#loving someone whose tragic life mirrors yours

[functionalasfuck]

Love for Love’s Sake is really just out here giving us two people who have terrible self worth, who can’t understand how anyone could possibly love them, and making them fall in love with their mirror image. Therefore proving they are worth happiness and love.

[birgittesilverbae]

thinking about babea au and beatrice taking ava home to mary’s apartment the first time for a movie night. standing in the grocery store with mary live-texting the ensuing Gay Overplanning to shannon

(these, softer days. shannon still trying hard to reconnect, fighting the scar tissue on her back as she moves through her bō forms and bea soft-stepping into the secluded courtyard to make light, but expressionless suggestions. bea having read about therapeutic matial arts, learning to move around injuries, the half-charred bones in shannon’s back, the times she has to take her crutches back out of the closet. shannon crying privately in the bathroom mirror when she finds two old stickers from the star wars books she found for bea in a discount store years and years ago. a sticker of darth vader on one crutch and c3po on the other. bea’s queer thinking and the articles she has downloaded on disability in sci-fi, how she’ll get cross about it if you press)

(they’re learning to love each other again)

bea in the snack aisle doing the social equivalent of quantum mathematics trying to guess what snacks ava wants. nothing with apple. does she prefer savoury or sweet or bitter or-

mary sending bea off into the attached clothing section with a €10 note to get her new socks while mary pays for €50 worth of sugar, hoping bea will be too distracted to do the easy math & guess what it costs. she could use the ocs card but she doesn’t. wants to give this to bea. like she paid for the takeout on her first at-home visit with lilith. because this is her kid on a tragic technicality.

picking ava up in one of the ocs vans and bea kind of shivering with anticipation on the way, mary swatting her with the sleeve of her hoodie while they idle in traffic like ‘cheer up. we’re not in your stupid emily dickinson poem.’

bea obligingly saying, ‘because i could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me. the carriage held but just ourselves, and immortality.’

‘thanks, nerd.’

but it calms her, and she’s all smiles when they collect ava, an older ocs sister leaning in and tracing a cross onto bea’s forehead as she stands waiting with ava in the foyer. it’s not uncomfortable, just the blessing you give to someone much younger. for a nun it’s like saying ‘good luck.’

at home with the mound of snacks and ava laughing at it all, but summoning bea down to kiss her cheek. ‘thanks bea. for the thought.’

(ava who has so seldom been thought of in her life)

‘what are we watching?’

‘oh, whatever you want. i have most blockbusters from the last 38 years.’

‘oddly specific but okay.’

bea blushing like, ‘i was going year-by-year and then it was time for morning drills.’

they watch jurassic park because ava loves dinosaurs, and bea’s read her the novels, and of course bea’s like, ‘did you know that one day before the release of this film scientists actually published a paper about a weevil preserved in resin, whose remains offered up what researchers believed were the oldest strands of DNA ever recovered? amber can preserve intracellular structures.’

‘they really did visit laboratories when they designed some of these sets.’

‘it’s an interesting commentary on how our best human ventures can be corrupted by imagination. if we recreated dinasaurs they would look different. usually fossilisation destroys DNA though.’

‘the idea that they collected so much data on species from amber so quickly is quite outlandish.’

bea falling asleep towards the end of the movie because she’s been up since dawn. little bruise blooming on her chin from a hook kick demonstrated a little too enthusiastically by one of the trainees. mary coming in to see ava not watching the last few scenes, just watching bea in the low light, half-draped in a quilt, wearing her oversize green hoodie and pyjama bottoms.

and I'm like "No! That's the thing I'm SENSITIVE ABOUT!"

[sakebytheriver]

Michael from Stargate Atlantis is one of those tragic villains whom the source material doesn't really deserve to have

Like Stargate Atlantis was what it was, it wasn't a bad show, it wasn't a great show, but Michael? Lt. Michael Kenmore? The wraith that they "cured" and then created an entirely new life for? That show did not deserve him, I'm sorry, he was a character light years ahead of the writing ability of that staff that just got insanely lucky one day when some deity took mercy on them and granted them this god teir character concept and the way they framed his introduction episode as a horror movie from his perspective? Brilliant, I mean did they execute it very well, meh not really, I would do things a lot different tbh, but once again this was a writing team dealing with a concept so above their pay grade, like I could honestly come up with some kind of arthouse high concept tragic psychological thriller about this character. I mean you come from an alien race that evolved from the combination of a life sucking giant space bug and the human beings it fed on for centuries and now your species is a life sucking vampire human/bug hybrid whose main prey is the human beings who are actively trying to find a way to take the giant insect DNA out of you guys and you, a random foot soldier, just one of the one in a million drones become their first unwilling test subject, they justify it saying this is a cure, this is for your own good, this will help your species as much as theirs, the ends justify the means, even as they hunt you down and strap you to a table injecting you with serums and treatments and chemicals that could change you or kill you, they give you a name, Michael, a name that in their culture means "a gift from God", but even as they name you, even as they call you a gift they won't care if you die from their injections, you are the enemy and they are at war, the ends justify the means, if it wasn't you it would be someone else. And once they've "cured" you of your affliction of being a different species, they twist the knife even more and give you a human life to match your human name, they give you human parents, human friends, they try to assimilate you into their fold, to welcome you to the tribe even though every single last one of them is still afraid of you and you can tell, you can sense it, even though you know nothing, you know that everyone is on edge around you and you just can't understand why, because they say you are their Friend, they say they care about you, they love you, and at the same time you're living a life you can't remember with people you are told you know, people you are told you love, a family, a home, a history that is supposed to be all yours, but it doesn't feel like yours. Your life feels hollow, but yet, They tell you, You are Normal. You are Human. You are our Friend. You are one of Us.

And then, you find the videos. You see yourself, but not this clean cut normal man you've been accustomed to seeing in the mirror.

No.

You see the real you. The person you thought you were is nothing but a fabrication of what they thought would trick you and they didn't even try that hard, so now here you are, because of just how careless, just how much none of them could act like they had anything but contempt for you, there on the laptop you stole in the files that weren't even locked, the real you, staring straight back into your own normal human blue eyes are the yellow slitted eyes of who you used to be and all you can think is,

"I. Am. A. Monster."

The thing on that screen that this file says is supposed to be you, this thing that looks so very different from how you look now, this monster that has your name is what they told you was the enemy, this menace hunting your people is what was supposed to have taken your memory from you, this monster is supposed to be the very thing you want to fight, and yet as you look at the face that is nothing short of a nightmare it feels like Home.

I mean, wouldn't you search for the way to burn all the people who did this to you and their loved ones into ash?

[dulcewrites]

As someone who loves angst and pain, I listened to the poetry in Beyonces ‘Lemonade’ (the poetry written by award an Shire) and ofc thought about fmo reader bc it’s one of my favorite series going on right now.

“Apathy”

So what are you gonna say at my funeral, now that you've killed me? Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head. Here lies the mother of my children, both living and dead. Rest in peace, my true love, who I took for granted. Most bomb p*ssy who, because of me, sleep evaded. Her god listening. Her heaven will be a love without betrayal. Ashes to ashes, dust to side chicks.

“Denial”

“I tried to change. Closed my mouth more, tried to be softer, prettier, less awake. Fasted for 60 days, wore white, abstained from mirrors, abstained from sex, slowly did not speak another word. In that time, my hair, I grew past my ankles. I slept on a mat on the floor. I swallowed a sword. I levitated. Went to the basement, confessed my sins, and was baptized in a river. I got on my knees and said 'amen' and said 'I mean.' I whipped my own back and asked for dominion at your feet. I threw myself into a volcano. I drank the blood and drank the wine. I sat alone and begged and bent at the waist for God. I crossed myself and thought I saw the devil. I grew thickened skin on my feet, I bathed in bleach, and plugged my menses with pages from the holy book, but still inside me, coiled deep, was the need to know ... Are you cheating on me? Cheating? Are you cheating on me?”

All of the poems here really recommend checking them out. Could be really great inspiration for more of fmo reader and how her religion could tie into themes of shame, self-blame, misogyny, sex, loyalty, cycles of abuse/silence/peace keeping, etc that was touched on by Shire in their works. Also lmk if I’m simply doing too much 🫶🏾 bc sometimes my own mind just wanders and I could just be very out of touch to how fmo reader is.

Not doing too much at all!! I love this and love when you guys send me stuff that reminded you of my work.

Lemonade and the poems are something in general that I’ve had in the back of my head for fmo. I think Anger might be my fav:

If it's what you truly want ... I can wear her skin over mine. Her hair over mine. Her hands as gloves. Her teeth as confetti. Her scalp, a cap. Her sternum, my bedazzled cane. We can pose for a photograph, all three of us. Immortalized ... you and your perfect girl.

I don't know when love became elusive. What I know is, no one I know has it. My father's arms around my mother's neck, fruit too ripe to eat. I think of lovers as trees ... growing to and from one another. Searching for the same light.

Like this is so fmo reader is hurts. The ‘all three of us’ reminds me of when someone sent in the princess di/Charles/camila parallel. That line makes me think about Diana saying “there was three of us in the relationship”. And it’s still like that to this day even with Diana passing. Their lives, legacies, and worlds will forever be linked and that’s so tragic (for Diana idc about the other two they are going to hell lmao and deserve to be constantly reminded of what they’ve done)

“I think of lovers as trees… growing to and from one another. Searching for the same light.” It kind of goes hand in hand with how much of this is about generational issues/trauma. Just cycles and cycles of the same bs bc no one knows how to break it

[grey-sides]

make like a sundae and split!

Initially inspired by the harringrove week prompt "stood up." Also inspired by posts of people headcanoning that Billy is loud and proud of being gay.

~1600 words

Steve can’t muster up the energy to feel bad about abandoning the girl he was supposed to go on a date with. He has half an ounce in the glovebox and an unrelenting need to find Billy. He wants to smoke with him, maybe shotgun a couple of beers, go hunt down a party somewhere. Really, he wants to ignore whatever has been niggling in the back of his mind for months now.

Since Billy deemed him worthy enough to know exactly how Billy feels about who. How Billy feels about guys specifically and singularly. That the girls and the flirting with Mrs. Wheeler has meant nothing, has always meant nothing. 

Steve’s girls have, historically, meant a great deal. A potential to find the great love of his life, to set his heart ablaze. To mend the holes torn into it that Steve tried to fix with rainbow bandages. And this one tonight, Stacey or Lacey, or something like that was supposed to be the next one in the long line to help King Steve sleep better at night. 

But as he was fixing his hair in the mirror. And tying up his sneakers, extra tight with a double knot so he doesn’t trip and make a fool of himself. His mind kept wandering. To a locker room conversation, a very different one from the ones he was used to. 

“Yeah, Hagan, go cry about the fact that I’m fucking queer to literally anyone else!” Billy had snapped, shouting after Tommy whose face was bright red. 

“You’re disgusting!” Tommy H had called back, but he seemed too embarrassed by it to really believe that. 

Steve had been staring, towel slung around his shoulders, hair wet and frizzing up from the humidity. He was supposed to be meeting Jonathan and Nancy for a double date because his life was sad and tragic. 

Billy had looked around the locker room, towel clenched tight to his side as he stared at each of the boys. “Anyone else got a fucking problem with it?”

One by one the other boys turned away, back to their lockers and bags, dropping their gazes to Billy’s split knuckles. 

“No one cares, Hargrove,” Steve had drawled, picking up his towel to finish drying off his hair. Maybe it was to show Billy the long line of his torso, the way his muscles pulled when he lifted his arms. 

Billy had licked over his teeth, snarled them in Steve’s direction and stalked back to finish conditioning his hair. 

But what Steve said still went, so no one cared in Hawkins. Helped that Billy already had a reputation. 

It’s a conversation Steve has replayed in his head a thousand times. It’s gotten to the point where he’s not even positive that was his response. Maybe he had dropped to his knees instead and asked Billy to teach him what he knew. Maybe he hadn’t said anything at all. But he wants to say something now. 

The pool is dark, the only lights left on are the ones out front and the one by the locker rooms. Steve knows those locker rooms, the way they smell after a long day, how the metal lockers will get slick with heat and humidity from the showers. 

He parks outside the fence, crooked and almost touching Billy’s Camaro. It’ll piss the other guy off, so Steve does it deliberately because he can. Because he’s left a girl on a date and he’s killing his reputation by doing it and it’s all for Billy so the least he can do is make sure the guy is angry about it. 

Steve heads inside, towards the men’s locker room and he hopes to god Heather didn’t close tonight. Usually the girls don’t because it’s too dangerous, but Steve’s luck would probably have that. 

He pushes open the door, the room is pretty quiet, but he can hear someone on the other side of the wall moving around. 

“Pool’s closed!” Hargrove’s voice floats, more like barrels over. 

Steve keeps walking in, ignores him. 

“I said the pool’s closed, asshole, you got shit in your ears or something?” Billy demands, walking around with his jeans unbuttoned. He’s still soaking wet, hair plastered to his forehead and back. It’s like he forgot to use a towel. 

Steve smirks at him, leans on the wall separating the toilets from the showers and lockers. “Hargrove.”

“Harrington,” Billy replies, biting his lip as he looks him over. “Heard you got a pool all your own? Decided to what? Grace us little people with your presence?”

Steve licks his own lips, drops his gaze to Billy’s mouth. Thinks about a wet dream he had. Doesn’t respond.

Billy gets irritated by that. His brow twitches and he turns to grab a shirt to pull over his head. Still soaking fucking wet. “You need something? I got plans tonight.”

“No you don’t,” Steve says, stepping into Billy’s space. 

Billy looks over his shoulder, slides his eyes back, his lips part. “That so?”

Steve crowds him into the locker, skirts past him, leans against the lockers next to him with an audible bang. “It is. I canceled my plans, so you’re canceling yours.” 

Billy flips his wet hair onto his clothed back with a damp thwack. He buttons his jeans, grabs a bag from the locker and tosses it on the bench. “Why should I?”

“Because I have half an ounce with your name on it,” Steve replies, tilting his head back on the lockers to stare at the concrete ceiling of the room. It’s still humid in here, smells like chlorine and chemicals. 

“Okay, you’re speaking a language I’m familiar with,” Billy says, closing his locker. He twists the lock three times like it's a habit. 

Steve drags his gaze over to look at Billy for a long moment. “I used to be a lifeguard, you know.”

“I heard from Holloway, what made you quit?” Billy asks, crossing his arms and leaning against his locker too. 

Steve shrugs, looks away. Feels his heart constrict. Doesn’t let it show on his face. “My dad told me I had to get a less faggy job,” he mutters. “Jokes on him though because now I wear a sailor suit every day.”

Billy licks over his top teeth, stares at Steve for a long time. His eyes feel like a hot brand in the skin on the side of his face. “No one cares, Harrington,” he says slowly. 

Steve looks back at Billy, boring his own eyes into Billy’s. His heartbeat picks up in his chest and he crosses his arms to keep it inside. 

Billy waits him out, tries to not be the first one to say something, but he’s too damn impatient. He tilts his head against the lockers, drags his eyes along Steve’s face. “Half an ounce, you said?”

Steve nods, slow and steady to hopefully calm himself down. He takes a deep breath of the local pool’s air, breathes it out through his nose. “Half an ounce.”

Billy grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder. He shrugs the other strap on too and steps away from the lockers, flip-flopped feet slapping across the tile floor. “Well, come on then, not gonna smoke itself.”

Steve follows at a sedate pace, hits the lights after he walks past them. He plunges the place into darkness and suddenly he feels sixteen again, terrified of being on his own and trying not to be. He’s been trusted with this responsibility and he can handle it. Why is the dark worse than being responsible for keeping people alive?

Billy whirls on Steve when he sees how close he’s parked to the Camaro. Half an inch and their mirrors would touch. He snarls, grabs Steve by the front of his shirt, hauls him over to push him against the BMW. 

Billy growls in his face, gets a finger in his chest, mimics Steve for just a moment. They’re shrouded in yellow lights that buzz in the night. There’s a faint sound of moths hitting it high above their heads and around them the world is dark. Steve knows there are stars out there somewhere. 

He licks his lips, drops his gaze to Billy’s grimacing mouth. He doesn’t remember the girl he stood up. “Sorry to the plans of yours I ruined.”

Billy’s expression shifts, he makes a face, wrinkles his nose. There’s something in his eyes, but he’ll never be that vulnerable with Steve to say it. “She’ll get over it. Wasn’t gonna put out anyway.”

Steve laughs, a stupid little breathless thing. He finds it weird that he doesn’t feel like a girl. Maybe he should with the way Billy is pushing him into his car, the way he still has a finger in his chest. Steve’s heart is doing its damndest to touch it. “Didn’t take you for a prude.”

Billy’s snarl is back and he bites when he kisses. But his finger flattens out his palm and keeps Steve pressed to his car with his entire body. And the dark is so much scarier than keeping people alive, but Steve thinks he’s finally found the flashlight. 

Or maybe it’s just the sun coming out after a rainstorm, a rainbow arcing in the sky above them. 

Steve closes his eyes into the kiss, grips Billy’s back with bruising fingers, feels rivulets of water running over them. His nose kind of hurts from being pressed at a weird angle, but he has Billy’s lower lip between his teeth and his thigh pressed between both of Billy’s so he can’t move. He lets it go.

Maybe. He cares, Hargrove. 

[trashlie]

Hi, it’s random anon again and I very very much apologize for this but your analyses have inspired me so much and I really wanna ramble about Stalkyoo and parallels and role reversals because they. Won’t leave :”DDD. I think in particular, your reflections on just how stubborn and persistent Shin-ae is in pursuing Nol and how just. Devoted to him she is, even if she doesn’t realize it, and how it perfectly mirrors (if not takes like, five steps further!) Nol’s persistence to gain her friendship in the first major arc. How she went from being the one aggravated and skeptical of his advances, wanting nothing but for him to leave her alone to pursuing him relentlessly, refusing to let him exit her life and proving to him just how much she (and Dieter and Soushi!) care. The role reversal is just so, so strong–but I think half the reason it works as well as it does is because of how strongly Nol and Shin-ae parallel each other. Both of them were bright, radiant children beaten down and failed by the adults around them, but comprehended it in different ways. Shin-ae externalized her trauma; it evaporated her trust in the world, so she drew protective barriers around herself so it couldn’t hurt her again. Contrastingly, Nol internalized it–whether by circumstance or physically by Yui’s hand, he was made to thrust the blame onto himself; it was him who was the monster, who could only warp and corrupt. He didn’t protect himself from the abuse–he threw himself away, becoming someone whose sole purpose in life was to make up for the burden of his existence by lifting up others. It’s Yeong-gi, the idealized and smoothed-over version of himself that Shin-ae meets and begins to let into her life, but it’s Nol that she recognizes and fights for and loves.

There’s something intrinsically poetic about Nol being the one to prove to Shin-ae that the world still has good people in it, that she can love and not be hurt for it–him, the guy whose self-perception has been so abused that he sees himself as wholly marred, only able to harm those around him: And that it’s now Shin-ae who is now the active one, using everything that she’s gained from him and her stubborn persistence in her mission to prove that she loves him and that he deserves to be loved. She just! Always fights so, so hard for him–chasing him down, literally fighting barriers between them, repeating again and again how much she cares, how much she wants to know and understand him, how much she wants him to be in her life. Nol has been conditioned to see himself as the enemy, as unloveable, but Shin-ae fights that notion tooth and nail. She is so impetuously, assuredly devoted to him and it’s just!! Arghghgh!!! How could he not fall for her, when even before she understood just how deep his scars were, she reached out time and time again, validating him and his emotions; always *seeing* him in a world where he so often felt invisible. And on that note, it just makes Shin-ae falling for Nol both more heartwarming and more tragic because we as readers know just how happy Nol has made Shin-ae, just how much he has (not to be ridiculously cliche jjeagioh) illuminated her world, but he hasn’t, not really. She was arguably the most happy we’ve ever seen her while dancing with him, but he literally blinded himself to it! Instead, he only saw the aftermath–just how much he hurt how, how their moment wounded Dieter. He still views (or at least, is pushing himself to view) their feelings for each other as just another extension of his ill effects on others, screwing up existing relationships and harming one of his closest friends in the process!

Just aghhghgh their dynamic and their characters and how fundamentally they meet in the middle and yet conflict fundamentally is so good… external conflict is great and all but internal conflict is what really, truly defines their relationship and the complex mess it is.

(Also!! So irrelevant but speaking of songs that are so very Stalkyoo coded, Charles is so them it hurts. One of its lines is “I talk and talk about love but it’s above the clouds / I can’t see it with my clouded mind” and I had to do a double-take because Shin-ae is that you lmao??? It’s a vocaloid song so I doubt you’ve heard of it but! I thoroughly recommend!!)

AAAAHHHHHHHHHH no do not apologize!!!! This is why I'm here, I LOVE asks like this, I love getting to yell and ramble about them and this whole webtoon because YES YES YES you get it!!!!! You understand everything that I feel so strongly about them, too. Everything about Nol and Shinae is so wonderful and yeah, so shippable, because of their dynamic, the role-reversal, the mirroring! Every time I reread I'm just really taken aback at how well done it is, because Nol and Shinae develop so slowly over time as a result of the mirroring as a result of their experience as a result of their trauma and there's not really one moment where you can put your finger on it. Sure, we know the Kim formal was a significant moment of development, but honestly, Nol and Shinae had a lot of development leading up to that.

I'm in the middle of a reread (when aren't I lmao) and you can kind of spot when Nol goes from trying to connect with Shinae because he wants to play Cupid, because he wants to reach out to someone he sees himself in to wanting to connect and befriend her for himself. Everything about them is just so!!!!! GOOD to read over and over? How initially he sees himself in her, someone who puts on a mask and fakes it, someone who puts up walls and pushes others away and that's what makes it so easy for him to figure out how to get to her. But because of that shared commonality, it goes likewise. Shinae isn't as good at reading Nol, especially because for so long she only knows Yeonggi, but I think something really interesting about rereading their relationship is that she wasn't really wrong in a lot of what she was picking up about him in the beginning. She reads his eager earnestness, especially once she learns he has a girlfriend, as being something to be leery of. What if he's a player, what if he's just a weird flirt? She doesn't want to be some "other woman", someone who gets caught up in a dramatic misunderstanding. And part of that is yes, because his word choice - the compliments, the liberal use of cute, the way he pays attention.

But I think it's also, on some level, an acknowledgement that he cares a lot - and more than she thinks someone with a girlfriend should. In retrospect it makes even more sense because after we see how he talks about Alyssa, even before he admits he doesn't care about her at all, it's really easy to assume that Nol and Alyssa's relationship was never a relationship - even when he tried briefly, I'm guessing it never felt like one. So he's saying things to Shinae that yeah, a guy with a girlfriend wouldn't do, unless he was a player. In a sense, Nol is acting on something that pulls him towards Shinae, but he isn't aware of it, and Shinae only seems to be because he has a girlfriend. It makes her acutely aware of how much he cares.

But also, much like Nol, Shinae isn't used to being noticed. She feels like relying on others makes her a burden, hates to ask for help or owe favors and even when help is offered she doesn't like to accept it. She tries to take up as little space as she can, to require as little assistance as possible, to be strong and soldier on. In her experiences, no one helps out of the goodness of their hearts, and most people can't be trusted. Even those who say they care may not really care, may turn around and hurt you.

And yet, she does exactly that for Nol, even before the formal. That's one of my favorite things about them, ngl! It's that Shinae refuses help whenever possible, but she gives it out whenever possible, too. She shows over and over that she isn't the hard, tough outer shell she tries to show herself to be. Especially as someone who has been hurt before, I think she's naturally prone to noticing when people need help, when people are being quiet about something - because she does the very same thing. The tiniest little things, like noticing when his knuckles are bruised and scuffed, stopping to talk to him after work even though she tries to tell herself no. At the formal, she has that painfully uncomfortable public dance, but she rushes over to Nol because she's worried about him. That's what gets to me - she is going through hell, he is putting on one hell of a front to try to make her feel comfortable knowing she's being forced to be there, trying to make her feel better about being there - but she still notices those little moments, still asks about him.

An interesting thing about Shinae disliking Nol's smiles is that, on some level, she knows there's no reason for him to be. Maybe Dieter and Soushi, too, have questioned the very happy go lucky Yeonggi, but I don't think they've been in situations where they could tell Nol looked upset moments before and now is smiling like nothing is wrong. Because Shinae is privy to those moments, though, she seems to pick up on the fact they are a mask - not consciously of course! But they bother her, they unnerve her, because what's there to smile about?

All this is to say that Nol and Shinae get each other in some very inherent way, and it makes all of this - the mirroring, the role reversal - so very satisfying! And YES you are right! That Nol is the very reason Shinae came to find value in herself and is turning it around on him? It's so poetic and full circle! She can only do this for him, can only chase after him and reach for him and persistently try to hold on to him, because he did it for her, because he taught her this. Their relationship is basically like an ouroboros, right? Nol starts to care more and more because she cares for him. Because she sees him when he feels unseen, because she finds him in those shadows. And by being seen, he cares for her, he shares his friendship with her. And then she takes his friendship, the way he talks to her, the way he supports her, the things he calls her out on, and she does it for him. If she has to value herself, so does he. If she has to learn to let others in, so does he!

One of the popular arguments against Stalkyoo is that they are not, y'know "healthy". They're unstable, they "need to heal" etc. etc. And while I agree therapy would do them a world of good and I'm not trying to get them to hook up this very second, I think what is so good about Nol and Shinae, together, is the effect they have on each other, what they draw out of each other. It's true, Nol is so certain he is this monster, that everything he touches turns to pain and doom, and he sees it now in how indulging in his feelings for Shinae has hurt one of his first friends. It makes him feel like an asshole. He believes he doesn't deserve anything, let alone his own selfish wants standing in the way of others and hurting them.

But despite that, Nol has never really been able to deny Shinae - I think she makes him want to see something in himself, but it's just so hard with everything he's been through, with everything that has convinced him he can only hurt others. And that's my thing. They don't have to go "heal" and become better to bring out the good in each other because, frankly, healing is a life-long process. We will always be trying to unlearn the traumas we all individually carry, the things that shaped us into who we are. And part of that process (besides therapy lol) is what we learn through our friendships, whether they are romantic or platonic or otherwise.

Nol made Shinae see something of value in herself, talked her into being kinder to herself, to opening up, and she tries to do the same in kind to him. I think she can, too. He's got some roadblocks right now, but I absolutely believe that through his continued relationship with Shinae, through her sincere and earnest belief in him, through her acceptance of him - all of him not just Yeonggi but yes Nol as well - just by having his back, she can help him come around to accept himself, as well.

This is why it's so important that Nol and Dieter have a talk soon. I think Dieter very much sees this, too - the effect they've had on each other, just as much as the attraction between them. Something people don't give him enough credit for is that he's observant and picks up on details really easily. He has seen between his friends something that does not exist between him and Shinae, even if it didn't stop him from carrying his torch of hope. Nol feels so much guilt towards Dieter right now, feels like a selfish asshole who hurt someone in the pursuit of some kind of happiness and indulgence he doesn't even believe he deserves, and it's pretty difficult to talk Nol out of feeling that way. Nana tries. Shinae tries. It's going to take him a while. But I DO think it's important for Dieter to talk to him because I think he's going to tell Nol that he isn't mad at him, that he doesn't hold this against him. How can you help the heart wanting what it wants? He knows this better than anyone, still wanting Shinae's affection even after being rejected, even after knowing they don't have what she has with others. But importantly, he needs to try to relieve Nol of his guilt.

Shinae alone is not able to help heal Nol's wounds, just like Nol alone is not able to heal hers. She's had help from Minhyuk, from Dieter, from resolving her conflict with Maya. I think it's Nol's turn, to learn to rely on others a little more, to face some of those demons knowing he's not alone, even if he's still learning how to accept that he deserves that support.

AND GOD IT JUST MAKES THEM SO GOOD! I love Shinae going from wanting nothing to do with him to wanting to hold on to him, to using every shred of her energy to fight for him, how she wants to know everything about him, what made him into this person he is. She cares so much and she can only care this much because he did first, because he saw something of value and worth in her and HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THEM? HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO JUST. SIT HERE AND NOT FEEL LIKE OUR CHEST IS BURSTING OPEN WITH SO MUCH FEELING WITH SO MUCH AFFECTION FOR THEM?

I look so forward to seeing what they become, how they will continue to bring out the best in each other, how they will continue to illuminate each other. And I look forward to the day Nol feels like he deserves it, when he can share her happiest moment with her, instead of give it to her. When he lets her see him, all of him, all of the things she wants to know about him. I look forward to her understanding the depth and complexity of her feelings, how she fell for this person who saw her for all she is and drew her out, just likes she's trying to do with him. How could he not?! You are right! We are right! How could he not fall when she believes in him, when she always tries to draw him back in, when she has affected him so much in such a short time ;A;

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhh do not not apologize, thank you for sending this to me thank you for gushing and rambling at me so that I can do the same in turn because AHHHH THEY'RE SO GOOD AND I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT THEEEMMMMMMMMM EITHER

(Also thank you for the recommendation, I'm gonna listen! Everything lately is them so I'm gobbling it all up LMAO gotta marinate in all the feels!!!!!!!! like you are RIGHT that line is her and you should say it!!!!!!!!!!! There's something so stupidly poetic about how she just keeps telling Nol she loves him in any word but that one, and can't understand what he's trying to get her to say LFJAKFJFJF ROARS)

[bestworstcase]

Hello! I've been wondering for a while but, considering you also thought of James = GoL, has the Salem = Qrow thought crossed your mind? With Clover as Ozma. There's been several times they have been paralleled (example: fight vs Clover = vs Ozma, plus they have the same colors) & I'm quite sure that Qrow will be the one to help the kids out and also bring back Clover. Mister "Gone. Live everybody else." has been forgotten by Cinder & everyone else and that's going to be important in the end

ok so. gotta be honest i don’t really. have much interesting to say about clover because he’s… not my cup of tea and i don’t find him particularly engaging in his own right, although the stuff the narrative does with him as the like embodiment of the atlesian military ideal is very fun and he’s a neatfoil to qrow. and now that i’ve said that yeah i can see where you’re getting the ozma repetition from, in that clover is the true believer even to his own detriment and faultlessly obedient until it kills him.

where it gets sticky imo is that ozlem is a broken fairytale and the symbolic repetitions thereof function narratively as attempts to get it right this time; that’s how we get the validation of salem’s grieving rage through ruby at the summit of beacon tower and jaune being dragged bodily out of the self-destructive spiral of his grief by his friends, and so forth. my reading of the atlas arc turns on penny being the fulcrum, the echo of ozma to ironwood’s echo of the god of light, and specifically an illustration of the divine mandate’s cruel injustice; penny is similarly torn between goodness and what she’s been told is right, between duty and desire, and very much like ozma she is ultimately crushed by the duty she can’t bring herself to walk away from—but her arc in v7-8 is all about questioning the assumptions she has been taught to make, vocalizing her internal conflicts, and being resolutely supported by her loved ones as she breaks away from ironwood.

(there are other layers to pick apart here in her death by cinder’s hand […pun intended i am so sorry] and jaune’s unwilling participation in ending her life in order to deny cinder what she wants from this murder, but in the interest of not going off on too long a tangent—)

anyway as the ozlem repetitions angle pertains to qrow and clover, i read them more as abstracted embodiments of the divine conflict: here is a mirror. good fortune on one side of the glass and misfortune on the other. (except they’re the same, because whether luck is good for you or bad for someone else depends solely on how you look at it.) good fortune bolsters misfortune as long as they’re on the same side but is also so disconnected from anything beyond the scope of the rules, the correct order of things that he chooses to attack misfortune, his friend and until minutes ago his ally, above recapturing the sadistic serial killer actively trying to kill them both—and his rigidity and refusal to listen to reason leaves misfortune with no recourse but to side with the serial killer. and when this predictably ends in tragedy it’s portrayed genuinely as a tragedy—not good fortune getting what’s coming to him, but a tragic, pointless ending to a life worth indescribably more than the inhumane rules he sacrificed it for. the anger qrow briefly expresses towards him is hollow, grieving, not really a condemnation of clover himself but a bitter repudiation of the world that made him.

it’s all very *waves hands* on theme, but in a direction that strikes me as pointing more at the gods (whose fundamental problem is the arbitrary and inequitable dichotomy they’ve forced themselves into and the inflexible order the “good” one enforced, to everyone’s detriment including his own) than at ozlem; consider how clover’s earnest if subtly condescending initial support of qrow and its corruption into calmly enforcing order by any means necessary suggests the way the god of light addresses his brother. there’s, again, some layers to pick apart in qrow and clover both also being staunchly loyal to causes to which they are literally (clover) or figuratively (qrow) subordinate, but that’s true of the repetition of divine conflict played out between ironwood and watts, too, and at the end of the day coercion and self-sacrifice are so crucial to what’s going on with ozma that i don’t think you can have a symbolic repetition of him without those elements; merely being subordinate to a higher power of any description is not enough, imo.

what does interest me quite a bit about this angle on qrow—and robyn, who in this layer of the narrative embodies dark’s second gift of knowledge—is that both of them survive the fall of atlas and do not leave solitas, which if it proves symbolically meaningful at all is an intriguing thing to do with a metaphor for what happens if ozma fulfills his mandate. creation (ironwood) and choice (cinder) destroyed atlas, destruction (qrow) and knowledge (robyn) are left behind to pick up the pieces… plus whatever pietro and maria will be up to, and cinder and salem in the event that they don’t leave right away. the natural point of convergence for all these characters is amity, which is a) still falling, b) something salem is lightly implied to have been interested in hijacking and using herself, and c) something salem would probably be able to haul back into broadcast range if she cared to—and of course notionally the point of amity was to bring the world together again. so THAT’s all hamster wheeling in the back of my brain.

[astralbooks]

A Tale of Seashells and Shenanigans - Alex Nonymous

Read: November 14th 2023 - November 16th 2023

Rating: 5/5

Rep: disabled (chronic pain, cane user) ace non-binary main character, autistic aroace love interest, queer side characters, disabled (amputee) achillean side character

CW (listed in back of book): ableism, negative self talk about queerness, negative self talk about disability, non-malicious mispronouning, very brief mention of suicidal ideation, discussed transphobia, lashing out, autistic meltdown, gender dysphoria, discussed unsafe binding, swearing

Review:

Something Alex is incredibly skilled at, and this is something I’ve noticed across many of his books, is that she takes two characters whose initial opinions of each other are so terrible (and often for very good reasons) that I’m left wondering how on earth they could possibly get to a point where they can tolerate each other, let alone love each other, and then they show me the progression of the characters’ relationship, and does it so well that I’m left just completely convinced of it. Enemies-to-lovers (and variations thereupon) are so, SO hard to get right, and it’s so easy for the characters to go from A to B in what seems like an instant to the reader, but Alex Never Does This. The relationships in Alex’s books always, always feel earned, and this one is no exception.

Especially as the initial dislike Nico has for Tillie partly stems from totally justified outrage at being dragged on a quest and partly from them being Deeply Uncomfortable at the mirror Tillie is turning out to be. Watching Nico having to come to terms with the latter part of this while very gradually forgiving the former part of this was so fun!

I did not go into this expecting there to be a queer and/or disabled pirate crew captained by someone whose ex captains a rival pirate crew which occasionally gets into skirmishes with his own, but I was delighted by everything about that subplot.

As a genderqueer person who goes by a shortened version of their og name among friends and online but still uses their longer og name in professional settings and with coworkers, Yeah. I think this is the first time I’ve come across a non-binary character with this relationship to their og name. Some people have deadnames, and some people have Formal names, and it was neat to see a depiction of the latter!

I cannot emphasise enough how healing the core relationship of this book was to read about. As Nico grows to like Tillie and enjoy spending time with her, they develop a crush on Tillie. Tillie, as it turns out, is aroace, and so cannot reciprocate Nico’s romantic feelings. Since I started reviewing books I have read two separate books in which the main character falls for someone who’s aro, gets cruelly rejected as a result, and it’s this big deal that hugely impacts the book and even becomes the tragic-backstory emotional crux of the story, because how dare the aro person be aro??? Alex looked at that situation and went: No thanks! If you care about someone, you’re not gonna be cruel when telling them you don’t reciprocate their feelings, whether you're aro or not. If you care about someone, you’re not gonna act like them not reciprocating your feelings is some great tragedy, whether they’re aro or not. Nico and Tillie care about each other. Maybe it’s the arospec in me, but even if you do feel romantically attracted to someone, it’s seriously not the end of the world if you never do anything about it. You can still enjoy having those feelings while also getting to have that person in your life as your friend! Speaking from experience here, I promise it’ll be okay! This book is a love story, but not a romantic one, and while Nico says at one point they think they might have bit of a crush on Tillie forever, the relationship between Nico and Tillie is not a romantic one because Tillie is aroace and that is respected and guess what!!! The world didn’t end!!!!!

The sea having a concept of the economy and refusing to do anything to disrupt it is very funny to me for some reason kjdhsfkg

Also Alex if you ever do want to write a follow up about the other members of The House, 👀

[anathenaeum]

Ella James

Notes:

Cinderella was born to wealthy parents, who treated their daughter with great love. The family resided in a French château, just beyond a small- but powerful- kingdom. Sometime during her childhood, Cinderella's mother tragically passed away, and as a result of believing his daughter needed a mother figure in her life, Cinderella's father remarried to a woman named Lady Tremaine, who notably had two daughters of her own, both around Cinderella's age: Anastasia and Drizella. After the death of her father, Cinderella was under the control of Lady Tremaine, whose true colors finally surfaced, showing a cruel and cold-hearted woman. Her selfishness and vanity destroyed both the family fortune and left the once beautiful château in a state of disrepair. While pampering her own two daughters and spoiling them rotten, she raised Cinderella in abuse and virtual slavery. This was a result of being wickedly jealous of the young girl's natural beauty and charm, which she and her own daughters all lacked. This went on for many years, but Cinderella's personality still remained sweet, humble, and kind.

Despite being raised in toxicity and emotional abuse, Cinderella declared herself independent and strong-willed by remaining kind-hearted and self-loving unlike her cruel step-family, not allowing the bitterness surrounding her life to overtake her and morph her into someone as cruel as her stepfamily. She makes the most of her misfortunes by remaining optimistic of the possibilities of a brighter future, keeping herself preoccupied with enforced housework and friendly bonds built with her pets, and dozens of mice that have found themselves trapped over the years by Tremaine's mouse traps, only to be rescued and spared by Cinderella. In gratitude, the mice would become loyal companions to Cinderella, providing her with the company and serving as diligent helpers should something troubling occur. The devotion of the mice would ultimately play a crucial role in the young woman escaping her abusive household, thus furthering the example of how Cinderella's evergreen kindness towards others, despite her situation, would ultimately lead to her uprising.

As assumed, Cinderella's primary goal in life was to escape her stepfamily. However, as she was under Lady Tremaine's control since her childhood when her father passed away when she was young, such a feat proved to be difficult, with the emotional abuse and manipulation having been planted in Cinderella's mind for far too many years, making for an obedient and fearful young woman when faced with Tremaine's wrath; she would typically make attempts to avoid any form of conflict with her stepmother and stepsisters as a direct result of this.

Cinderella is also witty and sarcastic, at least when she is alone, and during those moments she would often make quips regarding her step-family's laziness, lack of talent, and over-dependence on her. She is also unafraid to stand up for herself when she feels she's in the right — or at least, attempt to do so, and though she strives to contain her optimistic aura, she can fall into fits of frustration and annoyance quite often. This is seen through her interactions with Lady Tremaine's cat, Lucifer, who she sarcastically refers to as "Your Majesty", and openly berates for his cruel behavior, which mirrors that of her cruel stepmother. Her daily goal is to make the most of her situation, but she never forces herself to bottle up her true emotions in an unhealthy manner; instead, wisely keeping them under control, while also keeping in mind that the future holds brighter experiences. She also is shown to have some degree of common sense, as after Drizella and Anastasia rushed to Lady Tremaine in fear about how Cinderella had allegedly put a mouse in their teacup, Cinderella, hearing the report, immediately deduced that it had been Lucifer who had actually been responsible, and forced him to reveal Gus, allowing Gus a quick escape.

When Lady Tremaine gets and uses her own dose of magic to try and ruin Cinderella's happily ever after, the princess’s hard-working ethics, optimism, and devotion are put to the test, when she is magically stripped away from her "happily ever after" by a vengeful and then magically-empowered Tremaine and is forced to jump into physical action to restore her happy life and relationship with Prince Charming. During these events, Cinderella is shown to be cunning, tactical, persistent, and a fierce rival to those who oppress her. With no magic, being forced to rely solely on her intelligence and fearlessness, Cinderella is able to defeat her stepmother, repair her relationship with a reformed Anastasia and retain her much-deserved life of happiness, proving both her independence and strong will.

Verses:

Princess of my own destiny: Disney verse

Queen of a state: Descendants verse

Princess of problems: Once Upon A Time verse where Ella lived for twenty-eight years as pregnant teenager, Ashley Boyd

AUs:

Borrowed babies: (Foster Care) foster mom - or foster daughter taken from an abusive step-mother

I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good: (Harry Potter) Gryffindor sixth-year

There was an idea: (MCU) a cleaning lady at the Avengers’ Facility; she didn’t ask to get dragged into all the things that she sees daily, yet here she is

All that gleams and glitters (Modern) a social worker with the DCFS

Alternatively 1902: (Victorian) a servant to her step-mother

Grow up with the land: (Wild West) maid to a wealthy mayor

Forward to victory: (World War II) a home-front mother of two and foster mother of three English children

Road less traveled: any other AU threads

Starter Call

[0junemeatcleaver0]

Do you think Armands real problem with Benedict is the fact he sees what an acolyte he could have become for Marius if they hadn't have been separated so tragically by supposed deaths and then abandonment because of him falling under the cults spell to survive?

Okay, so instead of taking a nap like I should definitely be doing right now, I'm going to answer this instead because I've not stopped thinking about it since I first read it hours ago lmao

Also, I'm not going to bother to go back and dig through the book, I'm giving myself full permission to go off memory and *~vibes~*

So I personally think that Armand is projecting quite a bit onto Benedict, tbh. It's jealousy, for sure, but there's a bit more to it than that, I think.

There are clear and obvious parallels to be drawn between the two characters. Benedict was a monk, Armand was basically training to become a monk. They were both made by powerful vampires who they had romantic relationships with while still in their teens. Both hopelessly devoted and in love with their Masters (at least at a certain point).

And if I weren't absolutely zapped from being an adult today, I'd probably attempt some poignant spiel about projecting onto the mirror-world image of yourself and how big a knee-jerk reaction can be when you find yourself occupying the space on the attraction/repulsion spectrum where the two feelings meet.

Because that's what I think this is to an extent.

I think, yes, Armand feels some type of way thinking about how things could have turned out for him and Marius if the Coven hadn't quite literally torched his whole life and then absorbed him.

I think Armand also has some identity issues--its a motif that follows him throughout the entirety of his character arc. Because of his backstory, I don't think he's got a clear idea of who he is outside of his relationships to other people. And while I don't think he legit would boil himself down to "I'm the teenage vampire with religious trauma and a very old boyfriend" (lol), I do think that having someone around whose history so closely mirrored his own to a certain extent would have had his hackles up.

But beyond that, I think in his mind Benedict's biggest sin is doing things Armand wouldn't do--or doing them differently to how Armand would do them.

Like when Armand is livid with him for having killed Maharet in her own home. And you might think at first that he's mad because you would be--what Benedict and Rhosh did was fucked up. But then he goes on to talk about how much he wanted to go speak with her and ask her questions and they killed her before he could do that.

And I'm thinking to myself, "Bud, you sure this isn't actually about the break in and murder? Because that type of thing would be especially upsetting to you in specific?? For reasons??"

And then Benedict was like, "Shut up, cult leader. You're not free of sin here either", and Armand tells him to hurry up and die (which is lowkey hilarious).

And from there, Benedict goes on to wrap his speech up like this (yes, I know I said I wouldn't pull out the book. I lied.):

"Those of us made young," he said, "we never grow up. Five hundred years or a thousand. It makes no difference. Time gives us room to be forever stupid and blind with the confusion and passions of the young, vulnerable to the masters who made us and ensnared us." (Blood Communion, page 107)

And then Armand shoots back with this:

"Oh, stuff and nonsense," said Armand. "I was never a child. I was a man before I was ever Born to Darkness, you imbecilic creature! Maybe you were a child, in your monkish robes, with your dark Christian longings, and maybe you still are. But I was never young. And I have learned through suffering and anguish and loneliness such as you, cowering in the shadow of your master, have never known." (Blood Communion, page 108)

And I can't help but feel like this is an argument Armand has had with himself. That he's had the thought before that perhaps a part of you freezes at whatever age you were turned. That being turned so young might have long lasting effects on a vampire. That he may have gotten the short end of some stick here.

But he cannot allow Benedict of all fucking people to be the one to point that out. Refuses to give Benedict the win there and so he pushes back in what I think is a really telling way. Bringing up Benedict's past as a monk as though it has any real bearing on this conversation ('dark xtain longings'? Weren't you prepared at one point to bury yourself alive for God? Pot, meet kettle). And then going on to throw Benedict's attachment to Rhosh in his face.

I don't know. Part of me feel like the thing in this scene that really cemented Armand's distaste for Benedict is the fact that he's walking away from his Master. He's been in his favor, under his protection for so long and he's willingly giving that up.

Part of me can't help but wonder how much of him looks up to Benedict for that, and how much of him loathes Benedict for that.

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (11/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: you know what's coming - the truth.

Warnings: angst, minor violence

Word Count: 2k

A/N: i listened to my favorite saddest songs while writing. be prepared. thanks for your kind feedback! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

JJ snaps you out of your thoughts. There's an expression on her face that you can't find the words for. "Y/N? What does she mean?"

You have to swallow. Your throat is tight and you can barely breathe, so you cling to her to keep from sinking to the floor. You can't take your eyes off the two in the interrogation room.

"What deal?" Spencer sits up straighter than he already does. His whole body is tense.

Cat shakes her head. "I thought you weren't here to talk about her or you."

When Spencer slaps the table with his palm, she doesn't even flinch. You do, the harder, and JJ's hands clench into fists. But you only notice this out of the corner of your eye. "What deal, Cat?" His tone is harsh, leaving no room for Cat's games.

She sighs. "Maybe you should ask her yourself. After all, she did come here with you, didn't she? I don't think she'd skip this dance." Cat looks past Spencer to the one-way mirror, straight through it, as if she knows you'd be standing right there. Her grin is crooked and ugly. "Come on, Y/N. You should know I don't bite. Not without notice, anyway."

You feel JJ's gaze on you as you enter the interrogation room without a word. You close the door behind you and out of the corner of your eye you notice Spencer looking at you. But your gaze is fixed straight on Cat. You stop right at the door.

"It's good to see you again, Y/N."

You don't have to be a mind reader to know what's going on in Spencer's head. It's practically written all over his face. Again?

"Hi, Cat," you reply curtly. You feel like shooting her.

"I always knew you lived dangerously. But I didn't think you were stupid. Yet you were the smartest one on your team. No offense, Spencie." She says it like she's bored out of her mind, not like the whole situation could completely escalate in the next second. Spencer tries not to let on, but you can read the confusion on his face. "I guess I was wrong about that."

"What are you talking about?" you ask, involuntarily taking a step forward. Cat takes it as a sign to keep talking.

"I know you killed my partner in crime. Must have been quite a mess, I'm told. Shot right through the head. Kudos, Y/N. I knew you were smart, but you're also badass. Who would have thought." She raises her hand and inspects her filthy and chewed fingernails. Her gaze drifts to you without her moving her head. She looks at you through her eyelashes, which makes her look crazy. "Quite a pity about him. But he was really just my accomplice's boyfriend. So, not worth mentioning."

Accomplice? Boyfriend?

It only takes a brief moment for everything to come together in your head. Apparently, all emotion falls from your face, because Cat looks extremely pleased. "You didn't play by the rules, Y/N. And now someone else has to pay for it."

In three steps, you've crossed the room and pulled Cat from her chair. Before Spencer can stop you, you push her full force against the nearest wall, causing a gasp to escape her mouth. You press your forearm against her throat and she lets out a hoarse laugh. Her gaze mirrors yours. Fierce and unyielding. The pressure on her throat intensifies and she has to cough.

You feel big hands on your shoulders, yanking you back so that you stagger and bump into the table. For a brief moment, you want to fight back as you leap forward again to put a stop to Cat once and for all, but Spencer extends his arm to allow some distance between you. You don't look at him. Out of anger and out of shame, because this isn't you.

"What's going on here?", he finally asks when you've pulled yourself together a bit and he's sure you won't kill her the next chance you get. "What's she talking about, Y/N?"

Cat's look is challenging and you know full well she's not going to say anything. She's dropped the bomb and now it's up to you to make sure the explosion isn't too devastating. You look at Spencer and tears form in the corners of your eyes. There's no way to get around it. And he better hear it from you than from some crazy psychopath. You owe him that much.

"When you were arrested", you begin, hoping your voice doesn't sound as brittle as it does, "it was clear to me from the start that Scratch couldn't be responsible. When you were taken to Millburn Correctional Facility instead of protective custody, it should have been obvious to the others. It was no accident that they sent you there. It was too personal." You can barely look at him, which is why you stare at the floor. "It couldn't have been Scratch, but there was no one else who had a score to settle with you." Your gaze shifts to Cat, "Except for her.

I had no proof, nothing. But I was one hundred percent sure she had something to do with it. So I talked to Emily. She gave me the day off, and I came here." You suppress the urge to knead your hands, so you shove them into your pants pockets. Your gaze wanders back to the floor, though you'd like to look at Spencer. You want to know what's going on inside him, but you don't dare. "Cat denied having anything to do with it at first, but I didn't believe her. And then she made a deal."

"And that included?" asks Spencer. You have to swallow.

"She would get you out of jail, after all, she put you in there too. I knew you wouldn't make it through jail. And not because you were too weak, but because I knew there were some people there who wouldn't bat an eye to hurt a FBI agent like you. And I couldn't stand that, so I went for it." With each word, your voice grows quieter, though you try to sound as determined as possible. But the pain weighs you down and takes away your breath. You remember the visit then, and what it had cost you.

"And what did she want in return?" Spencer's eyes glisten as if tears have formed in them. He blinks once, and the shine disappears. "What the hell did she want, Y/N?"

You can't stop the tears streaming down your cheeks Your heart is beating fast, like it's about to jump out of your chest. You take a deep breath and brace yourself for what follows. "She - she wanted me to leave you. Cat knew that prison could never hurt you the way I would if I abandoned you. If I left, with no explanation and no goodbye."

Spencer's shoulders sink and his muscles are no longer stretched to breaking point. You don't dare look at him, so you stare at Cat, whose grin has actually widened. Psychopathic sadist.

"Actually, Y/N was never supposed to come back either", she continues the explanation, but Spencer continues to look at you. "That was the deal. You weren't supposed to tell anyone about this and never come back, but you didn't stick to that. You thought if you killed the guy and I continued to be in here, you could go back home and get on with your life." Her grin disappears and suddenly she looks incredibly bitter. "Very reckless, if you ask me. My birdie knows you're back home, and as a warning, she left you a trail of dead married men. Apparently you got the message, after all, you're here. That they are dead is all your fault, Y/N. Because you couldn't stay away from your beloved Spencer." She looks from you to Spencer. "It's tragic, isn't it? She loves you so much that she took on all that pain just so you could get out of jail. How incredibly selfless of her. And I'm pretty sure you weren't exactly kind to her when she returned, were you, Spencie?"

Spencer and you can't look at each other, so heavy is the pain on your shoulders. All the anger, despair, and confusion that had spread through you since you saw each other again gives way to an all-consuming feeling of pressure that you can't shake. The only thing that can give you both some comfort is the clarity that has been created. Spencer now knows what really went on, and you no longer have to keep secrets from him. But the matter is far from over.

You look to Cat, but can't find the words. She's won.

You leave the interrogation room without looking at Spencer or saying another word. What could you have possibly said? JJ looks at you with widened eyes as you rush past her. She has her cell phone to her ear, probably talking to Emily, but calls after you, but you don't stop. The air in the building is stuffy and you feel like you're choking on it. Your heart is racing and you feel sick. You just want to get out.

"Y/N." Spencer's voice forces you to stop. You stop so jerkily that you almost fall. When you turn to face him, he's standing right in front of you. His gaze is hard. He opens his mouth, but he doesn't know exactly what to say either.

"I can't, Spencer", you beat him to it. You want to turn and keep walking, but his hand curls around your arm. At the touch, you're struck by lightning.

"Don't you think we should talk about this?"

You should. Definitely. "She had the men killed because I returned", you whisper. "She killed them because I couldn't take it anymore. Because I wanted to be with you. It's all my fault, Spencer. And I'll take the consequences for that."

"So you're just going to leave? Without explanation and without goodbye?"

You don't want to leave, quite the opposite. You would love to throw yourself into his arms, kiss him and never let go. You want to tell him you love him, but you can't. "I can't stay, Spencer. If I did, she would kill more people. I can't be responsible for that. I'm sorry."

You turn away from him, but as you take a step forward, Spencer pulls you back, making you slam against his chest. Your hands settle on the soft fabric of his shirt as his settle on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. His expression has changed. There is deep sadness in his eyes and he tries to blink away the tears that have formed in the corners of his eyes, but they fall down his cheekbones. All at once, he looks so young. "Promise me you'll come back? Back to me?" One of his hands clasps both of yours, still resting on his chest. He holds them tightly, afraid of losing you again.

You smile weakly at him and tears come to your eyes too. Your smile is honest, but sad. "I will always come back to you."

- tags -

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[azlrse]

Reunited as One (Dabi x Fem!Reader)

A BNHA x ILYS1892 crossover special

Summary: "I was born in 1996 and he was born on 1871 and we've been loving since 1892..."

CW: Pure angst with a hint of fluff, soft Dabi/Toya, death and afterlife, heavy ILYS1892 book spoilers, mention of gun shot wounds, no quirk AU.

A/N: Since August is our Buwan Ng Wika here in the Philippines, I wanna dedicate this fic to my favorite book that has the best tragic love story, which is I Love You Since 1892. Take note that the story itself doesn't belong to me, the plot solely belongs to UndeniablyGorgeous from Wattpad. Also, I apologize if the fic isn't the same as the book.

In this fic, the reader takes the role of Carmela Montecarlos while Dabi has the role of Juanito Alfonso. Enjoyy!!

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Staring at the mirror in your gorgeous wedding gown, you still can't believe that you are going to be married to the guy that your family favored, even though you are from the year 2018 and your only purpose was to change the destiny of your great grandmother and her so called lover, Toya. You are the one who fell in love with him but at first, he can't love you back since he's already set up by a girl that was favored by his prideful father but through patience and time, the both of you fell deeply in love to one another, despite having suitors.

You want to marry someone that you truly love, not someone that could cause the marriage to be loveless. All you think was the first born son of the Todoroki family, imagine being married to him, have kids and live your lives happily forever but in the end, it's not gonna work out since after you completed your mission, you're gonna be back at your timeline. Small tears began to form from your eyes, thinking what might happen to Dabi if you go back at the present time.

As you walk down the isle, many people stood up as the figure of the bride was present. Some of them are from prominent and wealthy families and some of them are your closest friends. Keigo stared at you with awe and adoration. You look absolutely beautiful and you are beaming but deep down, you are slowly crumbling down. A deep dark hole started to form on every step you take up to the altar. From afar, Dabi watched you painfully as he saw the love of his life being married to some guy your parents chosed.

Suddenly, your mind went blank as you thought about who killed Dabi when your great grandmother was still alive. All the clues, every letter from the diary you wrote ever since you first came here, your suspicions had been confirmed. It was her, you very own grandmother. You just learned that she hired a general to shoot him for he can't love her back, she did it for her own selfish deeds.

As you stopped walking due to your shock, the people that were present at your wedding, including Keigo, began to worry for you, asking if you are okay. Your eyes, glued to the floor as tears once again began to appear on your eyes. You felt the guilt and pain Dabi's family go through when your grandma killed him, imagining how much pain and blood he lost from the gun shot wound.

Despite your tears and the dark secret you discovered from your family, you tilted your head up and words finally came out from your mouth; "Stop the wedding..."

-----

Madamme Nemuri congratulate you for completing your quest, to change the destiny and fate of your grandmother and to the man you fell deeply in love. You thanked her for her hospitality and kindness she showed when you first stayed in the year 1892.

Bidding you a good luck and a hug, you started to walk away from the house that was now owned by your dad's mother in the present time and stayed under the tall mango tree. As you closed your eyes, you heard the running footsteps behind you, your name being called whose voice was similar to Dabi's. Wait, it must be him...

You turned around and there he is, running towards you as he called you from the endearment you cherished and adored; "My love!!" Clutching your dress, you ran towards him and was engulfed in a tight hug, Dabi then kissed your forehead as he stares at you lovingly. "I'm sorry for invading your privacy but I've read your diary while you and the others are in the church." Your eyes widen but didn't say anything.

"Is it true?" You tilted your head in confusion. "Is it true that your great grandmother killed me? For being too selfish for I cannot love her back?" Dabi spoke as sadness began to engulfed the both of you. Dabi deserved the truth, if you really love him so much, he needs to know the truth. "Yes and on behalf of my family, I'm so sorry." Sobs was heard from you and Dabi hugged you tightly, a sign that he truely forgives you. As the hug began to come to an end, he gave you a small box that contains a necklace; a small heart shaped locket that has Dabi and your initials. "Here's something to remember me by."

A sad smile appeared on his handsome face. "You knew what year I came from?" You spoke, he let out a small chuckle before replying to you. "Like I said, I read your diary but.." he held your hands, your soft hands against his. "Do you really have to go? You could stay here with me, get married, have a few kids and live our lives happily here..."

"Dabi love, I would love too but I have to go back at the present timeline. If only I could have a choice here, then I'll stay with you." Tears flowed down your cheeks while Dabi wiped them down for you, kissing your cheek as a way to distract you from the pain. "Love, I can't feel your hands." the young lady spoke. Dabi looked at you in confusion. "What do you mean, sweetheart?"

You felt yourself began to fade away, knowing your time here in the year 1892 was coming to an end. You didn't felt Dabi's hands anymore, causing him to look at you in despair and sadness. "Dabi, my love, I think my time here is coming to an end! Just wanna know that I love you so much!!" He cupped your face quickly with his warm hands as the both of you shared one last kiss. He pressed his lips and all you felt was his love, the love the both of you had ever since your love story started, the day where he saved you from the moving kalesa when you first arrived here...

You were still in confusion and in a bad mood as you glared the people in your way, stomping on your dress as you walk angrily away from the Hacienda. How dare they called you from you ancestors name. Can't you see you have your very own name? The people in that time were even confused when you spoke an advanced language that rich people only spoke.

A Kalesa was coming in your way, a 'watch out' snapped out your thoughts as you were knocked conscious. As you began to pass out, a handsome man with cyan colored eyes picked you up and carried you back to your home, your friend sighed in relief that you are safe.

Toya couldn't feel your face anymore so before you disappeared from his loving grasp forever, he shouted the words you never thought he had the guts to tell you. "I love you so much, love!! I'll wait for you!!" And just like that, you disappeared. Toya just stared as heavy tears slide down from his eyes. He is willing to wait for you, even in death.

-------

"(Y/N), my granddaughter, wake up." Your grandmother spoke as she shook you slowly to wake you up for breakfast. You woke up in the library, the sunlight beaming from the tall windows of the old home and the occasional noise from your siblings. Is the events from the 1892 is just a dream? Is Toya not real?

"I see that you spend the night here reading the diary that your great grandmother owned. Come, breakfast is almost ready." As your grandmother left, you stood up from your seat and a small locket was dropped from your hand. You picked it up and to your shock, it has your and Toya's initials with a little heart.

To confirm that you're not being crazy, you opened up the newly restored diary and there it is, every sentence you once wrote was in your handwriting. Everything that happened to you is not a dream, it's real, Toya was real. You really did changed the destiny of your great grandmother and to the man she once loved. You wanna tell your family about what happened but decided not to.

You remained on the present, continuing your studies at the university you were enrolled before and got your dream job. As for your lover, he remained in the year 1892, hoping for you to come back.

Meanwhile, Dabi was given by his sister, Fuyumi, a painting of her best friend, a beautiful portrait of (Y/N) wearing a Maria Clara dress as a gift. He kept the painting as a prized possession, hanging beside his bedroom door. As the years passed by, all of his siblings were married, even his younger brother Shoto.

His mom, Rei, asked him when will he get married to someone else but refuses. His love for you is so strong he can't bare to replace you, the only woman he fell deeply in love and he held his promise to wait for you. Every day, he would visit the mango tree where you stayed for the last time, where the both of you shared your first and last kiss. He waited, and waited, and waited for you...

Until he passed away, unwedded and old, surrounded by his family.

In the modern timeline, you told your grandchildren about the man you fell deeply in love. You were also unwedded so the presence of your grand kids made you really happy. "Nana, what does he look like?" Your granddaughter asked. "Well.." you opened your dairy and took out his photo and the necklace he gave to you.

"He's really handsome, I love the color of his eyes and the way he treated me with lots of love, even if our relationship got a little rough." She looked in awe as you stared at her in anticipation. "That's so sweet, I wanna have a relationship like that when I grow up!" She exclaimed while you let out a small laugh. "Patience my dear, wait until you're a grown up."

Fast-forward many years later...

"Nana your gonna be better soon..." Your granddaughter cried as you held her hand on your deathbed. "Alina.." you spoke quietly as she looked at you with tear stained eyes. You took your diary on the bedside table and gave it to her. "Please, as my last wish, I want someone to rewrite our story. To remember the love me and Dabi onced shared when we're still in our youth."

You rasped as you begin to feel your chest tightening, sending a worried look from your family. "Nana?? Nana?!" Alina spoke worriedly as her parents began to pull her away from you. The beeping noises from the machine was heard as doctors and nurses came rushing to revive you. "NANA!! PLEASE DONT LEAVE US!!" She sobbed in pain, her parents consoled her as she stared from your lifeless body. Your entire family cried as they heard the sounds of the flat line and what the doctor said;

"Time of death, 11:11 pm..."

-----

You woke up on from the soft grass beneath you. The place is really beautiful and you finally felt peace here, no more pain and no sadness. You also felt different as you look at your hands, you are not old anymore. Your youth's been fully restored as you walked happily in the beautiful meadow.

A silhouette of a tree in a hill was seen from a distance and a humming noise was heard. Your eyes widen at the sound of the figures's voice as you cam closer. It sound so familiar? Could it be him?' your heart beats faster as you let out a small hello from your lips. The figure stiffen up, quickly turns around to see you, in a white dress.

"(Y/N)?!" Dabi shouted as he begin to run towards you. You can't believe it, he kept his promise, waited for you even in death. The both of you truely loved each other. "LOVE?! ITS REALLY YOU!! TOYA!!" you shouted as you also ran towards him and finally FINALLY, after years of waiting, Dabi hugged you so tight he won't even let you go. You laughed through your tears as he placed his forehead against yours, giving your lips a gentle yet loving kiss.

He craves your touch, your love, and your kisses. "I miss you so much, sweetheart." You stared at him lovingly, giving his forehead a short kiss. "I miss you too, Toya." You replied as Dabi began to broke off the hug and intertwined his fingers against yours. "Please, call me Dabi once again, my love."

"Dabi...I liked that love..."

Both of you smiled as the two of you walked towards the mango tree. The two souls that were once separated through different time lines, now reunited as one. Ready to reincarnate in other time where their love is unbreakable.

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

A/N: I cried as I was typing this, I wanna to make an alternate ending to ease the pain.

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

Seungho slaps Nakyum's hand away because he's hurt that Nakyum would go out without him or his permission, that he might leave him. And for a brief moment, Seungho actually SULKS like a little boy before Nakyum assures him that he's waiting for him. 

He is so angry, sad, disappointed and insecure but when Nakyum tells him that he's been waiting for him the whole time, to GO BACK WITH HIM, IT MELTS SEUNGHO'S HEART.

The first kiss is a reward to Nakyum for waiting for him and not leaving him but also an expression of Seungho's desperate longing and adoration for him. It's his first confession before he even manages to find the words to tell Nakyum what he feels for him.

Men like Seungho, in his position and with his tragic past, are not used to reveal their real feelings to anyone because they make them vulnerable but here is Seungho, offering his heart on a silver platter to Nakyum, he trusts him enough to reveal them to him and that he wouldn't hurt him. Seungho doesn't hide anything from Nakyum now, be it his thoughts or the emotions in his eyes he only dared to show when Nakyum couldn't see them. Seungho has always longed for Nakyum's love and now, he has reached the end of his rope. He throws away his pride and confesses everything to Nakyum - so brutally honest and vulnerable. 

Seungho might have taken Nakyum the first time under pretense but it backfired on him because he ended up hurting himself in the process. It's a cross he's been bearing the whole time, suffering that Nakyum wouldn't love him no matter how much he tried.

What has been holding Seungho back the whole time wasn't merely his pride or denial, but also the fact that he felt unwanted and unloved. Those early violent encounters were him punishing Nakyum for giving him his hate when Seungho wanted his love, love Nakyum gave to someone else.

Seungho literally admits that he wants to be loved! It's possibly the only thing he ever wanted but could never have which makes the fact that he believes that Nakyum, whose love he desires and is constantly out of his reach,is in love with Inhun and not him even more heartbreaking. It's no wonder he had given up on love and even himself a long time ago because what is life without love? But then Nakyum entered his life and now he suddenly wants love again, making his once-numb heart feel again.

It's unreal how Nakyum's and Seungho's emotions literally reflect each other. You can see the same feelings echoed in their eyes and expressions.

Seungho is mirroring their first kiss, a kiss that didn't belong to him, and rewriting it. But this time, it's him who is looking up to Nakyum and reaching up to him, kissing him in the same innocent way, full of vulnerability and hope...

Compared to their first kiss, this is a complete role reversal.Seungho is the one begging for love and acceptance. He isn't demanding, but asking,there is no lie or illusion anymore. So when Nakyum kisses him back,he is accepting him, fully knowing that it's Seungho who he wants.

Nakyum doesn't expect such a sweet and featherlight kiss from Seungho. It stuns and flusters him because until now, he only dared to dream about such tenderness from Seungho. He felt hints and traces of it during their time together but it has never been so palpable.

Seungho's gaze is both pleading and searching, expressing a myriad of emotions: "Once, I mocked you for loving someone who didn't want you one-sidedly, yet here I am now, doing the exact same thing. Being in love with you like a fool and asking for your love. You know me, you've seen the worst of me, I'm sick and look a fright. But this kiss belongs only to you. Will you kiss me back? Will you accept me? Do you want me, tormented soul and all?" 

Seungho's words turn Nakyum's world upside down. He's been villified and marginalized his whole life. He's always thought that Seungho only saw him as a body to fuck and a lowborn. But now, the noble lord is prostrating himself in front of him, admitting he desires Nakyum's love. Once Seungho starts opening up, it's as if a dam broke, all the emotions and thoughts he's been hiding and bottling up keep pouring out. It's like his heart has been overflowing with feelings for Nakyum and now he is almost desperate to finally let them out. 

With his confession and tenderness, Seungho gives Nakyum something he's never received before: the feeling that he is needed, wanted and cherished; that his affection is regarded as something precious and priceless. It's empowering Nakyum, giving him sense of worth and confidence. 

No man is an island, everyone needs to receive appreciation from other people in some form and to certain degree: be it from family, friends, lovers or the work one does. In modern society, there are many alternatives, but Nakyum doesn’t have those. As a lowborn orphan with nothing to his name who grew in a courtesan house, likes men and paints erotic art, he lacks all those things. He is marginalized and dicriminated against in every aspect of his life which has been filled with deprivation. He’s never been appreciated in his whole life until he met Seungho who first fell in love with his painting and later with him and what’s more, now he is finally starting to show and express that love with words and open tenderness. This is something Nakyum has been waiting his whole life for.

Nakyum on top and Seungho reverently looking up to him is an ongoing motif of S2. It shows the real power dynamic of their relationship. Even though SH is physically stronger and more powerful, it's NK who holds all the power because he holds SH's heart in the palm of his hand.

The moment Nakyum kisses him back, he surrenders, giving himself completely and willingly to Seungho. Not because he is numb, horny or sees himself as a whore, but because he wants this for himself. He can't resists Seungho's tenderness and honesty. It reaches and touches some place deep inside of him, a need to be treasured and adored, so when Seungho tells him that he made a wreck of him, the same words Nakyum knows are meant as a love confession, it makes him reach his climax. Seungho's words are Nakyum's own personal aphrodisiac. Seungho whispering sweet nothings and desperate love confessions and Nakyum cumming because of them is something I didn't know I needed.

Despite their different personalities and social status, deep down Nakyum and Seungho are the same - two love-starved people desperate to be loved. Together, they make each other whole.

Seungho is so needy and desperate for Nakyum that from the moment he wakes up he barely lets go of his hand, holding it tight as if he were afraid that Nakyum might disappear any moment, as if he wanted to bind his little lover to him forever.

The sight of their intertwined fingers, so intimate, tells everything Nakyum and Seungho feels - about the desperate, mutual need to be connected in every way possible.

Nakyum finally receives from Seungho almost all the things he ever wanted from him - his gentleness, honesty, afffection,... Seungho becomes the lover he was supposed to be from the start - THE LOVER NAKYUM WANTS AND NEEDS. 

[atsuminthe]

locked away

★ synopsis: this is all a dream—it has to be.

★ character(s): miya atsumu

★ warnings: ANGST, implied character death, discussions/mentions of depression, separation anxiety, spiraling thoughts, nightmares/insomnia, denial, grief/mourning

★ word count: 1276

★ minty’s notes: yes, this hurt to write. no, i’m not okay ( ◜‿◝ ) written for @gg9183’s soulmate au collab. love you, gracie <3

    you knew your soulmate’s name from the ridiculous amounts of time you looked at your back in the mirror, the two characters inked onto the line of your spine a pretty golden color, glinting in the bathroom light. “Miya Atsumu” was just as pretty of a name—your mother smiled fondly at your babbling of “i’m going to marry miya atsumu!”, nodding softly. she, too, was excited about her own soulmate, whose name had been carved in green ink on her wrist.

    atsumu also knew your name from the just as ridiculous amount of times he slept shirtless just to wake up and see it on his chest, over his heart—an array of hues that he supposed were your favorite colors. his father had scolded him for sleeping shirtless in the dead of the winter and possibly catching a cold, but he knew the excitement of meeting your soulmate.

    you finally met at one of his games. it was the spring tournament and the moment the announcer said his name after a successful no-touch ace, the world around you slowed down and came to a halt, your eyes focused on the blond that—through some kind of higher connection—stared right at you from the court, a smile blooming on his lips at the sight of your pretty face. the grin you flashed at him mirrored his and suddenly, miya atsumu had a game to win so he could see this mysterious person and ask some questions.

    the moment the match ended he ran up the stands (much to the desperation of his teammates), grabbing your hands in his before you had the chance to move—his golden eyes shone in the artificial light just like his name etched on the skin of your back. he asked for your name, rolling it on his tongue experimentally as if he hadn’t done it countless times before. you told him to go shower and you could go for an ice-cream or something.

    things progressed smoothly from then on—you both realized you lived not very far away from each other and in no time, your mother was calling you to jokingly ask when were you going to drop by home, since she hadn’t seen your face in a few days.

    everything was well for you and atsumu—he couldn’t be happier to have found someone who supported him fully, whenever, wherever—and you found in him more than just a lover. a friend—a travel companion on the path destiny had laid in front of you.

    but alas, life and whatever happens in it is full of uncertainty. you never know when you’ll disappear—now you’re here, blink and you’re gone. such was the tragic fate of your love, doomed to end before it had properly begun.

    it happened so fast—it was a rush of red, white and yellow. he couldn’t have done anything to help you, to save you—he wasn’t even with you that night.

    that night when you left him.

    everything was a blur—sirens, hospital rooms, iv drips. an oxygen mask? so many screams, that much he remembers vividly—he doesn’t know whose they were, but he can still hear them clearly whenever his head hits the pillows in a poor attempt to sleep. it’s followed by picking a dress, then everything shifts to a golden venue—it’s still blurry from the tears, he recalls, since he couldn’t stop crying that day—where your favorite flowers rest gently around you head, like a halo. the yellow dress looked amazing on you, he remembers.

    “my little sunshine,” he whispered, hunched over the casket, your pale face the last thing he remembers. your eyes are closed and your hands are crossed over a bouquet of red spider lilies, a golden band on your left ring finger—a promise he didn’t get to make before he lost you. osamu had to carry him around all day, and it started raining at some point—or was it his tears wetting his shirt? he can’t recall.

    he refused to believe it for a few weeks. “separation anxiety” is what the doctors told his family that he experienced, and rightfully so—atsumu kept insisting that it was all a bad dream, that you’re pranking him or something, that you’ll come back, walk through the door and hug him like nothing happened. he didn’t want to accept your absence—bad feelings would bubble in his chest and threaten to spill whenever he thought of you not returning. his refusal subsided after the fifth week of mourning, when he was left alone at last and you didn’t come.

    you didn’t come.

    you’re not coming back. not now, or ever.

    it’s been a year. a rough, incredibly slow passing year. he’s been well—as well as a mourning person could be. osamu still checks on him, making sure he eats and takes care of himself. the bare minimum, at least.

    he puts his palms on the edges of the sink, gripping them tightly for leverage. the figure in the mirror in front of him is an empty shell of what miya atsumu used to be—a budding talent, an amazing volleyball player, a prodigy even—a future champion. now he’s just ‘tsumu—weak, with dark circles under his red eyes, his stubble growing out on his chin and cheeks since he forgot to shave it the other day, his brown hair spiky, growing back after shaving the blond locks completely.

    shirtless.

    it’s a habit he developed in childhood, sleeping like this. only so he could see your name on his chest, colorful and full of life as his heart thumped wildly under it. those were the good days, he remembers. the good days when he was always looking forward to seeing you, to spend all his time with you, to make you feel so loved that you wouldn’t want anyone else beside him.

    now it’s a remnant of a lost love, slowly fading from his skin. the ink is greenish-black, completely gone at the edges, your name impossible to make out unless it’s him. he knows your name. he’ll know your name forever. he promised—back when you wore your yellow dress and held your red flowers—that he’d die with it on his lips.

    it’s fading.

    you’re fading, too.

    he doesn’t remember your smile anymore. your laugh doesn’t ring in his head anymore. it’s all gone, everything has gone silent with no chance to bring them back. he traces the fine lines left on his chest, sighing. he still has you, in a way—but not for long. who knows when he’ll wake up and there will be no trace of ink on him.

    there’s something wet hitting his left hand, pittering in the sink as he looks down to inspect. is it raining? he’s inside, it can’t be raining. when he looks up, he’s met with the sight of tears running down his cheeks. he smiles, snorts and then laughs. it’s cruel—how he doesn’t even feel when he’s crying anymore.

    he’s numb. has been for the past year.

    your framed photo on the nightstand, peeking from behind the open door, mocks him silently and he snorts again.

    his voice is coarse like sandpaper and he surprises himself with how low his tone is—barely above a whisper, as if to not disturb the silence of the apartment.

    “i don’t know how to exist in a world without you,” he weeps, voice wavering and breaking, letting his head fall. his eyes sting from the amount of tears he’s shed, but he can’t stop them.

    the rest of the ink on his chest slowly fades into nothingness, locking away his memory of you deep within the chambers of his heart.

    you’re gone.

    he hopes he can join you soon.

taglist (send an ask or a dm if you want to be added or removed): @nakizumie; @lovelytarou; @risjime; @izhyperfixates; @kirakirasaku;

[trini-trin-trin]

Sharing this from a FB group that I am in. I was very moved by the article and felt affinity with the experiences shared. A really sweet read.

Here is the article if you don't want to click on the link (I know it is a little long, but well worth your time to read!):

The letter I received ten years ago was unsigned and bore no return address. Clearly its author did not expect, much less want, a reply. A message in a bottle, from no one to no one, that letter still remains the most bizarre form of communication. It asks nothing but to be read, promises nothing but to share a few facts and feelings, and, seeing that it must have been dashed off on a lined yellow sheet that seemed hastily torn out of a pad of paper, the author would not be surprised if, after skimming through it, the recipient decided to crumple and lob it into the closest dust bin.

The letter is one page long. One page is enough. The handwriting is uneven, perhaps because the author had lost the habit of writing in longhand and preferred the keyboard. But his grammar is perfect. The man knew what he was doing. I assume he was writing the note by hand because he didn’t want traces of it on his laptop, or because he knew he was never going to send it as an email and risk a reply. Now that I think of it, he probably didn’t care if it even reached its recipient, a local Bay Area reporter who had mentioned my novel about two young men who fall in love one summer in Italy in the mid-1980s. The reporter eventually forwarded it to me, minus its envelope with the postmark. It took no time to see that all the author of the letter was looking for was a chance to blurt out the words he couldn’t dare breathe elsewhere.

My book had spoken to him. His letter spoke to me.

So here it is: dated April 16, 2008.

I came upon Mr. Aciman’s book while on a business trip back East. Not the type of book I am normally able to read, so I bought a copy for the flight home. I think I’m glad I did.

You see, I was Elio. I was 18 and my Oliver was 22. Though the time and place were different, the feelings were remarkably the same. From believing that you are the only person who has these feelings, to the whole “he loves me – he loves me not” scenario, Mr. Aciman got it right. I was particularly impressed with the attention he gave to the morning after Elio’s and Oliver’s first encounter. The guilt, the loathing, the fear. I felt it too much. I had to put the book down for a while.

But in the end I was able to finish the book before we landed at SFO. Which was good, because I couldn’t take the book home. Unlike Elio it was I who married and had children. My Oliver died from AIDS in 1995. I’m still living a parallel life. My name is not important. His name was Dwight.

Instead, I kept the letter. I kept it for ten years.

What moved me was not just its sobering matter-of-factness or its hint of downplayed sorrow, but the associations it provoked in my mind. It reminded me of those short, clipped messages to loved ones, written by people about to be shipped off to the death camps who knew they’d never be heard from again. There is a chilling immediacy about their hurriedly scribbled notes that say everything there is to say in the fewest possible words — there wasn’t enough time for more, no smarmy pieties, no hand-wringing, no treacly hugs and kisses before the tragic end. It also made me think of the moving phone messages left by those who finally realized they were not going to make it out alive from the Twin Towers and that only their family’s answering machine was going to take their call.

“My name is not important,” he writes, almost as an apology for remaining anonymous; yet the author drops quite a number of hints about himself — hints he likely knows will stir his reader’s wistful curiosity to know what made him write the letter in the first place, what he hoped to accomplish, and if writing did indeed help. The letter itself allows us to see that he travels for business. We also sense that he probably lives in the Bay Area and that he travels not infrequently to the East Coast, since, as he writes, he is “back” in the East. And we know one thing more: that he simply needed to come out and tell someone that a man called Dwight had been his lover when the two were young. The rest is a cloud. We’ll never know more. Writing has served its purpose. We write, it seems, to reach out to others. Whether we know them or not doesn’t matter. We write to put out into the real world something extremely private within us, to make real what often feels unreal and ever so elusive about ourselves. We write to give a shape to what would otherwise remain amorphous. This is as true about authors as about those who want to correspond with them. Over the years, many have written to me either after reading or seeing Call Me by Your Name. Some tried to meet me; others confided things they’d never told anyone; and some even managed to call me at the office and, on speaking about my novel, would eventually apologize before bursting out crying. Some were in jail; some were barely adolescents, others old enough to look back at loves seven decades past; and some were priests locked in silence and secrecy. Many were closeted, others totally out; some were widows who felt a resurgence of hope if only by reading about the loves of two young men called Elio and Oliver in Italy; some were very young girls eager to meet their long-awaited Oliver; and some recalled former gay lovers whom they’d occasionally bump into years later but who’d never acknowledge what they’d once shared and done together when both were schoolmates and neither was married. All were keenly aware of living a parallel life. In that parallel life things are as they perhaps should be. Elio and Oliver still live together. And no one has secrets there.

Unlike Dwight’s lover, everyone who took the time to write to me did not withhold their names, but all had, at one point or another, withheld something very primal. They withheld it from themselves, from a relative, from a friend, a classmate, or colleague, or from a beloved who would never have guessed what troubled longings seethed below their averted gaze whenever they crossed paths.

Some readers wrote to tell me they felt that my novel had changed them, and given them new insights into themselves; some felt it was urging them finally to turn a new leaf in their lives. But some couldn’t go so far and, despite their perfect command of language, confessed lacking the words to explain why they were so moved by my novel or why they felt an unresolved longing for things they’d never considered or desired before. They were experiencing an upwell of emotions and of ungraspable might-have-beens that were asking to be reckoned with because they seemed more real than life itself, a sense of themselves that beckoned from an opposite bank they’d never known was there and whose potential loss now was a source of inconsolable grief. Hence their tears, their regrets, and the overpowering sense of being lost in their own lives.

And yet, they said, theirs were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition, as though the novel itself were a mirror for readers to watch their own emotions laid bare before them. These responses made me aware that Call Me by Your Name does not call attention to anything readers didn’t already know, nor does it bring new truths or revelations; all it does is shed new light on things that were long familiar but that they never took the time to consider. It would be so tempting to say that they are reminded of their forgotten first loves; the truth is that all loves, even those that occur late in life, are first loves. There is always fear, shame, reluctance, and not a tiny dose of spite. Desire is agony.

Everyone who’s read Call Me by Your Name understands not only the struggle both to speak and hold back their truth but also the shame that comes whenever we want something from someone. Desire is always cagey, always secretive — we’ll tell everyone we know about the person we crave to hold naked in our arms, but the very last one to know this will be the person we crave. Same-sex desire is even more guarded and watchful, especially in those who are just discovering their sexuality. Awkwardness and desire are strange bedfellows at a young age, but shame and inexperience are just as paralyzing as fear when we watch them tussling with the urge to be bold. You’re torn between the raw horniness that makes you dream scenes you hope to forget as soon as you’re up and the scenes you pray you’ll dream again and again — if dreams are all you’ll have. Silence and solitude exact a cost that leaves us emotionally wrecked. At some point we need to speak.

So “is it better to speak or die?” asks Elio, the narrator of Call Me by Your Name, quoting words penned by the sixteenth-century Marguerite de Navarre in her collection of tales known as The Heptameron. Marguerite was the sister of King Francis I and the grandmother of Henry IV, himself the grandfather of Louis XIV, hence she was plenty familiar with court intrigue, gossip, and the risks of opening up to someone who may not welcome what’s in our heart and could easily make us pay for it. Not everyone who has written to me has dared to speak their hearts to those they loved. Some have sought silence — slow, lingering droplets of quiet desperation taken every night before bedtime until they realize they’ve been dead and didn’t even know it. Many have written to me with the feeling of having missed their chance when someone tethered his rowboat to their jetty and simply asked them to jump in. “Some sentence or thought on almost every page,” writes a reader, “triggers tears and knots my throat and chest. Tears well up in my eyes on the subway, at my computer at work, walking down the street. Perhaps I am weeping in part because I know that at my age there is virtually no possibility of experiencing anything remotely comparable to what Elio experiences with Oliver.” Someone else writes, “Reading Call Me by Your Name made me feel a love I never had.” A happily married 50-plus colleague took me aside and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much in love in my whole life.” “I'm 23,” tweeted someone else, “and have never felt such love, until I read Call Me by Your Name. I feel like I lived it.” “Elio and I are essentially the same age,” writes a teenage girl. “I have never really experienced his environment of the Italian summer…My experiences have only taken place halfway between nature and smog, however I have felt the same tension, fear, guilt and overwhelming love that you express perfectly through both Elio and Oliver…Finding myself in Elio was something I never expected and I’m positive that I won’t experience anything quite like it ever again. The first girl I ever loved remains…the only girl I have ever loved and though everything she and I shared…lives now as a secret between two friends.” “I finished reading Call Me by Your Name a couple of days ago,” writes someone else, “and wanted to let you know how much it affected me. It felt like a narration of my thoughts that I had systematically buried long ago.” And finally this from a 72-year-old: “I was fascinated by the idea of parallel lives where would I have been if I had gone with him, where would I be if I traveled alone? Maybe the point is just what do I do with the gift you have given me during the remainder of my life.”

There are at least 500 more such letters and emails.

Some find themselves weeping at the end of the film or the novel, not for what happened long ago or for what did not and might never happen in their own lives but for what has yet to happen, for the terrifying moment when they too will soon have to decide whether to speak or die. This from an 18-year-old: “[Your novel] gives me hope that one day I will meet someone whom I desire so badly that I’ll actually find it in me to make a move, the way Oliver is that someone for Elio. Maybe my Oliver will also turn out to be someone that I realize I love as well as desire.” She was crying for a week, as was this 15-year-old young man: “I stopped reading…because I didn’t want [the book] to end, didn’t want the wounds that you caused me to close, I didn’t want to overcome, for some reason that I have yet to find out. I wanted to stay a wreck, emotionally and mentally fragile….My mother handed me tissues because she had never seen me cry like this. I had finished your book and ‘moved’ is too weak a word to express what your book had done to me. Here a week later and it is literally all I can think about, not my midterms coming up, but…Elio and Oliver and if it is better to speak or die. You answered questions I didn’t even think I had.”

Indeed, the whole novel seems to enable the outing of all manner of feelings, feelings from Elio’s relentless inward journey and obsessive self-examination that readers are invited to identify with. Through Elio’s unfettered introspection they too feel exposed and sliced open like a crustacean without a slough, now forced to look at itself in the mirror. No wonder they are moved. The mask that is torn off their faces is not just the mask that conceals same-sex desires from themselves and from others. Rather, it is the realization, through Elio’s voice, of what they truly feel, who they truly are, what they fear, what bears their signature, and what coy little shenanigans they go through to read others and hope to reach them. Some identified with some effusive sentences in my novel so much that they had them tattooed on their bodies. They even attach photos of these tattoos. People have also tattooed peaches on themselves!

But what moves most people — and this is as true now as it was when the novel first came out — is the father’s speech. Here he not only tells his son to nurse the flame and “don’t snuff it out” after his son’s lover has left Italy, but that he too, the father, envies his son’s relationship with a male lover. This speech tears away the last vestige of a veil between reader and truth and is a moving tribute to the irreducible honesty between father and son.

Most readers have written to me about the scene because the father’s speech rekindles the very difficult moment when they decided to come out to their parents — or, as is often the case with people 60, or 70 or older, it reminds them of the conversation they wished they’d had but never did have with their parents. This is the loss no one forgets and from which no one recovers after seeing Call Me by Your Name. It bears the very essence of that precious and life-defining might-have-been moment that never happened and never will.

Here is the speech:

“Look…[y]ou had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste!...

“… {L]et me say one more thing. It will clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version, and then all those versions in between. But there’s only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. I don’t envy the pain. But I envy you the pain.”

I received the anonymous letter sometime in early May 2008. At the time, I was staying at my parents’, because my father was suffering from throat and mouth cancer and was already in hospice care. He had refused radiation and chemotherapy, so I knew his days were numbered; though morphine was clouding his mind, he was still lucid enough to bandy a few quips about a host of subjects. He had stopped eating and drinking water because swallowing had become very painful. One afternoon while I was stealing a nap, the phone rang. A reporter I’d met in California had just received a letter, which she wanted to share with me. I told her to read it over the phone. After she’d read it I asked if she felt she could mail it to me. I wanted to show it to my father, I said, and explained he was dying. She felt for me. We talked about my father for a while. I told her I was trying to make it up to him these days, and that he too had been exceptionally easy to be with. How was it growing up with him? she asked. Tense, I replied. Always is, she added. Then the conversation ended, and she promised to mail the letter soon.

After hanging up, I got out of bed and went in to see him. Over the past few days, I had made a point of reading to him, which he liked a great deal, especially now that he was having difficulty focusing. But rather than read to him the memoirs of Chateaubriand, one of his favorite authors, and feeling buoyed by the letter I’d been read on the phone, I asked if he’d like me to read from the French translation of Call Me by Your Name, the galleys of which I had just received from Paris that very morning. Why not, since you wrote it, he said. He was proud of me. So I began to read from the very beginning, and soon enough I knew I was opening up a subject neither he nor I had ever broached before. But I knew he knew what I was reading and why I was reading it to him. This made me happy. Perhaps it made him happy as well. I’ll never know.

That evening, after the rest of us had dinner, he asked if I could continue reading from my novel. I was nervous about arriving at the father’s speech because I didn’t know how he’d react to it, though he was the kind of father who would have given that very same speech himself. But the speech was two hundred pages away still, and that would have taken many, many days. Perhaps I should skip some parts, I thought. But no, I wanted to read him the whole book. My father didn’t last long enough to hear the father’s speech. And when the letter finally arrived from California, he was already gone. His name was Henri, he was 93 years old, and he inspired everything I’ve written.

[0aurelion-sol0]

The importance of the number "3" in SNK.

(This is my second meta so please be gentle with me.)

You might think this meta or theory might be a little bit of stretch but I want to do it anyway because I think there is an interesting pattern with this number throughout the series. It is either something something intentional, the favorite number of Isayama or nothing particular.

But I don't so let's get into it.

Trios.

Throughout the series, there has been an important number of groups composed essentially of three people.

They are even right now in the story, three important trios.

The classic one, the E.M.A trio. ( Eren, Mikasa and Armin.)

The veteran trio. ( Hange, Levi, Erwin.)

The warrior trio. (Reiner, Annie, Bertholt.)

And even Jean, Sasha, Connie are a trio.

They essentially all are a big part of SNK and represents each of them, an important of SNK's narrative.

The E.M.A trio is our first and main trio of the series, they represent friendship and even family to some entent in the face of war and conflict. It is also a trio especially built around the relationship about each other. They are also the basis for many of the other trios out there.

The veteran trio is literally about veterans and how they face their responsabilities against war and themselves, they are with the warrior, an extremely tragic trio built around the importance of carrying your dury to respect your fallen comrades even at the expanse your own health. They are essentially a representation of our own veterans who went through war and hell. They are also what the E.M.A trio could become if they become veterans just like them.

The warrior trio. They are a parallel and a mirror of the E.M.A trio. Their relationship aren't the best, they are child soldiers and essentially are a representations of the dangers of war. They are also the other side of the coin and represent the contrast that has largely changed the story.

Each of these characters reflects in another character from the E.M.A trio.

Eren reflects in both Reiner and Hange.

Hange through their obsession with titans and sometimes extreme violence as shown during the uprising arc and even lunacy in her suicidal approach mirrors Eren sometimes. They are both extremely strong willed. But Hange is also what Eren could have been if he grew up in a different environment. They are also extremely androgynous.

Reiner. I don't think it needs an explanation. You can find plenty of other metas out there about how they mirror each other. They are the hero of two different worlds. Isayama has made an interview about how he is the main character now in the manga during the Marley arc. It is also to be noted that their both suicidal. They also have a strong driving force that can push people to follow them. Their character design are also contrary to one another.

It is also good to note that Hange almost killed Reiner during the Shiganshina arc. Perhaps representing or foreshadowing an older Eren confronting Reiner.

Mikasa is reflected in both Levi and Annie.

Levi. Of course I don't think there is an explanation do here. Ackerman. Heavy and important connection to someone else. Strong characters. Very cold and closed people. He is a representation of what Mikasa could be if she lost Eren. Just like he lost Erwin, Mikasa could potentially become like him after losing Eren. Their character design are very much alike and they are both extremely muscular.

Annie. They mirror each other through how different they are to one another. They have a few common aspect. They are in a relationship that is impossible to one another. Annie - Armin, Mikasa - Eren. They are both excellent fighters. They both are cold but care for their loved ones. However Mikasa is a natural born fighter or atleast one that became a fighter through natural ways. Whereas Annie has trained with her father to get there. While Annie runs away from conflict, Mikasa isn't afraid of it as most her life has been built around it. Just like Reiner and Eren, their character design are also very contrary to one another.

We can also note that Annie killed the whole squad of Levi and fought against both him and Mikasa at the same time and that both of them have fallen asleep and dissapeared for a long period of time, at least in the manga's publishing of the chapter.

Armin reflects in both Erwin and Bertholt.

Again with Erwin, there is this representation of what he could become or what he wants to become. We know Armin has always been against his revival and doesn't think he can live up to the commander. They are both extremely smart and have very good results in their strategy and military operations, they both aren't scared to sacrifice themselves.

Bertholt. They both feel weak. They both feel useless. They both use the same logic in some kinda way. They both have hidden talents. They both have a hidden monstrous side in them. They were and are the Colossal Titan. They both have "romantic feelings" for Annie. However, Bertholt doesn't have the same strategic skill as Armin, he even needs people to tell him what to do sometimes. Their character designs are extremely contrary to one another. Armin is bubbly, small and blonde haired. Bertholt is stone faced, tall and black haired.

Erwin and Armin were at the center of Bertholt and their own fates. The Serum event changed the manga. It is only fitting that his parallel gets the Colossal Titan.

If we now look at Jean, Sasha and Connie...

Eren is what Jean can never become. Jean doesn't have the same power or should I say mentality to be able to kill those children in Liberio. No matter how cool he thinks Eren is. He will only have what Eren has failed to use : empathy. And the not-so-much rival of Eren, is in the traditional sense of shonen, the one who respects him the most. Mikasa "loves" Eren and Jean loves Mikasa but she doesn't have the same feelings back just like Eren.

Sasha is what I think Mikasa could have been if she had a family and who she was before losing that family. They have the same moment of definitive action which overcome their insecurities. Sasha facing off against the titan which threatens Kaya, Mikasa killing the man who killed her parents.

Connie's illogical breakdown when he tried to sacrifice Falco is what Armin fears, the feeling of wrong that is inside of him, the feeling of not living up to Erwin. The man who he sees as always putting logic over emotions something that didn't happen when he was revived. The fear of one day responding with emotions rather than logic and will then confirm he was not the right choice.

Historia's trio.

Historia has three different people in her life representing something important to her.

Frieda = Family

Ymir = Love

Eren = Friendship

But they also represent many of her dualities in her development.

Frieda = Selflessness/ Inaction

Eren = Selfishness/ Action

Ymir = Pride

It is very interesting that one of the most complex character of SNK whose themes still rings true today has this particular set of three people who defines her or at least helps define herself. She then must have some importance to what is going on right now.

Three groups.

The latest arc has been a war in all the sense of the word with three groups fighting for supremacy.

The Jeagerist, nationalistic organisation and fascistic of the oldest Eldian King's ideology we know. Led by Eren Jeager and Floch Forster with the help of Marleyan Volunteers, Zeke Yeager.

The Marleyans, colonialist, genociders and fascists fighting for the supremacy of Marley and the genocide of Eldian. Led by Theo Magath with the Eldian Warriors.

The Eldian Army ( Survey Corps at most. ) built around the patriotic values of the 13th Commander of the Survey Corps Erwin Smith or the Survey Corps at large. Against the genocide, the euthanisation and hopes for a peaceful and non-violent future. Fights for Freedom and Humanity. Led By 14th Commander Hange Zoe.

So there is atleast a definitive pattern here. Maybe it's all a coïncidence or a stretch.

But I have more.

So let's pass some of them right now.

_________________________________________

There are nine titans. 3 x 3 = 9.

The Eldian Military has three branches : The Survey Corps, The Garrison and the Military Police Brigade.

The soldiers use an equipment called the "Three" Dimensional Maneuver Gear.

They can use three weapons : Swords, Guns and Thunder Spears.

There are three titans that attacked Eldia : The Colossal Titan, The Armored Titan and The Female Titan.

In Shiganshina, three titans were actively on the opposite side (not counting Pieck as she barely fought unlike Liberio and The Attack on Eldia by Marley.) : The Beast Titan, The Armored Titan and The Colossal Titan.

This resulted in three groups :

Eren and Armin vs The Colossal Titan.

Levi and Erwin and the rest of the Survey Corps vs the Beast Titan

The 104th and Hange vs The Armored Titan.

The 104th has lost three main characters that were on their side eaten by titan: Marco, Ymir and Bertholt.

Eren has lost three who formed his family : Hannes, His Father and His Mother.

There are three commanders from the Survey Corps that we know who have died. Keith Shadis, Erwin Smith and Hange Zoé.

There are three warriors who attacked Shiganshina with Marley : Reiner, Pieck and Porco.

There are three walls.

There are three royal families.

Ymir Fritz has three daughters.

Eren has three titans : The Founder, The Warhammer Titan and The Attack Titan.

We have only seen three Ackerman fighting: Mikasa, Levi and Kenny.

Titan Shifters have 13 years to live.

Erwin Smith is the 13th commander of the Survey Corps.

We have only seen three nations physically: Marley, Eldia and the Middle Eastern Alliances.

Only three nations plays a significant role in the story: Marley, Eldia and the Azumabito's nation.

The Manga has been divided into three different period.

1. The Fall of Shiganshina to the Female Titan Arc.

2. Clash of the titans to the Return in Shiganshina.

3. The Marley Arc to the War for Paradis Arc.

Now let's look at the page cover of volumes.

Volume 3 shows us our first look at a titan shifter.

Volume 1,2,3 act as a representation of the E.M.A trio.

Volume 1 = Eren

Volume 2 = Mikasa

Volume 3 = Armin.

Volume 13, volume where the Uprising Arc start. The most important arc of the manga in terms of this thematics still relevant today.

Volume 23, volume where the timeskip happens and shows us the other perspective of this manga.

Volume 30, shows us Paths and The founder Ymir.

Volume 31, Future Memory of Eren seeing Mikasa facing the Colossal Titans.

Volume 32, Possible Hope, the Alliance happens. Marley and Eldia helps each other to save the world.

_________________________________________

There is still more. My first meta has been about how SNK's afterlife is real.

This makes up for three different dimension.

The Living World.

The Afterlife

Paths

_________________________________________

The Anime also followed that pattern with:

The Third Opening.

Literally called " Shinzou wo Sasageyo " taking the catchphrase of this manga and making an anthem about it while also having many subliminal message about the story.

The Third Ending.

It spoils the whole manga and the origin of the story. It reveals the three daughters of Ymir and is the creepiest thing ever put out in this world.

_________________________________________

Now for the last point. Yes there's more but It's the last one I promise.

We need to take a look at every chapter who has a three in it. And we can see that in every single chapter something very important happens.

_________________________________________

Chapter 3 : Presentation of the three branches of the Military, of all the characters and return of the Colossal Titan.

Chapter 13 : End of Trost Arc, A possessed and uncontrolled Eren Yeager, " I'm willing to be the butcher " while we are being shown an untamed Attack Titan. Possible Foreshadowing of the last Arc with a Possessed Eren Yeager, Mikasa fighting titans and saving people and Armin trying to get Eren to his senses.

Chapter 23: The First appearance of the Female Titan and our first look at the possibility of another Titan Shifter. Also our first look at Ymir Fritz appearances in the form of the female titan as she was a woman herself and because there is no male titan.

Chapter 30-39 : Foreshadowings left and right about what lies inside the wall. The Warriors and about the existence of Marley.

Chapter 33 : First appearance of the Colossal Titans inside the wall.

Chapter 43 : The Clash of the titan begins. The Armored Titan is revealed with the Colossal and fights with the Attack Titan.

Chapter 53 : Our First Look at Frieda Reiss and the powers of the Attack Titan and the Founder.

Chapter 63 : Eren and Historia learns the truth about Grisha Yeager. He's the one who killed her family and sister Frieda Reiss. Historia is confronted to a choice.

Chapter 73 : We return to Shiganshina and establishes our main trio's thematics.

Eren = Rage.

Mikasa = Pride.

Armin = Hope.

We also learn how Eren started to know he wasn't free, through Armin's eyes and passion of the outside world.

Chapter 83 : The Serum Event or Serumbowl start. Levi fights with Eren and Mikasa to choose who will get the spinal fluid and eat Bertholt, the Colossal Titan. Armin or Erwin, who is the right choice ?

Chapter 93 : Marley Arc, Zeke pressures Marley to go and attack Eldia, something they didn't want to do which will result in the festival, the attack on Liberio and the retribution for Liberio and the Rumbling. Reiner prepares Falco for their dark future.

Chapter 103 : The Liberio operation is a sucess. The Warhammer is taken, the port is destroyed and Zeke is retrieved.

Chapter 113 : Zeke And Levi fights, Zeke start his operation to euthanize Eldian. Levi is defeated by Zeke putting him out of the action for a short time.

Chapter 123 : The Rumbling is starting. All Eldians see Paths and hear Eren's speech. Mikasa question her perspective of Eren.

Chapter 130 : The Rumbling has finally arrived in Marley. Eren's motivation are slowly being revealed and deconstructed. Historia reappears after a long period of time.

Chapter 131 : The effects of the Rumbling happens. Horrible death for Ramzi and his friend. Ymir Fritz appears. Eren and Armin connect through Paths. A partial answer to "that sight" is revealed.

Chapter 132 : Floch Forster dies bringing an end to the Jeagearist. Hange Zoé dies making her the third commander of the Survey Corps to die. The afterlife is revealed, the plane takes off and our heroes goes to see Eren.

_________________________________________

Again, it's a pattern. I don't know if this is something important or a way of Isayama showing he likes the number three. I don't have a definitive idea as to what this could mean but there is something to dig here.

This leaves us on a interesting and ominous note.

The chapter 133 is right in the corner, if my theory is right. Something important is going to happen.

We've hit our lowest point in the series and the Jeagearist arc has officialy ended. What is going to happen now ? Well...

The possibilities :

1. Historia's pov. It has been a long time, we've asked of her. And it's also been a long time her attitude has made no real sense. At least character wise, she has regressed like every character and it's intentionnal on Isayama's part. She must have some importance.

2. Levi's pov. We've got Armin's, Hange's and Mikasa's. But we don't what he really thinks about all of this of Eren's change.

3. Ackertalk. Levi and Mikasa needs to talk about it. They need to go through this for their development.

4. Levi and Armin talk about his choice to save him over Erwin. They never really got to talk face to face about it. They need this closure and now that Armin is the commander, he needs Levi support the most.

5. Possible talk with Annie about what she did to them. If she ever got on the plane with the kids, I think Annie needs to be confronted with that.

6. Possible new about how or where Zeke is ?

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Whatever it is, we're entering the final phase of this manga. This chapter is going to set up the final plot points of the story and now, more than ever, our characters are going to face their biggest challenge.