes me end up here.

Overwhelm them with honesty.

That is what my musical counterpart said and that is the footsteps in which I am walking once again. Though I hope that the small changes I have managed to make, will ensure that the results of my deeds will end up differently.

For those who knew me, I am sorry for the deceit. I hoped by not interacting, I would not pull you down with me once more. I do not wish my misfortune on you again.

But it is not for me that I seek your pity.

I am once more, begging strangers for kindness and understanding of my story. I hope you grant me this mercy and believe me, so that the one person who has always believed in me, no matter how much I did not, can keep his livelihood.

Let his story of success remain unchanged. Let him live his life in peace, knowing he did well and do not exile him in shame for crimes he did not commit.

Believe me not for my sake, but for his.

I could tell you stories of my past life in an attempt to prove myself to you. I could tell you about letters I wrote, words I said, people I loved and lost. I could tell you facts about myself that you can not verify, because I was the only person there to witness them.

But that will not do me any good.

So I write.

I write in the hope that you can find pity and understanding for the bastard, orphan, son of a whore that clung to the only rock, before the eye of hurricane had passed and he was swept up by forces of nature out of his control.

It is the only thing I can do.

I am not religious, yet here I am, praying on two knees to a God that has never listened to me, in the hope I have done enough to change the story I am stuck in.

However, I know my prayers have never been answered with anything but indifference.

Will my prayers be answered this time?

I do not count on it.

So, I will not ask you to pray for me. I will not allow myself to become a victim to lies and slander after I have worked so hard to be better than that person who was. I will not be threatened and blackmailed when I learned from my mistakes and I did not repeat that part.

Instead I ask you to pray for Washington as I am doing.

I ask you to pray for the kind soul that saw my potential and made sure that I could take one step closer to the future I wanted to achieve.

To pray for the man, who gave me shelter over the summer so that I would not be homeless. Pray for the man who gives me dinner one day of the week to ensure I do not starve. Pray for the man who let me read his recommendation letter an unnatural amount of times, so that I could ensure he only helped me based off the things I had achieved not his history with me, because he knew how important it is to me that I make my own spot in the world.

And I pray for his wife, Martha, whom I call Mama M, always have. Mama M, who has been there with open arms and soft words to fill a void that hadn’t been filled in this life or the last, since I was twelve.

I no longer care for your perception of me. You can keep your thoughts to yourself and I can move unaffected by hateful words that have followed me both lifetimes. I am used to it and I do not care about your words.

However, I do care for the two people who cared about me when no one else did. When no one else knew to care.

My shoes have always been worn out from the running I have to do to keep up. I work because I know I am too much of a minority to make it anywhere in the world if I don’t work thrice as hard as my peers.

Immigrant, Latino, bisexual, polyamorous, orphan, bastard.

These words have haunted me until I turned them into badges of honor and the only reason that is, is because I had a home to rest. A place to take of my shoes and get ready to face another day.

That place was the Washingtons home.

So, think of me what you want. Think me a liar who did not earn his place in the world, tell your friends how annoying I am and how you wish I had not made it through my hardships. I do not care for your opinion of me.

But keep them out of it, they do not deserve the slander of my presence for crimes they did not commit and rumors that are not true.

Be the change that prevents the tragedy of a history repeated.

.

Your obedient servant,

.

A. Ham

[clotitrash]

My OBJECTIVE opinion on CA vs CT and thoughts on the topic.

I know, I'm a CloTi, but that doesn't mean I can give my unbiased opinion on the topic and why I think both sides are correct but definitively one is the endgame for Final Fantasy 7: Remake.

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM THE COMPILATION, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

First of all I'll start with Aerith's relationship with Cloud, let's get this out of the way, it's completly possible that both had feelings for each other at some point during their friendship, after all CLoud is a man, a 21 years-old man to be exact but with the mind of a 16 year-old. It's really likely that Cloud was sexually attracted to Aerith, he's still a teenager in mind and by no means she's ugly, in my opinion the scene where Aerith shows up with the red dress shows that, but being sexually attracted to someone doesnt necessarilly mean that you're romantically attracted. This is where people needs to understand the difference between the concept of "LOVE" and "ATTRACTION" and even more important, the difference between "PLATONIC" and "ROMANTIC" love. Cloud is initially attracted to her, Aerith is bold, pushy, flirty, the complete opposite of Cloud in terms of personality, she shows her feelings really easily and that can initially attract Cloud, at least as far as we can see in Part 1. To expand on this I'll use what we see in OG for obvious reasons. Cloud and Aerith's relationship evolves, they become friends. Yes, OG pushes Aerith against Tifa and both of them "fight" for Cloud, but more than that she becomes a platonic lover for Cloud, he sees in her an older sister, someone that pushes him out of his comfort zone. It can be possible that Cloud still had feelings for her at this point, but even if he had her tragic fate comes. She's killed by Sephiroth. Even if both of them had feelings for each other, no matter how little they were this is the last straw that kills that romance. A lot of people seem to forget that the characters from Final Fantasy 7 are portrayed as REALISTIC, Cloud, Tifa, Aerith, Barret etc. they all are portrayed as human, it isn't realistic for someone to be grieving all their lives for someone that died, and that is shown in the own compilation, in Dirge of Cerberus they no longer wear the ribbons on their arms on Advent Children because of that, because they have moved on from the past. Not saying that they forgot about Aerith, just that they moved on from the memories that haunted them for all this years. This is not even taking into account Zack, who canonically, is Aerith's first love. At the end of Crisis Core Zack dies, Aerith, confused, doesn't know why he has not came back to her like he promised. Even today we don't really know if Aerith knows about Zack's death, if she is in denial of the fact Zack that died, or is she genuinely believes that he is cheating on her. Because how Cloud appears on her life, both him and Zack goes through the roof of the church and land on a bed of flowers, both are Soldiers 1st Class, both have the same sword etc. Aerith tries to re-live her romance with Zack through him. This is shown on their date in Gold Saucer, where Aerith says that she want to meet "the Real Cloud", knowing that even if he had feelings for her, they are not from his genuine persona. Arguments like "but she loved more Cloud than Zack" are not true for various reasons, 1st: The novel where this is said, "The Maiden who travels the Planet" is not part of Compilation of Final Fantasy 7, and 2nd: Advent Children completly dismantles this argument, not to say how distressed she was when the group visits Gongaga. Talking about Advent Children, if Aerith really wanted, she could have perfectly reunited with Cloud. Cloud enters the Lifrestream and Aerith herself pushes him out of it telling him that it isn't his time yet and that he has to come back to his family. Cloud also refers to Aerith as "mother" confirming the fact that Cloud saw her as a platonic love, like the love a mother has for her children, or what brothers have.

Moving onto Tifa's relationship with Cloud, she is Cloud's childhood friend and crush. In contrast with Cloud's relationship with Aerith we know what his feelings are for Tifa. This is important because their dynamic is established really early into the game, Cloud is still in love, romantic love, with Tifa and he, even in the fake persona he is in during Part 1 of Remake, shows his real self when he is with her. Meanwhile, Tifa also has romantic feelings for Cloud, it is true that she realized she had those feelings for him too late because Cloud already left Nibelheim to go to soldier. That's why the scene of Zack, Sephiroth and Cloud coming to Nibelheim is so important, because she wanted to see him, but he is so embarassed he couldn't make true his promise that he can't even face her. You have to realize that the whole premise of the game goes around Cloud wanting to make it into SOLDIER to impress her because he still blames himself for the accident Tifa has when she is younger in Mt. Nibel and that is why the scene of Cloud's promise to Tifa is so important, because it's something that ties the two of them troughout the whole game, Cloud always protecting Tifa even tho she really doesn't need him to. Continuing with what we know from OG, we get one of the most important scenes for both Cloud and Tifa's relationship and Cloud's own character development, the Lifestream. In the Lifestream, Tifa is able to see Cloud subconscious where she realized that the romantic feelings she has for Cloud are mutual, and the reason because all his strange behaviour is because all those awful experiments Hojo made on him. People forget that Tifa is the only one that can unlock Cloud's real persona because the only thing that can bring him back are those precious memories he has with Tifa. If Mideel already shows how important Cloud is for Tifa and how she realized her feelings for him, the Lifestream just confirms it. That is the biggest difference between Tifa's relationship with Cloud in contrast with Aerith, while we know the feelings of both and us, the player, knows it is mutual, we only know Aerith's side and we never really get to know Cloud's actual feelings for her other than platonic love. After all this we get the scene that really shows the change in Tifa and Cloud's dynamic from friends to people that know they are both attracted and love romantically each other, Under the Highwind. No matter if you get the High Affection or Regular Affection scene, both aren't optional. In both you get Tifa and Cloud speaking heart to heart because this may be the last chance to prove their feelings for each other before they fight Sephiroth, the only difference in this being that it is implied they have sex in the High Affection scene, which I personally think is not a relevant point for the scene because the point of the scene is them having a moment to reassure what they feel for each other, this possibly being their certain death.

In my honest opinion and without taking into account my personal bias towards one of the ships, narratively both in OG, ACC, DoC and now Remake, a romance between Cloud and Aerith is not sustainable, we all know what is going to happen to Aerith sooner or later in the game and the own Compilation denies any possible romance between them.

[darklesmylove]

one last time | alarkling

the darkling visits alina the night before they are to enter the fold, set in ruin and rising

enjoy! <3

***

Her hands shook before roughly fisting her skirts, alabaster skin nearly translucent in the low light. She had attempted to sufficiently prepare herself to see the Darkling inevitably appear in her rooms the day before they were to enter the Fold, yet the tremors wracking her body whispered an entirely different narrative.

The sight of him in her rooms now, gazing at her as she wore nothing but a satin nightgown, had shaken her down to her hauntingly fragile core.

"Alina." He moved at one with his shadows, smooth and effortless though only a whisper of what he truly was. Despite the tether fading his few scars and imperfections, he still looked haunted, silver eyes frozen over in a thin sheet of ice over a frigid, bottomless lake of bitterness.

"Why are you here," she murmured, hesitating as he moved closer still. He was nothing more than an apparition, a flicker of her eyes to the mirror at her side confirmed that, yet as he stood dangerously close, his soft breaths cascading down the curl of her cheeks, it felt entirely too real. The way his gaze dragged across her features, lingering on the stag cradling her collarbone, sent a shiver skipping rather tauntingly down the length of her spine.

"I'm here to..." he trailed off to silence, something like surprise flashing in his eyes as he stuttered.

Maybe he really didn't know why he was here. Maybe he was just as torn apart as she was, leaden with nightmares of a yawning chasm of an eternity spent alone.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Alina." His murmur was cool and smooth, yet held a hard, gleaming edge that signaled he wasn't as assured as he wanted her to believe. "We are meant to bring balance to each other, we are meant to rule together. Surely your saints wouldn't create such power to wither and crumble alone, with no comfort but the ashes of your fallen loved ones for comfort. We were made for each other, there's... there's no other way."

The pleading underlying his words was startling. This was the same man that had given her his name in the shadows of an infirmary, boyish and longing and the barest touch of vulnerable.

"You did this, you are the one that left me with no choice," she hissed, her fingertips warming as heat coursed through her veins, "You killed all of those innocent people. You attacked the royal family. You turned Nikolai into a demon. You... you were the one who betrayed me." The floorboards creaked underfoot as he made the ghost of a motion to move closer before stopping himself with an almost imperceptible clench of his hands.

"If you hadn't fought back," he began, voice soft.

It was enough.

Her hand shot from her side, closing around his throat, nails digging into his flesh as the sharp pressure cut off his next words. He stilled, pupils blown wide with a tangle of indiscernible emotions.

"The morality of your actions does not lie on my shoulders, Aleksander Morozova," she hissed, every word holding the viciousness of a freshly sharpened dagger striking between his ribs and into his heart. "I will not be balance to a monster. I owe nothing to you."

He shuddered at the use of his name, seemingly leaning into the pressure of her clawed fingertips, as if her touch, even one of hatred, breathed life into him. His eyes slid closed, allowing her to constrict her grip even further.

As if he was daring her to kill him, even if it would do nothing more than send him hurtling back into his real body.

"You hate me." A statement of fact, nothing more. His dark lashes fluttered as his eyes opened slowly, focus slightly hazy.

A hard tug yanked in the depths of her soul, a feeling tangible enough that her grip slackened, the steel of her posture melting away in an endless furnace of regret.

"I wish I didn't have to hate you," she whispered. The admission was like honey on his tongue, a mere drop of the taste of what is was to experience her affections. Silence quieted the air between them.

The yearning in his eyes was startling, only amplified by the flames from the fireplace reflected in his quartz irises. She had looked into those eyes once thinking that she could love them. Wanting to love them.

When his focus flickered to her mouth, without her stopping to think she tipped her chin forward in the slightest nod of permission.

One last time.

One last time his lips were upon hers, soft and passionate and wanting and so utterly and completely desperate. All of the things she had locked away so tightly, caged deep in the confines of her heart and tucked in a dark, cold place she hoped for no one to ever find. She savored the taste of him, the comfort of his lean frame wired with muscle pressing against her, the hard planes of his body achingly familiar under her palm. The temptation to let him devour her, to get lost in the darkness of them both, to succumb to the crippling fear of being alone, was almost too overwhelming to resist.

But it seemed she didn't have to.

"I will see you tomorrow, solnishka," Aleksander Morozova pulled away, whispering the name softly against her lips.

She didn't have the time to respond before the man that was supposed to be her enemy vanished from her embrace.

[pauldron-pieces]

Destrier Revel: So Little Time

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: Destrier Revel/Illeria Stennas (F!NPC)

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is a hypothetical narrative scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Destrier Revel. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets. Trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: Switchfoot: On Fire and I-Human: Give All Of Yourself

Destrier Revel’s Backstory: Burn The Wicked

For Leofore

Light And Home

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains semi-graphic depictions of sexual acts between two consenting adults, and emotional duress. Stay safe!]

Illeria always looked beautiful to him. 

  It was never a question of finding the right angle, or seeing the good through the mediocre. To Destrier, she just... was . It was as if it radiated from her, permeated her entire being. 

  She was, is, would always be lovely. 

  Were he not already serving his masters, both earthly and cosmic, she would be his divinity. Her hands, her smiles, her body...she was so tender with him, so strong when she had to be; an intoxicating duality that would not cease to awe him in its ever-present splendor. 

  Illeria, always waiting for him at the door as he left in the early hours for yet another forum with the King's Chosen, and he still couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe she would willingly spend her time with someone who could offer her so very little.

  When the choice was finally made that they must deal with the other fiendish abomination, the other lich that had encroached and sought to bring such destruction to the kingdom, both King Jonathan and Leofore counseled for expedience. The King's Chosen were to depart on the day after the 'morrow.

  There was always so little time to spend with his beloved, but Destrier bore that burden gladly. It was a small price to pay to keep her, to keep the kingdom safe. 

  Their kisses had grown steadily hungrier as of late, the two of them lingering longer and longer in the mornings. Destrier, for all of Illeria's prompting, had yet to join her in her bed in the evenings, the knight choosing instead to sprawl out across the warm hearth. 

  Not for lack of interest did he avoid her, gods no! But instead, out of an odd fear. He was a man so used to destruction, able to summon fire with a mere thought, able to strike down foes four times his size. 

  He was a man raised rough. War was all he knew, was all he had ever known. This...

  Gods, he ached to hold her, to truly touch her and know her, but he feared that his clumsy, indelicate hands would leave some mark , some grotesque stain. If he harmed her, he would never forgive himself.

  So he battled his urges, reasoning that it was far more than he deserved to even just kiss her. If that was all she wanted from him, he would be content with that.

  /x\

  His sigh sounded like it came from the earth itself and Illeria looked up to see her beloved Destrier standing in the doorway, his fingers grazing the crest above the lintel. His eyes were fixed on the fire that crackled in the common room's hearth, their brown depths equal amounts thoughtful and wistful. For being a man who wasn't particularly renowned for his intelligence, Destrier Revel certainly seemed to do a lot of thinking .

  "I come bearing news that is good, for all that it makes my heart heavy." The knight stated after a moment, his eyes flicking to her own and warming almost immediately.

  A blind man could have picked up on the knight's shyness around her years ago, Destrier's stammering the most endearing part of the whole debacle. That he had finally managed to overcome such a hurdle was a true indicator of how devastating the struggle with Leofore must have been. 

  In spite of that progress though, Destrier still seemed hesitant to go any further than his tender, drawn-out kisses. Illeria could posit easily enough that some of his hesitation was due to his military mileage, the trials he endured enough to break a lesser man. While the woman wished he would talk to her more openly about such things, she could only assume that he was doing the best that he could.

  Illeria Stennas was not some frail creature to swoon after a turn about the drawing room, however. 

  She wiped her hands off on her apron, then crossed her arms on the counter, leaning forward a bit. "What new trouble is our great king sending you and your friends to sort out this time?" Illeria asked, her tone one of playful resignation. She had learned long before their involvement that Destrier's loyalty to his master and comrades was second to none.

  "We are to do battle with a lich." Destrier looked haunted for a moment and Illeria was reminded anew of how hard the King's Chosen had to fight to reclaim Leofore from the clutches of such evil previously. "Illeria, I…" The blond man paused to close and lock the door behind him against the chill of the night air, then turned to face her again. "My love, I am to leave shortly."

  "How shortly?" Illeria queried, cursing inwardly at the sharpness of her tone. 

  "Two days, Illeria." 

  She wanted to protest, to voice her disapproval of the rapid decision, so soon? . But Destrier already appeared miserable, the large man cupping her face in his hands over the counter. "I know you have no choice." She said instead. The young woman wasn't sure if the kiss on her forehead was gratitude or apology. Maybe both. A boon for her understanding heart.

  "Illeria…" Goddess, when he breathed her name like that it was as if her knees were designed to tremble. 

  Destrier was all softness with her, but the occasional sharp edge to him was what she loved so dearly. The barest crack in his armor of propriety, painstakingly crafted over the years of knightly training. Leofore had taught him well, guarded his mind against corruptions or temptations that may have struck out in the field. His occasional slip-ups around her served as a reminder of his comfort in her, as well as a bit of an ego-stroke. 

  "Yes, Destrier?" She replied, her voice just as soft while he leaned in.

  "Forgive me for this." Destrier murmured, and then slotted their mouths together. His tongue sought hers out hungrily and Illeria found herself at a loss, her hands fumbling for purchase on his broad shoulders. He rested his forehead against hers, those eyes nearly golden in the light from the lantern. "Forgive me." He begged again, stroking over the kerchief that she had covered her hair with.

  "What terrible thing have you done, my love?" Illeria murmured.

  "Not for what I have done, beloved. For what I may do." Destrier seemed legitimately distressed and Illeria caught his hands as he struggled to articulate himself. "I have this... hunger I cannot seem to reconcile. These urges, these… base cravings I feel to see more of you. Yet I cannot call anything associated with you truly base, for you are all that I fight for." Destrier kissed her knuckles. "My beautiful Illeria, my shelter, my light, I come to you not as one of the King's Chosen, not even as a knight of the crown. I come to you simply as Destrier Revel, a man rendered insensate by his need for you."

  "What is worse," Illeria began, her head swimming pleasantly at his luxurious words, "than a man who takes what is not his to take?"

  " Nothing ." Destrier answered firmly, and if it was possible the woman fell even more in love with him even as she shook her head. 

  "Destrier, it is a man who keeps his eager lover waiting!" She teased, seizing his ascot to reel him in. A bit more serious, she added, "I feared that you did not want me." Her fingers toyed with the buttons on his shirt. "I feared that perhaps you did not have the same depth of feeling towards me that I foster for you."

  "Illeria, I might die from wanting you." Destrier replied, the bluntness of his words settling in her stomach like an ember. "The years have been brutal to me. I am not the man you deserve." 

  "You are the man that I want. I believe that is enough." Illeria twined her fingers through his, leading him around the bar. "Take me to bed, Revel."

  "Are you certain? Illeria-"

  " Desty ." The woman said the nickname in exasperation, making him chuckle. "I am much more certain than you seem willing to give me credit for!"

  "Very well, my love." Destrier acquiesced, his smile faint but still there. "Forgive my constant need for reassurance."

  She rolled her eyes, tugging him into her bedchamber. Their bedchamber. Goddess, she was really about to take this plunge with Destrier . The incorruptible paladin of the King's Chosen, Knight-Captain Revel. All the lofty titles he had accumulated and yet he was still so uncertain , so humble, that he came to her as nothing more than a man.

  They had entered this room many times before, hand in hand like they were now. Occasionally even clumsily fumbling at one another for a time before he would inevitably soothe her back against the counterpane, his expression troubled as he departed the cozy warmth of her bed and curled up in front of the fireplace. 

  He had oft left her wet and aching with his passionate, tender kisses, but she did not chide him for it. Destrier was not a hasty man, and he was also not a man lacking in emotion. Turmoil ran deep in him, the caution he displayed only fanning the flames of her ardent curiosity. What would he be like if he was truly unleashed? 

  She thought she got her answer as the door clicked shut. 

  Destrier pinned her against the wall, his hand cupping the back of her head to shield it from the impact. " Illeria ," he whispered, his voice grating slightly. "There is never enough time, my love, and yet if I do not ask now, I fear that I will be unable to again." He half-laughed sadly, resting his forehead on her own. "Every time I have ever had to leave the kingdom, every maneuver against the enemy...all I could think about was whether this would be the final time. Whether it would be the end, and I would never be able to see you again. Even if you didn't know how I felt, it seemed like it was enough just to see you, happy and safe. I told myself I could live with that, why muddy everything so?"

  Illeria dug her fingers into his hair, freeing it from the haphazard braid he had constructed at the nape of his neck. Destrier hummed at the gesture, his eyes half-lidding as he leaned into her touch.

  "After what transpired with...with the Knight-Commander, believing that we had truly lost him…I was in such a disgraceful state. It was an immense blow, one that I am aggrieved to say nearly ended me." He confessed. "I could not bear the thought of making you feel even a tenth of the pain I felt at losing Leofore, should something happen to me." His large hand tucked beneath her chin to lift her gaze to meet his own. "Should we continue down this path, my love, I fear I will cause you grief. If we need to cease our interactions here, I will understand."

  Illeria remembered well the way that he had been following Leofore's supposed death. Distant, painfully so, and no victory seemed to be enough to blunt the edge of that specific defeat. "Did you believe you would die? When you departed with the others to rescue the queen and prince?" She asked instead.

  "I do not fear death, Illeria."

  "That is not what I asked." Illeria pushed him back a step, enough to give her some room so that she didn't lose her senses. His proximity could be... overwhelming . "I asked whether you believed you would perish. Did you believe, in some corner of your heart, that your death would serve as penance for the loss of his life?"

  "I..." the guilty look Destrier sported told her all she needed to know. "You must understand, he taught me all that I ever had to offer. Unshakeable where I am brittle, strong where I am feeble, Leofore...is everything I could aspire to be. I told you before that I did not think I would survive the war, and losing someone so important--"

  "And what of your own importance, Destrier?" Illeria interrupted him fiercely. "What of the people that might grieve you, as you grieved Leofore?" What of me , she wanted to ask, what of my heart that broke every time you left? But no, she could not take that out on him. It had been her own fault for remaining silent about her affections for so long, trapped by the inadequacy she felt. He was a brave, noble knight, and she was nothing but an ordinary woman who had carved out an existence for herself. Free, and so, so lonely.

�� "Every life in this kingdom, from the youngest babe to the oldest counselor, is worth my own many times over, Illeria. That is the reality of my knighthood, and a burden that I gladly accept." Destrier's tone was resigned. "My life so that others may live on in peace."

  "Do not pretend as if there is no heart in your chest, Revel." Illeria snapped. "You do yourself no great service."

  "Naero said much the same to me once." He smiled fondly at her and despite her best efforts, the woman felt her irritation wane. "When I am with you, it feels as though it is fit to leap free of my chest."

  "You leave the day after tomorrow?" Illeria waited for his nod of confirmation before drawing a shaky breath. "I suppose we must make the most of that time, then."

  "It would be wise." Destrier agreed, sounding a bit confused. "Are there any repairs to be completed? Or-"

  She caught him by the pockets of his waistcoat, pulling herself into him and kissing him hard. Destrier's startled exhale made her want to laugh for a moment, but then he was kissing her back and suddenly laughter was the furthest thing from her mind. "Destrier," Illeria sighed, pleasantly surprised by the way that he groaned in response. "I would appreciate you laying with me before you depart."

  Destrier buried his face in the junction of her neck and shoulder with another groan, this one louder. "Illeria, have mercy ." He pleaded, "I want that so badly it hurts, my love, but-"

  "What is stopping you?" Illeria pressed kisses to his throat, his ear. "Undress me, love."

  " Gods ." Destrier said through gritted teeth. "You want me? Truly?"

  " Yes , Destrier. I want all of you." Illeria hesitated, unsure if what she was about to say would be too weighty for their current situation. "I want you to know exactly why you're fighting so hard to return to me."

  Destrier's fingers dug into her back and the man held her tightly for several long moments. "I don't deserve you." He muttered, finally tugging at the laces of her corset. "I have never deserved you, and I doubt I ever will. If you will accept me as I am, who am I to question such providence?"

  Illeria covered his hands with her own, feeling him trembling as she guided him through unlacing the supportive garment. The corset slid down her body, taking her skirts with it and leaving her there in her chemise. The woman raised her hands to his shirt collar, deft fingers untying his ascot. "Are you alright, my love?" She asked gently. Destrier's eyes snapped back to her own, the man nodding hard enough to make her giggle. 

  "I am uncertain of where to look." He admitted, his expression gone sheepish. A flush had crept up his neck to dust the bridge of his aquiline nose with a sweet rosy tint. The image was utterly precious and so very Destrier that Illeria couldn't have helped her smile even if she had wanted to.

  He seemed content to just stand there and let her undo the buttons on his waistcoat, the knight shrugging out of the garment absently. "Surely you have enjoyed the company of other women?" Illeria teased. "You must have looked at them, Destrier."

  The large man fidgeted guiltily. "Well, yes."

  "And I have enjoyed the company of other men, Destrier." Illeria smiled at him. "Do not appear so pensive, my love! We are neither of us blushing virgins. There is no shame in enjoying the touch of another person."

  Destrier swore under his breath, meeting her gaze once more. "I just feel inadequate, Illeria. I bandy with the notion that you may not enjoy me, and to know that you could be trapped with me...many folk love each other without enjoying their coupling. I do not wish for you to warm my proverbial bed merely out of a sense of duty or normalcy."

  "Fatalistic! We will be fine , my love." Illeria stated firmly. "You must stop thinking of the worst possible thing, lest your forehead become hopelessly wrinkled."

  "Truly, what a terrible fate that might be." Destrier smiled reluctantly, his fingers undoing the kerchief that kept her curls in check. "Gods, I love you. I love everything about you." He said, the plainness of his words doing nothing to take the sincerity from them. "Did you know that your eyes light up when you smile?"

  Illeria blinked at him. "They do?" Being the sole caretaker of Maplecrest, she had little time to practice smiling at herself in the mirror. 

  Destrier nodded. "They take on this warm hue, I am unsure of how to describe it. I've never been of a poetic bent. Regardless, the effect is absolutely enchanting." He cradled her face, brushing their lips together but not fully kissing her. She could feel the strange burn scars that spanned both of his palms pressing into her skin, the touch familiar and grounding. "Illeria, if I do something that makes you feel uneasy or...or if I cause you pain…" he trailed off, searching her eyes. 

  "We won't ever find out if we keep going at this pace." Illeria half-scolded, half-teased, taking matters into her own hands as she grasped the hem of her chemise and stripped it off over her head. 

  She understood his concern, of course. She had wrestled with such notions herself on more than one occasion. But there was no need nor room for doubt anymore. With the same certainty that she knew she loved him, Illeria knew that Destrier would never intentionally cause her discomfort. 

  She stepped out of her underthings and stood before him, hands on her hips, naked as the day she was born. Illeria tilted her chin up to give him a playful wink. "Well, Knight Revel? Is one simple woman too great a foe for you to conquer?" 

  Destrier's reply came in the form of his eyes trailing down over her body, the paladin taking in every inch of her on display. Then, he shifted his weight, advancing on her until the backs of her knees hit the edge of her bed. 

  "I have yet to meet a foe that can best me." He sounded almost contemplative, his hand reaching out to press against her collarbone and continue to urge her back until she had no choice but to lay down. Destrier shed his shirt and unlaced his breeches while she got comfortable, and Illeria decided that she had waited long enough.

  Her own fingers began to move down her body, the woman teasing herself. "If you don't hurry, Destrier, I will certainly best you." 

  "Hmm, doubtful." Destrier murmured, his large form abruptly caging her in. "Though your confidence is not unfounded, I must insist that you yield." His fingers twined through her own, pinning them to the blankets on either side of her head. "You are wholly at my mercy, woman. However, should you request my supplication, I may be swayed to grant it."

  Had any other man said such a thing while looming over her in bed, Illeria would have made them regret being born. But Destrier saying those things, brown eyes scorching in their intensity even as a fond smile tugged at the corner of his mouth…

  She had never thought that a man teasing her could elicit such a heated reaction. Illeria felt her entire body flush. " Please , Destrier." She begged, and he smiled at her so warmly. Her thighs fell open as he tried her with his fingers, the man's breath leaving his chest in a harsh gasp when he found her slick and ready for him.

  " Gods , you want me." Destrier sounded awestruck by the confirmation of her arousal. Illeria whimpered, nodding and arching her hips up in invitation. An invitation which Destrier proceeded to accept, the blond man finally gifting her the last piece of what she had been craving for so long. 

  His hand still holding hers squeezed once when she moaned his name, her own breathing so quick to stutter when Destrier plunged deep. His pelvis ground against her, providing such delicious stimulation that she couldn't help her cry. 

  Destrier rumbled wordlessly in response, ducking his head to flick and tease at her nipples with his awful, terrible tongue. The tongue that said such sweet and pleasing things now menaced her mercilessly, feeling like a trail of fire on her sensitive skin. Illeria gripped his back after he released her hand to support his weight more fully, the large man shuddering all over when she dug her nails in. "Good?" He queried breathlessly.

  "Gods, Destrier , more-" Illeria couldn't even get the full plea out, the muscles in his back shifting before snapping taut beneath her touch as he moved to obey.

  His voice was gravelly when next he spoke, his hand stroking over her hair with such tenderness. "I never believed I would get to do this with you, my love." He looked dazed. "I feel as though I'll wake up at any moment, aching and alone, still in my tent out in the field."

  "You dreamed of me?" Illeria meant to joke with him, but his expression was so soft as he looked down at her and nodded she couldn't bring herself to. 

  "Nearly every night, it seemed." Destrier confessed, making the pit of her stomach throb sweetly with the depth of his next thrust. "I would start awake, your name on my lips, wishing more than anything that I could-" he paused for breath, glancing downwards at where their bodies were currently joined and then back up at her. His grin was pure mischief when he continued, "well, I'm certain your own imagination can fill in the blanks."

  "I have been so fearful that you saw me as a trinket, something nice to look at and do nothing with." Illeria gave him her own confession, laughing a little when he accidentally bumped his nose against hers. "I did not want to rush you, Destrier."

  "Patience is a virtue, my love, but there are worse things in life than being less virtuous." Destrier kissed her forehead. "You have waited so very long for me, and I for you, Illeria Stennas." 

  His hand slipped between their bodies, delving into the apex of her thighs to give her what she dared not ask for. Illeria clung to his shoulders, her legs framing his hips as he rutted into her until she was panting his name, over and over in time with his motions. Destrier's fingers stroked her firmly, coaxing her towards her inevitable climax in a way that no other man had ever bothered to do. 

  "Illeria..." he moaned for her and the effect was instantaneous. Every muscle in her body tensed, Illeria threw her head back and canted her hips to meet his next thrust. 

  Stars erupted across her field of vision, the lure of completion beckoning her onwards. 

  Destrier dropped his forehead against her sternum while she trembled and sobbed out his name, her entire being ablaze with aroused heat as she fell apart for him. In the haze of her post-moment, Illeria vaguely realized that Destrier had gone stock-still, quivering a little.

  "Where do you want me?" He asked through clenched teeth. "I fear I am close."

  Where do you want me?

  She bit her lip unintentionally as she thought and Destrier groaned, a tremor running through him. "Illeria," he began to protest, then grunted as she pressed her heels into the backs of his thighs, theoretically keeping him right where he was. In truth, she knew full well that he could easily remove himself from her embrace if he did not feel comfortable with such an act. 

  "Inside me, my love?" She requested softly. Illeria could have sworn the fire in the hearth behind him flared a little brighter, Destrier's brown eyes flickering like molten gold as he stared down at her. "Our first time together should be special, shouldn't it?" She reasoned, combing his hair back out of his face. 

  "You are certain? " He rasped, and there was a desperate edge to his voice that made her want to shiver. "It is not too late to change your mind, Illeria. I will not unless you truly wish for it."

  "I love you as I have never loved another, Destrier Revel." Illeria assured him. "I trust you."

  That seemed to do him in, the paladin gripping her hips nearly tight enough to bruise. "I will return to you, I swear it." He promised fervently, "Not even death itself has a chance of tearing me from you, Illeria."

  Such lofty words, spoken so sincerely. She could not help but almost believe him. The woman embraced him as he too reached his climax, cradling him against her body while he shuddered and spilled himself into her. 

  /x\

  Destrier's heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. Illeria, Illeria , his mind chanted, and she had never looked so beautiful as when she had lost herself under the caress of his fingers. 

  A thousand nights that he had awoken alone, all washed away by this one instance of lovemaking. He felt like a complete idiot, smiling at her like the lovestruck fool that he was. He was always so careful with her thick hair, knowing that one wrong move could tug it to the point of pain, but he managed to successfully lace his fingers through it so he could tilt her head. His nose being... prodigious , certain precautions had to be taken when he kissed her.

  "You are incredible." Illeria whispered against his lips, giving the man pause. He pulled back, a bit startled and confused by the strength of the affectionate look she was giving him.

  "I am?" He asked after a moment. 

  Illeria laughed, the noise carefree as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. " Yes , Destrier!"

  "I love you, you know that, right?" He hated how pitiful he sounded. "I have never felt this way before, Illeria. I have never…"

  Her hands framed his jaw, tipping his face down to gently peck his slack mouth. "Destrier, I feel the same way. It's all so…"

  "Raw." Destrier finished for her, shaking his head.

  " New ," she corrected him, "raw makes it sound as though it is painful. Are you pained, my love?"

  " Gods , no. Oh! I should move, I must be crushing you." Destrier floundered back, nearly falling over in his hasty effort to take his weight off of her. "I did not hurt you, did I?" He asked after righting himself, relieved when she shook her head.

  Her fingers traced the scarring that intersected his left eyebrow. Unbeknownst to her, those and a few more marks that his hair thankfully hid were the only indication of his abrupt departure from (and subsequent return to) the land of the living. 

  Destrier leaned into her touch, taking her hand after a moment and pressing a kiss to the still-thundering pulse in her wrist. "My beloved." He murmured, sure that he looked absolutely smitten. He certainly felt as much!

  "I know you have to leave, but…" Illeria trailed off, her brow creased with worry. 

  Destrier cleared his throat. "Not for two days." He reminded her, trying to smile. "The day after tomorrow." 

  Illeria nodded. "We won't be open tomorrow." She said decisively, her tone downright flippant . 

  "No?" Destrier cocked his head, thoroughly confused. "But...the inn?"

  " Destrier , you leave in two days ." Illeria reiterated with a wave of her hand. "If I can still walk at that point, I may consider it a personal failing on your part."

  " Illeria! " The knight sputtered, torn between laughter and embarrassment. "You are...gods, I love you." He smiled, much more fondly than their ribald conversation would call for. "I shall do my best, if you are willing." He was sure he was red from the tips of his ears to the center of his chest.

  "That is all I can ask of you, Destrier." The young woman slung her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. "If you are mine, I am willing." She sighed when they parted once more.

  " Always , beloved. Until the stars burn to ash."

  /x\

  "You had better be safe. It will be cold without you." He could recognize now that the terse tone she had taken was due to her concern for him, and his heart ached in his chest.

  Destrier took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles. "I promised, did I not?" He tried to assure her. "I will return as fast as I can, my love."

  The soft gray fabric wound around his neck, and Illeria used it to pull him back down for another kiss. "Wear your helmet." She insisted.

  "Of course, Illeria."

  "If something happens-" Her voice choked off, the woman blinking rapidly and then looking away.

  "Illeria, you must be strong enough for the both of us." Destrier murmured, his thumb catching the tear that managed to escape. "I will not ask you to force a smile or even put on a brave face, for it would be foolish to expect such a taxing thing. All I can ask is that you do not lose hope. I will return, and when I do, I…" Destrier hesitated, then smiled thinly. "I shall put in a better effort to ensure your lack of motion."

  Illeria gave a watery snicker at that, and Knight Revel rushed to kiss her again before she could potentially say something that would send Thranrok into an absolute spasm .

Part Five: A Choice

[liquor-and-intellect]

PREHISTORIC PART 3

Summary: Talia is a singer inspired by the man who broke her heart. The man who left her to pursue his career in the music industry without a second thought. The man who happens to be Harry Styles and is paying her show a visit.

part one   part two

“I’m really glad you came…” Harry started, holding the door open for me to enter. “I-uh… I didn’t think you were going to come.”

I walked into the small hotel room. It wasn’t as lavish as I expected someone of his esteem to have—and maybe that was the bitter part of me that was speaking.

He stood there nervously as I surveyed the room. The bed with one side messed up, the open laptop laying on top of the sheets and a small suitcase open with a few folded clothes inside. It all was extremely modest and not how I had let my mind run rampant for the last few years about how he traveled.

I let my eyes leave the open laptop to land on him. “I honestly didn’t think I was going to either… but I…” I looked down sheepishly.

He nodded, understanding. “You couldn’t sleep, could you?” There was a small smile playing on his lips, as if reminiscing the times I sat up pacing because of a song on my mind, or turning in bed because of a fight we had. Rest didn’t exist in my vocabulary.

Shaking my head, I let myself give a tentative smile back. “No, I couldn’t.”

He stared at me for a beat longer, before catching himself. Harry cleared his throat and motioned to the bed for me to sit. “Sit, please,” he suggested. “do you want water… or coffee?” He shifted his weight nervously to his other foot.

I folded a leg underneath myself as I sat. “This isn’t an interview, Harry,” I reminded him, trying to ease the tension but coming off a bit critical.

He sat himself in a chair across from me at the small dinner table, placing his hands in his lap. He said, “I’m nervous like it is though.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “nothing could ever make up for how I treated you. I should never have left you like that. I should have fought harder for us… Fuck, I should have done so much more because you fucking deserved better.”

I froze in my spot. Tears were brimming in my irises, blurring the image of the nervous man in front of me. His words pulled a weight off my chest that had been resting there every time the memory of him came to the front of my mind. For so long, I assumed he didn’t care. It was the only logical explanation to how someone could leave me without a thought.

“Did you really love me?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His brow furrowed in such a quizzical way, as if the question was so absurd. “Of course,” he murmured. “how could I not have? I think after we dated for so long, I just assumed you would always be there. No matter how shitty I treated you.” He looked down and pursed his lips at the memory of it. “It wasn’t fair of me to do that. I was just so young and immature.”

I sniffled, leaning my hands behind me to rest my weight on them. As I did, my arm hit the open laptop, causing the screen to light up and a song to pick up in the middle of pop chorus.

“Shit-“ Harry began, standing up as a female voice began playing through the speaker.

“I swear, I will wake up next to you,” it sang and I froze. The melody was beautiful and her voice was… haunting.

Harry fumbled, trying to reach over me to turn off the laptop but he couldn’t get to it before the song continued in its hypnotic way.

Right when he was about to press pause, I heard the cracked pleading of the singer say my name.

“Talia, I hope you’re happy any way

But four drinks I’m wasted.”

I sat up straight, my head snapping to where Harry was frozen leaning over the bed, hand hovering mid-air about to pause the song. “No one will know I wrote it, I swear,” he whispered.

I put my hand on top of his, lowering it away from the computer. The contact seemed to startle him a bit as both of our skins lit on fire. “Please let me hear it,” I said lowly. “start it over.”

And he did.

I don’t know if it was because it said all the things he didn’t know how to voice or because he knew arguing with me over this wouldn’t be worth it, but he started the song over. Leaving me to sit completely still except for the tears that ran their course down my face.

I knew these lyrics were his. I was up too many nights with him writing to not recognize it by now. His narrative had always and will always be recognizable to me.

Listening to the song, I felt the air shift around us. It answered all the questions I had been wondering for two years. Did he care? Was he effected? Was it easy for him to walk away?

I could hear the desperation in the singer’s voice as she sang, but I knew the soul was resonating from the lyrics. The words that Harry wrote, the words that were too damn personal for him to publish as his own.

As the song came to an end, I covered my mouth with my hand, attempting to stifle the sob that wanted to escape and never stop. The grief for what we had had been shoved down so far, only released in the angsty ballads I would write.

I nodded to the questions I could feel hovering between us. “I believe you,” I cried.

It was those words that caused his shoulders to drop, as if this whole time he had been acting a part of having it semi-together. Tears escaped from his closed eyelids, making their way down his cheeks to sheets below us.

I couldn’t help it anymore. I closed the distance and gathered him up in my embrace, letting his head rest against my shoulder. His arms closed around my middle so tightly I swore there would never be a way to separate us ever again.

We cried together. Mourning the loss of our relationship, the loss of a beautiful friendship—but also the sweet relief of closure, of confirmation, of anger being lifted from between us. I had been so angry when I saw him tonight, because he had left so many questions unanswered. Yet here we were.

I spoke too soon, but it was the last question I needed answered. “What now?” I whispered against his hair. “What do you want from this?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.” His voice was muffled, lips against my neck. “I just know I can’t live without you in my life anymore.”

That was all I needed to remove the space of air separating us. I grabbed his face in my hands and pulled his mouth to my own, relishing in the feeling of his such familiar lips. It had literally been fucking years, but I knew the most comfortable way to kiss him was by letting my top lip rest near his cupid bow’s as his pressed into my lower one.

I tugged it between my teeth, my body completely melting as he let out a groan that sounded as if it took two years of anticipation to create. I pressed as close as I could to him, cursing fucking physics because I wanted to destroy every atom that separated us for the last two years until now.

Harry pushed me back until my back hit the mattress, a breath escaping my mouth as his lips traveled to my neck, peppering soft kisses there, sucking and pulling at my jawline.

He murmured into my ear, “How far do you want to go?”

It wasn’t his lips pressed against the shell of my ear that gave me chills, but the fucking consent.

“Take me.”

And that’s all I had to tell him.

There was no teasing, no foreplay. Harry gently lifted my shirt over my head before working on my pants, taking his time as his eyes examined every inch of my skin. He peppered kisses against my wrists as I reached for his shorts, letting me ease them across his long legs.

He stared down at me. “You look so different but-“

“- exactly the same?” I finished, smirking up at him as he nodded, blushing a bit.

He shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he continued, running his hands down my bare chest and torso. “you’re so different from the Talia I once knew. More resilient…refined… I love it.” He took a breath. “I love you.”

A sob racked my chest as I forced his lips back down to my own.

“I never thought I’d hear that again,” I murmured into the space our lips created when we pulled back to catch a breath. “But I love you too.”

There wasn’t this awkward moment where we had to relearn each other’s bodies. I think the most magical thing about it was the simple fact that the chemistry had been there—despite the years that separated out last encounter.

When Harry entered me, a gasp escaped my lips. Not of surprise, but in the way of satisfaction because no other man had filled me up like he did. No one could compare to the way his body rolled into mine. The mesmerizing way his shoulder blades moved beneath the skin under my fingertips. The way that I felt breathless because of the fan of kisses he planted across my face before placing lips back to my own.

Harry’s hips continued to knock against my own, the rhythm slower than the quickies I was used to. It was more meaningful, as if each stroke into me was saying something that his tongue couldn’t make sense of—and it all added up to the final conclusion: I love you, I love you, I love you.

His grunts became quicker as his stomach tensed above mine. “Are you close?” he said breathlessly, as if any sudden movement would bring about his undoing.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me to hit the spot where I knew only he could touch. Nodding, I bit the skin underneath his earlobe, wanting my love bite to be present for the world to see tomorrow.

There was a familiar bubble building in my stomach and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I climaxed. The way his sweaty body was hitting my own would be enough to set me off right there, but I held on as long as I could to enjoy the sweetness of this moment in all its complexity.

Harry’s breath hitched. “Shit- Tal…” Sloppy hip thrusts. “I’m about to- “

That was all it took for me. Seeing the man above me come completely undone unraveled the array of butterflies in my stomach as pleasure eased its way into my bloodstream like an IV. My whole body lit on fire as I sank into the mattress, feeling the slight pulsating of his member inside of me.

Harry collapsed on top of me, chest pressed against my own, breathing in tune with my lungs.

I let my hands run down his back, stroking the warm skin slightly as he clutched my torso. “I don’t know where I expected tonight to go,” he began. “but being inside of you at 5 a.m. was not it.”

I chuckled, my breath blowing the hair off of his forehead.

He stilled. “I missed the sound of your laugh. Almost as much as I missed seeing you leaned over a guitar singing random words to make sense of your emotions.”

I smiled at that memory. “I’ve found a much better way to songs write these days.” I said.

His head tilted up to look at me. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” I grinned. “it’s called unhealthily bottle up your emotions until they just kind of overflow.”

His lips pulled up at the corners as he closed his eyes. “Oh, love… you haven’t changed, have you?”

I let the silence pass for a minute, enjoying his body tangled up with my own. “Did you ever write any songs about me?” I finally asked.

Harry sat up, hovering over me to make sure he could meet my gaze. “Have you not listened to any of my music?”

“No.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Two Ghosts, Ever Since New York, From the Dining Table… I could go on, love but you’ll have to buy an album.”

I swatted him playfully. I had avoided the album when it was released—except for the few tracks I heard hit the radio. It had been too hard to hear his voice.

He laid his head back down on my chest. Intertwining our fingers together, he hummed to himself. A distant melody that I didn’t recognize but fell in love with all the same.

We fell asleep like that.

…

I was welcomed with a nice surprise when I opened my eyes to an empty bed in a hotel room. I could hear a distant muffle of Harry’s voice—possibly in the bathroom—talking quietly on the phone. There was a small stream of light from underneath the curtain. My heart warmed when I noticed the clips from the closet’s clothes hangers tightly grasping on the curtains as to not let light shine through.

I stretched my arms above my head, taking a glance at the alarm clock to see it was well within the afternoon.

A door shut.

“Good morning, love.” A sleepy Harry rounded the corner, still shirtless but this time adorning boxers on his lower half. His hair was mussed as he ran his hand through it, leaning against the wall. “I was just changing my flight plans.”

I frowned. “When do you leave?”

“Tonight.”

It wasn’t that I thought he would stay in this hotel room with me forever, but I hadn’t considered the thought that he would be leaving so soon. We really hadn’t thought past getting through last night.

“You can come with me, you know?” he asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

My brow furrowed. “What do you mean? I can’t just leave.”

Harry leaned onto the bed, crawling his way to me until he hovered above me, eyes shining with mischief. He spoke as if it was the biggest secret to the universe, his voice low, he said, “Open for me. On tour. Never leave my side.”

I didn’t expect my own reaction, but I let an infectious smile creep onto my face, brightening up my cheeks and leaving a sparkle in my eyes. I knew I still had to talk to the boys, but for now, my answer was:

“Okay.”

A few people said they wanted a tag list for this story. There will be only one more part, but if you want to be tagged, feel free to message me (after you reblog of course ;))