#i do love the song too but her conviction in it (given that she’s not much of a beatles fan) is extremely comical | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quietblueriver · 11 months

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Because Iffodola's pendant was too good to pass up, please find below some Imodna fluff. Light spoilers for Ep. 74.

She should be sleeping, but her mind won’t let her. Not all that unusual. A little impressive, even, given how much they’ve done today.

Laudna’s awake next to her, working on a cross stitch of bright little mushrooms and forest creatures, a gift for Fearne that she uses to help herself wind down. The colors are always a bit of a surprise, because she uses her darkvision as often as not. Fearne’s going to love it.

Imogen finds herself matching her breathing to the rhythmic back and forth of Laudna's fingers over the fabric. Her elbow occasionally brushes Imogen’s arm and their legs are pressed tightly together, a little mismatched with the height difference and Laudna’s position, but a perfect reminder that she’s here. Close.

She hums lowly under her breath, something she’d always done but that Imogen appreciates especially now that she wears the circlet. Tonight it’s upbeat, one of Laudna’s fingers tapping her small hoop where the song calls for percussion. The tempo is disarmingly cheery but she knows the lyrics Laudna’s not singing–the lament of a man whose spouse was lost at sea and all the things they’d left behind.

Her mind drifts to the pendant and Iffodola. She wonders if their family knows what happened or if they’re still waiting, trapped in the hope that Iffodola will come home. It will be good, to get it back to their family if they can, to give them closure and something from the person they loved, something that shows how close Iffodola kept them to their heart. Hopefully it’s less complicated than her own locket. At least it seems more honest.

My love of my children. My guilt over my father.

There are so many pieces of a life, etched into that pendant. Convictions.

Laudna’s elbow grazes her shoulder and she’s suddenly overcome with the strength of one of her own convictions, has to be sure Laudna knows, so she brings herself up slightly, just enough to press the rest of their bodies together as they lean against the same sturdy branch.

She casts dancing lights, close and dim with an eye to the others. Laudna smiles at her as she tilts her head in confusion, raising an eyebrow as Imogen catches the purple of the lights dancing back at her from black mirrors.

Can’t sleep? Am I keeping you up with the stitching?

The smile turns to a frown as she gets caught in her own thought, and she begins to tuck away her hoop before Imogen catches her wrist, running a thumb along the fragile bone.

No, not at all. It’s nice.

The frown remains, so Imogen carefully places the hoop in Laudna’s lap and brings the wrist to her mouth, pressing a kiss against the spot where her sluggish pulse raises her skin a few times a minute.

Promise. I just wanted to…to talk real quick. I’m sorry to interrupt.

Laudna leans closer at that, tucking a strand of Imogen’s hair behind her ear and squeezing her bicep before tangling their fingers between them.

Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing than talking to you. Well… She stops short and there’s a darkening of her cheeks in the low light. After a beat, Imogen can’t help but raise an eyebrow and smirk. It’s still new, this part of them, and they haven’t had much opportunity to explore, what with everything happening, but it feels good and right. It’s also really fucking fun and she’s proud to know Laudna thinks so, too. Laudna rolls her eyes fondly. Yes, yes, darling. I find you to be unbearably attractive. As if you didn’t know that already.

Imogen kisses her quickly, Laudna humming against her lips, and as she pulls back, she’s even more determined to have this conversation. She isn’t sure of much, anymore, but she’s sure of this. Of her. She thinks of the ring, of the blood pendant, of the shell in her pack. Of the gaping chasm in her heart after Otohan brought that sword down, the fear and panic after the solstice.

It comes out in a rush, less eloquent than she’d hoped, but Laudna's better at untangling Imogen’s thoughts than anyone anyway.

I was just thinking about Iffodola. The song, it made me think about them and whether their family knew what had happened. The children and the promises…and…and…Laud, you know you’d be on my pendant, right? Front and center. She takes a deep breath, steady, reaches forward to trace her thumb over glass-sharp cheekbones and wades into the black pools of her eyes. My love for Laudna.

Imogen.

Laudna leans forward and kisses her, as fiercely as she can while they’re trying to keep quiet. A hand buries itself in her hair and tugs just enough to make Imogen gasp into the mouth pressed to hers, the muffled sound enough to prompt Laudna push them back towards something more gentle, as soft as their little green hut filled with the other Hells.

Imogen.

She takes Laudna’s hand, kisses her finger over the ring she put there back before she understood exactly what the depth of her feelings for Laudna meant. Laudna presses cool lips to her forehead before meeting her eyes again.

It’s been real hard to keep any convictions, these last few months. But that one’s easy. Another deep breath. Laudna knows, of course, but Imogen’s stomach still flips, her heart still beats faster, to say it like this. I love you.

Darling. Another kiss, over too quickly. At her whimper, Laudna’s thumb comes to rest on her bottom lip, and Imogen kisses it, tastes ichor and fights a moan. I love you, too.

She puts her hoop to the side and pulls Imogen closer, scoots them both back down into the bed rolls. They shift, turning so that Imogen holds Laudna tight against her, their hands together over her stomach, Imogen’s head pressed to the cool skin of her neck. Her lips track against what's left uncovered by her sleep shirt, aimless and wandering for a moment before she settles back, squeezing gently at the fingers between her own.

Laudna’s voice echoes in her head as she closes her eyes. Sleep well, darling.

She drifts off without any trouble this time.

The Chetney figurine is beautifully crafted and absolutely horrifying, which feels right. The curve of his nose presses into the pad of her finger as she traces it absently, thinking about her own convictions, which she tries to scribble quickly on a piece of paper Laudna hands her from her journal.

She has so many complicated feelings–about trust and commitment and guilt and power. So she starts with what’s easy.

My love for Laudna.

She writes out a few more things–big and important and fraught words about herself and her friends and her family. Convictions and priorities. As many weights as buoys. But she’s confident.

She looks up to find black eyes already on her, one side of her mouth tilted up, pen poised above a familiar journal.

Nervous, darlin’?

The expression expands into a real smile, full and beautiful and hauntingly wide.

Not with you, my love. You’re very capable.

Imogen returns the smile and folds the paper into her pocket as she gets ready to jump.

#critical role #imodna #imodna fic

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sinsandguilt · 2 years

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Stain Me (Loki x Female Reader Drabble)

Just a quick drabble inspired by the song Holy Water by Zippermouth. This is only my second time ever posting any writing on Tumblr so sorry if it’s kind of bad or rubbish 😅

~~~~~~

Loki looked up at the woman hovering above him, her fingertips caressing and tracing every line, ever scar, every shadow of muscular definition on his bare torso. She inspected his form like he was a priceless art piece, with her gaze so fond and warm he thought he could burn up in her eyes. He felt so overwhelmed with emotion, to be doted upon and admired so earnestly, that he would surely be punished for it. It had to be some kind of sin, for someone as marred and dirty as him, to have won the affections of one so pure.

“Don’t…” he uttered softly, his hands trembling almost imperceptibly as he reached for his lover’s wrists, halting her movements.

Her eyes snapped to his, filled with confusion and concern. Concern. Concern for one so unredeemable as him. It was too much to bear.

“What?” she questioned. The fear that she had overstepped some sort of boundary shone plain as day on her features. “Loki, what’s wrong?”

He let out a shaking breath, tense shoulders shuddering as he exhaled. “You don’t want this,” he told her. “You do not want me.”

She cocked her head innocently, signalling she did not understand. The God could read her like a book, and he could virtually see the thoughts that would be whirring through her mind at that moment. Have I not shown you otherwise? Is this not enough? How can I love you more? How can I prove my love to you? Silly girl, if only she knew of the wretched acts he had wrought in his time, the pain and suffering he had caused, she would see the error in choosing him to love.

Of course, Loki knew she was aware of his past transgressions. There were few who had not heard tale of his evil deeds. But surely she did not truly comprehend the magnitude of his blackened past. For if she did, there was no way she would have given her heart to him as she had chosen.

“My dear heart,” he continued, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on the inner side of her wrists, “I am not a creature you wish to align yourself with. I am…” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I am damaged, corrupted. You, who are nothing but kind and good, should not dirty yourself with the likes of me. If you are the holiest, most crystal clear of waters, then I am not but a murky, muddy pool, stained with the blood of my sins. You should not-” his words were silenced as she placed her lips upon his in a kiss that was hard and urgent, one which she did not pull away from for several seconds.

When she finally released his lips, her eyes were dark, swirling with something Loki could not quite place. For the first time, she was unreadable. “Do not preach to me of what I should or should not do, O God of Mischief,” she told him firmly, her voice deep and sultry with a passion the God had never before seen. She placed her hands upon his face, delicate fingertips caressing his sharp cheekbones. “I have chosen with which waters I wish to bathe. I would rather drown within your pool than dare to swim in any other.”

He took pause to gaze into her eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation, even the smallest of embers that would suggest she was not strong in her conviction. He found none.

“You may never be clean again,” he warned her in a husky timbre.

She merely smiled, her lips ghosting over his as she uttered two words. “Stain me.”

Loki was stunned into silence, his lover taking the moment to kiss him again with heated fervency, a kiss that led into a long night of irrepressible need and unbridled passion.

Perhaps if he were destined to burn within her love, then she was destined to drown in his.

#loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #lokixy/n #lokixyou #lokixreader #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #loki odinson #fic #drabble #leikrwrites #implied smut #loki friggason #tom hiddleston #loki fluff #loki angst #loki fanfic

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lilpunkrock · 2 years

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where you go (i will go) — part xvii

Summary: The Dream Lord follows through on his promise.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

AN: We've almost reached the end of the road, my friends. These last few chapters have been so bittersweet to write. We still have an epilogue to go! In the meantime, I love you all. x

masterlist

. . .

“How long will I love you?

As long as stars are above you–

And longer if I can.”

How Long Will I Love You (Acoustic), Matt Johnson

. . .

part xvii

Death of the Endless has been around for a very long time. She has welcomed each soul into the world with a knowing gaze and a warm, friendly smile. The same gaze and smile she gives those same souls when their time comes to an end. She feels the departure of each one in the very marrow of her bones, like a phantom limb, an extension of her own self.

So, when your soul departs your body, Death knows.

Of course, just because she knows doesn’t mean that she believes it. Not at first, anyway. When she feels the shift, she’s in the middle of approaching a young man riding his bicycle down a busy street, a young man whose life is about to end too soon due to a distracted driver. When she feels that familiar sensation in her chest, like an exhalation of relief at the end of a long day, it takes her off-guard. It takes her off-guard, of course, because she’s not with whoever is departing.

And then, like a book she’s read a thousand times, like a song she knows by heart, she knows. She knows that that soul is yours.

But that can’t be right, of course. You’re a deity, after all. Deities rarely die. Normally, they simply fade into nothingness, disenchanted with a world that relies on them less and less frequently. While the Presence and the Endless remain, countless deities have faded over the years. You–Agape–were one of the few who remained.

As Death of the Endless comes to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk, the man on the bicycle pulls away, forgotten. Death reaches out with her senses, searching for you intently. Normally, she can feel the exact location of each soul at any given time. But no matter how far her senses stretch, she’s not sensing yours.

Panic surges through her, white-hot and jarring. It’s been a long time since she’s felt frazzled like this. Few things disturb Death of the Endless, who has witnessed so much.

The realization that she truly can’t find you sits in her stomach like a stone. The next thought that hits her is the thought of her brother, Dream. Of the confession he’d made to her about you.

She needs to find him. Right now.

When Death of the Endless appears in her gallery in the Sunless Lands, she heads for Dream’s sigil with urgency. When she takes the replica of her brother’s helm in her hands, her palms are slick with sweat.

“Dream. Are you there? It’s me, Death,” Death of the Endless calls. There is a slight quiver in her voice, one she tries to suppress with a swallow. “I need to talk to you. Something…something’s wrong with Love.”

Death of the Endless waits. Her eyes search the dark panes of glass that would normally guard her brother’s equally-guarded gaze. She receives no response.

“Dream, you need to answer me. We have got a serious problem.”

Silence. What if Dream was with you when you passed? What if he was hurt? No, surely she would feel that. Surely.

Death’s fingers grip the edges of the helm desperately, her knuckles straining, skin stretched tightly over bone. “Dream?”

Nothing.

The huff that Death breathes is equal parts frustration and anxiety as she returns the helm to its resting place. So, Dream wasn’t available. She had to believe he was okay. She had to. But if she couldn’t go to him to see what had happened to you, what was she to do?

There’s only one other option, she thinks with conviction. The Fates. Surely they would know where you are. You were their ward, after all.

Death of the Endless and the Three have always had a unique relationship. The Fates traditionally kept to themselves, typically interacting with others only when called upon. But Death and the Fates worked closely together–after all, their functions were directly intertwined. She was able to enter and exit their realm freely, no summoning or request for permission required. There were perks to being Death of the Endless, she supposed.

Normally, Death would take her time looking for the Fates within their realm. After all, there was much to admire–the crystal blue sea, the impressive ancient Greek architecture, the honey-sweet air. But today, when she sees the Three standing along the shore, clothed in white silks that glow in the sunlight, she approaches them without preamble.

“Kindly Ones,” she calls as she trudges through the sand in her black boots.

The Three in One turn toward her in unison. Though the Crone is characteristically stiff, the Maiden and the Mother offer her pleasant smiles, as if they’ve been expecting her.

“Death,” the Maiden sings, her brown eyes warm and kind. “What a surprise.”

As if, Death thinks as she comes to a stop in front of them. Nothing comes as a surprise to the Fates. “Something is wrong. I felt…I felt Love die, but her soul–”

“What about her soul, darling?” the Mother asks with a quirk of her brow. Her visible lack of concern makes Death’s throat grow tight with worry and confusion.

Death swallows thickly, her dark, plush lips pursing. “I…I can’t find it.”

There are several seconds of silence where only the whisper of sea on sand cuts the air. Finally, the Crone gives a dismissive wave of her hand. “Think nothing of it, Teleute. Our ward is well.”

Death’s brows draw together. She gives one firm shake of her head. “I don’t understand,” she says, at a loss for further words.

The Maiden’s smile widens, turning into something soft and sympathetic. She crosses the space that separates her from Death. When she takes the Endless’s hands into her own, her touch is warm and reassuring. “The Crone speaks the truth, Death. Love is well–or, she will be.” Her white teeth gleam in the sunlight as she gives Death’s hands a firm squeeze. “She’s coming back, darling. Just you wait.”

. . .

The sound of leather against wood reverberates through the night air as Dream of the Endless marches down the dock in the middle of the Dreaming’s sea. As he slips through the familiar mist of teal and lavender stardust, he can’t help but recall the countless times he’s walked this same path with you. He remembers each night so clearly–the soft gasp of awe that always passed over your lips, the glimmer that always lit your gaze when you witnessed the stardust, regardless of how many times you’d seen it before.

You’d always cherished the simple things. You’d told him so countless times. Your passion for them was contagious. Over the months of knowing you, he’d found himself garnering a greater appreciation for simple pleasures, as well. Pleasures like the slight citrus bite of earl grey, or the soft whisper of the waves on the Dreaming’s shore, or how the air smelled a little sweeter when you walked the palace grounds with him than when he walked them alone.

Even now, he’s not sure when he’d come to love you. The feeling had snuck up on him, like falling asleep, like slipping into a dream. Perhaps it had been the day he witnessed you bless the wedding vows in the forest, the same vows he’d now made to you. Perhaps it was the night outside Hob’s inn when he’d gifted you a piece of himself, a cloth pouch full of sand. Perhaps it had been under the midnight sky on this very dock, asking each other questions, watching stardust dance and swirl in your eyes.

Or perhaps it had been the night you’d come to the Dreaming, worn, weary, and starved of rest. Even battered and broken, you were stronger than him. Even exhausted and hollowed, you burned with the fiercest light. Even when your face was flushed and swollen with tears, you were the most exquisite creature he’d ever seen.

Regardless of when he’d fallen, he knows in his bones that it was the night you’d first molded his dream to fit your image that he’d made an irreversible choice. That was the moment he’d voluntarily walked into a future he couldn’t turn back from, that he didn’t want to turn back from. A future that, for the first time in millenia, he looked forward to.

He’d chosen you. You’d chosen each other. He’d given you his vow. He would wither and waste before he dared not keep it.

When he reaches the end of the dock, he drops to his knees. When he plunges his hands into the cool waters of the Dreaming, it’s with surety, with purpose. And then, he does what he does best—his function.

. . .

That night, humanity dreams of a woman they swear they’ve met before. Perhaps in passing on the street, or on a coffee run, or in a dream. Her smile makes them smile. Her laughter is music in their ears.

She walks on a honey-gold beach in another world, her face upturned to a robin’s egg sky. The tide reaches for her, eager to kiss her feet. The grains of sand seem to part beneath her step. The wind dances around her, caressing every visible inch of skin, playing in her hair. When she laughs, the birds sing.

And that’s when she sees him, the tall man in the black shirt and dark jeans. The mortals think it strange of him to walk along the shoreline in boots, but the girl pays it no mind. She is sunshine when she sees him, all radiant light and warm, dripping yellow. She takes off across the shoreline like a bird takes flight, ghosting across the sand and beachrock on the breeze. He is opening his arms before she even takes her first step.

When she reaches him, she jumps, and he sweeps her into his arms. He spins her once, twice, three times, over and over until she’s nothing but laughter and dizzy, giddy glee. When he presses his lips to hers, the whole world feels right.

“You found me,” she laughs against his skin, smiling against his lips. Her hands skim over the pale skin of his forearms, the proud column of his neck, the dark feather-soft shock of hair on his head. Like he’s the blood in her veins, the very oxygen she breathes.

“I promised,” he whispers against her eyelashes, her cheeks, the soft hollow at the base of her ear. “There is nowhere you may go that I will not follow.”

As he pulls her tightly to him, the world blurs and shifts like watercolors. When the mirage lifts, the mortals find themselves looking down upon the same girl from above. She lies on a bed of stars in a room carved from pale stone. Towering windows of stained glass cast her peaceful face in shades of sapphire, emerald, and crimson. Her body is still and lax.

She must be sleeping, they think in unison. It’s time for her to wake.

All at once, humanity dreams of her drawing in a long, slow breath.

On a dock in the middle of a dark, yawning sea, her lover breathes in tandem.

Oh, yes. Humanity dreams quite well that night, indeed.

. . .

“How long do you think it will be until we gather them all?”

Warmth blooms over the back of your scalp as Dream chuckles softly. You feel him shift behind you, turning his attention to the pile of seashells sitting several feet away. “You are quite the tenacious scavenger. I suspect you could collect an ocean’s worth of treasure if you put your mind to it.”

A quiet hum of contentment warms your chest as you pull his arms tighter around you. As the crystal blue tide pulls in, you stretch your legs forward, burying your toes in the soft sand. When Dream’s lips find your ear, you lean into him instinctively. “But if shell hunting is what you desire, I shall refill the ocean as many times as you like,” he murmurs softly.

“How chivalrous of you,” you laugh, pressing your cheek to his. When your lips find the corner of his mouth, Dream’s eyes fall shut. You can’t help but smile wider. “As far as afterlifes go, shell hunting on the beach with you seems like a pretty great way to spend eternity. Even if you prefer to catch shells from the shore.”

For a brief moment, Dream goes entirely still. There is no rise and fall of his chest against your back, no ghosting of his breath across your skin. As soon as you notice it, however, he shifts, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck. His thumbs sweep over your knuckles slowly, fondly. Something about the action soothes you, mollifies your urge to question him over his brief moment of pause. Content in the silence, you lean your cheek against the soft pillow of his hair and close your eyes.

You remain that way for a long time.

It’s difficult to identify the exact moment you begin to feel the shift. It sneaks up on you, so much so that by the time you notice it, it seems it’s already gone too far for you to turn back from. It’s a pull in the back of your mind, a weightless feeling in your limbs, a sensation of drifting. No, rising.

It’s familiar. You’ve felt this before, yes, back when you were alive–

In an instant, you’re coiled like a spring, eyes flying open in panic. When you jerk forward, Dream’s face lifts from your neck quickly. When you turn to look at him, you find his expression one of surprise. “Dream, something’s wrong.”

When his hands find your upper arms, Dream’s grip is gentle, grounding. “What is wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

You shake your head once, twice, in denial. “I– I can feel it. I can feel it inside me. Something’s taking me away. Something’s pulling me somewhere.”

For a moment, there is nothing but the whisper of the sea behind you, the strengthening sensation of rising in your limbs, and the flicker of blue as Dream’s eyes search yours intently. When his rosebud lips part, you’re not sure if it’s in awe or horror.

He pulls you to him then, suddenly, hastily. When you release a shuddering breath, he winds his fingers through your hair, drawing your head into his chest. “Everything will be alright,” he whispers quietly, his breath warm against your ear.

You shake your head against the fabric of his shirt, wrapping your arms around him. You grasp at his back desperately, defiantly, as if holding on tight enough might keep you here. “No, Dream. I don’t want to go. It’s finally you and me.” Another swell of levity, calling you up, up, up. You grip him tighter. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“You are not leaving me. You are coming back to me,” Dream murmurs against your skin. There’s something about the surety in his voice that compels the hammer of your heart to slow and soften, that quells the burn of anxiety in your chest. When his fingers knead your scalp, your grip on him eases slightly. When he draws in a deep breath, you try to do the same, following his lead.

The first one is shaky, uncertain. But the next is easier, and so is the next. With each one, that feeling of weightlessness grows, the call in your mind becoming more insistent.

“Everything will be alright, Love.”

Yes, you remember this feeling. This…this is what it feels like to…

“Come back to me.”

. . .

As your mind is coaxed into the waiting embrace of your body, the first thing you register is softness. It’s all around you–a plush pillow beneath your head, silk linens beneath your fingers. The next is birdsong. A quiet chorus of it trickles in through a window beyond the curtain of your closed eyelids, awakening your mind to sound in addition to touch. You can feel a warm breeze dancing over your cheeks, can smell a familiar honey-esque sweetness in the air.

When your eyes flutter open, it feels like it’s for the very first time. The sunlight, though not overly bright, takes your eyes off-guard at first. It feels as if it’s been ages since your eyes have witnessed it. Blinking rapidly, you squint, taking note of an open window on your right, of the small bedroom you’ve found yourself in.

For a long, peaceful moment, all is quiet and still.

“Holy shit, you’re awake!”

At first, you jump. But as the sudden exclamation rings through the air, recognition washes over you. You’d know that voice anywhere.

In an instant, you’ve propped yourself up on your elbows. You’re lying in a bed, you quickly realize. When you turn to your left, you find the source of the exclamation perched on a small nightstand. “Matthew!”

Matthew the Raven flaps his wings emphatically, squawking happily when your lips turn upward in a smile. “Love. Holy shit. You have no idea how happy I am to be talking to you right now. I was starting to think I’d never get to do that again. ”

A bewildered laugh escapes you as you shake your head in awe. In spite of the familiar gleam of Matthew’s dark eyes, the feeling of the sheets beneath your hands and the wind against your cheeks, everything still feels only half-real. Like a dream. “Yeah, Matthew. Likewise. You have no idea.” Your head turns, scanning the room you’ve found yourself in. It’s small and simply furnished, containing little more than a nightstand, a wardrobe, the bed you’re currently sitting in, and a chair by the bedside. You blink, eyes still adjusting to the sunlight. “Where am I?”

“Oh, this?” Matthew says, craning his feathered head to follow your gaze around the room. “This is Dream’s quarters. He used to not have one, just hung out in the throne room all the time. But when you woke up–or, well, you didn’t ‘wake up,’ but when you went into the coma, I guess–he decided to make one. Didn’t want you to have to stay in the throne room, especially when he didn’t know how long you’d be out. Plus, I’m not sure how comfortable that bed of stars was, even though it was pretty cool. You know, from a construction standpoint.”

You blink once, twice, three times. Your mind, still untangling itself from the remnants of unconsciousness, struggles to absorb all the information Matthew just threw at you. But one thing cuts straight through the brain fog.

Dream.

“Dream.” Your mouth echoes your mind as adrenaline surges through you. In an instant, you bolt upright, fully prepared to throw your legs over the side of the bed and charge out of what is apparently the Dream Lord’s quarters. However, your plan backfires when a wave of vertigo washes over you, sending you tumbling back down onto the pillows.

Matthew squawks in protest. “Hey, no, no way you’re getting up yet. You’ve been lying in this bed for weeks.” He ditches the nightstand to perch on your stomach, black eyes staring at you accusingly. “Have you lost your mind?”

You blink rapidly, trying to shake the last of the vertigo from your mind. Though your thoughts are sluggish, your body is alive. Every nucleus, every cell, every fiber of your being urges you to get out of this bed and follow that familiar pull in your chest until you find Dream. You fist your hands in the sheets to hold yourself in place. “Dream. Where is he? I need to find him.”

Matthew cranes his beak toward you, demanding your attention. When he speaks, his voice is stern. “Hey, you literally just got resurrected from the fucking dead, okay? So…just relax.” With a flutter of his dark wings, he takes flight, hovering in place above you. “You are staying here. I will go find Dream. Though, chances are he’s on his way here already.”

And with that, the raven soars out the open window in a flourish.

With Matthew gone, the small bedroom is still and quiet. You breathe a long, slow exhale as you lean back into the pillows and close your eyes. As you do, you shift your focus, straining to shake the last remnants of fog from your clouded brain. The more alert you become, the more you think. And the more you think, the more you remember.

You remember confronting Desire, balancing your scales, and banishing the Endless from the Realm of Attachment. You remember the feeling of being torn in two, of being burned from the inside out, and the numbness that had overtaken you after. You remember your mental goodbyes to Matthew, Lucienne, Hob, and Death. You remember the awe in Dream’s eyes when he’d seen your bonds, the agony in his eyes when he’d realized your fate. You remember the all-consuming peace of being in his arms, the arms you’d died in, and the last confession to him that had died on your lips along with you.

You had died. You were sure of it. So how could you be here, in the Dreaming, seemingly alive and well? Surely this couldn’t be some cruel joke. Some place of torment you’d been flung into when you’d been pulled from your blissful existence shell hunting with Dream on that honey-gold beach.

Everything will be alright. Come back to me.

Your fingers twist in the silk linens beneath you like a lifeline, desperate for confirmation that this is reality. I’m here.

Perhaps it is your call, or perhaps it was Matthew—you’re not sure. But as the words slip from your mind into the universe’s grasp, the door across the room swings open. In an instant, you’re sitting upright. This time, when the vertigo sweeps in to overtake you, you lock your elbows, determined to hold your ground.

And there he is. The Dream Lord, your Dream, a dark run of ink in the pale morning sunlight. His hair is wildly disheveled from his journey here, even more askew than normal, and his chest rises and falls quickly with eager, shallow breaths. His rosebud lips are parted in astonishment, his clear blue eyes wide as saucers, unblinking. He looks at you as if you’re a dream, or a ghost. As if you might disappear any second now.

For one long, terrifying moment, you wonder if he’s right. “Please don’t tell me I’m dreaming,” you stammer past the vice that grips your throat.

Something shifts in Dream at the sound of your voice. When he releases a shuddering breath, you can feel the relief that comes with it. When his blue eyes meet yours, he gazes at you in awe. “Have we not established that deities do not dream?” he murmurs, his voice low and gentle.

It’s probably the closest he’s ever come to making a joke. And it’s exactly the sort of thing that your Dream–the Dream Lord who endears you, astonishes you, amazes you–would say.

When your body moves, it’s of its own accord. In a blink, you’re out of the bed, on your feet, moving toward him. As you move to take the first step, your knees wobble in protest, seemingly unaccustomed to bearing your weight. As you begin to stumble, Dream sweeps forward to grasp you by the elbows, catching your fall.

The sinewy strength of him is warm, solid, and real beneath your touch. The relief that washes through you at the realization is all-encompassing, overwhelming. You think you might laugh. You think you might cry. But when you raise your eyes to hold the Dream Lord’s gaze, at first, all you can do is stare.

When you finally find your voice, it’s scarcely more than a whisper. “Oh, Dream. What happened? Matthew said I’ve been out for…for weeks?”

At first, Dream doesn’t answer. He takes the time to carefully return you to the bed, to ease you down onto the silk sheets with gentle hands. When you open your mouth to protest, he sits beside you, close enough that your thighs press against one another. Perhaps he knew your request without you asking. Perhaps he doesn’t want to place any unnecessary space between you, either.

Dream’s gaze is soft as he watches you, drinking in your features in silence. After several long moments, he opens his mouth to speak. “Matthew is correct. After you…after you passed–” his eyes fall to the place where your thighs meet at that, rosebud lips pursing slightly, throat bobbing with a forceful swallow, “–I brought you to the Dreaming. Matthew or Lucienne tend to you while I perform my necessary duties.” He pauses, his ocean eyes meeting yours through thick lashes. “Your recovery has been long. You…had much to recover from.”

The care in his voice is palpable, the intentionality behind his words evident. Perhaps he’s waiting to see how much you remember. You remember everything. “I died, Dream. There was no way to survive those injuries. I felt myself go.” You take his hands in yours with careful fingers. When you speak, your voice is earnest and entreating, desperate for answers. “How am I here?”

Dream’s gaze falls to your joined hands. His thumbs brush over your knuckles slowly, his touch feather-light. “You have touched the soul of every living mortal. A piece of you lives on in each of them. They know and love you, even though they do not realize they do.” He pauses then, tracing the curve of your thumbs slowly, thoughtfully. “The collective unconscious is a creature of incomprehensible power. It has the ability to alter the fabric of reality, to rewrite pasts and futures, when wielded with unity and purpose. They needed only a bit of guidance.” Dream’s fingers pause. “They dreamed of a world in which you lived. And so, you did.”

A quiet breath escapes you as your lips part–one of disbelief, one of awe. Altering reality, reversing the past, amending the future–you had never heard of anything like it. You had always known that the Endless possessed incomprehensible power, but something of this magnitude had never dared enter your mind as a possibility. You had always presumed Destiny to be the most powerful Endless, or perhaps Death, or even Desire. But now, as the full magnitude of Dream’s function dawns upon you, a new reality starts to take shape.

“Have you done that before?” you ask quietly.

“Once. A long, long time ago,” Dream answers, his gaze still affixed on your intertwined fingers. “I suspect I may have to do it again before my time is complete.”

A tender silence falls over the room as you both sit amidst these confessions and revelations. Slowly, Dream resumes his tracing of your knuckles. His touch is tentative, as if he still can’t quite believe you’re real, as if you might break beneath his fingertips. You grasp his fingers in yours, squeezing gently, as if to say, I am. I won’t.

“Dream.” Your voice is soft and imploring. When you raise one hand to cup his cheek, lifting his face to meet your gaze, he follows your lead without hesitation. “You saved me.”

Dream’s pale eyes search yours intently. It seems strange to think that those eyes had once seemed so guarded, so irreproachable. The dance of the stars in those eyes is a part of you know, as much a part of you as the depths of your own heart, the corners of your own soul. When they gaze into yours, you can feel everything he feels in flawless tandem. Awe. Reverence. Devotion. Adoration. Love.

When Dream presses his lips to the skin of your palm, your heart grows three sizes. When he leans into your touch, every inch of your skin sings with contentment. “You made the ultimate sacrifice to ensure my wellbeing. It was my turn to save you.”

The memory of lying in Dream’s arms, battered, broken, and bloodied, is seared upon your mind like a brand. You can still remember the barely-contained frenzy in his eyes as he’d assessed your injuries, the confusion that had drawn his brows together when you’d whispered to him, I saved them. I saved you.

“I’m so sorry, Dream. For everything.” You pause, choking on the swell of emotion that grips your throat. You give his hand a firm squeeze. “I need to tell you what happened.”

Ever curious, you expect Dream to lean into your offer, eager for answers. When he shakes his head, it takes you by surprise. “There is no need. I have spoken with Desire. I know all that I need to know.”

Now, that declaration catches your attention. “You spoke with Desire? When? What happened?” Your mind races, filtering through dozens of questions in rapid succession, unsure of where to really start. When a dreadful thought occurs to you, you grip Dream’s hand tightly enough that your knuckles pale, your voice pitching with nerves. “Please tell me you didn’t spill family blood–”

When the pad of Dream’s thumb settles against your lips, you quiet, the nervous energy in your chest instantly soothed. His ability to calm you with a word, a touch, a look, seems to defy all comprehension. You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“There is much I can do without spilling blood,” Dream says, his voice low and sure. A shiver prickles down your spine at the seriousness in his tone, at the flicker of a single star in the dark pools of his eyes. It’s a look you’ve seen only once before, in the flickering firelight of Dream’s gallery after he’d learned about your murder at Desire’s hands. I will protect you, it says, a vow that settles in the very marrow of your bones for safekeeping. You deserve to be protected.

Dream’s thumb drifts from your lips to the soft curve of your cheek. He closes his eyes, pressing another tender kiss to the palm of your hand. When he opens them again, his irises have lightened to their familiar, beloved ocean blue.

“You will never have to fear them, nor any other being, ever again,” he says softly.

It’s a peculiar thing, the feeling of being in love. Impossible to mistake for any other emotion, and yet, equally as impossible to describe. You had witnessed countless mortals attempt to do it justice throughout the millennia, striving to capture its essence in art, in song, in literature. Once, you had thought that their efforts were admirable, that they did surprisingly well conveying something that was so dynamic, all-consuming, and incomprehensible. But now, you realize just how much their attempts fall short, just how much their descriptions pale in comparison to the real thing.

Liquid light pours into you as you lean into Dream’s touch, filling you up, up, up until there is no piece of you it has not known, no corner or nook it has not illuminated. It surges outward, consuming the room, the Dreaming, the universe, the multiverse, reaching on and on and on into oblivion. It is fire and ice, a suckerpunch and the sweetest embrace, a first and final breath, all at once. It is a joy so bright it blinds you, a peace so deep it pains you, a completeness so grounding it transcends you.

It is boundless, uncontainable, untameable, incomparable, unchangeable. It is everything. He is everything.

I’m in love with you, Dream.

“Before…before I died, there was something I needed to tell you,” you whisper, your voice strained against the lump at the base of your throat. “I didn’t get to say it out loud—“

When Dream’s lips upturn in a small, knowing smile, it robs the breath straight from your lungs. It’s the first time you’ve witnessed a true smile from him, something more than just a quirk of his lips, or an unseen grin pressed into your hair. “It’s alright, Love. I knew.”

You blink, once, twice, three times. When you open your mouth to speak, you find that your lips have upturned in a grin, as well. “You did?”

“Of course. I saw the attachments that bind us. Agape, eros, erotoropia, philautia, pragma, and philia, the soul tie.” The look on your face must be one of surprise, because Dream lifts his chin ever so slightly in a challenge, his eyes dancing with amusement. “What, you presumed my memory would fail me? I remember everything, from the moment you first breathed the Dreaming’s air, from the moment Lucienne escorted you into my throne room. I knew precisely what each bond meant.”

As Dream’s words settle over you, a new memory surfaces. The memory of six attachments burning brightly between the two of you, a radiant mix of red, orange, yellow, blue, purple, and white.

The Book of Souls had revealed that you were destined to share all seven forms of love with Dream. That left only one missing–green storge.

It had been the promise of a next, you realize. An assurance that your life was not meant to end battered and broken at the edge of your realm that day. It had been the promise of a future. You had just been too distracted to see it.

Slowly, tenderly, Dream’s hand caresses the back of your head, fingers entangling in your hair. Your eyes flutter closed in bliss as he presses a kiss to the space between your brows, the tip of your nose, the corners of your mouth. When he draws you closer, pressing a kiss into the hollow under your ear, a soft hum of contentment escapes you, unbidden. “To be fully transparent, I find the term ‘love’ too feeble a word to describe this,” he breathes against your skin, his voice sweet as honey. “The term ‘agape’ is far superior.”

And that’s the moment. The moment everything falls into place, the moment the joy becomes uncontainable, the moment the laughter bubbles forth from your lips like birdsong. The moment everything is exactly as it should be.

If the Dream Lord is surprised when you tackle him against the bedsheets, he gives no indication of it. If your muscles protest as you climb on top of him, weak from weeks of disuse, you pay them no mind. When Dream pulls you to him, your smiling lips finally joining, everything beyond him fades away. No, there is nothing but the warm flush of his skin beneath your fingers, the strong lines of his brow, nose, cheekbones, and jaw. There is nothing but the intoxicating hum that spills forth from his mouth into yours as you lace your fingers through his feather-soft hair and pull ever so gently, just as you did on a honey-gold beach in another world. There is nothing but the silken brush of his lips against yours, the trail of his fingers over your skin, every movement passionate, reverent, fervent, adoring. There is nothing but the th-thump, th-thump, th-thump of your hearts beating in tandem, rhythms so strong that they leap against your skin, as if longing to burrow out of your chests and meet in the middle.

No, there is nothing but Dream. He is the past, present, and future. He is the beginning, middle, and end. He is food, water, and oxygen. He is everything.

“I am yours,” you vow in the fleeting moments that your lips part for air. “In any time, across every realm, in every reality. I am yours. I’ve always been yours.”

As your promise seeps into Dream’s skin, he slows, dark lashes fluttering open. He’s beautiful, you think, unbidden. When his pale eyes meet yours, every star in them burns for you. They shift and glimmer and dance, promising, s’agapo, s’agapo, s’agapo.

“How deep is the ocean? How high is the sky? How long are the years until the journey ends?” Dream murmurs. When he draws you toward him, every fiber of your being sings for him. When he rests your forehead against his, looking into his eyes feels like coming home. “There is nowhere you may go that I will not follow. Not again.”

And that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? He was your dream; you were his destiny. Every breath, every step, every choice, every victory, every heartache–they had all led to this moment. This world in which you were together. This world in which you were finally, finally complete.

Dream had spoken the truth–no matter what the future held, there was no reason to be afraid. Whatever you’d face, you’d face it together. Where you went, he would go. Where he stayed, you would stay. You no longer had to go through this life alone. Neither of you did.

What more could one ever want?

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lvnsrn · 6 months

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isekaijoucho colors album - my thoughts:

This is my second listen of the album... I listened to it yesterday upon release, but was too tired from having just woken up... So now I'm a bit more lucid, and definitely in the right mindset for this album, so here we go.

Breath - I'm crying already, touched to my soul... It's so beautifully majestic. It's hard to think people don't like this side of her, it's certainly different from Creation/Anemone, but there's just something so powerful about this era of Colors/Nemophila…

And return to white - I've loved this song ever since its release. The MV is just amazing, I feel like it encapsulates everything about Isekaijoucho and her "story." The ending Anima pose reference is amazing too... Note the use of the word "color" and also "breath." It's interesting to think of the dying Isekaijoucho as a form of "Anemone" as well. This song encapsulates Isekaijoucho's grief, strength, beauty, passion, magic, and elegance, and sets the tone for the "story" that follows.

A Doll of Lapis - It's hard to not think the songs are connected somehow. An elegant and delicate song, unveiling her complexity behind her doll eyes. Take note of blue being emphasized, but then "my true color is..." and the scene color changing to red. It adds to "Nemophila" being more sinister somehow, especially in combination with "And return to white." Beneath the pure white and the beautiful azure blue, is blood red; fire red; and darkness. That is most surely "Isekaijoucho."

Pandora Call - Possessiveness, control of a world. Once again following the thread and "story," it feels like a song associated with the destruction scenes in "And return to white," with the lyrics talking about destruction/control of a world through love and song. In the MV, the clock also goes backwards. The key word of this song is "world" (sekai as in "Isekaijoucho") and "melody." I can't help but imagine a story in which Anemone and Nemophila were in love, but Anemone's love was "destruction," so she died amidst the fires and blood that her love brought on.

Dimension - The song closest to my heart. There is strength and conviction; a desire to get back what was once lost. In terms of composition, it's simply moving and ethereal in a very "VOCALOID" way. It has a quality to it I adore very much and resonate with strongly. But I never imagined I'd have the song recontextualized, and given further meaning -- given the context of the "story" of this album so far. I imagine, this is after the death of Anemone, Nemophila struggled to find her "fate/meaning" and was lost, but found the things she lost in mourning -- the things that make her, "her." A reclaiming of identity, a rediscovery of the self. In terms of the word "Dimension," it's like Isekaijoucho traveling through "dimensions" to find these things about herself -- fate, conviction, and more. A common theme so far in this album is Isekaijoucho's "truest" self that is hidden away; a story no one knows. It's something that resonates quite personally as well. Key words, I'm unsure of, but perhaps try repetition and fate; also future.

Kimi syousitu sekai (a world where you disappear) - key words: "world"/"sekai" and "future." A notable mention to "sadness/lament" (ureu) -- part of the second verse of "And return to white" (I am lamenting white/watashi wa ureu shiro.) Another song about grief, loss of "another self." Musically, I love the intense rock angle this song takes, I'm glad she gets to do a rock song that's also very distinctly within her "vibes" and energy. In terms of story and MV, we take note of the clocks again; going forward, than backwards like in Pandora Call. But also the dual motif of Isekaijoucho; and the scenery within a church. Imagining this continues the story of Anemone and Nemophila, this is from Nemophila's perspective about the loss, death, and disappearance of Anemone. Notably this song coming right after Dimension is interesting and paints a duality -- "Dimension" talks about not forgetting, but "Kimi syousitu sekai" laments what will be forgotten in the future after death. We also have an implication about a "bad end" for the one that was lost -- alluding to the disaster shown in the MV of "And return to white" and referenced in the lyrics in "Pandora Call." Without Anemone, Nemophila loses a very important aspect of herself; she is "incomplete" but must go on to the future. Another angle we can take the interpretation of "Dimension" is that, since it was released during Anemone era and has Anemone outfit, it's about Anemone's hopes and convictions for the future, to contrast Nemophila's lament and grief as she moves on to the future without Anemone. The most striking line in support of the "Colors storyline" is "you and me, we are the same person." In the MV this shows Nemophila hugging a "shadow Isekaijoucho" who fades away, so we can also connect this to the dark corpse of (who we've assigned to be) Anemone in "And return to white." Overall, amazing song, interesting narrative so far.

Grayscale - Super interesting song and mysterious too. This song feels like a liminal space; like purgatory. Uncertainty, mystery. Unfortunately have to rely on MTL for the lyrics, but some keywords I think are "colors" (black/white/grayscale), and "world/planet." There is also "endroll" which evokes the theatre from "Tomedonaki Hakujou) (from her first album "Creation.") One lyric that intrigues me is "Isekaijoucho wa henzai suru" -- this is the part that repeats as ASMR panning. Trying to look into the meaning of 偏在 henzai, it seems to mean uneven distribution. I'm not sure, but I feel like this is a "corruption" of 配信 haishin = distribution; livestream transmission. It's like she's saying the transmission is broken/corrupted/unbalanced but once again, I'm unsure since my knowledge of Japanese isn't that good. If any imagery is evoked, this makes me think of a TV set which was also in the MV for "Kimi syousitu sekai." In my interpretation, it's like a broken transmission from the "dying world."

Kokoni togeto shiwo (Here lies thorns and death) - SLAVE VVR AND ISEKAIJOUCHO IS AN AMAZING AND UNEXPECTED MATCH....!!! Keywords: color, goddess, and jewel. Musically, this is so fresh and exciting for Isekaijoucho, it's an amazing song! She even sings quite a bit of English here too, and the lyrics are not as difficult as Grayscale to understand through MTL. Now, about the lyrics of the song, it's about love -- love that leads to death; love as a reverence of a goddess; love as a sin through bloodshed and punishment. Once again, evoking the scenery of the previously established "tragedy" in the "story." Jewel/gem is also an important thing to note as a keyword -- potentially referencing "Isekai no Housekitan" from her previous album -- jewel/gem could also be a reference to "past innocence" before the tragedy. Jewels are also alluded to in "A Doll of Lapis" as the color of the doll's eyes -- blue -- but the jewels in this song are either red or colorless -- whether it's blood-red dying the colorless quartz, or the red quartz losing its color. Red is a color associated with the tragedy, destruction, etc. We can connect this song highly to Pandora Call as having similar themings. The goddess is also interesting here, as it seems Nemophila evokes a "goddess" like image in "And return to white," but in this song it seems that it's like the mortal desiring to be goddess-like for the sake of love, but being punished for it somehow.

Nerine's Secrets - A song by Kashii Moimi, formatted as a "(kana name) no (kanji)" sung by SEKAI/Isekaijoucho? Is this... the third song in the series of Erica & Karen? That's what I want to think, anyways. Unfortunately can't find any lyrics transcript yet. In any case, Kashii Moimi always creates such beautiful songs. Key words: eyes, world, colors (rainbow.) It's hard with my limited Japanese knowledge, but I got some imagery/vibes of a night sky (moon and stars), meetings/coming together, and shining light of a rainbow in the lyrics. Unlike Erica & Karen, Nerine has a more hopeful, "kirakira" vibe to the song, while still being distinctly Kashii Moimi in the same style of Erica and Karen -- emphasizing beauty ("karenna"). (Erica is mourning, Karen is inability to accept her own sins.) As to how Nerine connects to the "story" thus far, I'm a bit uncertain to fully tell, but we can connect eyes to Doll of Lapis (eyes made of Lapis, etc etc), and world/colors to a lot of the previously aforementioned songs. As for a detailed analysis on this song's connection to Karen and Erica, I'll leave that for another time once I get a better grasp of the lyrics, and once I'm in the mood for it.

Promise in the Twilight - A banger of a song, I've loved this song since its release too! But in the album placement, following Nerine's Secrets, it's like the starlight/"light" from Nerine's Secrets is the same "light" that she refers to in the opening lyric here: "on that day, we were both enveloped by a faint light." Keywords: light, mayday, colors (green), and justice. On its own, this song wasn't in my top favorite Isekaijoucho songs, but as part of the album? It's transcendent, it's amazing, it's actually PEAK. The song's connections to other songs in the album are absolutely incredible. We already addressed Nerine, so let's talk about the others. Most obviously, this song references the musical motif of "Dimension," and both songs have thematic similarities in their lyrics. "Mayday" also is a lyric in "Grayscale" (so I'll have to retroactively add "Mayday" as a key word in Grayscale too.) The song also references a "god in heaven" so we can also check off "Kokoni togeto shiwo" for the goddess. The "color" here is green -- "proof is colored in green." It is also a rock song utilizing guitars, much like "Kimi syousitu sekai." The epic and grand feeling of the song also is reminiscent of "And return to white;" and the relationship/devotion/vow to "another person" -- love; it's a more hopeful and bright "love" that contrasts from "Pandora Call" and "Kokoni togeto shiwo." In addition, we can add twilight as another color -- "twilight" is an in-between of day and night; like how "Grayscale" is an in-between of black and white. Justice is an interesting keyword here because I don't think it's been referenced in the previous songs at all? But in my interpretation of the story, I think previously the lovers of Anemone and Nemophila met a "bad end/tragedy," but they have a "good end" where things were made "right." That might be the "justice" of the storyline. There's also a line about "cleansing these hands," which I'm going to interpret as being cleansed from the tragedy and sin. I think this song is atonement; and atonement is the justice.

Vermilion - Already the first lyric of the song is literally "twilight." Right after "Promise in the Twilight." Also, it seems "vermilion" was referenced as a color already in "Kokoni togeto shiwo," and is already the name of a color anyways -- red referencing the tragedy. As a Hiiragi Magnetite song, this is bound to be one of my favorites. This album just gets stronger and stronger with each song. Aside from the established color, our key words are twilight, dark, future, apocalypse, dimension. Another special mention to melancholy/ureu. Twilight and Dimension are obvious connections to other songs, but what's more is that those two songs are already connected, and here's another song that's connected to them as well. As well as "Dimension" also being by Hiiragi Magnetite. And how about I bring in "Kimi syousitu sekai" as the connection for the word "future?" I think we already have a sense for what could be meant by dark and apocalypse too – the tragedy, of course. I think much like the contrast and connection between Dimension and Kimi syousitu sekai, I think Promise in the Twilight and Vermilion have a similar connection, and these 4 songs being placed the way they are is no coincidence. First off, their respective colors are opposing – green and red (vermilion.) In this song, Isekaijoucho sings of a desolate future that she foresaw, but still holds on to hope. It feels like the “promise” and hopes were shattered and darkness came. Wounds, the end of life, apocalypse… All the hope that was in the previous song, where did it go? All the hope that’s in the other Hiiragi Magnetite song, “Dimension,” where did it go? And in both Kimi syousitu sekai and this song, the future is bleak; lacking light; losing someone precious to you. And yet, while Kimi syousitu sekai despairs, Vermilion still has some hope. In addition, I think the final lyric of this song is important: “Return to that rightful place.” – Connection to “And return to white.” And “rightful” here can also be TLed as justice – another connection to Promise in the Twilight. Perhaps the color of justice is white? God. Just. These songs are amazing… I love them so much

To You Who Kept On Drawing - Keywords from the lyrics: breath, world/sekai, future, anima, color (white/grayscale/red). The title of this song alone is important because of the lyric in “And return to white” about drawing – “people driven by passion picked up their pens and began to draw.” In general, thematically, this song feels like an answer/resolution song to “And return to white” – both by Kashii Moimi, and parallels can be drawn in their composition; and it just overall feels like a satisfying connection to this entire album and especially And return to white. If you thought the previous songs had a lot of references, wait till you hear what references this song has in its MV and lyrics. First we have a star motif – which connects to Nerine and Twilight, but I also forgot to mention the last time stars were mentioned, that stars also connects to Heart of Sirius from the Creation album. Next, we have gems – Kokoni togeto shiwo and Creation’s Isekai no Housekitan. Next we have a frame of duality in Isekaijoucho’s image – Kimi syousitu sekai. Then, the chorus has spinning which Dimension’s MV also does that, and it’s also referenced lyrically. Partway through the MV, the color turns primarily red – this echoes the “turning to red” in the MVs for And return to white and A Doll of Lapis; and another connection to Kokoni togeto shiwo and Vermilion – red being reinforced as the color of strife, “true self,” and revelations. The MV also turns grayscale for a bit (self explanatory.) Finally the MV ends in a sunrise – which I’d like to think contrasts twilight. As for the lyrics, we’ve already touched on the keywords of breath/world/future/color previously, but I want to talk about anima – this is the title of Isekaijoucho’s live concerts, and is a word for “will of life.” I think using anima in this song specifically is just so powerful and evocative. Lyrically, this song is about love for the world, love for another person as they saved her; not caring if she has sins or scars; not wanting to give up, and holding on to important things like vows, prayers, and bonds. It feels like a sort of “resolution” to all the strife previously. Saving is important in the context of Isekaijoucho, since that is the one thing she wishes to do in the Kamicity lore and also in her other lyrics – she wants to save people, and in turn she is saved by another person – “to you who kept on drawing.” I want to think the implication of “drawing” here is to continue one person’s will and continue the story; continue their emotions. If Isekaijoucho had died in the previous song “Vermilion,” then she is revived/saved by “drawing.” It’s possible that this song is also from the perspective of the dead Anemone from “And return to white,” and it’s the other song that references drawing. I think we need to go back to “And return to white”’s lyrics: Right after “people driven by passion picked up their pens and began to draw,” she sings “I’ll dye my heart white to stop it from breaking” – I think drawing and colors here are deeply connected. To draw is to control colors; and to control colors is to define your outlook on life and express yourself. In the MV, although she stained the entire world in red (tragedy,) she returned it to grayscale, and then a more normal, realistic color of the world; and she’s walking towards a white light. I think I understand why this song is deemed the “leading song” of the album. God damn. I have to lay down for a bit after this… This album just becomes more and more peak the more I analyze it. I also think this song is very important to Isekaijoucho specifically with the theme of drawing/colors because she herself is an illustrator; and the meaning of art/drawing for her, it might be the thing that “saved her life,” which is a sentiment I’m sure many artists of different kinds can relate to – art can save lives.

Formless Thing - This one is more somber compared to all the intensity of the preceding songs. It’s an especially important song because not only are the lyrics written by Isekaijoucho herself, from the MV I think it’s a love letter to her past self and future self. We directly see Anemone here as a duality to Nemophila; when Anemone leaves, Nemophila will still be here to carry on Anemone’s voice. What is meant by “Formless Thing” in terms of the song title, I’m not sure; but “katachinaki mono” can also be translated as “one without a body.” Given the song and MV, I’m inclined to think this “one without a body” is Anemone. Now that Isekaijoucho is Nemophila, Anemone no longer has a body, but she still exists in memories. I think this recontextualizes everything in the album previously about their relationship and dynamic…

ANGELIC - I didn’t write much for “Formless Thing” itself because I think it’s worth it to analyze Formless Thing and ANGELIC in tandem. Between these two songs we get a direct confirmation: this song is absolutely a love letter to Isekaijoucho’s self; past and future: “because you are me, we share our lives.” First established lyrically in “Kimi syousitu sekai” and re-inforced in “ANGELIC.” ANGELIC also references the ocean, which was seen at the end of “To You Who Kept On Drawing.” Both these songs are about wanting to love; wanting to live; living at “your” side (which is the same person); prayers to the goddess; the moon… also referencing the overall theme of colors and also breath. Previously, I thought there was no better album ender than ARCADIA from Creation, but this entire ending section of “Colors” blows ARCADIA out of the water, I think. An interesting lyric in this song is “Nemesis” which could be referencing the previously established strife/disaster/apocalypse/etc.

Colors - This is such an elegant and beautiful closer to the album; it’s so light and pretty; so expressive and beautiful. I am truly breathtaken and full of emotion.

FINAL VERDICT: Overwhelmed immensely. This album… I have so many thoughts. But it’s truly an amazing album, more amazing than I thought. I will definitely be talking more about this album and the songs in the future. But for now, it’s amazingly interwoven and is a love letter to the entire concept and being of “Isekaijoucho” – the character, the art, the presentation, the singer behind her and her thoughts and emotions and past and future and hopes and just; everything. There’s so much more to say, but for now, I’ll leave it at that. To everyone who made Isekaijoucho possible… Piedpiper, Kashii Moimi, reoenl; samayuzame and orie… and of course, the voice and soul of Isekaijoucho herself… thank you.

#text #lvn

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kayleen756894 · 2 years

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Have another preview of my Bee’s Schnees fic to prove I’m working on it. It’s taking longer than I hoped but I’ve been having lots of fun with it! Weiss’ sarcastic ass is an absolute joy to write. I’ve missed writing for this fandom honestly, it’s been too long. (RWBY Volume 9 Spoilers)

“So you... uh...”

The bashfulness in Yang’s typically brash tone shook Weiss from her elaborate reverie. Yang’s mouth opened and closed, fighting for words, buying time by rubbing the back of her neck. She gestured between herself and an equally sheepish looking Blake. “You know?”

... What was that supposed to mean?

Yang’s comedic timing was abysmal, truly, but the jokes themselves, though crass, were usually decent. Unlike whatever that was. How dare Yang mock her developing humour, which honestly was stellar given her strict upbringing, when she believed something as pathetic as that could pass for—

Hm. How quaint. Yang didn’t look like she was joking, no trace of mischief anywhere. But that would be absurd, because how could she believe this was in any way a secret? Maybe she really was that dense because Blake, completely contrasting her Semblance, hadn’t been remotely stealthy about this. She’d been openly coy since they got here, overcame her former inhibitions, and simply couldn’t hide how Yang’s goofy encouragement during battle made her blush.

So why did she seem surprised, too? It couldn’t be that they both...

Oh for the love of—

“What do you mean ‘you know’?” Weiss squawked indignantly, migraine returning with the force of a shotgun. Blake’s ears skyrocketed and Yang winced at her volume, both leaning back like it would save them from her dignified wrath and it absolutely would not. “Of course I know! Anyone with eyes knows!”

Yang’s widened at that. “Really?”

“No, Yang, I’m lying,” she retorted flatly. “No one has ever noticed how you always conveniently end up in each other’s arms touching foreheads.” She felt a twinge of smug satisfaction when Blake’s shoulders hunched, red creeping down her neck, and maybe Weiss would’ve taken pity after teasing Blake’s favourite form of affection if they both weren’t so maddening. But it was Yang’s perpetual owlish gawking that drew a beleaguered huff from the depths of her lungs, wishing she was close enough to whack her arm. “Yes, really, you brute!”

Blake’s lips twitched like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to smile or not, losing the battle at Yang’s faux-offended gasp, her melody of lovesick giggles like an annoying song Weiss couldn’t get out of her head. But she allowed it, cherished it, because she remembered when Blake never laughed at all. As Blake calmed so did the colour in her cheeks, and when her eyes locked with Weiss’ they sparkled with curiosity. “So you gave us space... on purpose?”

The hesitancy, like Blake believed but was still trying to comprehend, had Weiss comprehending a hard truth of her own. “Please tell me you’re not just considering that possibility now.”

Weiss didn’t know what response she expected but Blake and Yang sharing a flustered look told her all she needed. She kept her composure until Yang’s hefty shrug, the smack from her palm meeting her forehead echoing in the quiet forest. “Why do I associate with you people?” she muttered under her breath, full of exasperation but inexplicable endearment. Idiots, both of them. But her idiots. More importantly, each other’s. Idiots finally obtaining a bite of bliss during a buffet of despair, so she couldn’t stay annoyed at them for long.

She was hungry, too.

“If that’s the case,” Blake started, prompting Weiss to peek up. Blake’s prior conviction tapered off, giving an uncertain wince while tucking her hair behind her human ear. “It’s not that we... don’t appreciate it.”

And the annoyance was back. “Then please enlighten me on the issue.”

Yang sucked her teeth. “Maybe ‘issue’ isn’t the right word.”

Weiss sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m so tired of riddles after today.” Her headache was only getting worse and Yang being a direct cause was the least surprising thing ever. “Do me a favour and just give it to me straight.”

Yang snorted, parting her mouth to reply but stilled her tongue as Blake tossed her a monitory glare. Yang settled on a cheeky grin and Blake rolled her eyes fondly, and Weiss was perplexed when those eyes, no less fond, then directed at her.

“What we’re trying to say,” Blake clarified, “is you don’t need to keep your distance. I mean, if you’re more comfortable where you are, then stay. But there’s...” Blake paused with a nervous waver, cheeks dusting pink, before her lips curved in a small, welcoming smile. She offered a hand to Weiss. “There’s plenty of room with us.”

#slowly but surely making progress #rwby #bees schnees #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #fanfiction #fan fiction #rwby spoilers #rwby9 #rwby9 spoilers

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searchingforserendipity25 · 2 years

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📚

Thank you Nonnie for giving me the chance to go off unashamedly! The current fic I'm daydreaming about without managing to write is very niche, so apologies for that.

But! The Silmarillion/Goblin Emperor crossover where elves are descendents of Men with elvish ancestry, Goblins are goblin/men descendents, and Maia Drazhar ends up inheriting the oldest Athmaza as one of his nohecherai, a very tall musician who is sort of technically 100% in custody in the Mazan’theileian and is only brought out to serve the emperor because Kiru had a vision and retiring to become Archprelate of Csaivo the goddess.

(Csaivo is Varda. It's absolutely Varda sending a message to her devotee that it's time for the Kinslayer she's marked to make a final oath. And also so Kiru can catch a break).

This is the product of crossover brain disease, but also! Maia's deep kindness and deep trauma, history of captivity, ability to create community caution about how he wields his power meeting Maglor's entrenched remorse and whole. Everything. Obsessive grief. Would be very interesting.

It's about devotion it's about the Oath of the Nohecherai ending in suicide when the emperor dies, so this is it, the only grace Maglor is getting after long long captivity - fifty years of protecting Edrehasivar the Bridge Builder, and then death. That's it baby! And it's got to count. You have to mean it. Maglor made an Oath, Ages ago, and did evil for it, and broke it at the last. How is he to know if he should keep this one? Dazhis broke. He could too. Loyalty, devotion, obedience, faith - it is a choice. No one is except from If this is a test, it is one he has to judge himself on.

And Maglor is a very good performer, but he's very old, and very alone, the oldest and most alone thing alive, and he is all our of conviction, has not trusted himself in a very long time - how is he supposed to be something for a liegelord to trust? How is he to believe there's anything worth being loyal to, if he's done so much evil for it? And if there is, how can he possibly be worthy of working for it?

It's about Beshelar's immense integrity judging him and Cala's kindness and power being terrifying and easy to resent, and Csevet - honestly? If the Noldor had had a Csevet, Morgoth would have been toast.

It's about Csethiro! Who would 10/10 demand an ancient war criminal teach her ancient swordfighting forms and bully him into sitting at enough scholarly meetings - just to stand there, keeping guard, around people speaking of what nourishes the mind and the heart, mathematics and poetry and chemistry, a balm against the alienation of loneliness.

It's about Maia, of course. Who loves easily, and trusts very little, and has the Drazhadeise eyes, the Númenorian eyes, Elros' eyes, and see the world in a way no one ever has. Maia - who never thinks cruelty is just, and gives everyone a chance. Whose power is not in the war he wages but the injustices he stops, and how little liberty he has ever had and will ever have; how much of himself he gives, and how he makes others give of themselves without needing great enchanting speeches. It’s about pity that saves those who give and those who receive it, and kindness, which is a different dignifying thing. It’s about someone being given a chance, a lost one, undeserved, and doing good with it, choosing it again and again, with conviction even. And love grows, and the emperor lives, and the nohecherai die with him. And all the dead are remembered, and the songs are good ones.

It's also about how much Maia loves music and how little contact he's had with it. He deserves to have his personal Minstrel, as a treat!

Again, very niche. But I think it could have something in it!

#asks #ask game #the goblin emperor #the silmarillion #thanks nonnie! it's good to have put it in writing! <3 #maglor

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cathygeha · 8 months

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REVIEW

Kinfolk by Sean Dietrich

Small town southern Alabama is the setting, and the era was such that I could have been sister to Minnie. High school is a time in life that is remembered fondly by some who probably hit their highest point then but for others…it is a time best forgotten. I wonder I Minnie would consider it a good or bad time in her life.

This story grew on me as I read it. At first, I wasn’t sure I would enjoy it or even finish but it drew me in, made me care, and wonder how the characters I came to know and feel for would come through it all in the end. All of the characters had issues to deal with and seemed to be doing their best to get on with and get through with every day. There were issues of dysfunctional families, suicide, divorce, estrangement, alcohol addiction, bullying, unexpected pregnancy, cancer, near death, racketeers that wanted revenge, secrets, inept adults…and yet the good things included found family, acceptance, finding one’s strengths, personal growth, support, love, caring, strength, survival, music, and a feel-good ending.

The plot was engaging, the writing clean and tight, the setting easy to visualize, the characters were well developed and worthy of having their stories told, and the overall impression I came away with was that I would be willing to read another book by this author in the future even though it is not a genre I usually choose to read.

Thank you to netGalley and Harper Muse for the ARC – This is my honest review.

4-5 Stars

BLURB

Sometimes it’s the most unlikely meetings that give us life’s greatest gifts.

1970s, Southern Alabama. Sixty-two-year-old Jeremiah Lewis Taylor, or “Nub,” has spent his whole life listening to those he loves tell him he’s no good—first his ex-wife, now his always-disapproving daughter. Sure, his escapades have made him, along with his cousin and perennial sidekick, Benny, just a smidge too familiar with small-town law enforcement, but he’s never harmed anyone—except perhaps himself.

Nub never meant to change his ways, but when he and fifteen-year-old Waffle House waitress Minnie form an unlikely friendship, he realizes for the first time that there may be some good in him after all. Six-foot-five Minnie has been dealt a full deck of bad luck—her father is a convicted murderer serving a life sentence, her mother is dead and buried, and she has a Grand Ole Opry–worthy singing voice with no place to perform. Oh, and there’s the small fact that she’s unexpectedly pregnant, courtesy of a no-good high-school boy.

Gradually, Nub realizes the gift he’s been given: a second chance to make a difference.

Beloved Southern writer Sean Dietrich, also known as Sean of the South, once again brings people and places to life in this lyrical song-turned-story about found family, second chances, country music, and the poignant power of love and forgiveness.

Heartwarming Southern fiction from Sean of the South

Stand-alone novel

Includes discussion questions for book clubs

Also by Sean Dietrich: The Incredible Winston Browne, Stars of Alabama, and You Are My Sunshine

#Sean Dietrich #1970's South Alabama #Fiction #Historical Fiction #NetGalley #Harper Muse #Coming of Age #Alcoholism #Suicide #PTSD

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capybaraonabicycle · 2 years

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8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

– poppy 🥀

Thank you so much for the ask!

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

River/Doctor - which should come as a surprise to absolutely no one. 8 of my 11 fics this year were about them. I would like to point out that 4 of them featured River/fugitive Doctor as that makes a change from last year. (Although it was only a main pairing in one of the fics and for another one it only exists in the content I have written but not published yet).

The only other ship I wrote more than one story for was thasmin, by the way.

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

A lot of them? I have so many WIPs and I have not really given up on any of them. There is definitely the one that hasn't mentioned River/fugitive Doctor yet but will, which is a Dancing with the Stars -AU. Then there is a Penderwicks story about Jane's coming out that I really want to build on.

And then a bunch of stuff that is still on my computer and has not yet been released into the wilds of the Internet. Among those a 11/O story, a River/11/Reader story (of which one chapter actually is somewhere on tumblr) and a sweet and actually not too angsty Mels/Reader story. Oh and the 'The Paternoster Gang adopt a child' story that has been existing unfinished for ages.

Plus a dozen ideas that only exist in my head like my beloved Mels/Division!Doctor fic that I keep bringing up.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

This one is difficult, hang on...There was definitely some cheesy passage in Somewhere in my memory that I love. Ah, no I wrote I can't be with him til the very end this year so it has to come from there. Let me check...

“I am serious, too” she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest to stop herself from shaking. Because he is right, in a way. Amy is in danger. Mels knows how it will all end, but the thought of Amy under Kovarian’s thumb, all alone and pregnant, makes her feel sick. “I am not coming.” For a moment all the masks drop. For a moment it looks like he is about to grab her and hurl her into his box against her will or maybe destroy her on the spot. For a moment she can see the terrible Doctor she has heard about in the stories, the Beast, the Oncoming Storm, the Vanquisher. It almost reassures her to finally see him. Then like flipping a switch it is gone again, his expression neutral, his voice cold but reserved. “Why not?"

This wasn't easy and it's probably too long, but I am going with that. I just really loved writing 11 in this, it felt very natural, very him. It's difficult to pick a passage though, it's more the general pacing of the scene that I love, how they have this flirty relationship and then he asks her to save Amy and in a second they are arguing and basically become enemies.

Okay, but I do want to put some cheesy 'Somewhere in my memory' lines in here, too, because they made me very happy:

“I had a lovely time watching you sleep. I even drew a picture of you.” “You did?” the Doctor asked, getting a little excited. “It seemed romantic” River shrugged, handing her a small sheet of paper with a simple crayon drawing. “That’s a stick figure” the Doctor noticed. “A snoring stick figure with blonde hair.” “I never said I was da Vinci” River argued, trying to take the drawing back but the Doctor held onto it. “I like it” she said. “It’s very you.” “You can’t keep it, Sweetie” River said with an apologetic smile. “This is just a dream.”

Because I am of the strong conviction that River Song can do anything but draw :)

#thank you for the ask!#now I feel like I should have chosen a thasmin line for you #but tbh my thasmin writing is not that exciting #btw about ships I wrote for: who would've thought river/lee clayton or rigsy/gordon lethbridge-stewart would be among them? not me

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god-whispers · 2 years

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nov 4

run to the glory

"the latter glory of this house will be greater than the former, says the Lord of hosts, ‘and in this place I will give peace,' declares the Lord of hosts." hag 2:9 nasb 19

we must not continue to go in and out of His presence. we must carry His presence with us where ever we go. i don't know how many of you remember kathryn kulhman. she was a woman of God used mightily in healing by God. it was said she always had a time of preparation before each service. a cohort once said he went backstage once to tell her something. he said when he opened the door, the presence of God was so strong and so holy and it was so intimate what was taking place between her and the Holy Spirit, he just closed the door again.

that's the kind of intimacy i'm talking about. there are many people in the outer court. there are those who are in the inner court. some have even peeked behind the veil into the holy of holies. few have gone all the way in. that's where they meet God at His closet point. so enter into that place beyond the veil. go all the way in and linger as long as you may. you will come out with His glory on you. let His glory shine through you. carry His glory with you that others may be convicted and come running to God.

"in those days ten men from every language of the nations shall grasp the sleeve of a Jewish man, saying, 'let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you.'" zech 8:23 the unlearned will be coming to the ones who know the word of God; the one who dwell in His presence.

this isn't about great works or souls won or gifts given although all this things will play a part according to what was given us. this is something everyone can attain to. it's that deep intimate connection that takes place between just God and you. that can only happen if you are willing to invest the time it takes to discover who He really is.

years ago when i first got serious about the Lord, i was seeking my place in the scheme of things and my heart was crying out: "Lord, where is my place?" His answer: "Your place is next to Me." i knew He didn't mean the place of honor at His right hand as the disciples disputed over. He meant to get as close to Him as I could, so close i could even feel the passionate breath He has for His bride. that's what i am trying to do. know him as savior. know Him as Lord. but also know Him as the shulamite does in the song of solomon.

"(the shulamite) let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth — for Your love is better than wine. because of the fragrance of your good ointments, Your name is ointment poured forth; therefore the virgins love you. draw me away! (the daughters of jerusalem) we will run after you. (the shulamite) the King has brought me into His chambers." song of solomon 1:1-4

we all have our imaginings about happenings in the future. i believe there will be those who are saved in the end but miss the wedding feast altogether. these will be saved during the tribulation while the wedding feast is occurring. there also will be those who are only guests at the wedding feast. they go in the rapture but lack the intimacy of knowing Jesus intimately. they only knew Him as savior. then there will be the glorious bride, shining from spending so much time in His presence; seeking to follow, please, and do His will regardless of the cost to self. i want that intimacy for us all.

a change will be visibly evident in someone who has accepted Jesus as Lord and master. i'm not saying there won't be struggles, but there will be progress - always forward. you should look different, act different, even smell different. there is a fragrance beyond body perfumes.

it wasn't too long ago i ask the question, "how smelly are you?" there is a fragrance to God presence. people say they have smelled it and i believe it. they say kathryn kulman has a sweet smell about her even though she wore no perfume. just as there is a fragrance to God, there is also a fragrance of death (the absence of God).

so again i am asking - how smelly are you?

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papipopsicle · 3 years

Text

AFTERTASTE PART SEVEN

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Reader

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Dream Boy by Waterparks

Warnings: swearing

Words: 2.1K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

Y/F and Y/M Robins were far from perfect parents. Y/F had the mental age of a toddler at times, and being an estate agent who always has to go the extra mile- he often wasn't home when his wife needed him the most. Y/M, on the other end of things, had been a stay at home mum until Y/N turned 16 last summer, and now she helped with all the administrative work for Mayor McCoy. She was a maternal creature which, coupled with her brilliant sarcasm, made for some explosive conversations. The two met on the first day of university and got married a week after the last.

When Y/M first found out she was pregnant with little Y/S Robins, the two realised they wanted a quiet bubble of a town to raise their children and grow up with them. But it wasn't until their second daughter was about to turn seven until they found their forever home in the quaint town of Riverdale. Ten years passing before their eyes, and the picturesque place didn't seen all that anymore.

Jason Blossom's death had nothing to do with the short gunshot sounding over the waves of Sweetwater River, the noise which woke Y/N from her sweet unmemorable dreams every few nights. The summer days rolled into early August without anyone caring, Y/N spending most of them at Cheryl's side listening intently to her past adventures with her brother. Betty threw herself into an internship at a publication house; Flick and Cherry had volunteered at a summer camp, and Archie was helping his dad out more and more with constructions job.

Although it hadn't been the start to the relationship Y/N had hoped for- the nervous giggles and hand holding, short and sweet kisses on late night walks followed by poetry worthy cuddling. There was a magnificent silver lining as Archie's muscles gained definition, and he suited the sweaty builder look far too well.

[INSTAGRAM]

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y/n Humph!

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Cheryl busy being my own icon

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"Earth to my gorgeous queen? Y/N/N?" Cheryl quizzed her friend, who currently resided at the poolside of Thornehill Manor. Her mind was off on a glorious tangent about her rendezvous in the kitchen at two in the morning. Fixing herself a glass of water, when Archie slips his hand into her pyjama shorts, his other around her mouth muffling her needy moans.

The red headed beauty shoved her y/h/c friend playfully, warm skin sweaty under her pale touch. Y/N blinked innocently and sent her an apologetic smile, "What?"

"I asked if you've thought about dating anyone else since Clayton?" The fiery ginger girl enquired with her usual upbeat tone.

Cheryl knew she had a unique quality about her which made it almost impossible for Y/N to lie to her face. The y/h/c girl scrunched up her nose, hiding the smile the idea of Archie Andrews brought to her face. 'Yes. We started off as fuck buddies but never actually fucked. Then I drunkenly asked him to be my boyfriend, now a month later I think we may genuinely work out.'

"Maybe." Y/N bit her bottom lip, listening to her friend's squeal as she squeezed her sun tanned arm.

"I knew it! You have this euphoric glow you only get when someone else makes you climax." The redhead affirmed confidently, watching the Robins girl's eyes bug out before hitting her arm, "Y/N/N, you know your secret's safe with me."

"Fine." She sighed and took a sip of her fruity cocktail, "It started off as just fooling around, honestly I just needed to let off some steam after everything. I knew he was into the kinds of things I was, I mean he used to tease me about it non stop. And it was good, so good I stopped being a pussy and asked him to be my boyfriend."

"Holy freaking hell!" The Blossom girl grinned with excitement, "Dare I ask, who is it?"

Y/N deadpanned at her friend, "Guess."

"Please don't tell me it's that muscular oaf Reggie, he's pretty but there's not exactly much going on upstairs." Cheryl tapped her temples and rolled her eyes at the thought.

"Nope."

The ginger thought for a moment, consulting her liquid courage and splashing her feet around the waters edge, "It's Archie."

All it took was a side-eyed glance at the y/h/c girl's blooming rosy cheeks to know she definitely wasn't wrong. Y/N severely lacked the ability to lie, even if her tone held conviction, her features were far too expressive and told the truth all on their own. It's not like they were hiding it from anyone, but the past four weeks had gone far too quickly without any moments to spare for the world around them. They slept together each night, the majority of that time not actually spent sleeping, but they hadn't been given the chance yet to explore more romantic avenues.

"It's fucking Archie Andrews- you're fucking Archie Andrews and don't you dare deny it." Cheryl gawked in her gorgeous white and nude bikini, watching as her friend lay back against the hot marble slabs which encased the large pool with the largest grin adorning her plump lips.

"We haven't had sex yet, so technically you aren't completely correct." Y/N winked but carried on before the girl exploded with a hundred questions and could never be turned off, "Trust me, I want to, and I'm sure he does too. But you know, it's his first time, I want it to be perfect for him."

"Y/N/N, you really love him, don't you?" Cheryl gagged to begin with, but she found it sweet in truth. She wanted someone to hold, who would hold her right back just as tight for no other reason than needing to.

Y/N sat back up and paddled her feet, "You have no idea, Cher."

Arch 🧡

That new post should be illegal

Tiger 💛

Ooo

I like this reaction

Maybe I should post more

Like this one

Cheryl pushed me in the pool

And I may have had a drink

Or three

Arch 🧡

Well that's sexy

I swear nobody looks good like that how on earth

You're a goddess

But also

How's she holding up?

Tiger 💛

🥺😇

Broken

But she's strong yk

You coming over for dinner?

Arch 🧡

Yeah Y/D invited my dad too

Need me to pick you up from Cheryl's?

Tiger 💛

Awe cute we love a bromance, and it's all good my mommas coming now anyways :))

Hours had elapsed far too fast and soon the summer heat simmered into cool waves of wind brushing over sun kissed skin. Cheryl's arms were clasped around the blonde's shoulders in a tight embrace.

"Thank you so much, Y/N/N, I don't know what I'd do without you!" The Blossom girl professed with sparkling eyes and a brilliant smile.

Y/N beamed up at her, fingers carding through her damp y/h/c hair as she looked over her shoulder to see her mum pulling into the driveway, "You don't need to thank me, Cher, friends look after each other. Message me if you need me, okay?"

Cheryl promised she would and the two teen girls hugged goodbye, with Y/N soon heading home- listening to her mother gossip about Hal and Alice's screaming match last night, Y/N loved her inability to keep her mouth shut sometimes.

"Mom," The y/h/c stopped her mid sentence and received a side eyed glance in response, "I need to tell you something and you're totally not allowed to freak out while you're driving."

Y/M's eyes widened and her grip tightened around the steering wheel, her daughters very rarely confided in her. While she knew her youngest was safe in her promiscuity, neither of Y/M Robins' girls ever shared their secrets so for the most part she took finding out into her own hands.

"Honey," The forty four year old's calm tone was hardly comforting to the teenager, "if this is about you and Archie fooling around, your father and I figured that out a long time ago, like so long ago. Who do you think does your laundry? When your underwear starting looking like dental floss, we caught on pretty quickly."

Y/N felt like a deer in headlights, "Mum, what the hell?" Her cheeks heated to an inhuman temperature.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, as long as you're being safe and he's-"

"For the second time today, and I can't believe I'm saying this to you, but I am not having sex with Archie Andrews!" Y/N's high pitched voice sounded through the car. It truly was a blessing and a curse to have such open minded parents in situations like this. She thought about telling her mother the truth, but Y/M was a blabber mouth as well as a gossip, so Y/N chose to withhold certain pieces of information.

The Robins matriarch dropped the subject but didn't forget about her daughter's tone, and continued to ramble on about how odd she found Penelope Blossom and the whole Blossom family in general. "Like why on Earth is Rose in a wooden wheelchair? They know it's the twenty first century, right?"

As expected, the Robins household was once again filled with warm laughter and copious amounts of food. The topic of Jason was skimmed over, and Y/S found herself away from the dinner table. The eldest Robins sibling was currently pleading with Alice as she began shoving all of Polly's belongings in the boot of Hal's car. She couldn't comprehend life without her best friend, not after losing Jason. They were meant to be going travelling together for a year- working the worst jobs and staying up all night to watch the sun rise in different countries. But instead, Y/S's eyes were blinded by tears as she screamed down the street at the speeding car, with Polly Cooper taken out of her life indefinitely.

Y/N was oblivious to the dark inner workings of the Cooper clan, Betty's knowledge about her and Archie unbeknownst to the loved up teens. She'd spent every second not occupied by her internship trying to justify the romantic act as a fleeting moment of loneliness fuelled by alcohol. She wrote in her diary ideas on how she could win Archie back over, not knowing it was in fact, too late. Betty found herself hopelessly in love with the boy next door, unfortunately for her, the girl across the road was the only one his mind found.

Archie and Y/N washed up while their parents resided to the living room with three glasses and a bottle of white wine. The short girl turned the tap off after placing the last utensil on the draining board, flicking her sudsy hands at the boy's face. "What the-"

She didn't give him a chance to finish that thought, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his torso- planting a kiss onto his lips, then cheeks, then forehead. The two fell entranced by each other, planting pecks across nape of her neck and top of his head.

"Son," Fred's voice called out from the next room and the two immediately pulled apart, hearts beating in their ears, "we're going in a minute."

"Alright." He replied, placing his girlfriend on the floor once more.

"I wish you'd stay." Y/N pouted childishly, she meant the words entirely but hated feeling overbearing. Her life had been turned upside down this summer, it started off with her unable to fall asleep with another person next to her- now Archie's chest was her most comfortable pillow and is arms were the warmest blanket.

"Tomorrow night instead, Princess? I promised my dad I'd spend more time with him before senior year." The boy reasoned, holding her close and unknowingly feeling the exact same way, he adored holding her by her waist and pulling her close under the duvet.

"Monopoly night at yours?" She grinned and he nodded back in reply, the two sharing a final kiss in the kitchen before walking into the hallway.

Y/N felt at ease as she wished the two a goodnight and headed up to bed. She took off her tea dress and replaced it with Archie's bulldog t-shirt, managing to reach the same length on her thighs as her dress did.

Arch 🧡

I can still smell your perfume on my sheets

Tiger 💛

Marking my territory obviously x

Arch 🧡

I love it

Hope you sleep well baby x

Tiger 💛

Call me that tomorrow and we won't be sleeping so you better rest up tonight x

Arch 🧡

Whatever you say, baby x

Tiger 💛

Goodnight x

Arch 🧡

Night princess x

part eight?

wanna be tagged? just send in an ask x

#fanfic #fanfiction #riverdale #archie andrews #archie x reader #archie andrews x reader #archie #Riverdale imagine #riverdale fluff #riverdale smut #riverdale imagines #archie imagine #fluff #smut

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yurimother · 3 years

Text

LGBTQ Manga Review — Whisper Me A Love Song Vol 1-3

A Joyous Exploration of Love that Strikes a Chord

It is by no means a stretch to call Eku Takeshima's Whisper Me a Love Song one of the most popular Yuri manga series of the moment. Last Summer, the manga won second place in Yuri Navi's Fourth Yuri Manga Sousenkyo behind only the ever-popular Bloom Into You. Indeed many draw connections and comparisons between the work and Nakatani's near-worshiped bestseller, and for good reason, as the high school romances explore similar themes of discovery and question what love is. I have been saving this series for some time, and with Kodansha's recent release of volume three, it seemed the perfect time to dive deep into a review and reading of not one, not two, but three volumes of the beloved series.

Whisper Me a Love Song follows energetic first-year high school student Himari. On her first day at school, she sees a performance by the school's band and is instantly captivated by the music and the band's fill-in lead singer, Yori. When Himari confesses her "love" to Yori, she is surprised when the senpai returns her feelings. However, the two have different ideas of love and struggle to reconcile with their feelings of affection and admiration for each other.

A central theme for the first three volumes of Whisper Me a Love Song is exploring what love means. While Yori feels a romantic attraction towards Himari and wants to start dating her, Himari's love is not amorous. She loves Yori's music, loves spending time with her senpai, and loves the idea of seeing her perform with the band again, all of which are valid forms of affection, but she does not know how to return Yori's feelings. The first three volumes see the two characters explore the meaning of love and relationships. It feels very appropriate and fitting in terms of a theme for the school-aged characters, like something a real youth may experience. Figuring out what love means to you is something many adolescents, particularly queer ones, will undoubtedly experience.

Takeshima tackles the subject matter of Whisper Me a Love Song's exploration of love deftly. For one, there is a complex myriad of emotions for both characters to feel and express. For example, Himari feels appropriately confused and conflicted during much of the series. She wants to spend time with Yori and enjoys her company, but also wracked with guilt over not returning Yori's affection, especially once Yori's bandmate Aki confesses that she is in love with Yori requests Himari stand aside to let Yori off the hook. The best part of Himari's journey is unquestionably when she seeks advice, whether from family or another older student, Momoka Satomiya. One particular conversation with her mother resonates well. As she explains to the child, love is something you can grow into, and you may date someone without being completely enamored by them. It may feel like an obvious lesson, but one we rarely hear or see expressed in romance narratives.

ori's journey is a bit less complex and compelling than Himari's. While in the first volume, she struggles to give voice to her feelings and drives much of the story, in the later story, she is mainly reactionary to Himari. For example, when Himari begins spending time with Momoka, she feels jealous and worried. While her character lacks some agency in the second and third books, her stories are still compelling and her growth noticeable. Himari's love of seeing her perform with the band causes her to confront her stage fright and join them full time. Her steadfast conviction that she can write an enchanting love song to get Himari to fall for her is likewise adorable and has the perfect amount of youthful, fanciful optimism.

However, the best part of Whisper Me a Love Song is the sheer joy Himari and Yori get from spending time together. The bubbly younger girl is constantly bouncing off the walls and eager to see Yori and get to listen to her music, and for Yori's part, her passion and excitement, whenever she sees Himari, is evident. It is a lovely change from the typical aloof and damaged star pupil we expect from the senpai in a Yuri series. Chapters featuring the girls going out shopping together or picking outfits became standouts for me, not for their Sapphic content but merely the contagious happiness and pleasure both girls show. Other notable elements of the series include its supporting cast, who are thrilled by Yori and Himari's struggle and enthusiastically encourage both girls with a furious lesbian ride-or-dieism one usually expects to find only in liberal arts colleges.

While the series has many strengths, it does stumble on multiple occasions and has a few points against it. For one, it misses a huge opportunity to explore LGBTQ+ identity. This feature would have been the perfect accompaniment to Himari's journey to understand love and its different forms. While outright discussion of same-sex romance is unusual for Yuri, its absence here is somewhat more prominent because of its subject matter.

Furthermore, Whisper Me a Love Song has some struggles with pacing. Despite being relatively long for a Yuri manga, it moves quickly from one issue to the next while not always taking time to explore them fully. For example, the first two volumes effectively build and foreshadow the revelation that another girl loves Yori. Only for the plot to just as quickly come the next book, with Aki, the girl who once asked Himari to let her have Yori, suddenly changing her character and encouraging their relationship to develop. The one advantage of this quick pace is that it allows for the series to have turmoil and emotion without becoming too steeped in melodrama.

Sadly, the series' faults are highlighted a bit more due to its unfortunate similarity to Bloom Into You. Comparing the two Yuri series is understandable, as they deal with the analogous subject matter, and Takeshima's series began hitting its stride shortly after Bloom Into You was winding down. However, the latter has the advantage of being much more fleshed out, with eight volumes, a (phenomenal) light novel spin-off, two anthologies, and an anime series. While both series appear to survey many familiar Yuri tropes, Bloom Into You, for the most part, manipulated these in subversive and exciting ways, especially when it came to Sayaka. Whisper Me a Love Song does not have any such achievements, although there is still time for the continuing series. I will say, though, Himari's journey of exploring love and seeking advice from different sources about what it can mean is both more exciting and realistic than Yuu's "come to lesbian Jesus" moment at the end of her series.

Whisper Me a Love Song is a delightful school romance series. Takeshima brilliantly chose to put two characters feeling different forms of affection and admiration together, and the result is a passionate and fast-paced exploration of what love means. The main characters, Himari and Yori, are so delightfully passionate and excited by each other that it is hard not to get swept up in their emotions and pure gleefulness. The series has some issues with pacing and being a little too predictable and safe. However, the compelling central relationship will entice most readers. Hopefully, once it has a bit more time to do its own thing and delve a bit deeper, this uncut gem of a series will shine like a polished jewel. I can unequivocally say that I am now a dedicated fan and am very excited for volume 4, especially given the end of the third book. But if you want to find out more about that, you will have to pick up this series for yourself.

Special thanks to translator Kevin Steinbach, letterer Jennifer Skarupa, editors Tiff Joshua and TJ Ferentini, and the rest of the team at Kodansha Comics for their excellent work on Whisper Me a Love Song.

Ratings: Story – 8 Characters – 8 Art – 7 LGBTQ – 4 Sexual Content – 1 Final – 8

Check out Whisper Me a Love Song Volumes 1-3 in English digitally and in paperback: https://amzn.to/3idOaAy

#Yuri #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#queer #gay #reviews #whisper me a love song #manga #anime #gl #girls love #wlw

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the-badger-mole · 3 years

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Can you write a short story with a jealous Zuko?

PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE

Zuko was used to being overshadowed. By Azula; by Lu Ten; by Avatar Aang. It still often annoyed him to know that the most he could aim for was second best to someone else, no matter where he was. But he never minded when it came to Katara. Give her enough time, Zuko often told himself, and she could bring the entire world to its knees. She'd saved his life in more ways than he could count. She had saved them all, and there would never be enough people singing her praises as far as Zuko was concerned. She stood out no matter where she was. Even in spaces where the Fire Lord should have been the center of attention, Zuko knew he didn't stand a chance when Master Katara entered the room.

It should have annoyed him, Zuko thought, but it didn't. She was sunshine, for all she was a child of Water, and she drew everyone towards her like plants reaching up for Agni's rays. When she laughed, it filled the room- a bit too loud to be polite, but too infectious to really be upset over. She talked with high-ranking nobles with passion, leaving them stunned at her knowledge and convictions- this woman who was barely not a child anymore. She had earned the grudging respect of Zuko's council, which even he hadn't succeeded in doing. He should be jealous, but he watched Katara make her way around the room with pride. Maybe he wasn't as eloquent or magnetic as Katara, but he was her friend. He knew her in a way few- if any- in that room would ever know her.

Someone- Iroh, Zuko guessed- had signaled for the band to start playing. Business was done for the day. Soon the crowd had reshuffled itself, and couples began making their way to the dance floor while everyone else made their way to the buffet tables lining one end of the hall. Katara met Zuko's eyes across the room, and with a warm smile, made her way over to him. She seemed to glow supernaturally. Zuko cast a surreptitious glance to see if some prankster had aimed a spotlight on her. Was it just Zuko? How was no one else being blinded by the way the light reflected off her smile? Her hair? Her skin? Zuko swallowed hard, trying to unstick his tongue from the roof of his suddenly dry mouth.

Katara's smile widened and she opened her mouth to greet him.

"Excuse...um...p-pardon me." Katara turned in surprise to the young man who had approached her. Zuko recognized him vaguely, and he scrambled to place a name. Katara spared him the ordeal of guessing.

"Lord Jee-Soo," she smiled politely at King Kuei's cousin, though Zuko could see an odd tightness in the corners of Katara's eyes. Jee Soo, however, did not notice. His face was tinged pink and he leaned forward in a stiff, formal bow.

"I-I hope I'm not disturbing you," he said. "I was hoping that...that maybe you...er, that is...would you grant me the honor of a dance."

Zuko froze. A shock went down his spine as if someone had walked across a carpet and touched his skin. Katara gaped at him in surprise. Her cheeks flushed a pretty dusky red. Jee Soo smiled at her, nervous and hopeful. She cast a glance at Zuko, trying to communicate... something.

"Oh!" Katara gasped. "Well... I was just going to..." She cast another look at Zuko before she shrugged and smiled at Jee Soo. "Um... sure, I'd love to."

Zuko watched silently as Jee Soo wrapped a clammy-looking hand around Katara's and led her out to the dance floor. His hand squeezed his punch cup dangerously tight as Jee Soo slid his arm around Katara's waist and pulled her as close as propriety would allow. His breath caught in his throat as the young Earth Kingdom noble said something that caused Katara's nose to crinkle in amusement.

"Take care, Fire Lord Zuko," Iroh sidled up to his nephew, with an affable smile and a knowing gleam in his eye. "Someone might think there's trouble between the Fire Nation and Ba Sing Se the way you're glaring at young Lord Jee Soo."

"I'm not glaring!" Zuko insisted hotly. Still, he turned his scowl on his uncle instead.

"She would have danced with you if you'd asked," Iroh told him. "I'm sure she still would."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Zuko grumbled.

"Oh no?" Iroh tried unsuccessfully to hide his amusement. "My mistake. It's been a long time since I was young and in love. Perhaps I don't remember the signs as well as I thought."

"Perhaps not!" Zuko knew he was being peevish, but his uncle was overstepping. Zuko had admitted to having a small crush on Katara years ago, and Iroh had never forgotten, even though Zuko had gotten over her a long time ago. She was dating one of his best friends at the time.

But not anymore.

The traitorous, smug voice in his head sounded annoyingly like his uncle. It was true that Katara had broken up with Aang, but it made no difference. Even if he wasn't over Katara- and he was over her- she and Aang hadn't split on the best of terms. It wouldn't be fair to either of his friends for Zuko to insert himself in the middle of that.

On the dance floor, Jee Soo seemed to have gained some confidence. He twirled and spun Katara with expert ease. If Katara had been hesitant to dance with him before, she seemed happy enough now. Her eyes were bright and her face pink with the exertion of the dance. She was having a good time, and Jee Soo gazed at her as if half in love already.

Zuko could dance. He could dance at least as well as Jee Soo. Others may outshine him in literally every other part of his life, but Zuko's mastery of dance was part of what made the Blue Spirit so deadly. Maybe he could challenge Jee Soo to a friendly competition. Katara could be the judge. Maybe the first prize could be a kiss...

Zuko shook his head. Dangerous territory. She was just coming out of a serious relationship. With one of his best friends. True they had broken up almost a year ago. Also true that Aang hadn't been in close contact with any of them since the breakup. And there was speculation that things had ended because Aang had cheated. But Zuko didn't know that for sure. No one knew for sure except Katara and Aang. Suki probably had more of the story, which Toph probably bullied out of her. And Sokka at least suspected if his coldness towards Aang at the last summit was any indication.

Dangerous territory. Friends don't go after a friend's exes. Even if you happened to have had a thing for said ex before your friend started dating them. Even if that ex was also your best friend.

Jee Soo dipped Katara, causing her to let out a nervous, but giddy laugh. Her hands clutched at Jee Soo tightly, to keep herself steady, but as a result, they were much closer than they started at the beginning of the dance. Jee Soo's face lit up with a grin as he did it again. And again. And again.

Didn't this guy know any other moves? Katara was going to catch on to him, and she would be annoyed. Wouldn't she? Zuko knew she'd been out with a couple of other guys since the breakup. Nothing serious, though, Suki had informed him. No one who lasted more than a month. Still, Zuko wasn't sure what her type was anymore. Jee Soo reminded Zuko a bit of Aang, but just because Katara had dated Aang for three years doesn't mean he was her type. Maybe she was into quieter guys who got way too deep in their own heads and overthought hypothetical situations until they lost entire nights of sleep worrying about problems that didn't actually exist. Yeah...for sure that's what Katara would find attractive.

How long was this song, Zuko wondered. Jee Soo was dipping Katara again, though she seemed to be getting tired of it. Her smile was that polite, tight smile that she'd given him earlier when she wasn't sure she wanted him to interrupt her. Zuko saw her say something to him, probably asking him to keep her upright for a while. Jee Soo laughed and shook his head and said something teasing as he pulled her closer. Katara's smile fell away completely, and Zuko saw she was getting mad. He was halfway across the dance floor before he'd even realized he was going to go over. He was ready to yank Jee Soo away, and if necessary, deck the creep for not respecting Katara's reasonable wish. But before he got to them, Jee Soo had stepped away with a deep, embarrassed blush on his face.

"I'm so sorry," Jee Soo was saying as Zuko got closer. "Honestly, I was just trying to...well, I didn't mean to upset you or offend you."

"It's alright, Jee Soo," Katara said patiently. Her smile was back in place. The song ended, finally, and another one started up.

"Would you...like to dance again?" Jee Soo asked.

"I'm a bit tired," Katara begged off. "But I'll bet Kimiko would love you to ask her. Don't say I told you, but she's been checking you out." That didn't seem to soothe Jee Soo's disappointment, but he accepted the rejection graciously enough.

"Seems like you had fun," Zuko said. Katara sighed tiredly and slipped her arm through his.

"I thought the song would never end!" she groaned. "It was like dancing with Aang. Fun for the first minute, but he was doing way too much. All the dipping gave me vertigo." Zuko heard that with interest.

"I didn't realize you weren't having fun," he tried to keep his voice even as he led them away from the dance floor over to the punch table. "I would have come rescue you if I'd realized. We should come up with some sort of sign when you want me to cut in."

"You never dance at these things," Katara pointed out.

"I'd make an exception for you." Zuko blushed and scrambled to cover. "I mean, I'd do it if it saved you from some over-eager guy who can't take a hint."

"My hero." Katara scrunched her nose up at Zuko and leaned against him. It was adorable! Zuko had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from grinning.

"Actually..." Katara said slowly. "I was coming over to ask you to dance before Jee Soo interrupted."

"Really?" Zuko's voice hit an octave it hadn't hit since he was fourteen and his voice was still dropping. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the fact that Katara was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Yeah," she nodded her head. "I know you don't really like dancing, but maybe you can preemptively cut in for me? Someone told me that Lord Hino's son wanted to ask me for a dance." Zuko grimaced. Lord Hino was one of his most trusted advisors, but his son was a famous klutz with two left feet. No woman left the dance floor without bruised feet when she danced with him.

"You told Jee Soo you were tired," Zuko reminded her. Why, he yelled internally, would he say that? Fortunately, Katara just shrugged and looked up at him coyly from the corner of her eye.

"I'd make an exception for you," she said quietly. Zuko froze midstep. Katara looked up at him in alarm. There was a spectacular blush rising from her neck towards her hairline, and a panicked retraction already on her lips. Zuko turned to her and took her hand. Then in a move that would have pleased every last one of his etiquette tutors and his uncle, if he was watching, Zuko bowed elegantly and brushed a feathery light kiss on Katara's fingertips. He lifted his gaze with an impish grin.

"I would be honored," he said, "to have this dance." Katara nodded speechlessly and allowed Zuko to lead her out to the dance floor again.

Zuko was used to being overshadowed. He wasn't the most powerful bender, or the most charismatic leader. He wasn't the most handsome man or the most eloquent. But there on the dancefloor, with the most beautiful woman in at the ball in his arms, he knew that no one could match him for dancing. Katara seemed to agree because she accepted his request for another dance. And another. And another...

#zutara #atla #zuko is a lil' jelly #katara is a queen #zuko is sprung #ask the badger mole #thanks for the prompt nonny

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unlikely-course · 2 years

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I’m so far gone I’ve done a rewatch already in the past couple of days and these are just my little notes on things I loved especially or noticed for the first time:

1x04 is still just so good. This time I especially loved their convo when they were waiting for the kid to come out of the Top Dog, and then when they saw him and his girlfriend Allison was like “ah yes, a real professional relationship” and Patty goes “oh, so you’re funny all the time now?” And her watery, plaintive “Allison?” when they get pulled over. Also this is from ep 2 but I love that the sandwich board sign outside of Patty’s salon just says “it’s not gonna cut itself.”

Soo much stuff in 1x05, starting with like there’s something weirdly sweet about Patty’s conviction throughout that Allison can’t do it, even though that is like the normal thing you would think about most people you know. “You’re just havin’ a time” made me smile! I do miss the east coast sometimes. And after her calling Allison wallpaper: “ugh, are you mad at me now?” “Yes. No…” Why is this so cute to me? But most importantly after Allison asks if Patty wants to do something stupid with her, and Patty blows her off, and after she walks away, I totally forgot that Allison kicks that pot down the stairs. Like babe do you want to examine that reaction at all? Not to mention, I hadn’t thought of it this way before, but Allison asking her out is like almost directly followed by Tammy asking her out in the next scene. Patty and Allison in the quitting scene are of course golden but special shout-out to “watching you work is making me thirsty.” And in the scene with Patty and Nick outside her house, I just noticed you can see the remains of the Kevin Hart banner still hanging off the side of Allison’s house, four years later.

I love the confrontation in the kitchen—first off because Allison is so happy that Patty came to see her, and secondly because Patty did not have to offer the oxy back to her. She could have just given them to Nick and told Allison it was for her own good. But she didn’t. She gave them back and asked Allison to choose her. And Allison did!!!! What the fuck!!!!

The porch convo where she gives the pills back to Patty is so good too. Patty says “thanks, though” so softly. Allison asks “you think I can pull off big and violent?” the same way you might say “you think I’m sexy?” because she’s a little freak.

From 1x06 while they’re in the massage chairs, Patty: “It feels like hands are reaching through the chair to squeeze my neck!” Allison: “I think I like it.” Voted most suggestive foreshadowing 2022.

1x07 Patty drilling Allison on answering police questions just reminded me how I love when Patty snaps at her, but more importantly it lets us know that Allison has told Patty about her scone and a book fantasy. “Can’t you just let it be hard?” Is such a good scene and Patty immediately wants to talk to Allison after. And the tub scene is still so sick and twistedddd how did they even find that version of the song with the perfect longing little croon at the front? Also, Patty then goes to Tammy’s house, but the next morning they’re at Patty’s house looking like they slept there, so why didn’t they stay at Tammy’s? I guess I’m glad they didn’t though, because that morning scene is one of those times I like when Patty actually seems like Neil’s little sister, which has something both a little sweet and a lot sad to it.

1x08 I would have liked to see the scene of Patty rushing over after the gunshot, actually. I loved Patty’s “you make plans and god laughs…and then he kicks you right in the balls.” But I love even more “everything happens for a reason”/“okay, you would hit me if I said something like that.” And “what have we said about swearing” there’s that “we” Patricia!!! “Oh, honey, you are not a broad” is one of my favorite lines, sleeper hit. Allison sitting on the arm of the chair that Patty’s in is a classic. And The Argument is still beat for beat perfect in case anyone was wondering. God, that fierce little face Allison makes after she says “without you…” when she drops her eyes. The soft way Patty says “what?” when she steps forward, not hopefully but in that taut, carefully blank way that comes from desperately trying not to hope. Chef’s kiss!!! Also I love that after storming off Allison immediately starts to angrily clean.

2x01 is suchhh a bonkers and stressful episode so we must take our gifts where we can, like the Lisa Fazzolari story (which is GREAT information, thanks Neil) and “you had your hands on her.” Also, the moment after they watch the ad and Kevin and Pete leave, when Allison starts to giggle but then it kind of changes and she just ends up full-body trembling, great moment. And we finally see The Seas, which (I was checking) is neither the bar Kevin frequents (I think that’s called Kelly’s?) nor the bar that Allison and Patty met at. I like how the drunk driving is like a compact little representation of where Allison is and has been operating from: killing herself in the least efficient and most irresponsible way possible.

2x02 I first must say that Patty faceplanting on her bed and then the little pout she does when she realizes she has to get up are the cutest things on earth. And “guests are blessed and deserve your best” gets me again because like you KNOW Allison had to have said that like fifteen goddamn years ago the first time Neil and Patty came over after she moved in (to…an apartment? Pete’s house? Oh my god, did Kevin pressure her to move in so he could afford moving out of his parents’ house?)

And you know Allison said that with one of her dumb hopeful little smiles, and I like to imagine Patty just like short-circuited in the face of all…that and said like “well if the beer is this warm at your best I’d hate to be here on an off day” or something equally awful but still about warm beer so that Allison also gets to remember something dumb she said for fifteen whole years.

Patty looks so adorable in the scene outside with Neil, I think partly because he’s so much bigger than her. And the bit at the end Sam and Allison’s scene, about his uncle being dead, when Allison goes “GREAT!!! I mean NO I’m so sorry!” I love it. The scene with Allison and Kelly—I mean obviously A Lot is happening here but mostly I think it’s so funny that Kelly is so like distracted by seeing her that it takes her a minute to ask why Allison is in this random backyard in the dark. And then after talking to this girl she definitely used to make out with at parties who reminds her of lots of things she’d rather not think about, and having a lot of complex emotions, and watching her smoke, Allison goes over to Patty and immediately tries her cigarette. That’s like A Lot. And I do like the funeral scene. It’s one moment in a very complex situation, but it’s a good moment! And Patty saying “sorry for your loss” to Bram’s sisters on the way out in some way sort of echoes Allison about Sam’s uncle and that’s very funny to me. And just shit! The last scene is great!! Fuck!!!! Patty’s like there is no “we,” I’m done, and then a minute later she’s all “we’re a lot of work” ok trish!!!

2x03, the prince of episodes! Starting with Patty and her night guard, waaahhh. I also want to talk about how much like background storytelling is dropped in on this show. Like first season with Chuck being addicted to the oxy (not wanting Diane to manage his pills —> “did I tell you about how Chuck’s falling asleep at stoplights?”) and then his whole violent stalking thing after Diane left, in this episode specifically where they keep referring to like a serial killer of women??? I think purely for the Halloween of it. But mostly where it interests me is these references to Patty’s childhood and her mother. God I hope we get some concrete stuff about that. Maybe even a flashback! I do also like that this episode, which is so important to Patty and Allison’s relationship, is taking place sort of in a horror movie. Because they both like them. My heart. I feel like I don’t have any other notes for this episode because like nearly every minute of it is noteworthy. I will say, however, that the bar where Allison meets Patty (and Kevin et al) is called The Periwinkle. AND can I just say, that last flashback scene outside the bar? The music IS straight from 2005, right out of like a teen drama where two characters like each other. Undeniable! And when the scene gets blurry Patty actually turns and watches Allison walk down the street. You ever wonder how that night would’ve turned out if, idk, the Lisa situation had led to 18-year-old Patty actually knowing she was gay? Probably not very different actually but still.

2x04! Listen I love that when Patty says “we’re not gonna…?!” she’s almost laughing, like she doesn’t believe Allison would do it even if she intended to. Also there’s that “we” again trish. Aaaand I’m stopping in the middle of this because it’s midnight so it’s time for 2x05 and I’ve just seen this ep.

#kcfh #kcfh spoilers #kevin can f**k himself

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catty-words · 4 years

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on the school dance fallout or, a thorough examination of the boys’ apologies to julie

full disclosure, i used to take serious issue with 1.06 for what it did to julie’s righteous anger in light of the boys letting her down, and my gripes haven’t fully gone away. but i have spent some time thinking on the fallout since my first (several) viewing(s) of the show and i finally noticed some emotionally nuanced storytelling that i needed time to come to appreciate. so, if you’ll indulge me another gif-filled meta post...

everyone knows that a good apology demonstrates an understanding of how you wronged the person you’re apologizing to, otherwise the words i’m sorry end up being fairly empty. and luckily for the boys, julie does a good job of immediately and effectively communicating her hurt feelings:

the first part is directed at luke specifically as her main co-writer, while the rest is about how all three of them let her down. it couldn’t be more clear that the reason she’s so betrayed is that a) they’ve made her feel like julie and the phantoms is less important to them than sunset curve and b) they’ve failed to consider her point of view or empathize with how important the show was to her.

which is why singing sorry a bunch of times, though charming, leaves her unmoved. and it’s why booking another gig actually makes her angrier. a gig the boys have deemed important enough to show up for is not a present or an olive branch to her, it’s a slap in the face. and if the boys had actually been paying attention to what she’d said the night of the dance, they could have anticipated her reaction.

but they clearly haven’t listened, so they haven’t learned how to do better or make things right. which is why this is such an important beat in the scene in the studio:

hounding julie to rejoin the band, even with such nice sentiments as “you’re the best thing that’s happened to us since we became ghosts”, does nothing to address how undervalued julie feels getting stood up because, as she points out above, their ability to do what they love is very limited without her. that makes her a powerful and essential member of the band, but it doesn’t prove that they care about her, julie, the person. and you can see in the reaction shot how the truth of her words lands for all of them.

their remorseful silence gives julie the opportunity to reiterate one of the points she made the night before, and it’s important to note which part of her hurt feelings she chooses to revisit.

the fact that they made the choice to pay more attention to their old music in spite of the music they were creating together is the thing that hurt her feelings the most. and, of course, her open hostility and her imagined reasons for why the boys picked sunset curve over julie and the phantoms (i.e. selfishness) puts luke on the defensive and ends with everyone leaving the scene dissatisfied.

great! okay, so here’s the part that’s bugged in the past (and the present, just. a little less so.) — in their attempt to deescalate the situation, alex and reggie give julie, and the audience, the all-important luke backstory. but like asking julie to rejoin the band with a shinier gig than a school dance flies in the face of actually making amends, so, too, does asking julie to empathize with luke’s emotional journey when the boys failed to take julie’s into account when they hurt her. only this time, it works as an olive branch.

now, i’m not saying that julie’s acting out of character in being sympathetic to luke’s pain, quite the opposite is the case. and i’m also not saying it’s bad that she does find sympathy for his situation — again, i’d argue that the opposite is true. it’s just, at the same time, it’s not a good look to force aside the young woman of color’s hurt in service of the white dude who hurt her feelings in the first place’s tragic backstory. the narrative is asking julie not to be mad at the choices luke made in the past two episodes because he’s really sad, actually.

and sure that’s an ungracious read of the moment, but i stand by the fact that it’s present in the text of the episode all the same, even with a little more nuance than i’m currently giving it credit for.

all that being said, alex and reggie do a bit to win back this highly insensitive maneuver with another stab at an apology.

alex addresses julie’s comment about them knowing “how tough it’s been for her to play” by reiterating that not showing up let her down and they get that that’s a crappy way to feel, while reggie takes a crack at julie’s “our songs were good” by emphasizing that they all love being in a band and making music with her. it’s a slight step up from their sorry in the garage, but not a complete fix because they’re all still sitting with the fact that they need julie to make the most of their music and how that complicates their declarations of loyalty.

the thing that makes this attempt at reconciliation different than those prior, of course, is this line:

the acknowledgement that things haven’t been fixed + the politeness + the implication that they’re willing to put in the time to earn her trust back so long as she lets them makes the apology a good enough one to accept. well, that, and:

one gets the sense that if rose could actually speak to julie in that moment, she’d be reminding her the value of grace. and, of course, we know that this also serves as a reminder to julie that good things are fleeting, loss is around every corner, and holding close what you care about is important. so she does just that by letting go of her (righteous, righteous) anger and reuniting the band.

still, even though alex and reggie have had their chance to make amends, luke doesn’t get the same moment to show he’s actually paid attention to julie’s needs in 1.06. so, naturally, he starts immediately in their first scene together in 1.07.

i mentioned in my exhaustive list for “finally free” that julie picking a sunset curve song for their reunion number is a lovely, understated way for her acknowledge luke’s lost musical legacy, and i have similar feelings about the fact that luke suggests “edge of great” for their follow-up gig. it’s his first step in proving to her that he does care about the music they’ve written together with actions instead of empty apologies and misguided gestures.

by the end of the episode, though, the three of them take a step back (reggie gets points for his being, like, half a step) when they learn that, in addition to letting down julie, one of the consequences of their night chasing revenge is a ticking clock on their existence.

though i understand the urge to protect julie from the alarming news that their power is going out, there’s also a lot of selfishness behind the decision. julie loses them in the end no matter what, but lying to her about it and planning to leave without an explanation shows a disregard for her emotional journey in a similar way standing her up did. in fact, this plan is basically to stand her up for eternity. not cool, guys.

naturally, since it’s luke who’s the one proposing the terrible plan and it’s luke who never officially demonstrated his understanding of how he hurt julie’s feelings by not showing up when it mattered, it’s fitting that he’s suddenly more in tune with his own feelings. and, with that, comes a new awareness of how his and julie’s feelings interact, starting with this moment in 1.08.

you can see his conflict over her declaration. she’s worried without knowing just how much there is to be worried about, and that makes him sad because it’s confirmation of the fact that he’s important to her. that losing him will mean a lot of pain for her. but instead of cluing her in, he makes a conscious choice to continue withholding the information of his imminent departure. and maybe it’s such a weak deflection because he’s already starting to come to terms with how unfair he’s being to her, but even so, he’s not being a good friend when julie is showing up for him in big, unexpected ways he’d never even thought to ask for.

and again, here —

— just after they’ve acknowledged that there’s a something and not a nothing between them, you can see him sober with the thought that she doesn’t know they’re about to lose each other. but it’s still not enough to move him to share. maybe because he prefers that she live with the possibility of that something when he no longer can, maybe because he’s too caught up in his own feelings about how crappy this hand they’ve been dealt by the universe is. but in any case, he keeps tight-lipped.

UNTIL.

it’s seeing her excited about a future their music can’t have that finally pushes him into coming clean. and i love how subtly this demonstrates that he has been paying attention, actually, and he knows that what hurt julie the most was the feeling that their music took a backseat to his past. if he crosses over without telling her the whole, ugly truth about the mistake he made by standing her up, then he crosses over stuck in that mistake. because part of that whole, ugly truth is the beautiful realization that no music is worth making, julie, if we’re not making it with you. and he’s not quite at that particular aspect of his truth yet — he still has to experience the what if of caleb’s club to be able to make the declaration with the conviction he does — but when he finally does tell her that and means it, she’s given the catharsis she’s needed since the dance. because he’s backing up his apology with action (i.e. being willing to literally no longer exist instead of making music with someone else) and providing her with the same consideration she showed him when she rejoined the band because his loss felt more important than her anger. and reaching that level of give and take in their relationship, physically represented in their hug, finally sets them free.

so, yes. even though 1.06 is clunky and a little tasteless at times, i can acknowledge that the story manages to win any missteps back. quite poetically, honestly. all’s forgiven.

#julie and the phantoms #jatpedit #jatp meta #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #gifs by catty #long post #am i disappointed with myself for not being able to include any gifs from 1.09 because i reached the limit already #yes. absolutely.#should i have split this post into two parts to fit it all?#maybe so #will i do anything about it?#obviously not #FATED BANDMATES #melody & words #together my cats can queue anything

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